Courtyard House: After disbanding the Elderly Care Gang, I went to the countryside to cultivate immo

Hu Guangming went ahead to scout things out, and when he came back, his face was as black as the bottom of a pot, and his eyebrows were so furrowed they could trap a fly.

He squatted on the cart shaft, took a few deep drags on his long-extinguished pipe, and after a long while, he spoke in a hoarse voice, full of exhaustion and helplessness:

"Young men, go home! Take your livestock and go home! Come back tomorrow afternoon!"

He waved his hand, as if shooing away a flock of sparrows circling around him.

"Tonight, it's just us old bones keeping watch here." He looked at the few cart drivers and farmers of similar age around him, and everyone's face showed a kind of resigned numbness. "It's like this every year. If we come late, we have to endure it."

The young people in the village had this experience, but the educated youth looked at each other blankly: Go back? Let the elders freeze outside all night?

"Captain, how about we leave a few people behind..." Lin Shengli said hesitantly.

"What are you staying for!" Hu Guangming glared. "The livestock need taking care of! Someone needs to bring them food and water tomorrow! Go back home! Don't cause trouble here! Hurry up!"

The order was not to be questioned, so the young man had no choice but to remove the harness from the animal, tidy it up, and hang it on a large, strong bull.

The livestock were also tired after a long day and stood listlessly.

On the way back, the atmosphere was much more somber than when we arrived.

Everyone was worried about the old men and uncles who were working late outside the grain station. The night wind was rising, and the chill was penetrating to the bone. They wondered how the old men and uncles were managing to stay up all night in that drafty place outside the grain station.

Grain depots in those days had rudimentary facilities and no dedicated rest areas.

Farmers delivering grain would prepare hay and bedding before setting off. They would find a relatively dry place in the grain station yard, under the eaves, or even in the open air, spread out some straw or burlap sacks, and lie down fully clothed.

Mosquito bites on summer nights and biting cold dew on autumn nights—all to protect grain and vehicles from theft, vandalism, or queue-jumping, and to keep their place in line, they had to endure it no matter how hard or tiring it was.

In the silence, someone started by turning their gaze to the steady, gentle old oxen.

Although riding on a cow's back is uncomfortable, it's still better than walking! Especially for those with blisters on their feet.

"Ergaizi, can I ride for a bit? My feet hurt terribly!"

"Go away, I only climbed up here a short while ago, I'm exhausted!"

"It's just a short distance! Can't I help you carry it?"

The young people began to discuss, exchange, or simply cheat, vying for those good-tempered, broad-backed old oxen as their "mounts."

For a time, the road was filled with laughter, bargaining, and the reluctant mooing of cows.

This little bit of fun somewhat lessened my worries about my elders and my dissatisfaction with the long queues.

As for the mules and horses? Forget about them.

These large animals have bad tempers and are loyal to their masters. Unless you are a driver who regularly serves them, you can forget about getting close to them, let alone riding them.

Donkeys are docile, but they are small and have a hard time carrying even a half-grown boy, so no one bothers with them.

They returned to the village in a lively atmosphere, by which time it was already completely dark.

First, everyone led their livestock to the large livestock shed that was provided by the production team, added fodder, gave them plenty of water, and watched them lie down to rest, exhausted. Only then did they drag their equally tired bodies back to their own homes.

That night, many families in Heisonggou Village did not sleep well.

The fire in the stove flickered, reflecting the worried faces of the housewives.

Lin Shengli ate his meal in silence, imagining the scene outside the grain station. The hardships of farmers in this era made him feel uneasy. It was by no means an easy camping trip, but a real experience of living in the open.

The next day at noon, the sun was high in the sky.

Almost every young person in the village sent someone out, carrying baskets and jars filled with as much food as possible prepared at home—perhaps golden-brown cornbread, perhaps stewed potatoes and cabbage with a few extra slices of salted meat, or perhaps a few boiled eggs that they usually couldn't bear to eat.

They set off on foot again to the township grain station to relieve and comfort their relatives who had stayed up all night.

Walking to the perimeter of the grain depot, the scene appeared even more chaotic and weary than yesterday.

The long queue remained, but after a night of torment, many of the night watchmen had dark circles under their eyes, their hair was wet and dried by the dew, tangled in clumps, their clothes were covered with grass clippings and dust, and their lips were chapped.

In addition to the smells of livestock dung and dust, the air was filled with the stench of sweat and the dampness of night dew.

Hu Guangming and several old hands from Heisonggou Village were crammed into the narrow space between two oxcarts, lying on tattered straw mats that had been torn from the carts to cover their grain. They were covered with their own worn-out cotton-padded jackets or pieces of burlap sacks, their eyes sunken, their beards unkempt, and their faces covered in grime. Only when they saw their children arrive did they struggle to sit up and stretch their stiff limbs.

"Dad, eat quickly! It's still warm!"

"Uncle, have some water!"

The young man quickly handed over the food he had brought and turned on the kettle.

Hu Guangming took the large, rough porcelain bowl handed to him by his son. Inside was a thick corn porridge, topped with pickled vegetables and two oily flatbreads.

He didn't care about his image anymore. He squatted down by the cart shaft and started slurping down the food from the rim of the bowl, looking like he hadn't eaten for three days.

The other experienced workers did the same, wolfing down their food, washing it down with warm water. Only after the hot food was gone did their faces regain some vitality.

"How was last night?" a young man asked in a low voice.

"What can we do? We just squeeze in to sleep, and I wake up several times from the cold." An old worker wiped his mouth. "We also have to be constantly on guard, afraid that people will cut in line, afraid that the grain bags will be gnawed by rats, afraid that it will rain... Sigh, it's the same every year."

After finishing his meal and regaining some energy, Hu Guangming immediately began giving orders: "Quick! Lift all the straw mats covering the grain carts! Let the grain sacks air out and dry in the sun while it's still sunny! Don't let them get damp overnight!"

The young people hurriedly lifted the straw mats and tattered burlap sacks that had been covering the area tightly.

After a night of dew and dampness, the outermost grain sacks did feel somewhat cool to the touch. The golden grain sacks were exposed to the afternoon autumn sun, and everyone held their breath, hoping the precious sunlight would quickly drive away the oppressive dampness.

Time slipped away slowly in the anxious wait.

Inside the grain depot, one could faintly hear the clanging of scales, the shouts of inspectors, and the relieved laughter of farmers who had handed over their grain.

Every sound tugged at the hearts of those queuing outside.

Finally, around 3 p.m., the line started to loosen noticeably at the front.

Grain carts from a village began to leave one after another. The carts were empty of grain, and the drivers had tired but relaxed smiles on their faces. They greeted each other, their voices light and cheerful—they had finished delivering their grain!

"Hurry! It's our turn! Drive the car in! Everyone, perk up!" Hu Guangming jumped up as if he had been injected with chicken blood, shouting in a hoarse voice. His face instantly broke into a smile, a complex expression that mixed anticipation, nervousness, and deliberate flattery.

The grain carts from Heisonggou Village slowly drove into the grain depot compound as the vehicles in front of them left.

The ground in the yard was rammed earth, uneven from being crushed by countless wheels.

The air was thick with the smell of grain dust and livestock. Several tall granaries stood to one side, their doors wide open, waiting to receive the tributes from various villages.

Hu Guangming jumped out of the car, took out the pack of "Dashengchan" cigarettes that he had prepared long ago and that he himself was reluctant to smoke, and his smile became even more eager. He walked quickly toward several grain station staff members who were wearing dark blue Zhongshan suits with sleeves on their sleeves and serious expressions.

"Comrade, you've worked hard! Here, have a cigarette to relax!" He bent over and handed over the cigarette.

The staff members were clearly exhausted from the past few days, their faces expressionless. One of the older ones glanced at the cigarette pack, said nothing, but still reached out and took one, lit it with the match Hu Guangming quickly offered, took a deep drag, and exhaled the smoke.

"Which village? How many bags?" he asked businesslike, holding a hardcover notebook and a pen in his hand.

"Red Flag Commune, Heisonggou Village, XX jin of rice, XX jin of corn, XX jin of soybeans..." Hu Guangming hurriedly reported the numbers, his tone respectful.

"Hmm." The staff member nodded and gestured to the two young officers next to him who were holding long iron "grain scouts." The "grain scout" was a hollow iron shovel with a sharp head and grooves. Judging from the cold light it gleamed, it was definitely very sharp.

The most crucial moment had arrived! The hearts of all the people in Heisonggou Village were in their throats, their eyes fixed on the "grain scouts" in the hands of the two clerks.

That thing gleamed coldly in the sunlight, like a judge's scepter.

An officer walked up to a bag of rice, randomly selected a spot, and plunged the sharp probe deep into the bag until the handle was inside. He then twisted it and quickly pulled it out.

A small clump of rice grains was brought out from the probe's groove.

He picked up a few grains, carefully examined their color and plumpness, then without hesitation put them in his mouth and bit down hard with his back teeth—

"Crack!"

The crisp sound could still be clearly heard in the slightly noisy courtyard.

The officer chewed the food expressionlessly, spat out the crumbs, and nodded.

He then went to another bag of corn, and in the same way, probed, took samples, observed, and even bit into them. Next came the bag of soybeans…

Throughout the entire process, Hu Guangming and the villagers held their breath, their eyes following the grain scout's movements, their ears catching every crisp sound of teeth grinding.

They were terrified that the person in charge might frown or utter those dreadful words like "it's damp" or "there are shriveled grains."

At that time, not every place had a simple oil-steaming moisture analyzer. Most of the time, it still depended on the personal judgment of the grain station quality inspectors. If they were in a bad mood, they would reject your work and you would still have to greet them with a smile.

Time seemed to pass very slowly.

Finally, the two officers checked all the grain bags, exchanged a few words in hushed tones, and then nodded to the middle-aged staff member in charge of recording.

"Hmm, the quality is alright, and it's dry enough." The middle-aged staff member scribbled a few words on his notebook, his tone still calm, but to the people of Heisonggou Village, these words were like heavenly music!

The heavy weight on his heart lifted instantly! Hu Guangming's smile became much more genuine, and he repeatedly expressed his gratitude: "Thank you, comrade! Thank you, comrade! Our grain has been dried again and again; we dared not be careless!"

"Alright, take it to be weighed." The staff member waved his hand.

"Quick! Get moving! Carry it to the scale!" Hu Guangming turned around, his voice louder, directing his men.

The strong laborers who had been waiting nearby rushed forward, two to a time, shouting in unison, to lift the heavy sacks of grain from the cart and onto the huge, rusty weighbridge. The weighbridge operator carefully watched the scale markings, loudly announcing the numbers, while others quickly calculated and recorded the data on an abacus.

"Rice, first bag, net weight 1 jin!"

"Corn, first bag, net weight 1 jin!"

……

Each number reported signifies that another part of the task has been completed.

Sweat streamed down the faces of the grain carriers, but they all wore smiles.

When the last bag of grain was weighed and the total was calculated, everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they compared it with the number on the grain quota sheet and found that it was still about ten kilograms more than the quota.

Hu Guangming solemnly accepted a thin piece of paper stamped with a red official seal from the middle-aged staff member—a certificate for the payment of public grain.

He took it with slightly trembling hands, examining it carefully as if it were a priceless treasure.

With this piece of paper, Heisonggou Village's task of submitting grain to the state this year was considered successfully completed! The distribution of the year-end grain resale and various ration coupons was finally settled.

At this moment, all the people from Heisonggou Village who came to deliver their grain, whether they were elderly people who had stayed up all night or young people who came to deliver meals, felt an indescribable sense of relief and joy.

They almost wanted to cheer, to jump for joy, to celebrate! Several young men were even excitedly patting each other on the shoulder.

Hu Guangming looked at everyone, the wrinkles on his face smoothing out, but he still waved his hand forcefully to calm everyone's excitement: "Alright! Alright! Mission accomplished! Stop shouting! Hurry up, get in the car, pack up the empty bags, and let's—go back to the village!"

"Let's go back to the village!" Everyone responded enthusiastically, their voices filled with the joy of relieving their fatigue.

The empty car moved swiftly, and my heart was set on returning home. Although my body was still tired, the heavy weight on my mind had been lifted.

As the sun set, it cast long shadows of the returning convoy. The wheels creaked and groaned, carrying people who had completed their mission, and sped toward the village of Heisonggou, where smoke curled from the chimneys.