Du Heng and Xiaoman’s family had a lot of crops this year. They had previously harvested fields of rapeseed, sorghum, and soybeans, each covering only one mu, with staggered harvest times, so the workload didn’t feel overwhelming. Now, with ten mu of rice paddies and twenty mu of corn, the work was enough to drive anyone mad.
They didn’t hesitate to hire help. Workers cost fifty wen per day, including good meals at noon and evening. During harvest season, labor was expensive—women and young men cost this rate; adult men would cost an extra ten wen.
One worker could husk about two mu of corn a day. Du Heng hired five women, while Xiaoman supervised. In a single day, all the corn was harvested. Subsequent tasks like drying were handled in-house, and additional labor was hired for the labor-intensive threshing.
From harvesting to storage, hiring labor for the corn cost five hundred wen, not including incidental costs like food.
When it came to rice, they had to grit their teeth and hire help again. Labor was expensive, but crops couldn’t wait. Once rice ripened, delay meant grains would fall off, forcing them to pick through the paddies themselves. Moreover, if rice wasn’t harvested promptly, rain could ruin it during drying. Faced with these pressures, they had no choice but to pay for labor.
Harvesting and threshing rice required strength. A man could only manually harvest and thresh half a mu in a day. Using oxen to roll the rice in drying yards could save two to three times the labor.
Rice that would normally require twenty people to harvest in a day was finished by Du Heng with five hired hands in two days. The harvest was staggered because rice didn’t ripen uniformly. Fertile paddies with good sunlight ripened early, while previously affected paddies matured later. The fertile paddies were golden; the others were still green, creating a half-month gap between the two harvests.
During the rice harvest, Qin Xiong’s family hadn’t started yet. Sun Dongmei came over to cook for the workers. With some free time, Du Heng went to the fields to record yields and the quality of each plot.
He specifically instructed that the good rice from fertile paddies be manually threshed, while the rest could be processed at the drying yard with stone rollers. This was to save the best grains for seeds next year. Stone-rolled rice was fast and labor-saving but easily damaged the grains, making them unsuitable for seeds. Manually threshed grains remained intact and could be preserved for planting. Rice for consumption didn’t have this concern.
While recording the rice, Du Heng also brought a bucket of porridge to the workers. The labor was hot and exhausting, and they would be hungry before meal times. Snacks like porridge helped them sustain energy during the work.
Seeing him head out, Hǔzi, the little dog, became excited, running ahead with its short legs and stopping to look back if he lagged behind. Hǔzi had been at home only a short while, eating whatever was given. It had gained some weight and felt soft to the touch but hadn’t grown taller, still small and timid, afraid of larger village dogs. Even a short stroll had to be accompanied by Xiaoman or Du Heng.
During rice harvesting, meals were usually porridge and buns. Du Heng’s household also provided white flour buns in addition to porridge.
“Take a break, everyone. Have some porridge and buns. This field is nearly done—no rush!”
Seeing the food, workers jostled politely to take bowls. Du Heng placed the food for everyone to help themselves, avoiding the awkwardness of distributing it individually.
“Your rice has grown really well. Earlier in summer, the leaves looked yellow, and I feared it wouldn’t produce grains. Didn’t expect it to turn out so well at harvest.”
Du Heng crouched by the field edge, examining the rice ears. While the main paddies had a successful yield, the disaster-affected fields had about ten percent more hollow grains. Previously, those paddies normally produced about forty percent hollow grains, so this year’s harvest was significantly better.
After exchanging a few words with the workers, Du Heng continued taking notes, leaving them to chat quietly without interrupting.
“Du Heng, all the rice at your place is harvested now,” said Yao Tian, one of the hired workers, approaching him.
“Mm, next it just needs drying.”
Yao hesitated, seeming to want to say something else but shyly held back.
“Is there something you need?” Du Heng asked.
“My rice isn’t mature yet. It’s less than two mu, and there are only two of us to work it. I’m not sure how many good days of weather we’ll have left.”
Du Heng furrowed his brow. During the corn harvest, one of the hired workers had been Mrs. Yao, and now her husband had come to help with the rice. He had joked with Xiaoman back then about how industrious this family was.
Xiaoman explained that the Yao family were outsiders who had only recently settled in the village. Life in the rural countryside was harder for them than for long-established families. Their land was small and poor, and they lacked connections to pull favors or get help. The couple was exceptionally diligent: they always took any work they could get, both to earn a few coins and to build goodwill and integrate into the village.
“Speak plainly, then,” Du Heng said.
Yao Tian hesitated, then spoke: “I was thinking, since you don’t need to use a draft animal for the rest of your harvest, could I borrow your ox for half a day? It would save a few days’ work for our rice threshing.”
To avoid seeming opportunistic, he quickly added, “When we harvest sweet potatoes, I’ll have my wife come help you for a day.”
Du Heng considered it. Indeed, they wouldn’t need the ox much after today. Borrowing it for half a day was fine; it would just graze at home otherwise.
“Xiaoman’s very fond of our ox. I’ll tell him, and if he agrees, you can take it then.”
Yao Tian eagerly nodded.
“Have a bun; we steamed plenty today.”
Du Heng noticed that Yao Tian took a bowl of porridge and drank it plain, not like some seasoned workers who scraped the solids from the porridge. He seemed honest.
“Alright, then.” Yao Tian said, taking a bun but didn’t eat it immediately.
After finishing the last field, the rice was threshed at the drying yard. The men carried the threshed rice back to the Qin household. It wasn’t too late in the day. Compared to manual threshing, today’s work was much easier, and everyone left to return home before meal time, not wanting to linger awkwardly at Qin’s.
Du Heng had prepared the day’s wages in advance. Xiaoman and his sister-in-law cooked dinner.
With the bean harvest done, the evening’s main dish was tofu pudding. Though vegetarian, tofu wasn’t an everyday food for most households; it was usually a treat for the New Year. Hiring someone to make tofu pudding was considered a special dish. They also served cured meat and seasonal vegetables, making the meal hearty.
Seeing Du Heng pull out three strings of coins, Xiaoman exhaled softly. Spending so much money was painful, but seeing the bountiful rice in the courtyard eased his worries.
Du Heng also told Xiaoman about Yao Tian wanting to borrow the ox.
“Let them take it,” Xiaoman said. “They’re not well-off. Every time they work for others, they bring something home for the children, sparing nothing for themselves. And it’s not free—they promised to help us in return.”
Du Heng smiled and said he’d let them know.
Two days later, Yao Tian came to borrow the ox. They used it for half a day and returned it. Everyone had plenty to eat, and Mrs. Yao even brought a basket of fodder to show her gratitude. This exchange deepened the ties between the two families.
By late September, the weather had turned cooler. Days were clear without the scorching heat, and nights were more comfortable. The battle-like autumn harvest was winding down.
The village head began inspecting households and recording the year’s yields.
“Twenty mu of corn yielded thirty shi.”
Du Heng flipped through his records with Xiaoman. Three mu were fertile land; the rest were thin soil. The total corn harvest was thirty shi—not a bumper crop, but three to five shi more than expected.
“Ten mu of rice: four mu fertile, six mu thin soil. Fertile fields produced ten shi; three disaster-affected thin mu yielded four shi; the remaining small plots produced five shi. In total, nineteen shi.”
Du Heng explained further: “Initially, there were twenty shi, but the thin fields had a lot of hollow grains. Fertile fields produced ninety percent full grains; thin fields had at least thirty percent hollow, disaster-affected fields nearly forty percent. After drying and removing weeds, we lost about one shi.”
“Nineteen shi!”
Xiaoman’s mouth dropped in disbelief.
Du Heng nodded: “That’s what we harvested—nineteen shi.”
Xiaoman swallowed and murmured, “A good harvest… all our hard work paid off. If it’s like this every year, we could become landlords in ten years.”
He snatched Du Heng’s little notebook and flipped through it repeatedly, worried Du Heng had miscalculated. Though the rice and corn stacked in the courtyard looked abundant, it was hard to gauge exact weight.
In previous years, Xiaoman had managed only ten mu himself. Even if all the fields were fertile, the total yield would barely reach sixteen or seventeen shi. This year, with thirty mu of crops, the total yield of corn and rice—forty-nine shi—matched the sum of several previous years.
Seeing the numbers, Xiaoman was stunned. He ran a joyful circle around the room, unable to contain his excitement.
Du Heng chuckled. “Alright, don’t get too carried away, Xiaoman. And remember, we haven’t calculated the land tax yet. The village head will soon register our harvest, and only after paying the taxes will the rest truly be ours.”