Ji Taoyu placed the cooling herbal soup on the ridge of the field, letting everyone drink when thirsty.
His gaze lingered on Huo Shu, who was threshing grains by the half-barrel. As expected, he had taken on the most strenuous task.
An average person could only grab two handfuls of rice stalks at once, but Huo Shu, being tall with large palms and long fingers, could grab three.
His strength was like an ox’s—after just a few strikes against the half-barrel, the grains were mostly threshed.
Ji Taoyu thought that if they were just an ordinary couple, farming only three to five mu of land, Huo Shu could still provide for him.
After all, he was strong and quick with his hands and feet. Once their own rice was taken care of, he could even help wealthier families for extra income.
"Not hot?"
Huo Shu’s voice snapped Ji Taoyu out of his thoughts.
He went to pour a bowl of the cooling soup first. As he tilted his head back, beads of sweat rolled down from his forehead to his chest.
"I’m fine."
Ji Taoyu took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from Huo Shu’s face.
The northern laborers in the field turned to look at them, grinning. Feeling a little embarrassed, Ji Taoyu withdrew his hand.
Working side by side, showing such favoritism was a bit too obvious.
The Ji family’s rice harvest, said to be finished in two days, was indeed done in two days.
With dozens of shi of grain brought back, their courtyard couldn’t even hold it all for drying. Since Ji Wenliang’s family’s rice wasn’t quite ripe yet, some of the grain was moved there to dry.
[1 shi (石) ≈ 60 kilograms (for unhusked rice)]
After two days under the scorching sun, the rice lost its moisture. After removing stray husks and straw, it looked much cleaner.
Once finished, the fellow villagers from the north all returned to town.
Huo Shu stayed in the village these days, overseeing the drying and storage of the rice, while matters in town were left to Uncle Fan.
Grain drying in the yard couldn’t be left unattended—at the slightest hint of wind or rain, it had to be gathered and stored indoors. With an already poor harvest, summer rain could easily cause the grains to mold or sprout if left damp and overheated.
Relatives from the Ji family branches came one after another to borrow livestock, and the family didn’t refuse, lending out their oxen, mules, and donkeys.
Except for Ji Wanglan, who secretly wanted to borrow a horse—only to be sharply rebuffed by Ji Taoyu.
The scorching summer days were stifling, a mix of busyness and idleness.
Ji Taoyu picked all the ripe peaches from outside the bedroom window, filling a large bamboo basket.
This season, many households in the village had peaches, so there was no need to gift them to anyone.
Under the shade of the courtyard awning, he peeled one to taste. It was crisp but not very sweet—too much rain had dulled the flavor.
After a few bites, he set it aside. But Huo Shu, watching nearby, didn’t mind, taking it and crunching into it loudly.
"Xiao Taozi."
"Hmm?"
Ji Taoyu picked out a few peaches that looked sweet, thinking the rest could be made into fruit wine. Peaches couldn’t be stored for long; left too many days, they would rot.
Huo Shu held a peach in his hand, glancing at Ji Taoyu in front of him, then back at the fruit.
Not very similar.
He wondered why he was called "Xiao Taozi (little peach)."
"Because Eldest Uncle said he wanted abundant harvests every year, so all the boys in the family were given fruit names for good luck."
Ji Taoyu explained, "I was born later, and by then, there were already pears and apricots. Before I was even born, Father rushed to pick 'peach' for me, afraid my uncles' sons would take all the good fruits first."
Huo Shu chuckled softly.
"After I was born, Father was overjoyed. He chose a sunny bedroom for me early on and planted a few peach trees outside the window."
In spring, they saw peach blossoms; in autumn, they picked peaches.
Though Ji Taoyu’s health was poor, he had truly grown up surrounded by love and care.
Huo Shu said, "I’ve eaten peaches now, but I’ve never seen the peach blossoms outside your window."
"I can see them next year."
Ji Taoyu looked at Huo Shu. "Not going on the trade run next spring?"
"Go."
Huo Shu replied, "But we won’t go. Let Uncle Fan and Huo Shou lead the team. The route’s been traveled once—it’ll be easier the second time."
With experience, both people and supplies could be better prepared.
"That’s fine. Someone needs to stay here anyway."
By the eighth month, the harvested grain had been dried and stored.
This year’s rice had many empty husks, making the winnowing process laborious. The sound of windmill fans could be heard in almost every household.
The Ji family’s twenty mu of fields yielded forty-two shi of grain. After removing straw, drying, and winnowing, they lost a full two shi.
Compared to last year, it was five or six dan less.
The Ji family’s fields were well-tended, with no expense spared on irrigation and fertilizer. Even so, the yield was modest—ordinary households fared worse.
Ji Yangzong calculated that after paying the prefecture’s forty percent tax, they’d have twenty-four shi left.
Huo Shu remarked, "With low autumn harvests, grain prices should rise this year."
"They must, or farmers won’t survive. But whether they rise or not, we have enough grain at home."
Ji Yangzong said, "Don’t buy rice for the shops in town—use our own. This year, we won’t sell any surplus."
Huo Shu acknowledged.
In the eighth month, Ji Yangzong busied himself recording harvests from each household. By the ninth month, the prefecture would announce that year’s tax rates. The previous prefect’s rule was to collect all taxes before the eleventh month.
With a new prefect now in office, his policies were still unknown.
But based on years of experience as village head, Ji Yangzong doubted the deadline would stretch past the eleventh month—the prefecture still had to report harvest data to the imperial court.
He preferred finishing early to avoid chaos if the new prefect pressed for swift compliance.
Once their own grain was stored, Huo Shu and Ji Taoyu found time to visit the horseback archery range in town.
The construction team had worked diligently. In just over a month, the foundation was solid, and the range’s outline was visible.
The progress wasn’t just due to the team’s efficiency—Uncle Fan and others had also pitched in.
Soon, the ninth month arrived. Huo Shu and Ji Taoyu received wedding invitations from two families—both former members of their trade team.
So far, three households under their lead had announced celebrations.
After autumn harvests, farmers had more leisure. Birthdays, weddings, and feasts peaked during this season—nothing unusual.
But in past years, banquets surged only after taxes were paid. This early wave was rare.
Yet, with earnings from the trade run earlier in the year, these families didn’t rely on harvest proceeds to fund celebrations.
Life remained steady. The ninth month brought cooler weather, making days quite pleasant.
But before the Mid-Autumn Festival on the fifteenth, Ji Yangzong received word from the prefecture’s revenue office, summoning him for a meeting.
He guessed it was about announcing this year’s tax rates.
Though not his first such meeting, facing a new prefect always made him extra cautious.
Early that morning, he dressed neatly and hurried to town.
The villagers anxiously awaited this year’s tax news, and word spread quickly once Ji Yangzong entered the town.
Hearts pounded as they waited for his return.
This scene seemed to replay every autumn.
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