Chapter 441

The riverbank returned to its customary silence. A dragonfly zipped past and paused briefly by the water, only to dart away at the rustle of approaching footsteps, fearing it might be another mischievous child looking to pinch its tail or tear its wings; too many of its kin had already met such a grim fate, and it had no desire to be the next. A dark-skinned man in a short jacket walked by. Beads of sweat trickled down his sturdy, powerful arms, and both his chest and back were soaked through. He carried a shoulder pole with buckets tied to each end, the empty vessels swaying rhythmically with his gait. He had come to the river to fetch water for his fields; the crops at home were nearly parched, and to ensure the rice and lotus plants thrived in the proper humidity, he made over twenty trips a day. While the men handled the heavy labor of hauling water and fertilizing, the women busied themselves clearing stubborn weeds and attending to household chores, occasionally scolding their boisterous children. Every family lived this way. Neighbors would nod to one another when they crossed paths, then return to their respective labors. Farming families lived and died by their small plots of land; even if they had no time to tidy themselves, they made sure their fields were well-tended.