novelSusiti Chapter 13 Champa Rice
Chapter 13 Champa Rice
Sizi nodded, seemingly understanding, then suddenly blurted out, "Father said there's someone outside who keeps running away. Father said there's no need to chase him, he'll come back on his own. Is it like a penis?"
Chang Le choked a little. Wang Zhi, on the other hand, laughed: "Probably about right. But don't tell your father that your father taught you to say that."
Why?
"Because if your father asks, I'll have to explain how chickens and people are the same. Your father will think I'm talking nonsense."
Sizi tilted her head and thought for a moment, then decided that the explanation was acceptable and nodded very seriously.
After finishing his meal, the ox ran out into the yard to feed the ants.
She picked up the crumbs of steamed bun that had accidentally fallen on the ground, arranged them one by one in the corner of the wall, and then squatted there to watch the ants carry them.
He was muttering to himself, probably giving each ant a name.
Chang Le sat in the main room, looking at the rhinoceros in the courtyard through the door.
The sunlight had filled the entire yard, and the shadow of the jujube tree was spread squarely on the ground. The chicken that had climbed over the fence had somehow reappeared and was dozing under the jujube tree, its comb askew to one side.
"My lord," she said, withdrawing her gaze, "I have a request that I cannot make."
"Please speak, Madam Li."
"You mentioned last time that the yield of rice in Champa is twice that of millet. I've been thinking about it, but I still can't picture the heavy rice stalks bending under their weight. If it's convenient, could you take me to the field to see for myself?"
Wang Zhi put down his teacup and chuckled.
"What's inconvenient about that? Let's go, I need to irrigate the rice paddies a second time anyway."
The experimental field is outside the backyard wall; it's about two hundred steps away along a dirt road.
Two rows of mulberry trees were planted on both sides of the road. The trees were not tall, but the leaves were dense.
Chang Le led Si Zi behind Wang Zhi Huan, and Si Zi kept kicking small stones on the road as they walked, chasing after each one as it went.
When they reached the edge of the field, Chang Le stopped.
Before me stretched a vast expanse of lush green rice paddies. The rice seedlings had already grown to knee-high, standing in neat rows.
"Is the spacing wider than that of ordinary paddy fields?"
"It's half a palm's width too wide." Wang Zhihuan squatted on the edge of the field. "If it's too close together, there won't be enough ventilation, and the rice will easily get disease. If it's too sparse, it's a waste of land. This spacing was also determined through trial and error."
It was another trial and error. Chang Le made a mental note of it.
"My wife just said she wanted to see the rice ears." Wang Zhihuan gently bent down the stem of a rice stalk and pointed it out to her. "It hasn't sprouted ears yet. Look at this bulge—"
In another two weeks, the rice ears will sprout from here. Then, one rice stalk will produce so many grains—”
He gestured with his hand to indicate the length, which was about a hand span.
"If one plant produces so many fruits, and there are thousands of plants per acre, you can calculate how many you can harvest."
Chang Le was not included.
She watched as Wang Zhihuan squatted on the edge of the field, talking to her about the rice stalks. His fingers were covered in mud, and when he spoke, his eyes were on the rice seedlings, not on her.
It seemed as if he wasn't answering her, but rather talking to himself, which she happened to overhear.
"Young Master Wang," she said, "I have a question I'd like to ask, but I'm afraid it might be presumptuous."
"Please speak, my lady."
"Last time you talked to me in the courtyard about mutual love and mutual benefit. I went back and looked it up in a book. It says that 'mutual love means no intention to harm each other, and mutual benefit means no intention to rob each other.'"
"I'd like to ask you, Mr. Wang, is it because you teach the tenants how to grow rice, treat their illnesses, and charge lower rent than others that you follow the teachings of the Mohists?"
Wang Zhi straightened up and glanced at her. This girl really did flip through the book when she got back. Being able to recite the original text meant she didn't just flip through it, she read it carefully.
"I am not entirely the same as the Mohists. I agree with the Mohists' concept of universal love. But many of their ideas are too idealistic."
Putting aside other things, the border is not peaceful right now. If someone attacks, and you don't fight back, your fields will be trampled. That's why I'm not a member of the Mohist school.
"So, which family are you from?"
"I don't belong to any family. I'm just a farmer."
He straightened up, wiped his muddy hands on his clothes, and said, "Young lady, actually, these things of mine aren't anything profound."
Whether it's earthworms or rice, it just requires a little more effort and trial and error. If you make a mistake, start over; if you succeed, use it. It's nothing extraordinary.
He paused, looked at the lush green rice paddies in the distance, and his voice deepened:
"Like that poem—it's not some profound saying, it's just about not being able to sleep at night, looking out at the wind and rain, and thinking how wonderful it would be if everyone in the world could have a house that doesn't leak."
I thought about it, and I said it. That's all.
Chang Le looked at him. He spoke in a more casual tone than before, as if he were talking about something that wasn't worth delving into.
But she could tell that he wasn't being modest; he genuinely felt these things weren't worth her pressing him for answers.
But it was precisely this casual and carefree attitude of "not worth delving into" that made those words, those verses, and those rice seedlings in the fields weigh heavily on her heart.
On the way back, Sizi picked a wildflower on the edge of the field and insisted on pinning it behind Wang Zhihuan's ear.
Wang Zhi was pulled down to squat down by her. The flower was stuck up and then fell down, and it was stuck up again. It took three times before it was barely stuck.
Sizi clapped her hands and said, "Guoguo is so beautiful!" Changle, standing next to her, couldn't help but laugh.
Wang Zhi also took the flower off his ear and pinned it to Si Zi's little bun.
Sizi touched the flower on her head, satisfied, and skipped away.
"Madam Li," Wang Zhi patted the dirt off his hands, "you asked me several questions today, so I'll ask you one too."
"Young Master Wang, please ask."
Do you do this at home too?
"What is it like?"
"He asks about everything. He remembers everything. He's just very curious about everything."
Chang Le didn't answer immediately; she took a few steps before speaking.
"It's different at home. The teacher teaches mostly classical texts and stories, and that's it once he's finished explaining them."
"What you want to ask may not be possible, and even if you do ask, the master may not be able to answer." She paused, "It's different here with Master Wang."
"What's the difference?"
"What you do is all real work. Whether it's earthworms or rice, you're doing it with your hands and talking about it with your mouth, and what you do and what you say match up."
I went back and looked through the books, and thought about it for several days before coming here today to ask these questions. I'm not asking about everything.
Wang Zhi glanced at her. Her voice was as gentle as usual when she spoke, but the meaning behind her words was anything but.
She wasn't just being polite; she was telling him very seriously that she had thought long and hard before asking each of her questions.
"You mean I practice what I preach? Then my wife, feel free to ask me anything you've thought of. I'll answer whatever I can."
"Yes, it's about putting knowledge into practice. Young Master Wang, your words always flow so naturally. I'd like to ask, what if I can't answer that?"
"What I can't answer is what I can't let you know."