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墨書 Inktalez
Thinking back to the scene of countless villagers in Village wanting to cry without tears after half a month of continuous rain, Hu Ruoyun made up his mind: no matter what, he had to give it his all and take a gamble!
With a wooden fork in hand, sweat stung his eyes, and he wiped them with his sleeve before continuing. His arms were scratched by the wheat stalks, leaving bloody lines that mixed with sweat, making it feel like he was being punished. Wheat awns fell into his clothes, scratching him all over; he wished he could strip down and scratch himself everywhere. But none of that mattered now; in Hu Ruoyun's heart, he was determined to haul this ten acres of Wheat to the Wheat Field and stack it up before the storm hit!
Ten acres of Wheat meant he had to make dozens of trips with the cart. The Wheat Field was just a flat expanse of wheat, and while it was close by, the key was that he had to load the ten acres onto the cart bit by bit with the wooden fork. This was truly exhausting work.
Seeing their son working so hard, Hu Qihua and Zhao Meirong felt an overwhelming sense of heartache.
No matter how mischievous their son could be, he was still just a teenager. They had to temporarily set aside any dissatisfaction they felt about his reckless dedication to helping them.
From morning until noon, and then from noon until afternoon, Hu Ruoyun's two younger siblings joined in after school, and the family worked from afternoon until evening.
As the sun set, neighbors passing by Home couldn’t help but comment: this family was working as if their lives depended on it!
Woodzi's Wife spoke with a hint of mockery: “Qihua, Qihua's Family, are you planning to work yourself to death today? Just go home; you won't finish all that work anyway. If you finish today, there’s always tomorrow for more work. We’ll all celebrate New Year’s Eve together…”
His direct relatives, Second Uncle and Second Aunt, came over to help, but Hu Ruoyun stopped them: “Uncle, Aunt, you should go call for a Harvester. If we harvest now, we can stack it in the yard before dawn; we won’t have to worry about the rain!”
He had said this to many neighbors earlier in the day, but not only did they not believe him, even Second Uncle was skeptical: “The Talk Box (cable broadcast) said there would be good weather for the next few days; no rain…”
Now that he repeated himself, Second Aunt took over: “Hu Ruoyun, I don’t know why I feel something’s off about you today. Are you feeling unwell?”
Well then, that conversation was going nowhere.
Finally, late into the night, after much difficulty, all ten acres of Wheat were loaded onto the cart and brought to the Wheat Field.
With Hu Ruoyun's insistence, they stacked the ten acres of Wheat into a huge pile. Although it took tremendous effort, in rainy weather only the top and bottom layers would get damp; most of it would remain safe.
His younger siblings—one eight years old and the other eleven—though poor children grow up fast, were still just kids. After finishing their work without complaining about hunger or thirst, they burrowed into a makeshift shelter among the wheat pile and fell into a deep sleep. This nearly brought tears to Hu Qihua and Zhao Meirong.
They were so exhausted that even the children, let alone the adults, were slumped there, unwilling to move another inch.
Their bodies ached all over! After gripping the wooden fork for so long, blisters the size of soybeans had formed on their palms. Eventually, those blisters burst, oozing blood... Now, all ten fingers hurt so much that they couldn't even bend them.
Hu Ruoyun felt anxious: What would happen if it didn’t rain? How would they wrap things up?
As the sky brightened, the family began to gather their belongings, preparing to drag their heavy bodies home.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew from the east, and then the wind grew stronger. Large dark clouds quickly covered the pale light of dawn in the east.
In the nearby village, the sound of barking dogs echoed back and forth. Flashlights flickered along the dirt road leading to the fields, and from the village loudspeakers came the voice of the Village Chief: “Attention everyone! Attention everyone! We have just received an urgent notification from the county meteorological station. A warm and humid air mass is about to arrive; we are going to face... that strong convective weather. In addition to heavy rain, there will be strong winds and possibly hail... Everyone hurry and harvest the wheat! Hurry and harvest the wheat!”
But the weather changed too quickly. Most people hadn’t even reached their own fields when a fierce wind swept in, accompanied by dense raindrops that pelted down. The rain columns swirled chaotically in the wind, hitting people's faces with pain so intense it made it hard to keep their eyes open!
Fortunately, there was no hail.
Those who made it to the fields could do nothing but drag their soaked bodies into Hu Ruoyun's shed to take shelter from the rain while hoping that this sudden storm would lessen and stop soon.
When daylight broke fully, the wind died down and the rain turned into a fine drizzle, yet there was no sign of clear skies.
More people arrived at the fields wearing raincoats, carrying fertilizer bags or holding umbrellas, only to find themselves at a loss: most families had not yet harvested their wheat, which now lay flattened in the fields under nature's wrath. The stalks twisted this way and that, creating an endless carpet spread across the land.
A reduction in yield was certain; they just didn’t know how much they would lose.
In such circumstances, Hu Ruoyun's wheat stack stood out starkly and incongruously! After a long silence, Second Master Kuei—who usually loved to argue—finally said softly: “Look at how well they spent their money!”
Woodzi and his wife remained silent with gloomy faces.
Thinking back to how Hu Ruoyun and his family had worked desperately yesterday, recalling how this sunburned child had insisted on rushing to harvest because a change in weather was coming—yet no one had listened—everyone was left speechless.
Who can they blame?
What the farmers toiling in these lands could not have anticipated was that the rain would come and go for a full fifteen days, only stopping on the sixteenth day after their anxious prayers.
Woodzi's Wife pushed aside the fallen wheat stalks in her field and sat down on the damp ground, crying out loud. Sister Jie, who was closest to her, was startled and rushed over to ask, "Aunt Dezi, why are you crying?"
Through her sobs, Woodzi's Wife managed to say, "The wheat... the wheat... it's all ruined!" She showed Sister Jie the ears of wheat in her hands.
The sight before them was shocking: many of the grains wrapped in the husks had sprouted tender white shoots!
Everyone hurriedly began to check their own wheat, and almost without exception, it had all sprouted!
Second Master Kuei even took a handful of grains, counted them in his palm, and found that out of 178 grains, 161 had sprouted, yielding a germination rate of over 93%.
The day after harvesting the wheat, Hu Ruoyun returned to school.
He had no idea that during those two weeks, people from the village visited his home daily to chat. Ultimately, all conversations led to one question: how did they know a storm was coming? They had spent a large sum hiring a harvester to collect their wheat and stacked it high, thus avoiding disaster.
Hu Ruoyun's mother, Zhao Meirong, was overwhelmed by the inquiries; who knew how that lazy boy of hers had figured it out!
His father, Hu Qihua, suppressed his relief and tried not to show any envy. He concocted an excuse: "We didn't know anything; it was just our eldest son being lazy and wanting to avoid hard work that he took it upon himself to hire the harvester..."
But this explanation was clearly unconvincing.
Late at night, as they lay in bed, Hu Qihua and Zhao Meirong discussed countless times how their son had predicted the storm. Regardless of their speculations, they ultimately agreed that "spending those sixty bucks was truly worth it!"
This led Hu Ruoyun to believe he had indeed foreseen the future. Now he wondered if he could recall what subjects would be on this year's Entrance Examination. Could he turn his fortunes around and create a miracle?
Yet no matter how hard he tried to think, he couldn't remember a thing.
In the end, Hu Ruoyun found peace. If everything could be foreseen and changed, wouldn’t life become unbearable? If one could predict everything and alter it, life would lose its meaning.
He recalled something that a comedian known as The Little Black Chubby One had said during a future period:
A crooked tree will eventually bend,
It’s hard to keep a wolf as a dog for guarding;
A cormorant stained with ink won’t stay black for long,
A crow painted white won’t hold its color firmly.
Candied bitter lotus will eventually taste bitter,
Picking fruits too early won’t yield sweetness;
Good deeds must be done by good people,
How can an ordinary person become a deity?
Ultimately, he was just an ordinary person, so he let go of the extravagant hope of becoming immortal. He decided to go with the flow, accept his fate, and align with the will of heaven.
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