Song Xiang opened the door, and the old lady stood outside and asked them, "Can we still go?"
"Yes."
Song Xiang rubbed his eyes and said, "Wait here for a moment."
The old lady didn't say anything, put down her sickle, and sat on the steps.
Song Xiang turned around and found that Yan Han had already gotten up, but his face was not very good.
She hurried to boil water, cut the cakes brought by the old lady and gave them to Yan Han. After passing the courtyard gate, she heard the old lady say something.
"I'm used to it."
Song Xiang: "..."
Yan Han probably heard it too, as he looked depressed while eating the cake.
After the prelude work was over, the three of them went out together.
At the end of the wheat field, there was a tricycle. The old lady turned around and asked them both.
"Which one of you is riding?"
silence.
Song Xiang has never ridden one, let alone Yan Han.
"I'll try." Song Xiang raised his hand first.
The old lady frowned, "Is your man dead?"
Song Xiang's face felt hot, and he waved his hands subconsciously, but he didn't know how to explain it.
Yan Han glanced at her, walked forward, and looked around the tricycle.
Sit on it, pull the handbrake, and move forward, all in one go.
Song Xiang couldn't help but clap her hands, "Awesome!"
The old lady gave her a cold look, "Is this how you usually behave?"
Song Xiang: "Ah?"
"What's so great about a man riding a tricycle?" The old lady was speechless. She walked to the tricycle, sat on it very quickly, and called Song Xiang, "Get in the car!"
Song Xiang laughed dryly twice, and walked over a little embarrassed, muttering to himself, isn't it awesome to ride a tricycle so smoothly for the first time?
Yan Han was sitting in front of the car, wearing a gray shirt. He was originally low-key and noble, but he leaned over to release the handbrake, and then rode the tricycle forward very flexibly, which instantly made people feel cheap.
Song Xiang wanted to laugh a little, but he was afraid that he would be so angry that he would not be able to ride well, so he could only hold it in all the time.
The old lady's wheat field was quite far away, even more barren than where they lived. At a glance, other people's fields had been planted with other things, but Yu's field was still full of wheat.
After just one glance, Song Xiang breathed a sigh of relief, but when she picked up the sickle, she was instantly slapped in the face.
The sickle was extremely heavy, and cutting wheat also required strength. Although she was born in poverty, she had never done farm work. She was stunned on the spot when she came into contact with it.
I originally wanted to grit my teeth and persevere, but in the end I used too much force on the first stroke and fell backwards, lying on the wheat.
The world was spinning before her eyes, and she suspected that she had a concussion.
Yan Han was the closest to her, dropped his sickle, came over, and pulled her up.
"If it doesn't work, just go up. What can you do?"
Song Xiang felt aggrieved and looked at the wheat behind him, "I didn't expect..."
"Go up." Yan Han frowned, held her waist and carried her out of the wheat field.
Song Xiang was a little embarrassed and glanced in the direction of the old lady. People in their seventies were more agile than her.
She knew that Yan Han had injured his arm. If he cut it from morning to night, his arm would probably be useless.
Feeling anxious that she couldn't help, she took advantage of the harsh cold to pick up the sickle again, then squatted in the wheat bushes and cut them one by one, helping as much as she could.
The wheat field doesn't look big, but when you really start to do it, the despair of never finishing it wells up.
They took a break at noon and then continued working.
Song Xiang stood up several times, and each time she saw Yan Han moving his arms with difficulty, but did not hear him snort.