Chapter 28: The Wheat Harvest Break

Yang Xingwu reached out to pick up a zongzi, unwound the grass tie, peeled back the reed leaves, and took a bite. It tasted quite good; the glutinous rice had been soaked for just the right amount of time, resulting in a soft and chewy texture. The only drawback was a slight lack of sweetness, as it was stuffed with red dates rather than honey dates.

After the family finished their zongzi, Yang Xiaolan went to wash the pot, and Wang Zhaodi went to feed the chickens. Once these chores were done, Wang Zhaodi took her daughter out of the small courtyard to chat with the villagers.

The next day was Mangzhong, or "Grain in Ear." As the name implies, it is the time when "grain crops with awns can be planted, and if delayed, it will be too late." In the north, it also signifies that awned plants have matured and are ready for harvest. There is a folk saying: "If you don't plant at Mangzhong, there is no use planting later." This day marks the ripening of wheat in the north and the beginning of rice transplanting in the south. Thus, Mangzhong is often punned as "Mangzhong," meaning "Busy Planting."

Yang Chunsheng’s family had already harvested half of their wheat, and the work this year was going much smoother than the last. Early in the morning, Yang Chunsheng went to the fields to check on the crop. The wheat had turned golden. He plucked a grain from an ear, put it in his mouth, and chewed vigorously to gauge its ripeness. After checking several spots, he returned home.

Seeing her husband return, Wang Zhaodi asked, "How is it? Can we start cutting?"

"Not quite yet. Let's do it tomorrow! Let it grow one more day."

"Alright then!" Wang Zhaodi replied, sitting back down in the room.

***

In the Yangjiazhuang Village Primary School, Yang Liuzhi checked the clock in the office; the hands pointed to 10:40. He stood up, walked to the tree, grabbed the rope, and rang the bell vigorously. The "ding-ding-ding" sound rang out, and the once-lively campus instantly fell silent.

The school was small, with fewer than a hundred students across four grades. The preschool and first grade accounted for over 60 percent, and there were fewer than fifteen students in the third-grade class. The school also accepted students from neighboring villages. Some of those villages had only a few dozen households and no schools of their own, making the commute long and arduous for the children. Seeing that the students had entered their classrooms, Yang Liuzhi went to each room to shout for them to gather on the playground for an assembly.

Upon hearing this, the students erupted like wild horses let loose from their reins. After a noisy commotion, they finally quieted down. Standing on the dilapidated stage, Yang Liuzhi held a paper megaphone he had fashioned from cardboard. He put it to his lips and shouted to the students below:

"Students, today is Mangzhong. Starting today, we begin our wheat break. School will resume in twelve days—May 19th. That is the Monday after next; do not forget! When you go home, don't just play; remember to help your families with the work! Do you hear me?"

"We hear you!" the students shouted back, thrilled by the news of the break and responding with extra enthusiasm.

Watching these reckless youngsters, Yang Liuzhi thought to himself, "I hope you are still this energetic when you come back after the wheat harvest."

He gave them a few final warnings, such as not to go swimming in the pits or wandering into the mountains, and to prioritize safety. Once the students grew restless, he finally announced the start of the break. Many students immediately ran back to their classrooms, grabbed their bags, and left the school, chatting in small groups about their plans for the break.

Statutory holidays in the 1980s were pitifully few. Apart from three days for the Spring Festival, two for National Day, and one each for New Year's Day and May Day, there were no others. People worked six days a week. In agricultural regions, the most significant breaks for teachers—besides winter and summer vacations—were the wheat break and the autumn break.

The wheat break, as the name suggests, is for harvesting wheat. It usually falls around the time of Mangzhong and lasts for ten to fifteen days. For those born in the eighties and nineties, this is the most memorable holiday of all—not because of leisure, but because of the labor.

When the break began, students might be happy for the first day or two, bursting with energy as they pushed wheelbarrow tires around. But after four or five days, they would be exhausted like dogs, and after seven or eight days, they would be completely spent. They had to wake up before dawn to rush the harvest, working until noon. The women would return home early to cook, then carry the food back to the fields, where the family would eat sitting on the ground. After the meal, they would rest in the shade of a tree until the sun became less scorching, then continue cutting.

"The wife and daughters carry the baskets of food, the children bring the jugs of drink, following to the fields to feed the workers, while the strong men labor on the southern ridge. Their feet are steamed by the hot earth, their backs are scorched by the blazing sun; exhausted, they forget the heat, caring only that the summer day be long."

Bai Juyi's poem, *Watching the Wheat Harvest*, vividly captures the scene of entire families mobilized for the harvest. In a way, the wheat break served as a lesson in the value of education. Even students who usually disliked school would study hard after the baptism of the wheat harvest. The reason was simple: harvesting wheat was so grueling that studying seemed effortless by comparison.

Whenever the wheat break ended, the students' enthusiasm for learning would surge. This was the primary reason why final exam scores in the second semester were generally better than mid-term scores. Furthermore, village school teachers were usually part-time farmers themselves; the break allowed them to focus on their own farm work without worrying about falling behind in the curriculum. After all, a monthly salary of ten yuan was far from enough to survive without farming.

The autumn break took place in late September or during the National Day, lasting about the same amount of time. The crops harvested then were primarily high-yield staples like corn and sweet potatoes.

In the evening, Yang Xingwu, tired from his studies, played with his little sister in the courtyard. Yang Chunsheng was squatting by the edge of the pit, sharpening his sickle. He sprinkled a little water on the whetstone, placed the blade against it, and ground it. After a while, he tested the sharpness with his hand. Not satisfied, he took off his cloth shoe, exposed his sole, and used the sickle to trim away his thick, old calluses. Seeing the blade cleanly peel away a layer of dead skin, Yang Chunsheng smiled with satisfaction. He put the sickle away and continued sharpening the others. Once finished, he rinsed them with water and hung them on the wall.

The next day, before dawn, Yangjiazhuang came to life. Many villagers headed to the fields to cut wheat while it was still cool. Yang Chunsheng's family also rose. They loaded their sickles onto a handcart and headed straight for the wheat fields. As Yang Xingwu walked out of the village, looking at the ocean of gold, he couldn't help but recall the lines:

"The south wind rises in the night, and the wheat turns yellow across the ridges!"