Chapter Thirty-Two: Winnowing

After turning the wheat over once more, Wang Zhaodi took her eldest daughter home to prepare lunch, leaving Yang Xiaohong to keep Yang Xingwu company in case he needed to send a message.

Yang Xingwu lay on the ground with a stalk of foxtail grass in his mouth, his hands cradling his head as he stared blankly at the sky. It was a beautiful day; the sky was a deep, cloudless blue. Aside from the slightly muggy air, everything was just right.

Yang Xiaohong, bored and having finished her popsicle, felt restless in the heat with nowhere to go. Spotting the foxtail grass in her second brother’s mouth, she suddenly had an idea. She ran to the roadside and plucked a handful.

"Second Brother, weave me a little dog to play with!"

Yang Xingwu took the grass from her, sat up, and began to work. He used two stalks for ears, four for legs, and the rest for the head and body. He worked with impressive intensity, but when he finished, he felt a bit awkward—the dog looked rather crude.

Yang Xiaohong, who had been full of anticipation, pursed her lips until they could have held a dangling oil bottle. "Second Brother, this dog is so ugly!"

"Uh, why don't you give it a try then?" Yang Xingwu said, feeling embarrassed.

Determined, Yang Xiaohong went back to the roadside, gathered more grass, and sat down next to him to mimic his movements. She started well but got stuck in the middle, looking up at Yang Xingwu with expectant eyes. He offered instructions from the side, and before long, a little dog was finished.

Both siblings stared at the result in silence. After a moment, Yang Xingwu struggled to suppress a laugh. Yang Xiaohong, however, was filled with confusion. Refusing to be defeated, she tried several more times, but each attempt yielded the same bizarre result, much to Yang Xingwu’s secret amusement.

She seemed to be at a stalemate with this "dog." As she sat under the shade of a tree, meticulously weaving away, her eldest sister, Yang Xiaolan, arrived at the threshing floor to call them for lunch. Seeing the pile of strange-looking little dogs beside her, Xiaolan realized what was happening and offered guidance: "Don't do it like that. Turn the head this way—yes, a little more to the side!"

Following her sister’s instructions, Yang Xiaohong produced a dog that looked surprisingly good—better than any of her own previous attempts. She looked at her eldest sister with newfound admiration. "Eldest Sister, you're amazing!"

"It was all taught by Second Brother!"

Yang Xiaohong paused, bewildered. She looked around, but her second brother was nowhere to be seen. Glancing into the distance, she saw him already far off. Realizing she had been tricked, she shouted, "Second Brother!"

Yang Xingwu only quickened his pace, while Yang Xiaolan couldn't help but giggle. Yang Xiaohong threw down the grass in a huff and chased after him.

When the three arrived home, Yang Xiaohong insisted on hitching a ride on her brother's back. Wang Zhaodi scolded them, "It's so hot, why are you making your brother carry you?"

"Hmph! He tricked me..." Yang Xiaohong recounted the incident. Wang Zhaodi shot Yang Xingwu a stern look. "You too—you’re old enough to know better, acting like a child. Now, get down and eat!"

After a reluctant meal, Yang Chunsheng took his eldest son to catch up on sleep. Yang Xingwu put on his straw hat and returned to the threshing floor with his mother to turn the wheat again.

"Mom, you go back and sleep. I’ll keep an eye on it," he said.

"Alright, I'll go rest for a while. If you're tired, lie down and nap. I'll come back later."

"No need, I can handle it myself. There isn't much left." Wang Zhaodi agreed and left.

After she departed, Yang Xingwu lay down, covered his face with his straw hat, and drifted off. When he woke, he checked the wheat and turned it with a wooden fork. Without a watch, he dug a small hole in the ground and stood the wooden fork upright, using it as a makeshift sundial to track the time.

When Yang Chunsheng arrived with the ox, he found his son still working. He took a wheat ear, crushed it in his hand, and felt the grains. "That’s enough, Xiaowu. Stop for now."

Yang Chunsheng led the ox to the stone roller, attached the ropes, and led it onto the threshing floor. Threshing was a technical skill that only his father truly mastered. He drove the ox to the center, cracked his whip in the air, and the animal began to pull the heavy stone roller. Yang Chunsheng led the ox in circles, starting small and gradually widening the path until the entire area was covered.

He took a break, drank a bowl of water, and called out, "You guys, turn it over!"

With the help of his mother and siblings, they flipped the wheat. After a few more rounds, Yang Chunsheng taught his eldest son, Yang Xingwen, the technique. They aimed for four rounds of threshing that day. Under his father's guidance, Yang Xingwen went from clumsy to proficient.

Once finished, they unhitched the ox and let it graze in a grassy patch. Then, the family used wooden forks to toss the wheat stalks, shaking them until the grains fell to the ground. Yang Xiaolan and Yang Xiaohong swept the scattered grains into a pile in the center.

Yang Chunsheng then picked up a wooden winnowing shovel, scooped up the grain, and tossed it into the air repeatedly to let the wind carry away the dust, chaff, and debris—a process of winnowing to leave only the clean wheat.