Raising pigs has always been like this.

All the corn from two acres in Henan had been picked and loaded onto the truck before ten o'clock. Chen Yu wanted to drive the three-wheeled vehicle himself, claiming he'd driven one before. Fang Lujun, not wanting to refuse and yet uneasy, followed along as they drove home.

There was still over an acre of corn left in Hebei. If you asked Fang Lujun’s opinion, he would likely say there was no need to bother with it. So Fang Chang’an decided to act first and ask later, leading a group of classmates straight over.

After more than an hour, the novelty and enthusiasm of everyone began to wane. Upon arrival, Fang Chang’an instructed Wang Yuwei and the other girls to dig pits and collect firewood near the field’s edge, preparing for roasting food later.

The promise of fun revived everyone's spirits a bit. When Fang Lujun returned, he said there was no need to work on this side for now. Chen Yu, however, rallied everyone to finish it in one go, and the others agreed. Seeing this, Fang Lujun didn’t protest further, grabbed a bag, and swiftly began picking corn himself.

That acre only filled one and a half truckloads. By the time they finished, it was past eleven. Fang Lujun called everyone to head home for lunch.

Fang Chang’an said, “Dad, you go ahead. We’ll roast something to eat here and leave soon.”

“Yeah, uncle, you go on ahead.”

“We’ll be right behind,” chimed in the boys and girls, persuading Fang Lujun to leave. Fang Chang’an then instructed, “Chen Yu, you guys go west with my brother to dig up some sweet potatoes—don’t pick any too big, or they won’t cook through. Yanran, go call Qiuqiu. Her family grows peanuts over there, dig up plenty.”

Chen Yu, Wang Chuanbiao, and Lu Wei followed Fang Changming to fetch sweet potatoes. Shen Mo, Wang Ke, and Wang Yuwei went with Fang Yanran to borrow peanuts. Fang Chang’an told Zhou Yifei to make the pit bigger, then led Wang Yuwei and others to the pear orchard in the east to collect twigs and dry leaves.

Soon, everyone returned in succession. Fang Dianqiu, Fang Tiantian, and Fang Dianzhou, the siblings, came along as well. Fang Chang’an rolled up his sleeves, ready to start, but then realized an essential question: “Who has a lighter?”

Everyone exchanged glances, silent.

Fang Chang’an eyed Zhou Yifei, Lu Wei, Wang Chuanbiao, and Chen Yu, smiling, “If you have one, just take it out. As long as you don’t smoke in class, nobody will tell.”

“I trust the class president,” Chen Yu grinned, “Zhou Yifei, take it out—don’t hide it.”

“Why don’t you take yours out?” Zhou Yifei muttered but still sheepishly pulled a lighter from his pocket.

Fang Chang’an laid several evenly sized sweet potatoes on the pit’s bottom, then a layer of twigs, followed by leaves and dry grass. After lighting it, he placed it in the pit and then added more twigs to keep it burning.

Shen Mo and the others, holding corn cobs and peanuts, eagerly asked, “Can we put them in now?”

“Give them to me,” said Fang Chang’an, placing the corn beside the pit’s edge. He had Chen Yu dig a shallow pit nearby for the peanuts, lighting them to roast separately.

The dozen or so divided into two groups, squatting or lying around the pit, tossing twigs and scattering leaves. It was a bustling scene, with everyone taking turns directing.

“The fire’s too big—use a smaller flame or it’ll burn.”

“Flip that sweet potato.”

“I can’t use my hands!”

“I’ll do it!”

The peanuts cooked first. Actually, freshly dug peanuts taste better boiled, but under these conditions, anything edible would do. Fang Chang’an didn’t fuss.

As he said, roasting was good enough; whether it was palatable or not didn’t matter.

When the time seemed right, he scooped out a peanut from the fire, peeled its charred shell, tasted it. The outer layer was hard and fragrant, most parts still a bit soft, but the flavor was acceptable.

Chewing, he said, “Try some. Make the fire smaller, but don’t let it go out.”

Everyone started digging for peanuts, and before the fire went out, the peanuts were gone.

“There’s plenty in my family’s field,” said Fang Dianzhou, who hadn’t eaten much and didn’t know many people, but was very eager. He stood up and ran toward his field, “Changming uncle, let’s go. I’ll dig more.”

Fang Changming looked at Fang Dianqiu, who whispered, “Best not let my mom see.”

Fang Changming nodded, took two peanuts, popped them in his mouth, and followed. Fang Yanran wanted to go but feared being caught, so she stayed, squatting between her brother and two pretty sisters, waiting anxiously for the sweet potatoes to finish roasting.

The first batch of peanuts roasted unevenly, some raw, some cooked, some half-done, but no one minded, eating with relish. For the second batch, Fang Chang’an learned his lesson, not letting everyone poke around and tending them himself.

As soon as the peanuts finished, they realized no one was watching the sweet potatoes—the fire had gone out. Everyone scrambled to relight the pit and assigned someone to keep watch.

Corn and sweet potatoes were divided two per person, totaling over ten, roasted in two batches. Fang Chang’an feared they wouldn’t cook through and roasted them extra long—many burnt, but the edible parts were delicious and rated even higher than the peanuts.

Boys paired with boys, girls with girls. Shen Mo’s fair fingers were blackened, her mouth stained, as she took another burnt piece of sweet potato from Wang Ke, blowing on it and nibbling, commenting to Fang Chang’an, “This is so good! Let’s roast more.”

Wang Yuwei, much the same, giggled softly, “I agree.”

Before Fang Chang’an could reply, Fang Dianzhou eagerly announced, “My family grows them too!”

The subtext: “Steal from my place!”

Fang Chang’an’s family also grew sweet potatoes, but theirs were too far south in the village. He wanted more as well but said, “Forget it. My parents are making lunch at home. There are still three here. After eating, we should head back.”

Chen Yu said, “Sweet potatoes don’t fill you up anyway. We’ll digest them walking home.”

Wang Chuanbiao assured, “We definitely won’t miss lunch!”

Wang Ke, squatting beside Shen Mo, carefully gnawed at a burnt sweet potato skin, nodding vigorously at Fang Chang’an like a mascot, as if to say, “I’ll definitely eat well later.”

Unable to resist the crowd, Fang Chang’an nodded, “Alright, dig a few more.”

Fang Dianzhou volunteered, “I’ll go! Dig from my field!”

With Fang Changfeng and his wife already home, no fear of being seen, Fang Dianzhou led the way with Fang Changming, Chen Yu, Wang Chuanbiao, and Wu Di, bringing back over ten more to roast in both pits.

By the time they finished, it was noon. Fang Chang’an patted his stomach, not full but certainly less hungry. Looking at everyone else, their hands and mouths were black, and he began to worry.

Knowing Fang Lujun’s character, lunch would be plentiful. Yet everyone had filled up on sweet potatoes and corn, which digest quickly but not immediately. His parents would surely have leftovers.

When Fang Chang’an and the others returned home, corn cobs were piled high in the courtyard. Two tables were set beside the main room, one borrowed from his uncle’s house, along with extra benches. Fang Chang’an counted—using the long bench, everyone could barely fit.

All the household towels were years old. Fang Chang’an had brought two new ones last week. Congrong had obviously tidied up, putting away the old towels. Four new towels hung on the rope between the main room and kitchen—likely just bought two more at the meeting.

The chipped enamel basin had been scrubbed clean, much cleaner than usual. A new plastic basin, also bought recently, was filled with water.

Fang Lujun heard the commotion from the kitchen and warmly greeted the students, “Wash up first—wipe your face and neck. Corn leaves are itchy.”

Corn, once called millet, is rarely seen now. Here, “big millet” is a local term for corn.

The girls shyly washed only their hands and faces. The boys, having waded through corn stalks, felt itchy but couldn’t shower, so they washed faces and wiped necks.

Lunch was prepared at two tables. Everyone naturally sat by gender. Both tables had the same dishes—store-bought steamed buns, four cold dishes: cold vegetables, braised beef, donkey meat, dog meat; stir-fried shredded potatoes with pork, fried eggplant strips, and skewers; on the coal stove, a pot of meatball and egg soup; on the hearth, pork belly stewed with dried beans, cabbage, and tofu skin.

Unsurprisingly, half the food was left uneaten.

Fang Lujun ate quickly, finishing before everyone else despite starting late. Congrong ate slowly, last to start and still eating after everyone else finished.

Fang Chang’an, full, stayed seated, sipping soup. Meanwhile, Chen Yu and the other boys stood up one by one. Zhou Xiaoyan and Feng Yanyan finished and stood as well, followed by Zhang Jing.

Shen Mo, Wang Ke, and Wang Yuwei remained seated. Wang Yuwei started chatting to fill the silence, Shen Mo occasionally chimed in, and Wang Ke, like Fang Chang’an, silently sipped soup.

Chen Yu and his friends soon moved their stools to the corn pile, ignoring Fang Lujun’s protests, and started working.

After picking, corn cobs must be dried. Usually, the outermost husk is peeled, leaving some layers, and two cobs are braided together. Chen Yu and Zhou Yifei weren’t skilled but managed, teaching the others as they went.

Fang Lujun had intended to rest but, seeing everyone else working, joined in.

Fang Chang’an stretched, stood, and joined the work. Zhang Jing, Feng Yanyan, and Zhou Xiaoyan, curious, came over to learn.

Shen Mo, ever curious, joined in. After a while, she noticed Wang Yuwei and Wang Ke weren’t participating—they were helping Congrong clear dishes.

She watched them for a few seconds, then turned back to see Fang Chang’an watching her. Flustered, she glared at him and focused on her awkward attempt at braiding corn cobs.

Congrong only had Wang Yuwei and Wang Ke help clean up, not wash dishes, so they soon joined the corn braiding circle. With over ten people working, the pile shrank visibly, a task that once took days nearly done in a single afternoon.

They worked until after three, with only a little corn left. Fang Chang’an noticed Chen Yu and Zhou Yifei, the most energetic, slowing down and said, “It’s about time. The river water should be warmest now—let’s go catch some fish.”

“Great!” Shen Mo, who had only managed one long braid in two hours, eagerly agreed, then hesitated, “But there’s only a little left. Let’s finish first.”

Fang Lujun and Congrong insisted, “No need, go play. We’ll finish the rest quickly.”

Everyone was tired but excited to play, so they all rose, led by Fang Chang’an.

Fang Chang’an found an old basin used for chicken feed and took Shen Mo to see the pigsty.

The pigsty had two sections: a brick-and-tile shed with straw bedding on the mud, and an outer area built with concrete mounds. A stone trough was placed outside, still holding leftover feed.

The mud was full of pits from the pigs rooting, made worse by recent rains, with some spots just mud puddles.

Native black pigs had become rare; everyone now raised white pigs. Black pigs tasted better but grew slowly and weren’t profitable. Foreign pigs grew fast—raised after the Spring Festival, slaughtered before the New Year, bringing quick returns.

When Shen Mo arrived, the large pig had just woken up, lumbered out from its straw bed, lay down in the mud, flapped its big ears, then got up to root around, occasionally splashing muddy water.

Shen Mo hadn’t expected pig-raising to be like this—far less interesting than imagined—and complained, “That’s it?”

Wang Ke, Wang Yuwei, Zhang Jing, Zhou Xiaoyan, Feng Yanyan, and two boys, Lu Wei and Wu Di, had come too. Hearing Shen Mo, Wang Ke replied, “What did you expect?”

Shen Mo pouted and looked to Fang Chang’an.

Wang Yuwei, silent until now, also turned to him.

Fang Chang’an nodded and smiled, “Yes, raising pigs is just like this.”

“Oh.” Shen Mo pouted again, a little dissatisfied, but soon cheered up. “Alright, let’s go catch fish!”

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