Demon Lord 3

Chapter 1885 Corn

We carried the medicinal herbs with us before they were even processed. By the time we were switched back, we were already back in the village. This place connects to the village; the village is above, and this place is below. I only came here once after the Bai family moved here, and I haven't been back since. I've been here for several years now. Before, when we were in the city center, there wasn't enough space because we had to hire a lot of people, and we occupied quite a bit of the city center. Our place is on the outskirts, not far from the center. Now it seems that these people have moved to the countryside, knowing that this place is vast, resource-rich, and easy to get along with. So, they've abandoned their previous politeness and attitude and adopted a humble demeanor. Now, trying to win people over with these tactics is a bit too late. When we arrived in the village, everyone still warmly welcomed us. I asked why the villagers were so busy, and they said that the corn was ripe and they were harvesting it. Seeing the corn, I couldn't resist joining in the harvest. The corn grew so sturdy, and as we harvested it one after another, it felt like I was actually growing in the rice paddy, one of the harvesters myself. With constant watering and fertilization, the corn grew quite large. Throughout this process, I was constantly busy, eager to finish all the work. I lost track of time, unsure if I was truly exhausted. Perhaps because it was getting dark, we reluctantly called it a day. On the way back, we hung the corn outside to dry. I asked why, and the farmers told me it was because it could rain during this season, and if the corn wasn't dried, it would get wet. I nodded; indeed, it would become dry corn. What about the corn we usually boil? They said some of the dried corn was to be made into cornmeal, some would be kept for winter, and the rest would be handed over or sold. Now, with the emergence of farmers' markets, they can trade freely, unlike before. I curiously asked them what their lives were like before, but they waved their hands, unwilling to discuss it. However, one person couldn't help but bring it up, and I could tell he was emboldened by alcohol, finally revealing the grievances he had endured for so many years. That person looked to be in his forties or fifties, his face full of worry, his weathered appearance making him seem much older than his age. In the city, people in their forties or fifties... Those who are older might still have that adventurous spirit, while those in their forties or fifties in the countryside might have already entered old age, or even their twilight years. The farmer wiped his face and said, "Back then, we worked so hard to grow grain that we had to deliver. If we didn't, we didn't know what would happen next. Maybe we'd be arrested, maybe we'd be beaten to death. We didn't know who the higher-ups were, or who their people were. They relied on that technology, but who invented that technology? Wasn't it us, the children they sent away? They never came back to the countryside. I don't know if they couldn't come back, or if those people wouldn't let them. They relied on themselves..." Having acquired some guns and cannons, bullets committed countless atrocities. Those foreign powers trampled on our land, truly making our lives miserable. To survive, we were willing to work harder, produce more food, and store more so we wouldn't starve or freeze to death. However, our lives were far inferior to those in the city. Some went to the city to visit relatives, some went to find friends; those who could rely on others left, leaving behind only the elderly, the young, the sick, and the disabled. Those honest, simple-minded people preferred to stay here, knowing they wouldn't have a good life in the city either. But in the countryside, besides manual labor, what else could these people do that was better than what those of advanced age could do? The older generation used to work far more, exhausting themselves to death, sometimes even unable to find wives and dying alone. Later, some people were able to bring our children to the city, or even bring us to the city. That's when I realized things had changed. I don't know when it started, maybe it began when we gradually became indistinguishable from each other. We're no longer true farmers. We can come back when we want, or go to the city when we want. We no longer have rations, and we're no longer forced to pay grain taxes. Living well—that's perhaps the greatest virtue!