When Bai Lingmiao brought those two bowls of rice over, Li Huowang saw that the two wheat harvesters were so excited their hands were shaking, constantly bowing in thanks to Bai Lingmiao and saying something.
Compared to Li Huowang's group, who still needed wild vegetable soup to cut the grease, those two wheat harvesters didn't have that trouble at all. With almost devout expressions, they cradled their bowls in both hands, eating the cured pork rice mouthful by mouthful.
The rice in the bowls was quickly eaten up, but the cured pork inside was carefully picked out by both men, wrapped deliberately in cloth, clearly intending to save it for later.
The old wheat harvester ran to the creek at the edge of the fields, washed the two bowls spotless, then showed off his gap-toothed smile as he returned the bowls to Li Huowang.
The old harvester seemed to have something to say, but his tongue was clumsy and no words came out. In the end, it was Li Huowang who spoke first.
