Chapter 11 – Bitten in the Cornfield
Fu Jingyou had thought that these educated youths from the city didn’t even know the basics of crops—whether rice grew in paddies or dry fields.
Lu Miao gave a light snort. “Who are you looking down on!”
She had never farmed before, true, but she had planted flowers. Wasn’t this basically the same as cooking in the kitchen?
Digging holes, sowing seeds, spreading fertilizer.
Lighting the stove, heating oil, stir-frying until fragrant and cooked—it was all just different versions of the same process.
Wild grasses swayed, the wind whispered softly, and along the path one could hear the call of cuckoos.
Lu Miao hummed an unknown little tune as she walked for a while, then suddenly asked curiously:
“Wouldn’t it be closer to go to the western fields from the village? Why did you take this turn?”
The back mountain wasn’t very tall. If you looped around, you could reach the western fields—but the premise was you had to “loop around.”
Fu Jingyou didn’t answer her question. He only reminded her, “We’re here,” and then avoided Lu Miao, carrying the load on his shoulders briskly toward the western slope.
“What a strange person.”
Lu Miao muttered under her breath, withdrawing her gaze to look at the nearby cornfield.
The mountain fields were arranged in tiers, a bit like terraced fields, except these were drylands, not paddies.
Corn grew in the higher areas, while peanuts were planted in the lower areas. Her task was to hoe the weeds in three plots that morning. Once completed, she’d earn four work points.
On the way, some of the uncles had said mountain plots were small, each one counted as a “fen” of land, so three plots wasn’t much, and told her to work hard.
Lu Miao had believed them. But now, staring at the three tiered plots, she felt like fainting.
Not much?
This was a lot, okay!
Her heart was already starting to retreat—she was sure she couldn’t finish this much. But her pride didn’t allow her to give up before even starting.
So, under the mottled shadows of trees and sunlight, Lu Miao pulled a long face and reluctantly began working.
She could recognize the fruits of crops, but as for seedlings in the nursery, most she didn’t know. When hoeing, she relied on the neatness of the rows to distinguish seedlings from weeds.
Now and then, passing villagers would stop and praise, “Good job.”
From this, Lu Miao inferred that she probably hadn’t hoed out any corn seedlings.
But those villagers were also annoying, because after praising her, they’d always laugh at her, saying she was working too slowly—at that rate, she’d still be hoeing her three plots by tomorrow morning.
It made Lu Miao fume with anger.
The mountain fields stretched beyond the forest’s edge. On one ridge there were only one or two paper mulberry trees about two meters tall, and they were thin and weak.
As the sun climbed higher, the shadows in the fields shrank smaller. Lu Miao had no straw hat for shade, and since the educated youth station only cooked at noon and evening to save rations, she hadn’t eaten breakfast.
Now, after being baked in the sun for so long, white spots danced before her eyes and her whole body felt unwell.
Lu Miao leaned on her hoe, slowly crouching down, intending to sit and rest a while. But her other hand pressed against something unknown—suddenly her palm throbbed with sharp pain, as though pierced by dozens of needles.
“Hiss—” she gasped, jerking her hand back.
Her palm was faintly red, but without even a tiny visible wound. Yet the pain still spread and intensified.
The sharp sting made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright. Instinctively she scratched at it, but that only made the pain more pronounced. She couldn’t help sniffling, choking back a sob, her round, dark eyes filling with tears.
Fu Jingyou was delivering his second load of fertilizer to the cotton field westward. Passing by the cornfield, he glanced sideways unconsciously.
Seeing the girl sitting on the ground, he assumed Lu Miao was just tired. He slowed half a step but didn’t think much of it.
Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly heard the girl’s delicate whimpering, like she was crying.
Fu Jingyou hesitated, then stood on the path and said:
“If you’re tired, find a place to rest. What are you crying for?”
The little girl didn’t answer, but her whimpers only grew louder.
