On the way home, Song Jinzhao decided she would hire help tomorrow, no matter what happened tonight.
Old Man Song could be angry if he wanted; he'd calm down in a few days anyway.
Passing the village chief's house, she heard the low of an ox and turned her head to the left. The village chief's wife was using a whip to strike the water buffalo's back.
In Song Village, apart from Landlord Zhao, only the village chief, Song Mancang, kept a large water buffalo.
It was used every morning and evening to ferry Song Gaoli to and from school in the city, and during the spring planting season, it would plow the fields.
They usually treasured it immensely. Whenever Song Qiming went to cut grass, he could see them grazing the ox in the fields, always on the freshest, greenest grass just sprouted.
In the courtyard, the water buffalo was walking back and forth over rice stalks, pulling a stone roller behind it. Rice grains fell with a rustling sound. It was far more efficient than human labor and required no manual effort from them.
Song Jinzhao thought of the nanny goat at her home.
If an ox could pull a stone roller, a goat certainly could too, though it would be more strenuous since a goat's strength was no match for a water buffalo's.
They had the animal; now they just needed a stone roller.
Song Jinzhao turned and went to the old house. As she entered, Old Lady Song and Elder Aunt Song were preparing to cook.
Old Man Song, thinking she was still on about hiring help, frowned and waved his hand. "We'll come over after we eat and finish threshing your rice first."
Song Jinzhao shook her head. "Grandpa, that's not why I'm here. Does anyone in the village have a spare stone roller?"
Old Man Song hesitated slightly, asking in return, "What do you need that for? Your family doesn't have an ox."
Song Jinzhao clicked her tongue lightly. "No ox, but I have a goat. I'm just short a stone roller."
After a moment to process this, Old Man Song got up from his stool. He stood thinking for a long while, then beckoned for Oldest Song to follow him outside.
"Old Ghost Song has a stone roller, but I'm not sure if it's still there."
Not long after, Old Man Song brought Oldest Song and Song Jinzhao to Old Ghost Song's house. In the courtyard, four people were swinging their arms up and down, beating rice sheaves against wooden barrels with loud slaps.
Old Man Song called out, "Old Ghost, is your stone roller still around?"
Old Ghost Song, wearing a brown short jacket, stopped his work and turned to look at them.
Oldest Song greeted him, and Song Jinzhao followed with a nod, saying, "Hello, Grandpa Ghost."
Old Ghost Song pointed toward the wall. "Over there. But the wooden frame has rotted away."
Old Man Song walked over and bent down to inspect it.
Old Ghost Song's ox had fallen ill and died the year before last, leaving behind nothing but a bare stone cylinder.
"The frame is easy to make. Lend me the roller."
Old Ghost Song raised his eyebrows slightly, curious. "What do you need it for? Your family doesn't have an ox."
Old Man Song pointed at Song Jinzhao. "My eldest granddaughter has a wild nanny goat at home. They're wearing themselves out with the work, so they're thinking of trying to use the goat to pull it."
Old Ghost Song thought for a moment and understood.
He waved his hand agreeably. "Take it. But it's heavy, not easy to move."
Seeing his agreement, Old Man Song, energized by the thought of not having to thresh by hand, felt strength surge through him.
"No problem. I'll go back first and get some thick wooden poles, tie ropes to it, and drag it back."
Half an hour later, Song Jinzhao looked at the nanny goat straining to pull the stone roller in the courtyard and let out a heavy sigh of relief. Finally, they didn't have to thresh by hand.
Old Man Song warned, "Don't let the goat defecate in the rice."
Song Qiming, who was driving the goat, nodded vigorously. "Don't worry, Grandpa. It just went."
When Second Song heard about this, he wanted to borrow the goat and the roller.
Old Man Song scolded him on the spot. "That's Anhao's sustenance. If you work it to exhaustion, where will you get goat's milk from?"
Two days later, Old Man Song brought the husbands and wives from the eldest and second branches to help the third branch.
Song Jinzhao and Song Qiming had cut slowly, leaving three mu of paddy fields and three mu of dry land unfinished.
It took eight people a day and a half to harvest all the remaining rice and coarse millet.
Song Jinzhao slumped on the stone step at the doorway, her eyes fixed blankly on the nanny goat pulling the roller.
It was finally over. These past six days, she had worked like an ox. Thankfully, the nanny goat handled the threshing, otherwise she really couldn't have endured it.
Pattering raindrops fell to the ground, bringing a touch of coolness to the air.
In the middle of the night, Song Jinzhao felt a bit cold. Opening her eyes, she realized it was raining outside.
The rain didn't last long. When she woke in the morning, the weather was muggy, and the cacophony of cicadas in the trees was enough to fray anyone's nerves.
Old Man Song came running over to call Song Jinzhao. "The village head is here. Take Qiming and go to the chief's house."
The village head, with his long beard and stout build—a clear sign his family didn't lack for grain—scrutinized them with shrewd eyes.
He sat on a stool, the tax register laid out on the table before him.
"Seven mu of paddy fields yielded a total of seven dan and eighty-six jin of rice. Three mu of dry land yielded three dan of millet. According to this year's imperial tax law, your household owes one dan and sixty-five jin of rice and seventy-two jin of millet in grain tax."
"Considering Song Sanlang died in corvée labor, the court exempts your family from three dan of grain tax. So, you don't need to pay this year's grain tax. If you can't write, make your mark here."
Song Jinzhao stared at the characters recorded in the tax register and asked, "Can the remaining tax credit be carried over to next year?"
Seeing she was serious, the village head bristled, his tone heavy and drawn-out. "No. You can only blame your family for not harvesting enough grain this year."
A thought occurred to Song Jinzhao. "Then can it be used for my grandpa's, my eldest uncle's, or my second uncle's families?"
Old Man Song and the other two, standing nearby, looked at the village head. One dan of grain tax was no small amount.
The village head turned the tax register around to face Song Jinzhao. "You've already split the household. Your registries are separate. It can't be transferred."
Old Man Song and the other two hung their heads in disappointment.
Song Jinzhao picked up the brush, dipped it in ink, and handed it to him.
The village head looked up at Song Qiming in surprise. "You can write?"
Song Qiming wrote the three characters for 'Song Qiming' in the blank space, then lifted his head and answered proudly, "Yes. My elder sister taught me."
The village head pointed to another blank space nearby. "Your brother isn't of age yet. You're the eldest, so you need to sign too."
Song Jinzhao took the brush and wrote 'Song Jinzhao' next to it. Her characters were more elegant than Song Qiming's.
The village head couldn't help but regard the siblings with greater respect. Very few village children could read and write, and to write their names so neatly, they must have practiced diligently.
After the tax register was recorded in the morning, the village chief led the villagers to the Xining City county office to deliver the grain taxes in the afternoon.
Song Jinzhao gazed at the rice and coarse millet filling two small rooms.
In previous years, the original owner's parents would sell one-third of the rice, exchange another third for coarse millet, and keep the final third to mix with the millet for daily meals.
Millet not only tasted poor, required more firewood to cook, and was rough on the throat, she planned to sell all the coarse millet.
She would also sell one-third of the rice. With fewer people in the household now, they didn't need that much grain.
She smiled at Song Qiming and Song Shixue. "After I go to the city to sell the grain tomorrow, the day after I'll take you all to the market to buy things."
Song Shixue's face lit up with joy. The next second, she held up the child. "What about Anhao?"
Song Jinzhao nodded. "We'll take him along."
Song Qiming happily took Song Anhao and spun around with him in the courtyard. "Great! We get to go to the city!"
After Old Man Song and the others returned from the county office, Song Jinzhao went to the old house to borrow the flatbed cart. She placed it in the courtyard, ready to load it up and set off first thing in the morning.
