Chapter 009: Harvesting Rice, Experience Points Soaring

After half an hour of hard work, Second Aunt stood with her hands on her hips, waiting impatiently as Chen Anquan carried bundle after bundle of rice stalks over. She began to mutter, “Why don’t you go cut the rice, too?”

Running back and forth with armfuls of rice, Chen Anquan noticed that his attribute panel remained completely unchanged—the numbers didn’t budge at all. He really didn’t want to keep doing such repetitive labor.

Though he didn’t mind helping Second Uncle and his family, he’d much rather do something that would improve his attributes while working. At that moment, Second Aunt’s words made up his mind.

He would learn to reap rice just like his Second Uncle!

Second Uncle, his tall, slender figure bent low, finally straightened and turned to look at Chen Anquan. “Anquan, you’ve never cut rice before, have you?”

“No.”

“Then you’d best not start. It’s hard work.”

Second Uncle’s meaning was clear: he didn’t want Chen Anquan, a delicate, city-bred youth disguised as a country boy, to cut rice.

Second Aunt muttered, “We’re all country folk. It’s only right for you to learn to work. Your cousin was reaping rice at five.”

“Zhaodi…” Second Uncle hesitated, looking at his wife. “Anquan’s never done farm work, let alone cut rice. I’m not sure he can handle it physically.”

Second Aunt’s long, black eyebrows arched in reproach as she shot a look at Second Uncle, her expression seeming to say:

Such good labor and you don’t even put him to use!

She faced Second Uncle. “It’s harvest time. We farmers depend on the weather, and there are still several acres left. What if it suddenly starts raining?”

Chen Anquan scanned the rice field, stalks everywhere, searching for an extra sickle—if he could find one, he could start cutting.

“Anquan, here, take this!”

Second Aunt produced a sickle from beside her and held it out.

Chen Anquan took the sickle and walked toward Second Uncle.

Seeing his willingness, Second Uncle didn’t refuse. He bent his long back again, turning so that his back faced Anquan. “Watch carefully. Grip the rice near the base and be careful not to cut your hand with the sickle.”

He demonstrated as he spoke.

His movements were fluid, as if he were a tai chi master—no wasted motion, all efficiency.

Chen Anquan examined the sickle in his hand: the blade was narrow and gleamed sharp and white in the sun, the handle about as thick as two thumbs.

This was different from the sickle used for chopping firewood in the hills.

The rice sickle was light and razor-sharp.

The wood-cutting sickle was heavy, with a broad blade, more like a machete—capable of shearing through a tree branch as thick as a wrist in a single stroke.

Following Second Uncle’s example, Chen Anquan bent forward, stretched out his left hand to grasp the base of the rice stalks, then used his right hand to slice along the surface of the earth with the sickle.

A sharp sound rang out.

Though the sickle was sharp, a bundle of rice comprised many stalks, each as thick as a chopstick, so there was considerable resistance.

As the saying goes, a single chopstick snaps easily, but a bundle is hard to break.

Chen Anquan’s first swing only cut through most of the rice; a few stalks remained.

He’d already used up all the strength he’d gathered. His body stalled, and his center of gravity began to tip backward.

His left hand was still gripping the rice, and as he leaned back, the sickle in his right hand shifted position—its blade now aimed toward himself.

In that moment, he unwittingly dragged the sickle toward his own neck as he lost balance, unable to adjust or control its direction.

Startled and confused, Chen Anquan was utterly terrified.

Just as the blade came within ten centimeters of his throat, a calloused hand shot out and grabbed his right wrist.

“Ah!”

Chen Anquan landed hard on the cut rice stubble, a most uncomfortable sensation!

Ignoring the pain beneath him, he stared up at his Second Uncle in shock.

“Anquan, when you cut rice, lean forward. Guide the sickle toward your toes,” Second Uncle instructed.

Still shaken, Chen Anquan nodded repeatedly. “Okay, okay.”

Second Uncle let go and resumed his harvesting.

Taking the advice to heart, Chen Anquan pushed himself up from the dry earth and went back to work.

“I really am a fake farmer,” he thought ruefully, then took another look at Second Uncle’s technique.

This time, seeking safety, he slowed down, cutting the rice carefully and steadily.

Half an hour later.

Second Uncle had advanced more than a meter through the field.

Chen Anquan, despite his efforts, had only covered about half a meter.

Second Aunt stood by the threshing machine, watching Chen Anquan’s meticulous, methodical cutting.

He was slow, yes—but at least he was useful labor.

As time passed, Chen Anquan became immersed in the joy of harvesting rice.

He was happy because he was gaining attribute points!

After two hours of cutting, his strength, agility, and constitution all increased, and he even gained an extra 0.02 unused attribute points!

His current attribute panel read:

Name: Chen Anquan
Age: 24
Strength: 1.22
Agility: 1.02
Spirit: 1
Constitution: 0.9
Unused Attribute Points: 0.02
Skill: Tai Chi (Level 0, 15/100)

Three attributes had each increased by 0.02, totaling about two hours of work—roughly 0.01 per attribute per hour.

Such leveling speed far outpaced running!

“You two keep harvesting. I’ll go back and cook lunch!” Second Aunt called out as the threshing machine finally fell silent.

Second Uncle put down his work and addressed her, “Zhaodi, remember to use extra meat in the dishes. Anquan’s worked hard today!”

These days, hiring a rice harvester cost at least a hundred and fifty per day—money doesn’t grow on trees!

Second Aunt rolled her eyes. “We’re out of meat. Why didn’t you take the tricycle to Maplewood Village this morning?”

So that’s why the noodles were so plain this morning—there was no meat left in the house.

Chen Anquan had thought they’d just been unwilling to spare a few slices for him.

“Second Aunt, I bought half a catty of pork in Maplewood Village this morning—it’s in my old house.”

A look of delight appeared on Second Aunt’s face as she gazed at her considerate nephew. “You’re so thoughtful. I’ll go fetch the pork, then.”