Chen Ping collapsed onto the Black Earth as if all his strength had left him, leaning back against the massive pile of rice panicles. He gasped for breath in great heaves, his chest rising and falling violently.
He looked at the small mountain of heavy rice panicles before him. A smile of immense satisfaction and utter exhaustion spread across his face.
That was all for today.
If he stayed any longer, his head would split open.
Perfectly content, Chen Ping left the Jade Pendant space.
Another day of being exploited.
Chen Ping dragged his weary body back into the Black Earth during the night.
He had a premonition. If things continued like this, he would die within a week.
Struggling to get up, he walked over to the heavy wooden Thresher.
No matter what, he had to harvest the Spirit Rice today!
The Thresher resembled a large wooden barrel with a crank on its side. Inside, it housed a toothed wooden wheel.
He stuffed bundles of rice panicles into the feed opening and then forcefully turned the crank.
Creak… creak…
The wooden wheel began to turn, its teeth rapidly striking the panicles.
Thump thump thump… rustle rustle rustle…
Golden grains poured down like rain from the discharge chute beneath the Thresher, falling to the ground and quickly piling up. Meanwhile, the shattered straw fragments were blown out from another opening.
It was vastly faster than rubbing the grains off by hand.
Chen Ping kept feeding in panicles and kept turning the crank.
The repetitive motion brought a little relief to his numb arms, but the heavy crank took strength to turn. It pulled at his shoulder wound, making him hiss in pain.
The dust and debris stirred up by the threshing made him cough repeatedly.
But Chen Ping did not stop.
Seeing the grains rapidly accumulating on the ground like a golden sand dune, he only cranked harder.
Threshing complete!
Two small mountains now lay on the ground. One was a pure pile of golden grains; the other was a mixture of straw fragments and empty husks. That mixture could be used for burning. There might even be a chance to eat cooked Spirit Rice!
Next was winnowing away the chaff and hulls.
He brought over the fan blades of the Winnower, temporarily building a simple base out of black soil to secure it. He poured the grain mixed with debris into the Winnower’s hopper and then vigorously turned the fan handle.
Whoosh—whoosh—
The fan blades turned, creating a strong airflow. The lighter debris and empty hulls were blown away by the wind, landing in the distance. The heavier grains fell directly into a prepared pit he had dug in the black soil.
The final step: hulling to obtain Spirit Rice.
Chen Ping brought over the heavy bluish-grey Millstone. Similarly using black soil to build a stable base, he set the upper millstone in place.
He poured small amounts of winnowed Spirit Grain into the central hole of the millstone repeatedly. Then he pushed hard on the wooden handle at its edge.
The heavy millstone began to turn, emitting a dull grinding sound. The gap between the two stone disks crushed and stripped away the husks from the grains.
Pure white rice grains and pale yellow rice bran flowed out from between the millstones, falling below.
Chen Ping scooped up handfuls of this mixture and used the Winnower’s fan blades again to create wind for winnowing. This time, the lighter bran was blown away.
What remained were crystal-clear Spirit Rice grains emitting a pure fragrance!
Pure white, with a soft luster, like tiny pieces of jade!
Chen Ping grabbed a handful of still slightly warm Spirit Rice and brought it close to his eyes.
Snow-white, without a trace of impurity.
The rich scent filled his nostrils and stirred the hunger churning in his belly.
He could no longer resist. Grabbing a small handful, he stuffed it into his mouth and chewed vigorously.
Crunch… crunch…
The hard rice grains shattered between his teeth, releasing a fresh sweetness and pure grain fragrance. A bit hard, a bit coarse, far from being as soft and glutinous as cooked rice.
But that pure life energy, that solid feeling of fullness instantly dispelled all blandness and hunger!
He closed his eyes, chewing greedily, savoring the goodness of food.
So what if it was raw? It was ten thousand times better than his mixed-grain rations!
Chewing on raw rice while looking at the mountain-like pile of white Spirit Rice before him, his heart filled with immense satisfaction and security.
Grain! Real grain that belonged to him and could fill his belly!
He remembered something.
During his first harvest, one Spirit Grain plant produced thirty panicles, each bearing two hundred grains.
What about this time? He walked over to a few remaining bare stalks and carefully counted the traces left by panicles.
Thirty! Each plant had thirty panicle traces.
He randomly grabbed several freshly threshed panicles from the ground and counted their grain detachment points.
Two hundred grains! Every rice head had borne two hundred grains!
His heart began to race wildly.
That meant each Spirit Grain plant could yield six thousand grains!
Six thousand plants… thirty-six million grains?!
This number was too vast; Chen Ping’s mind went momentarily blank.
He remembered that ordinary rice needed a little over forty thousand grains to yield a jin of rice. Spirit Grain was larger and heavier. Perhaps thirty thousand grains would make a jin of Spirit Rice?
By that estimate, thirty-six million grains would yield… one thousand two hundred jin of Spirit Rice?!
Chen Ping looked at the mountain-like pile of white rice before him and then thought about this number. He felt dizzy.
How long would this last him? Years? Even longer?
He would never have to fight desperately for a bite to eat again. He would never have to endure that gut-wrenching hunger again.
After ecstasy came calmness.
He had not forgotten what it cost him to enter the space, especially the immense physical and mental effort of processing this harvest. His head still hurt, and his body was approaching its limit.
Looking at those grains on the ground, he did not grind them all into rice.
He needed to save seeds. He carefully chose the roundest grains and set them aside. They were his hope for the next crop.
As for the polished white rice, he piled it up in one corner of space—like a small white hill.
After finishing all this work, Chen Ping was exhausted almost completely. He slumped onto the cool Black Earth, leaning back against the pile. He didn’t even want to move a finger.
Gazing upon the newly cleared Black Earth before him, then looking at the mountainous piles of white rice and carefully selected seed-grains in the corner, a decision formed within his heart.
Not planting anymore—for now.
The reason was simple: Not enough energy.
Entering and leaving the space, especially with all this heavy work—harvesting, threshing, winnowing, and milling—was too much of a mental strain.
Outside, heavy labor and whips still awaited him.
If he continued planting and harvesting, the pressure would become a mountain crushing him completely.
He needed time to recover. He needed to make his body stronger.
How to become stronger? Eat Spirit Rice!
If he had to eat it raw, so be it. Spirit Rice was far more nourishing than ordinary food.
Only when his body was stronger would he have the strength to complete the outside labor and have strength to do more things.
For example—practice the nearly forgotten Vitality Technique!
With more strength, he could finish the tasks assigned by Manager Wang faster, avoid whips, and save energy and time.
He could use the time and strength he saved to practice the Vitality Technique, which was said to increase physical strength.
Practice would make him stronger. Work would become easier, leaving more time to rest and to enter the space.
This was a virtuous cycle! Not the current life-draining vicious deadlock.
Having understood this point, Chen Ping felt his mind suddenly clear.
Looking upon the pile of white, gleaming Spirit Rice, his eyes filled with unwavering determination.
He had to live well—to live with dignity and rise above others!
Next, he needed to bring in cooking utensils so he could make cooked Spirit Rice. He would enjoy his meals and absorb its nourishment more easily.
He gazed once more at the small mountain of white rice, took several handfuls, and tucked them into the pocket of his inner garment before reluctantly leaving the space.