Rebirth: Not Being a Waste - Chapter 10

Fortunately, after that sound, everyone still lying in bed gets up. After a quick wash, they all rush to eat the steamed buns and pickled vegetables.

Zhang Shu’s eating habits are considered refined. First, because steamed buns are nothing special to him. Second, because he has yet to fully integrate into this temporary worker group and doesn’t understand their eating pace.

By the time he finishes his second bun and reaches for another, the basin is already empty. Even the plate of pickled vegetables has been wiped clean, the grease shining from where the others have repeatedly used their buns to soak it up. Not even washing it is necessary.

Zhang Shu touches his stomach, realizing he has eaten enough. Without thinking too much about it, he follows the others out.

When they arrive at the garden under renovation in the Mo Mansion, Steward Mo is already waiting, flanked by two sturdy servants holding tools.

Laiwang steps forward and bows. “Steward, where should we begin?”

The steward glances at them and says, “Your task today is to clear the weeds, remove the roots, and level the ground.”

The yard is about 45 meters long and wide, forming a rough square. Weeds have grown thick, some reaching knee height.

Zhang Shu guesses there might be insects, rats, or ants hiding within. If they are close to the mountains, there might even be rabbits.

The seven workers line up to receive their tools—three get sickles, while the other four receive hoes.

Zhang Shu is assigned a sickle. Compared to using a hoe, the work is easier, but it requires constant bending. Only those who have done it before know how exhausting it can be.

Those with hoes can begin work half an hour later, so Zhang Shu and the other two with sickles start first while the rest sit down to rest.

The sun has yet to rise fully, and a cool morning breeze drifts through the yard. Those resting soon begin to nod off. Zhang Shu feels a bit envious—he wouldn’t mind another nap himself.

As he begins cutting, he notices the other two men silently bent over, focused on their work. After hesitating, he reminds them, “Brothers, this yard has been abandoned for a long time. There could be snakes, insects, or rats. It’s best to knock around a bit before cutting to scare them away.”

One of them, Zhou Da, smiles and follows his advice, tapping the ground before cutting. The other, Yu Xiaoliu, sneers in disdain. “If you’re so afraid of dying, don’t come to work. A landlord’s young master like you shouldn’t be competing with us common folk for jobs.”

Zhang Shu doesn’t respond, simply lowering his head and continuing to cut. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Zhou Da is following his method—knocking first before grabbing the grass stems. Meanwhile, Yu Xiaoliu ignores the warning, reaching straight into the weeds with his sickle.

Time passes. Zhang Shu straightens up, stretching his sore back. The sound of hoes striking the ground echoes, a rhythmic banging as the others work tirelessly. He sighs and bends down again.

By now, the sun has fully risen, casting golden light over the yard and dispelling the morning chill. The temperature climbs steadily, sweat trickling down Zhang Shu’s forehead to his chin before vanishing into the grass. His vision blurs. Wiping his eyes, he realizes sweat has stuck to his eyelids, making everything hazy.

Thirsty, hungry, and exhausted, he finally understands why everyone works so hard in the morning—it’s easier before the heat becomes unbearable.

From a distance, Laiwang calls out, “Zhang Shu, take a break and have some water.”

After watching Zhang Shu work all morning, Laiwang’s impression of him has greatly improved. The young man works hard and doesn’t slack off—exactly the kind of worker he likes. This guy isn’t anything like the coward his mother described.

Zhang Shu picks up his sickle and stands up straight. Glancing around, he realizes he is the last one still working—the others are already sitting under a tree.

He walks over slowly, picks up a ladle, and pours himself a bowl of water. He gulps it down quickly, the cool liquid trickling from the corners of his mouth down his neck.

The well water is fresh, sweet, and refreshing in the heat. He drinks three bowls in a row, and by the time he stands, his stomach sloshes with every step.

Zhou Da, sitting nearby, chuckles. “Didn’t eat enough this morning?”

Zhang Shu smiles, a little embarrassed. “I had two buns.”

“I knew it. A big guy like you eating only two buns? I had four.”

Zhang Shu scratches his head. “I ate too slowly. By the time I went for more, they were all gone.”

Zhou Da grins. “No way around it this morning, but listen to me at lunch—I guarantee you’ll eat your fill.” Zhou Da says this mysteriously, as if he has a plan.

Zhang Shu nods, feeling a rare warmth in his heart. In just one morning, two people have taken the initiative to talk to him—something that would have been impossible in the past.

Some people pretend not to see him, while others deliberately mock him, saying things like, “Got torn apart by your wife again yesterday?” When he timidly replies no, they burst into laughter, as if he is nothing more than a clown on stage, meant to be ridiculed.

After their break, Laiwang calls everyone back to work. This time, they use the cut grass to weave makeshift hats to shield themselves from the scorching sun.

Zhang Shu is no exception. Occasionally, while mowing the grass, he loses focus and catches sight of someone working in the field with a green grass hat on their head. The sight amuses him at first, but the laughter quickly fades into a feeling of sorrow. Their hats are fake, but in his previous life, his own “green hat” had been real—and shameful.

As they work, the hours slip by, and before they know it, it’s noon. Someone comes to call them for lunch. Zhang Shu clutches his empty stomach and follows the others. Looking back, he sees that the land is only halfway cleared. It seems the work will take a long time to finish. Besides clearing the grass, they still have to carry soil, build walls, and plant trees and flowers. The entire project will likely take half a month.

Lunch consists of coarse rice. Compared to steamed buns, meals like this are less frequent since rice is harder to cultivate.

The side dishes consist of fried cabbage with oil residue and cold cucumbers, all served in a large basin. The rice is scooped directly from a massive wooden barrel. At least there seems to be plenty of food.

Zhang Shu swallows hard, his Adam’s apple moving rapidly. He realizes just how hungry he is.

The servant who delivers the food leaves after setting everything down. Laiwang tells everyone to take their bowls and serve themselves. Zhang Shu watches as the others pile their bowls high. He thinks back to his mistake at breakfast—he can’t afford to eat too slowly again. This time, he has to get enough.

When it’s his turn, Zhou Da, standing behind him, whispers, “If you want to eat your fill, listen to me. Don’t take too much in your first bowl.”

Zhang Shu hesitates for a moment before following his advice. Worst case, he gets tricked—he’ll just know not to trust Zhou Da next time.

Zhou Da also keeps his first bowl modest. The two of them grab generous portions of vegetables and squat down to eat.

Zhang Shu finishes his first bowl quickly, feeling as though he has barely filled a corner of his stomach. At the same time, Zhou Da also finishes eating. He gives Zhang Shu a knowing look, then leads him back to the rice bucket. This time, they scoop their bowls full, pressing the rice down tightly.

Zhang Shu glances at the others, who still have half a bowl left. Suddenly, he understands. If someone takes too much at first, they eat slowly. By the time they go back for seconds, the rice might already be gone.

Grinning in appreciation, Zhang Shu picks up some more vegetables and sits beside Zhou Da. Sure enough, after finishing this second bowl, he lets out a loud burp, feeling fully satisfied for the first time all day.

Meanwhile, two others who take too much at first end up with only half a bowl on their second serving. They rub their stomachs, looking regretful.

At noon, when the sun blazes the strongest, they get an hour of rest. Everyone washes their faces, then collapses onto the bunk beds, falling asleep almost instantly.

Zhang Shu is shaken awake by Zhou Da. “Get up, it’s time to work.”

“Mmm,” Zhang Shu mumbles sleepily. He only fully wakes up after splashing his face with cold water.

Laiwang decides they will work in the shaded corner of the yard that afternoon. As before, the three with sickles go first—Zhang Shu, Zhou Da, and Yu Xiaoliu. Yu Xiaoliu positions himself where the shade is thickest, thinking it will be cooler.

Zhang Shu and Zhou Da are chatting when a sudden scream rings out.

“Ah!” Yu Xiaoliu’s pained cry echoes from the other side of the field.

They rush over to find two bloody puncture wounds on his wrist, blood still gushing out.

The others quickly gather around. Upon seeing the wound, someone exclaims, “That’s a snake bite!”

“Yeah, but is it venomous?” someone else asks.

Their frantic chatter only makes Yu Xiaoliu even more terrified. He bursts into loud sobs, as if mourning his own death.

Zhang Shu grabs his wrist and squeezes hard. “What did the snake look like? Was its head round or pointed?” His voice is calm and steady, standing out amidst the panic.

Yu Xiaoliu, despite his previous grudge against Zhang Shu over Da Gouzi’s incident, is too scared to argue now. He sobs, “It was a small black snake, coiled under the grass. I saw it when it bit me. Its head was round. You guys… You guys say it’s not a pit viper, right? I don’t want to die… Laiwang, if I don’t make it, make sure my wages go to my mother…”

Zhang Shu, frustrated by his wailing, snaps, “Who said you’re going to die?!”

The sudden outburst startles everyone into silence. Zhang Shu himself feels a bit embarrassed but forces himself to maintain a composed expression.

He explains, “Pit vipers are venomous. Their heads are flat and somewhat pointed. The snake he described is non-venomous—it has a round head. Also, venomous snake bites cause dark, almost black blood to ooze out, but his blood is bright red.”

Zhang Shu scans the area and spots a small herb growing under a tree. It is known for stopping bleeding. He plucks a few leaves, chews them into a paste, and smears it onto Yu Xiaoliu’s wound. Soon, the bleeding stops.

Mu Jin’s brother has taught him how to distinguish between snake species and medicinal plants, and Zhang Shu has practiced the knowledge himself.

At that moment, he realizes—after just one day apart—how much he wants to see Mu Jin again.

Everyone observes Yu Xiaoliu’s wound carefully. The blood is indeed red, without any sign of blackening.

“So… I’m not going to die?” Yu Xiaoliu asks, his tear-streaked face breaking into a relieved laugh.

“You brat,” Laiwang scolds, giving him a light slap. “Since when has Zhang Shu ever been wrong?”

“Yeah, he might be quiet, but he’s actually pretty reliable!”

The group starts praising Zhang Shu, and even Yu Xiaoliu, blushing, mutters, “Thanks, Brother Zhang Shu.”

That is when Zhang Shu learns Yu Xiaoliu is a year younger than him.

Men’s friendships can be strange like that. By nighttime, almost everyone is talking to Zhang Shu.