Beware Of Chicken

“If you love your job, you’ll never work a day in your life.”

It was one of the things I heard constantly as I grew up yet could never fully believe. It sounded like an empty platitude, too good to be true. After everything I’d lived through though?

I had to admit that, yeah, there was something to it after all.

I did, in fact, love my job. Some days it did feel like work. Some days I didn’t want to get out of bed. But most days? Most days when I got up… I just looked forward to what I was going to accomplish that day.

It was probably a bit of a strange thing to think about as I swung my sickle, bending down so I could get at the stalks of the wheat, but it was a thought I couldn’t get out of my head.

There was something soothing about it, invigorating even. To plant my hands on the earth, to grow, to make… and then to enjoy the fruits of my labour.

The year thus far had been trying, one full of upheavals and revelations. Of reconnecting with the cultivation stuff of this world, something that I thought I had left far behind. A letter from the man who had taught me how to cultivate. A massive battle at the Dueling Peaks, and all the fallout from that that I was still waiting for.

And yet for as much turmoil the year had brought… As I crouched down with a sickle it all washed away. I just let my body flow as I thought, as I pondered, and as I enjoyed myself.

As I moved forwards.

The lazy days of summer were slowly but surely coming to a close. I could feel the slight nip of the wind; the change in the plants, as they started to change their quiet tune and as the days started to become shorter.

And that meant preparations. We had previously harvested all of our rice… but the winter wheat I had planted was fully grown.

My chickens trailed in my wake, clucking as they hunted down the insects that had taken up residence in the wheat. We didn’t have any pesticides, so the fields were always rife with things looking to steal a portion of my harvest.

So we had to resort to older methods. Namely unleashing the chickens on them.

“Are they tasty this year?” I asked, amused at the sheer predatory intent the chickens were showing, mercilessly hunting down every bug that dared to move.

A voice answered from behind me. “Indeed, they are most succulent this year, Master. Even better than the last.” It was a smooth and deep voice, and I soon turned around to look at the speaker.

A rooster stared back at me. He was a magnificent specimen, with fire-red and jade green feathers, shining with an almost inner light. He wore a magnificent fox fur vest and his eyes were sharp with intelligence. He finished placing a sheaf of wheat that I had bundled into the basket tied to his back. He looked almost comical, weighed down with the bundle of wheat that was bigger than he was, but he bore the task with ease.

“Really?” I asked him. It wasn’t often that an animal could really tell you what they enjoyed eating, but I should have known from the rations Big D had packed when he set off on his journey what he preferred.

Smoked worms tasted bad to me, but he had greatly enjoyed them.

“Indeed, Master. This Bi De has sampled these interlopers from all over the Azure Hills; and yet the ones from our home remain the most succulent.” He declared that bit authoritatively as he picked up another bundle of wheat.

“Where did the second best ones come from?” I asked, interested.

Big D paused at my question, clearly giving my question due consideration.

“To the southeast, nearer to the Great Lake, there is a glade with a great many worms within. They were most agreeable.” The rooster told me, and I chuckled.

“What makes a good worm, anyway?” I asked as I turned back around to continue my job.

“I would say juiciness for one, yet Brother Wa Shi insists it's the snap and correct chew. I would not know, for I cannot chew…”

And so I listened to a chicken list off the things that one should look for in a “good” insect as I finished my job. Big D hopped up onto my shoulder as he spoke just like he always did. It was comforting.

He would occasionally dart down and grab a bug, just to wax poetic about it.

And so it went until I finished the field.

Finally I stood and stretched, humming to myself as I yawned.

I turned back and looked at the stalks which would need to be ploughed back under later. They would be fertilizer for the new growth.

“Its gotten big, hasn’t it?” I asked the rooster, the first of my companions in the Azure Hills.

“Indeed it has. And it shall grow in size next year as well.” The rooster returned.

A year ago this place was covered in massive boulders and thick trees. It contained but a lonely little shack and the foundation for a single house.

The fields had expanded from a little vegetable plot and half an acre of rice to over thirty acres of farmed land. My home was more like a manor, and even the little shack had grown until it was a proper house.

So much had changed in so short a time.

We even had industry now.

I saw the drop hammer we had built down by the river going, the sound muffled by the water and the birdsong. Bowu and Gou Ren were already working on stuff. There was smoke down river too, the wind blowing away the smell of chemicals as the first tests of our ability to make glass were conducted. The snake was being exceedingly careful, and I definitely didn’t want to pollute anything, but it still kind of smelled bad. It was something that I was interested in and I’d be hopefully learning about later, but best to let the master work out some of the kinks first.

Honestly, any more things and just a few more folks and my farm would look less like a farm and more like a small village.

“Miantiao certainly wastes no time.” Big D observed from my shoulder. “Sister Yin complains that her master runs her ragged in keeping the flames precise.”

“Poor bunny,” I chuckled with another shake of my head. I hefted up the bundles of wheat and Big D took some of the others.

There was a tune on my lips as we wandered back to the freshly constructed grain storage. The sheer amount of food we were producing necessitated a lot of storage. We passed by another field, one where an ox with a plow beside him rested, watching over three sheep and four cows.

“Babe! When you have a moment, could you plough everything in that field under?” I called out to the ox. A single eye opened, followed by a slight nod of acknowledgement. He slowly stood, hooking his plough with his horn. The bright yellow piece of equipment was covered in carved suns, and its blade had previously been a demonic sword. But hell, it was a good plough.

We continued on our way past the vegetable garden, where a massive, rust red boar and a dainty pink pig were busy uprooting everything like living bulldozers, being careful to avoid any damage to the produce themselves. Chunky and Peppa then passed the uprooted veggies into a pool of water where a dragon was waiting to receive them. He had fishy eyes and electric blue scales. Washy received the bounty and then did his duty, a swirling orb of water delicately washing all the dirt and insects off them. His beady eyes then examined them closely. His long whiskers danced along their edges as he considered every angle.

Then he would place them in two different piles. One to be pickled, to be our food for the winter, and one to be eaten soon.

The normally gluttonous fish was taking his job extremely seriously. And while I was sure we would have some things missing, I did trust him to make sure we would all be able to last the winter eating good food.

If only because if he ate too much now, he wouldn’t be able to eat more later.

I gave them all a wave as I walked past and got nods in return, Washy chucking me a choice carrot.

I split it with Big D, snapping it in half and crunching on the sweet vegetable. It was crisp and refreshing.

The well-worn paths of the farm took me to the storeroom, where I opened the well-oiled door and started the process of threshing the wheat, something I was pretty good at if I was honest. Super strength and speed made me as fast as any industrial thresher, and turned what probably would have been weeks of labour into hours. The only thing I really had to complain about was how hot it got in the compact place.

I did have a secret weapon, however. Big D occasionally sent a gust of wind my way with his wings, letting a breeze hit me as well as blowing the dust out of the room.

And it was my final chore for the day.

I examined the storage halls, which were nearly full to bursting, and scratched at my chin. I wondered daily if I could even sell this around here or if it was like my rice, too high quality to be sold and would have to go to the Azure Jade Trading Company.

It was annoying as hell if I was honest, not being able to sell locally because what you had was too good.

It was what it was though. I would just have to figure out a way to deal with it. One problem at a time.

I yawned and stretched as I headed back home.

I always felt a small surge of pride when I looked at the house I had built. My house was done more in the japanese style, with a low hanging roof and enclosed by a veranda that encompassed the entire building. There was a small courtyard out front, flanked by a hut built to store medicine and the bathhouse. It had glass windows and one side had a sliding door that was open, letting the breeze flow through the house.

I took a breath, taking in the late summer smells. The air was sweet with the scent of ripening fruit, the trees I had received as a wedding gift having settled in nicely and already were bearing fruit. I inspected the green fruits, pollinated by my bees. The peaches and apples were both already getting big. Everything about the trees popped into my head. How much water they had gotten, their health, and when around the fruits would be ripe. A useful little ability for a farmer.

And while I may not have been an American, I was definitely itching for some apple pie.

I patted the apple tree I was looking at twice. Big D examined the fruits as well, looking interested at what they would grow into.

I turned from the trees and to a beautiful sight in the courtyard. A wonderfully beautiful woman sat at a table in the shade, hunched over and writing something, her brow furrowed. I approached, and leaned over the table.

“Hey babe, come here often?” I asked as I planted both hands on the table. Meiling glanced up from where she was working. Her amethyst eyes met mine as she was startled out of her introspection, before she huffed and laughed.

“I just might, handsome.” She returned, smirking up at me. She brushed a lock of green tinted hair out of her face and I kissed the bridge of her freckled nose. My wife chuckled and leaned back in her chair, stretching. Her shirt rode up just a bit, exposing the bump of her pregnancy. Beside us, Big D hadd hopped off my shoulder and landed on the table in the shade. A tiny rat squeaked her welcome to us, Rizzo putting away her own brush.

I walked around the table and started to massage my wife’s shoulders as I glanced at the myriad of medical diagrams on the table, as well as one of Meiling’s own drawings. There was a mass of notes on it, marking out incisions and places of interest.

“How's this going, love?” I asked as she groaned, leaning into my touch.

“Better, now that I have a solid plan. I still wouldn’t dare attempt to do this without the spiritual herbs or your recommendations. The numbing agent is definitely a must, though keeping a person unconscious like that is always a problem.” She said with a sigh, looking at the diagram.

Bowu, who had come into our care, had a mangled leg—one that we were relatively certain we could fix… or at least Meimei and her father could probably fix. I’d offer moral support and what little I knew about modern medicine… but at the end of the day I personally couldn’t do much about it.

“You and Pops have got this. The kid’ll be right as rain in no time.” I assured her and she sighed again, but smiled up at me. A hand reached up and she pulled me down. Our lips met.

“After the Mid-Autumn Festival next week.” she muttered. “My how time flies. It seems like it was yesterday when we were visiting the Eighth Correct Place. We’ll have to have the Little Torrent Rider over. Your disciple was a very polite young man, Bi De.” she said, nodding at him. The rooster puffed out with pride at the praise. Zhang Fei was a good kid. I could tell why Big D liked him.

“He should probably leave the dog at home though. I thought Tigu’er was going to kidnap the fluffy little thing...” I mused.

A cat that loved dogs. Well, stranger things had happened.

My wife chuckled and shook her head. “Maybe we should buy her one. We don’t exactly need a guard dog though…” she muttered.

We didn’t. But I liked dogs too, so it was an idea. I had had dogs in the Before, a couple of working dogs where I grew up and some pets.

It was certainly something to think about. Maybe next year, in spring.

My wife yawned and pushed herself away from the table.

“I think that's enough for today.” She said.

I helped her collect her papers and carefully put them away. Big D and Rizzo went off together, to check on Miantiao and Yin, while Meimei disappeared upstairs.

She came back down with her hair in pigtails and wearing the flannel that she had made. I admired the view as she slung a basket across her back.

“Want to join me? I need to get some mushrooms. I promised Xiulan I’d make mushroom stir fry for dinner tonight.”

I nodded my head and grabbed another basket.

I held out my hand and we departed the house, walking arm in arm.

It was a companionable silence as I mused on the past and planned on the future.

Things had changed this past year, and all I could do was roll with the punches.