At dawn, Juhua awoke to the crisp birdsong from the back mountain. She listened as the birds chirped cheerfully. The villagers said their call hurried along the rice transplanting, and each cry was loud and melodious.
She lay still for a moment, staring blankly at the thatched roof. Only when she heard the Yang Family calling "CLUCK, CLUCK" to the chickens for their feed did she finally force herself to get out of bed.
In the dim morning light, Zheng Changhe had already gone to the fields. Qingmu had also taken the calf and herded the ducks down to the river to graze, a book in hand. After feeding the chickens, the Yang Family was already scrubbing laundry. Juhua bustled about, first boiling water to wash the stove and pots, then putting the corn mush on to cook before finally washing her face and rinsing her mouth.
