Even after Hua Mei turned one month old, the housework continued as before, and it didn't decrease because of taking care of the baby.

Fang Shugen thought that Fang Sandi's daughter, Fang Yu, had a very nice name, using her mother's surname.

Her daughter was named Fang Huahua.

"Let's name our daughter after your surname, Hua. How about Hua Hua, or Fang Hua Hua? Does that sound nice?"

"Hua Hua!" Hua Mei nodded and called out to her daughter with a smile.

When Hua Mei turned one month old, Fang Shugen's mother urged him to have another child.

At the same time, she was also planning to secretly give birth to this child, fearing it would be another daughter.

The family planning policy at the time stipulated that if the first child was a son, a second child was not allowed; if the first child was a daughter, a second child could be approved, but there had to be a three-year interval between births.

Many families who have had two children are also required to undergo sterilization.

Even before Hua Mei got pregnant, Fang Shugen's mother racked her brains trying to figure out where she could hide once she was pregnant.

Summer has quietly passed, and any little secrets left behind in a family will remain hidden deep inside.

The rice ears, which were still green at the beginning of the month, were bent over heavily after a few rains. They turned from bright green to yellowish-brown, and the sound of them hitting the paddy field ridges became duller.

"It's time to drain the paddy fields!"

More figures carrying hoes appeared on the paddy field ridges, their footsteps making a squeaking sound as they gradually turned the rice paddies, which had been flooded in the height of summer, into semi-dry mud, in preparation for the rice harvest.

It's that time of year again for the busy autumn harvest season.

Fang Meihao returned home from school during the busy farming season and stayed to look after Fang Dongqiang.

Fang Huahua wasn't as lucky as Fang Dongqiang.

During the busiest days, Fang Shugen's mother asked Hua Mei to go to the fields to work with her.

Fang Huahua was taken to the field and placed on the edge of the field where the sun was shining.

Fang Shugen looked over there, at the tree where Fang Huahua was born, where the shade was.

They laid an old burlap sack under the tree and placed her on it.

There were also several three- or four-year-old children nearby, who were also arranged by adults to play under the tree.

"Your sister is sleeping here. Please keep an eye on her. We'll be in the field. Call us when she wakes up." Fang Shugen laid Fang Huahua down and covered her with a coat.

“Okay, we’ll watch.” The child immediately agreed.

Two little girls and a snotty-nosed child squatted under a tree, "cooking"—using soil as rice, wild chrysanthemums as vegetables, and a few sycamore leaves as plates.

Fang Huahua woke up hesitantly.

"Little sister is awake. She must be hungry. Let's feed her."

One of the little girls suggested it.

Just then, their "meal" was ready.

The little girl picked up Fang Huahua.

Hua Hua is very well-behaved; she didn't cry when she woke up.

The little boy picked up a pinch of wet mud and carefully brought it to the flower's mouth.

Hua Hua smacked her lips, her eyelashes trembling.

"Haha, she ate it. Let's give her some vegetables." The little boy picked up a twig, broke it into the same length, and used it as chopsticks.

He picked up the "vegetable" and, afraid it would fall, caught it with one hand and brought it to Huahua's mouth.

Hua Hua turned her head to the side.

“She doesn’t want to eat vegetables,” said the little girl holding her.

While working in the fields, Hua Mei would occasionally look up and glance over here, still feeling uneasy.

“It’s alright, they’re watching. I told you to call us when you wake up,” Fang Shugen said to Hua Mei.

"She's awake." Hua Mei craned her neck and saw Hua Hua being held in their arms.

Another little girl, a bit older than them, watched from the sidelines, feeling uneasy.

The little boy put the "vegetables" and "chopsticks" aside.

Spotting a green worm, he grinned and picked up the "chopsticks" to catch it.

"What are you doing?" the older little girl scolded the little boy.

"Hehehehe." The little boy still gloated as he put the bug to the flower's mouth.

With a "smack!", the insect was knocked to the ground.

Hua Mei hugged Fang Hua Hua tightly.

The little boy, who was holding the worm, was startled and burst into tears.

Hua Mei carried her daughter to the riverbank, wet her hands with a little water, and gently wiped the mud off her daughter's mouth.

The little boy's mother heard the crying and ran over, "What's wrong? What's wrong?"

"She hit me?" the little boy asked, pointing at the girl.

"Where did I hit you?" The little boy's mother wiped his snot and tears.

"Hit my hand."

"Hua Mei, you're crazy, you're as capable as a child."

Hua Mei ignored her and went about washing her daughter's mouth clean.

"Tree Root, Tree Root, let me warn you first, if you don't keep a close eye on Flower Girl, and she hits my son next time, I won't be so lenient with her." The little boy's mother shouted at Tree Root in the field again.

"Auntie, Auntie." The older little girl tugged at the little boy's mother's clothes, "Just now, Huihui fed little sister dirt and bugs, and Huamei was killing bugs."

The little boy's mother looked at the "food" and "chopsticks" on the ground.

Looking at the little boy's guilty expression, she probably understood what her son was capable of.

Fang Shugen ran over from the field.

The little boy's mother pulled him and the older girl together, saying, "Come on, don't pay attention to this madman."

Hua Mei sat under a tree with her daughter in her arms, lifting her clothes to breastfeed her.

She hunched over, staring blankly at her daughter in her arms.

After giving birth to her daughter and breastfeeding for several months, Hua Mei lost a lot of weight.

There's a derogatory term used locally, "skinny bitch," which refers to the appearance of a woman who has lost weight after breastfeeding.

Fang Shugen came over and said to Hua Mei, "Why are you hitting a child?"

Hua Mei looked up at Fang Shugen with her eyelids lifted, then lowered her head and a tear fell onto her daughter's face with a "plop!"

Hua Mei quickly pulled out one hand and wiped it off with the edge of her palm.

"He fed Hua Hua dirt and insects."

"Huh? This little rascal." Fang Shugen was taken aback for a moment, then sighed, "Never mind, the child doesn't know any better. It's good that Huahua is alright. You hold her here, I'll go do my work."

Hua Mei sat under the tree, holding her daughter.

The wind carries the scent of ripe rice.

The dappled sunlight filtering through the trees fell on the soft, fluffy little face of the flower.

Hua Hua drank her milk and fell asleep again, breathing evenly, her little fist clenched around a withered leaf that she didn't know where it came from.

Hua Mei gently removed the withered leaves from her daughter's hand and gazed tenderly at her sleeping daughter.

"Hua Mei, I told you to come work in the fields, but you're sitting here slacking off." Fang Shugen's mother arrived.

Seeing Hua Mei resting with her daughter while her own son worked in the fields made him unhappy.

Fang Shugen's mother glanced at Huahua in her arms.

"Isn't she asleep? Put her down when she's asleep. She wants to be held when she wakes up, and she wants to be held when she's asleep. How are you supposed to get any work done in the day?"

Hua Mei looked at Fang Shugen, who was working in the field, and helplessly and gently placed Hua Hua on the burlap sack again.

When she goes to work in the fields, three-tenths of her soul is in the land, and seven-tenths is with her daughter.

When Hua Mei was harvesting rice, she would occasionally straighten up and look over at her daughter.

"Ouch!" The sickle cut his hand, and blood immediately seeped out.

"Tree root, tree root!" Hua Mei called out to Fang Shugen.

Fang Shugen ran over and looked around. There was a pile of wood ash over there.

He grabbed a little wood ash and sprinkled it on the wound.

I pulled some clean thatch from the edge of the field and wrapped it up hastily.

Just as I was busy, I heard Hua Hua crying under the tree. Hua Hua had been woken up by mosquito bites, and her face was covered in big welts.

Hua Mei ignored her own hands, ran over to pick up her daughter, put her fingertip in her mouth to wipe some phlegm, and then smeared it on her bag.

She didn't care about her own injured hand, but she was heartbroken when her daughter was bitten by mosquitoes.

The next day, Hua Mei brought a piece of gauze and covered her daughter's face with it while she was asleep.

He wrapped his hands with a strip of cloth and continued working.

Farming season waits for no one. Under the old tree by the field ridge, Hua Hua is still fast asleep on the old burlap sack, while Hua Mei's sickle rises and falls in the waves of rice.

Life unfolds slowly, with the scent of earth accompanying every bend in the waist and every glance upward.

After harvesting the rice, without even taking a break, everyone picked up their hoes and rushed to the sweet potato field.