Journey to the West: The Immortal Clan Begins by Feeding Monkeys at Five Elements Mountain

Chapter 5: Harvested soybeans and slaughtered the New Year's pig.

Jiang Yi didn't point it out, his smile remaining unchanged, and continued the conversation:

"What you say makes sense, old man. My land is indeed not as good as your treasure. I just find something to do during the off-season and for some fun."

"Let's just do as you say, pick a little of everything, plant them when we get back, and see which ones grow and which ones are promising."

As soon as he said that, Grandpa Yu felt relieved.

The small plot of hillside land that the Jiang family cultivated was barely the size of a palm. Even if it bore fruit, it wouldn't amount to much.

The round face beamed even wider, and as he twirled the few stubborn whiskers on his chin, he said:

"Hey, that's how it has to be! Just for the novelty, to change things up, so life won't be so boring."

As he spoke, he strode forward and personally led Jiang Yi deeper into the orchard, muttering to himself as they walked.

This tree branch is good for grafting, and that tree has strong roots, so it will survive transplanting quickly;

Which rootstocks don't turn back after grafting, which branches heal quickly after grafting... Once you start talking, it's like a burst dam, you can't stop.

Grandpa Yu is truly skilled and genuinely willing to teach, guiding you step by step.

He even personally demonstrated how the roots under the sapling should spread out and which way they should be positioned, holding Jiang Yi's fingers as if afraid that he would get it wrong.

"The roots shouldn't be a mess; they should spread out in all directions like a pig bristle brush so that they can reach the soil."

Jiang Yi listened very carefully, nodding vigorously like a chicken pecking at rice, and occasionally throwing out a question.

This question, however, only made Grandpa Yu even more excited.

His spittle flew two feet away, and he gestured wildly, his hands and feet flying everywhere.

The old man and the young man, one talking and the other listening, wandered around the orchard for half an afternoon.

Grandpa Yu was an honest man who didn't hold back. He carefully selected many good seedlings for Jiang Yi along the way.

With its roots spread out and branches sturdy, it's clearly a lively creature.

As the setting sun dipped below the mountains, dusk was approaching.

Jiang Yi politely declined Grandpa Yu's offer to stay for dinner.

Carrying a heavy bundle of fruit seedlings, he hurried back to his newly turned hillside.

While the enthusiasm was still there, they rolled up their sleeves and carefully planted the saplings one by one into the soil, their movements as gentle as if they were holding a newborn baby.

The branches should be spread out, the roots should be extended, and the soil should be loose.

His hands were busy at lightning speed, but his feet were perfectly still.

Then, the compost that had been fermented earlier was carefully piled at the base of the tree, covered with a thin layer of soil, and patted firmly.

By the time all the work was finished, it was completely dark.

A mountain breeze brushed my face, carrying the damp, earthy smell of grass.

The two younger children had already been coaxed to rest by Liu Xiulian, and there wasn't even a sound of yawning in the room.

She was still awake, holding an oil lamp in her hands, following step by step beside him to help provide light.

The lamplight swayed, casting long shadows on the earthen slope, sometimes long, sometimes short.

Jiang Yi put away his hoe, straightened his back, his waist and back were a little stiff, but he felt much more relaxed.

He turned around and glanced at his wife.

The candlelight and moonlight combined to create a warm glow on her delicate and pretty face.

Her eyes shone with light, and her expression was gentle, as if she had stepped out of a painting.

I don't know if it was because that breathing technique was really effective, or if the night's ordeal had made me feel soothed.

Jiang Yi found it increasingly pleasing to the eye and more attractive the more he looked at it.

……

The fruit trees have shed their leaves, and the soybeans at the foot of the mountain have finally reached their end.

The withered bean stalks stood upright in the field, rustling in the wind as if urging the harvest.

Jiang Yi didn't slack off either. He rolled up his sleeves, squatted down at the edge of the field, and harvested the beans one crop after another.

With a snap, the soybean pods burst open, and plump soybeans jumped out, landing at the bottom of the bowl with a soft, rustling sound that soothed the soul. Now that this busy period was over, it was a rare moment of peace and quiet.

The land needs a rest, and so do people.

This year's soybean harvest is exceptionally good; the soybeans are large and heavy, and the beans that are picked out are very substantial.

Thirteen sacks were filled and piled up in the yard, looking like a sturdy mountain of beans.

Jiang Yi picked out ten bags and sold them to the tofu shop at the entrance of the village.

Beans were cheaper than rice, and they sold for a total of 1,200 coins, which hung heavily in my sleeve pocket.

The remaining three or four hundred catties will be stored as grain to provide some security for next year, and can also be used to offset the eldest son's tuition fees at the private school.

With the Lunar New Year approaching, some impatient families in the village have already started preparing to slaughter their pigs.

Jiang Yi went as usual to help hold down the pig.

This job of holding down pigs is not just about physical strength; it requires steadiness, speed, and also boldness and meticulousness.

The pigs are quite large, weighing two or three hundred pounds. When they squeal, it's like a commotion; you can't control them without some skill.

Jiang Yi was physically strong and had always been the main force in holding down the hind legs.

With a hug from both sides and a brace of arms, the pig, no matter how much it struggled, was firmly held down.

Once the pig was cooked, the stove was lit, and a steaming pot of meat was served.

This is an old custom in the village: if you work hard, you get to eat meat.

Jiang Yi didn't stand on ceremony, enjoying the wine and meat with gusto.

Before leaving, I picked out a pig's hind leg, which was evenly marbled with fat and lean meat.

The family kept pushing the money away, refusing to accept it. Jiang Yi didn't hesitate, took out a handful of copper coins, and slapped them on the threshold with a crisp sound.

But the man, carrying his hoof, vanished in a flash.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, a chill swept over us.

Jiang Yi, who rarely had a moment of leisure, got up earlier than the rooster.

He rushed into the kitchen, snatched the spatula from Liu Xiulian's hands, and took the reins of the kitchen for once.

A glistening pig's hind trotter and two handfuls of freshly shelled soybeans from the previous day were washed and thrown into an iron pot.

Take another spoonful of the village's homemade yellow wine. The wine is slightly yellow in color, with a rich aroma of rice and a hint of aged cellar flavor.

As soon as it was poured in, the pot sizzled, and the aroma, like smoke and mist, overflowed from the edge of the pot and circled under the roof beam.

Jiang Yi squinted, took a sniff, and nodded in approval.

Cover the pot with the lid and simmer over low heat.

Before long, the aroma of soup, mixed with the fragrance of meat and the sweet scent of soybeans, wafted lightly through the room, making one's heart itch with its enticing aroma.

The two boys in front of the stove had long since squatted like two earth gods, staring longingly at the pot lid, swallowing their saliva every now and then.

Liu Xiulian was busy tidying up winter clothes, mending and patching them, taking her time.

She looked at her clumsy husband at the stove and her two sons who were drooling with envy, her eyes full of smiles.

As winter approaches, the days grow shorter, and the bare branches sway in the wind.

With thicker clothes, I became a bit lazy and developed a sense of inertia.

Jiang Yi would only patrol the hillside once a day, walking slowly and steadily through the frost-covered, withered grass.

The fruit tree saplings stood there by the roadside, their branches tender yet quite stubborn.

If there were any dead branches, he would break them off; if there were any dead seedlings, he would roll up his sleeves and replace them.

Although it was his first time planting trees, he put his heart into it and learned a great deal from Grandpa Yu.

After the first snowfall of the year, 70-80% of the fruit seedlings on the slope survived, much better than originally estimated.

Standing in the snow, Jiang Yi looked at the branches standing tall in the cold wind and couldn't help but smile, a sense of pride rising in his heart.

(End of this chapter)