May is a busy farming season.
Rice needs to be transplanted, and families that grow wheat must harvest and dry it before storing.
Beans, sorghum, and other spring crops also need fertilizing and weeding.
Almost entire households take to the fields, heads buried in the soil.
Tenant farmers only have two or three mu (about 1/3–1/2 acre) of land.
Even with few tools and little manpower, they can manage.
However, landlords own much larger areas, and tenant farmers often get called away to work for them.
Being gone from home for several days is common.
So, tenants try to hurry and finish their own land’s work, hoping that if they’re called by the landlord, their own chores won’t be delayed too much.
Xu Duoyan pulled up the rice seedlings in the paddy early in the morning, tied them into bundles, and placed them in a field already plowed a few days earlier, preparing to transplant them.
He had to get them in the ground while there was still water; if it didn’t rain soon, the paddies would dry up and the seedlings wouldn’t survive.
The Cao family had only one mu of land, which had to serve both as nursery and transplant field.
Xu Duoyan bundled more than half the seedlings and began working from the corner of the field.
The morning was cool, and all around, fields were full of busy farmers—men and women chatting, making the place lively.
“This year’s really been tough—barely made it to transplanting season. We’re already counting grains of rice to get by. In a few days, we might not even have husks left.”
“Isn’t every household in this valley like that? Just hope the landlord doesn’t summon us too often, so we can manage our own fields. If there’s a drought, the harvest will be ruined, and we’ll starve next year.”
Hearing the chatter, Xu Duoyan’s hands slowed slightly.
In recent years, the country had just emerged from war.
Though it had been two years of peace, the government was focused on rebuilding, and the burden was passed to the common folk.
Every year brought more taxes and levies.
Life was hard for everyone, especially tenant farmers.
Xu couldn’t help but think about the nearly empty rice jar at home.
If he couldn’t even feed himself, how could he care for his mother?
Just then, a surprised voice called from above: “Why are you in the field?!”
Xu Duoyan looked up.
He wiped the muddy water from his face and saw Cao Wen carrying a burlap sack.
He had returned without anyone noticing.
Xu frowned slightly.
Why shouldn’t he be in the field?
Cao Wen glanced down and pointed with his chin at Xu’s bare feet, caked in mud.
Xu twitched his brows.
To avoid wetting his pants, he had rolled them high.
His legs, long and pale from years out of sunlight, were exposed.
He pressed his lips together—this wasn’t a noble household.
Who cared what a poor village woman looked like?
Men and their cursed possessiveness…
Still, not wanting to argue in public, he bent down to roll his pants back down.
But just then, Cao Wen, thinking he couldn’t climb out of the field, grabbed his wrist with one strong hand and pulled him up in one go.
“Aren’t you on your period or something? The field water’s cold.”
Xu Duoyan froze slightly as he was pulled against Cao Wen’s chest.
He instinctively raised a hand, but didn’t make any sign.
Honestly, he had almost forgotten.
But Cao Wen remembered.
Once Xu stood firm, Cao Wen let go and handed him the sack: “I brought back two sheng (about 2 liters) of rice. Needs to be husked.”
“Take it to the farmer with a stone mill. There’s a big tile-roofed house beyond the Cao family valley—family name Qiao. They’ve got a stone mill. I’ll finish up the transplanting.”
Xu looked at him, or more precisely, at the sack.
He actually bought rice…
Just as the rice was handed over, Cao Wen also shoved something warm into Xu’s arms.
“You’ve been working all morning. Eat something.”
Xu looked at the oiled paper package in his hands.
It smelled faintly of steamed buns.
Suddenly, he recalled someone once telling him to eat three meals a day.
While he was dazed, Cao Wen crouched down, straightened Xu’s crumpled cloth shoes, and placed them by his feet: “The sun’s rising. Put them on and head back.”
Xu, clearly flustered by the care, tried to step into the shoes but missed, nearly falling and grabbing onto Cao Wen’s shoulder.
He ended up looking like he expected Cao Wen to help him put the shoes on.
Cao Wen froze for a second, but said nothing.
He obediently picked up the shoes, lifted Xu’s foot, and put them on for him.
Xu could feel the farmers around them all secretly watching.
He let out a long breath.
He really hadn’t asked for this kind of attention…
“Didn’t expect your feet to be that big.”
Cao Wen looked at his foot and commented with surprising sincerity.
Xu Duoyan: …………..
Close one.
Good thing he was rude, or Xu might have started wishing he was a woman.
Xu quickly signed: I’ll head back first.
Watching him hurriedly leave, Cao Wen scratched his head.
“Did I say something wrong again? But honestly…he’s kinda…”
“Look at that—Cao Wen really pampers his wife. Doesn’t even let him work in the field, already calling him back this early. Wonder what’s in the sack?”
“Probably rice, looks like he came from outside the village.”
Nearby, a woman pulling weeds in the soybean field heard the not-so-soft gossip and felt it was meant for her ears.
She sneered: “So what if he pampers him? Even if he lies around all day doing nothing, if there’s no food, it’s pointless.”
“That Cao Wen just got beaten by the landlord the other day. The landlord even let him come back, how could he have gotten rice?”
Madam Sun overheard the gossip and realized people were praising Cao Wen—how caring he was, how good a husband.
She feared the topic would soon turn to how she had once refused his marriage proposal, and she’d end up regretting not giving her daughter to such a good young man.
Regret?
Ha!
She gave him a chance—asked for ten taels of silver as betrothal gift.
The kid delayed and dodged until he couldn’t come up with the money.
A poor tenant with no future—her daughter was beautiful.
Why let her marry someone who couldn’t guarantee food or safety?
Better to be a concubine in a rich household, eating well and living comfortably, almost like a young mistress.
Much better than following a pauper.
These tenant women were just jealous her daughter had married well, spouting sour nonsense.
The other women fell silent, their expressions sour.
As the sun climbed higher, the gossip among the farmers died down.
Everyone was rushing to finish their work before noon.
Cao Wen lowered his head, planting three rice seedlings at a time into the field.
His movements were swift, and the only sound in the field was the water sloshing.
In just over an hour, he had already finished planting over half the paddy.
He straightened up to check whether the seedlings were slanted.
Seeing that the rows were neatly arranged in green lines, he nodded in satisfaction and was about to continue when someone came running hurriedly along the village path.
“The master at the Qian household says the wheat in Southwest Manor will be harvested this afternoon! All idle hands should come help!”
The shout echoed down the quiet fields, and soon the area became noisy with chatter again.
The voice was familiar.
Cao Wen turned and saw that it was his uncle.
“Harvesting takes days, and we haven’t even finished transplanting rice at home. Where are we supposed to find the time?!”
“Can’t they wait two more days?!”
Tenant farmers began complaining.
Cao Yongquan replied: “It’s always been this way. I’m just delivering the message. Whether you go or not is up to you.”
“Will they serve lunch today?”
At this, people stopped complaining and instead turned to more practical concerns.
“Since they gave such early notice, they probably will. But that depends on how they’ve arranged it. The steward didn’t say.”
Though the answer was uncertain, those with quick hands had already climbed out of the field and were preparing to go—chasing even the possibility of a free lunch.
Cao Wen watched the reluctant but obedient group and sighed.
The tenant farmers had been crushed into servitude.
Whatever the master said was law.
Even when they knew it was unfair, they didn’t dare resist.
They were treated like oxen and forced to obey.
Cao Yongquan looked out across the field.
Everyone else was leaving, but one tall figure remained—still diligently planting seedlings.
He squinted.
It was his nephew.
“Ah Wen!”
Cao Wen looked up as his uncle walked toward him from the field edge.
“What’s the matter, Uncle?”
“The master says any idle hands should help with the harvest.”
Cao Wen raised a brow.
“You’re going?”
His uncle sighed.
“We live under someone else’s roof. When the master calls, we have to go.”
“Didn’t he say only if we’re free? I’m transplanting rice, so I’m not.”
Cao Wen added bluntly: “That steward Zhao dislikes me. Why should I go just to be mistreated?”
Seeing his nephew’s stubborn streak flare up, Cao Yongquan quickly said: “Still, if you keep skipping out like this, the master may not renew your land lease next year.”
Cao Wen looked at the green seedlings in the field.
The drought had made them weak.
Even in the best case, one mu wouldn’t yield much.
And following the landlord’s orders meant never having enough to eat or wear.
If the master offered to renew the lease next year, Cao Wen wasn’t even sure he wanted it—it wasn’t his land, after all.
His household was on the verge of starving.
He was rushing to finish the transplanting not to earn brownie points with the landlord, but to free up time to find some other way to survive.
“Let the landlord do as he pleases. If he won’t rent it out again, I’ll find another job.”
With that, Cao Wen stood up.
“I’m heading home.”
Cao Yongquan watched him walk off under the blazing sun, his forehead creased with worry.
“Don’t argue with the landlord! What job could be better than farming?!”
Cao Wen ignored him and just waved a hand over his shoulder as he left.
His uncle could do nothing but watch the retreating figure and sigh, already racking his brain for an excuse to give the landlord for his absence.
“Ah, this boy! Always making trouble!”
“I’m back.”
Cao Wen pushed open the bamboo fence gate and saw Xu Duoyan standing in the courtyard, holding a straw hat.
Seeing him return so suddenly, Xu instinctively tried to hide the hat.
The sun was getting harsh, and he had been debating whether to bring the hat to the field to shield himself while transplanting.
But now the man had returned, and he was a bit embarrassed.
He tried to hide the hat behind his back, but it was too big to conceal.
Realizing he’d been seen, he simply plopped the hat on his head.
“I was going to weed the vegetable plot.”
“The sun’s too strong right now—don’t go out. You might get heatstroke.”
Cao Wen took the hat off his head and hung it by the kitchen door, afraid Xu might get dragged off to Southwest Manor if seen outside.
“Did you find someone to hull the rice?”
Xu looked at the hat being hung back up, paused, then nodded and went inside.
He brought out the freshly hulled rice.
Hulling rice was hard work—if the stone mill applied too much pressure, the grains would crack; too little, and the husk wouldn’t come off.
Fortunately, the daughter of the household where he hulled the rice was kind and helped him, saving him several hours of labor.
Still, the rice needed further processing.
Xu had to sift out the broken husks using a round winnowing basket.
Cao Wen scooped a handful of warm rice.
“Whose household helped you? Did they give you any trouble?”
Xu shook his head and pointed toward the Qiao household.
The Qiao family were commoners.
Xu didn’t know whether they’d even be willing to help a tenant like him.
When asking for favors, you usually brought something to offer.
But they had nothing suitable at home.
After much hesitation, he brought over two of their best cabbages.
The Qiao family was already in the fields, only their daughter was at home cooking.
She didn’t mind his offering and kindly let him use the stone mill.
“That’s good, then.”
At noon, they made rice porridge using yesterday’s chicken soup.
Xu rarely wasn’t hungry by lunchtime, so he gave Cao Wen an extra serving, a bit thicker than usual.
By then, the sun was high—blazing hot.
After eating, Xu washed the dishes and sat in the main hall, catching the cross breeze while carefully picking out unhulled grains and husks from the rice.
He heard rustling and looked over—
Cao Wen wasn’t napping.
He was packing a bamboo basket.
“Going out?”
“Still early. I’ll head into the mountains and return the basket to the hunter while I’m at it.”
Xu frowned slightly at the mention of going into the mountains.
He set the rice aside.
“I’ll come with you.”
Cao Wen didn’t understand his hand signs, but seeing him get ready to go out, he understood his intention.
“You don’t need to. Stay home. I will be back before dark.”
“There’s no work at home. I’d just be idle anyway.”
Cao Wen didn’t understand, but seeing that Xu had already started packing, he sighed in resignation.
“Alright then. Just stay near the outer forest and gather some firewood while I go in.”
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Is Xu a ger, can’t remember if this story is yaoi , I just thought calling xu him was a misranslation