Chapter 61: A True Account of Rural Life

After finishing the busy farm work in the fields, Yang Xingwu’s family entered a semi-idle agricultural period, only needing to go out occasionally to weed the fields. Wang Zhaodi began teaching their eldest daughter to weave cloth; the spinning wheel at home, unused for half a year, was brought back into service.

The raw material for summer weaving was ramie, known locally as foreign hemp. Its leaves were prickly and caused unbearable itching on the skin. Every summer, families would go to their small plots to harvest ramie, with the initial task mostly done by children. Armed with long wooden sticks, they would swing them in a style reminiscent of Shaolin staff techniques, knocking down the prickly leaves before harvesting.

Once stripped for its bark, the ramie stalk became a new favorite toy for the children. The ramie fibers were soaked in water for several days, then scraped to remove the outermost layer, and finally laid out to dry in the yard. Each morning, water was added to help remove the gum. After three or four days of drying, the ramie was further processed through intricate steps like spinning the fibers into threads, which were then used for weaving cloth. Following this, the cloth was sized, threaded through a reed, and woven.

Spinning the ramie required immense patience, and even a full day’s work might yield only a small amount of fiber. The hot summer heat combined with these tedious tasks often tested one’s temper and could easily lead to quarrels. The entire process was complex, and even after preparing all the materials, weaving alone took several days.

The woven fabric could not be used directly, as it would cause itching all over the body. It required additional manual treatment and later hand-dyeing. The clothes Yang Xingwu wore were made from such ramie fabric—light, breathable, and wonderfully cool in the summer. Ramie cloth, also called summer cloth, has a history tracing back to the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties.

Life in rural villages during the early 1980s was essentially that of self-sufficient peasant farmers. The spinning wheel was even more vital than the sewing machine because villagers had no fabric coupons. They wove ramie cloth in summer and cotton cloth in winter—their family’s clothing depended entirely on this single spinning wheel. Although fabric coupons had been abolished, it was uncertain when such reforms would reach their small town.

As for dacron fabric, it was gradually becoming more common, but it was unsuitable for summer wear because it lacked breathability. Leftover scraps from weaving and tailoring were coated with paste and dried under the sun, layer by layer, until a dense stack of a dozen or so layers formed. Once dried, the material was cut and made into shoe soles—a craft commonly known as “thousand-layer soles.”

Many household utensils derived from various crops. Water scoops were made from gourds, split in half after harvest—one half for fetching water, the other for scooping grain. Scrubbers for pots were woven from loofah or sorghum tassels. Pot lids were woven from sorghum stalks. Baskets were made from thorny branches, large brooms from small bamboo poles, and small brooms from broom grass. Ropes were twisted from corn husks.

They could provide for all their needs in food, clothing, and daily use, which was why farmers could survive robustly as long as they had a piece of land.

After staying home for a while and realizing he couldn’t help much, Yang Xingwu stepped out into the village for a walk. Along the way, he saw many children wielding ramie stalks, brandishing them fiercely like little warriors, shouting that they were heroes. The children split into two groups, play-fighting each other.

Yang Xingwu stopped to watch and soon noticed his two younger cousins among the players, which made him even more interested.

“Second Brother!” he heard a voice, and before he could react, two small arms hugged his legs. Looking down, he saw his little female and male cousins. He grabbed one with each hand and sat under the shade of a tree to watch the play.

“Xiaobao, why aren’t you playing with your older brothers?” he asked.

“Second Brother, I was just about to tell you. They think I’m too little and won’t let me join because I can’t keep up,” Xiaobao replied.

“Then wait until you’re bigger before playing with them! Or play with kids your own age,” Yang Xingwu advised.

“But I want to play now,” Xiaobao pouted.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting beaten? Those kids are over ten years old, and you’re just a little kid,” he cautioned.

Xiaobao fell silent after hearing this.

Yang Xingwu turned to look at his little female cousin, who was quietly sitting nearby, fiddling with some foxtail grass.

“Xiaofeng, why aren’t you playing with your older sister?”

“They went to play sandbag toss. I can’t run fast enough yet!” she replied.

“Do you want a little dog? I’ll make one for you!” he offered.

“Yes!” Xiaofeng eagerly handed him a handful of foxtail grass.

With a few quick movements, Yang Xingwu skillfully crafted a lively little dog out of the grass. Xiaofeng’s eyes widened with delight, afraid to miss a single moment. When she saw the “dog” move as Yang Xingwu pulled certain stems, she was overjoyed.

“Second Brother, you’re amazing! I want to play with it!” she exclaimed.

“Here, hold it like this—one hand on this side, one hand on that side. Pull both hands, and the little dog moves!” he instructed.

Xiaofeng quickly followed his directions, and when the grass dog truly moved, she was thrilled.

“You’re really good, Second Brother!”

Hearing her praise, Yang Xingwu felt a surge of happiness.

The three of them sat under the tree watching the play for quite some time. Growing bored, Yang Xingwu took the two little ones for a stroll around the village.

Xiaofeng soon grew tired and coquettishly clung to Yang Xingwu. He lifted her effortlessly into his arms, and she joyfully kicked her small legs.

After a short walk, Xiaofeng suddenly called out, “Second Brother, I want to eat fragrant millet seeds—they’re all ripe over there!”

Hearing this, Xiaobao hurried over. Once Yang Xingwu set Xiaofeng down, the two children ran to a small tree about their height and began picking.

Before long, their hands were too full to hold more.

Yang Xingwu approached, and Xiaofeng, seeing him coming, quickly peeled the husk off a seed, revealing the golden flesh inside. She held it up to him and said, “Second Brother, try it! It’s so sweet!”

Yang Xingwu’s heart melted at the sight. He squatted down and opened his mouth, letting the little girl feed him the fruit. Overjoyed, she eagerly pushed the seed into his mouth.

“How is it? Sweet?” she asked.

“Very sweet. You should try some, too,” he said.

Xiaobao picked many seeds and offered them to Yang Xingwu, who peeled the husks and fed the two children, occasionally eating one himself.

“Fragrant millet seeds” was the local name for this fruit, known as “guniang guo” in the Northeast and “lantern fruit” in the South. When ripe, the outer skin turned brown, and the flesh inside was yellow.

Children adored these fruits. Another plant, called nightshade, bore berries resembling small black grapes, filled with numerous seeds that stained the mouth purple when eaten. It was said that solanine in nightshade was toxic, though no one had ever been poisoned.

Yang Xingwu sat down near the tree with his two little cousins, picking a few more fruits. Watching the children, bare-chested and barefoot, kicking their legs in joy as they ate, he lay back, resting his head on his hand, gazing at the sunset. In that moment, a profound sense of peacefulness and contentment washed over him.