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Rebirth: Not Being a Waste - Chapter 36

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  2. Rebirth: Not Being a Waste
  3. Chapter 36 - Burning the Tower to Worship the Gods
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Dear readers, this novel is now completely translated (not completely unlocked) Gonna move on to translating the The Butcher’s Little Husband. Please check it out.

On August 15, every household looks forward to reuniting. Those who have left home usually return to their parents’ house for the occasion.

Zhang Shu and the two elders of the Zhang family, however, tacitly avoid the topic. They know Zhang An isn’t coming back. The separation is ugly, and reconciliation is impossible.

Anping County originally doesn’t have the tradition of eating mooncakes during the Mid-Autumn Festival. But after trade routes open, the custom spreads from other regions. People start buying mooncakes to eat, though they don’t know how to make them.

The Zhang family doesn’t buy any mooncakes. They’re accustomed to celebrating with osmanthus cakes and osmanthus wine.

There’s an osmanthus tree in their yard. Small golden flowers are hidden among the leaves, releasing a rich, sweet fragrance that fills the air. It’s a scent that brings joy to those who smell it.

By the time Zhang Shu gets home, most of the osmanthus blossoms have already been shaken down by Grandma Zhang and made into cakes and wine.

After a simple lunch, someone comes to call Grandpa Zhang.

Their village has a Mid-Autumn Festival tradition—burning a straw tower. The tower, made of straw, has food placed on each tier as an offering to the god of the autumn harvest.

As one of the village elders, Grandpa Zhang naturally helps weave the tower.

Zhang Shu has seen the custom before, but he’s never participated. Even in his previous life, the villagers never asked him to help.

“Grandpa, can I go with you?”

“Of course, let’s go.”

Zhang Shu and Grandpa Zhang head to the village’s grain-drying ground. It’s already autumn, and the morning sun feels warm on their skin. Some elderly villagers are already there, sitting on benches, chatting while working. Later, when the sun grows hotter, they’ll move to the village entrance, where there’s shade.

For now, only those involved in making the straw tower remain on the threshing ground.

Straw is piled high, with each household bringing out leftovers from the previous year. Several elderly men are already seated, weaving.

The technique is simple: two bundles of straw are tied at the top, then rubbed into strips by hand to create straw ropes.

Zhang Shu struggles with the task. He manages to twist a straw rope but can’t properly connect it to the next section. The others smoothly add more straw, rubbing it into long, continuous strips, but his second piece keeps coming loose.

Grandpa Zhang smiles kindly as he works, watching Zhang Shu’s efforts. “Ah’shu, you young people lack the hand strength and technique. Just help me pass the straw.”

Zhang Shu feels slightly embarrassed. The other people squatting beside Grandpa Zhang, passing him straw, are toddlers in open-crotch pants. How can he, a grown man, do the same as them?

“Grandpa, there isn’t much firewood at home. I’ll go gather some.” He uses this as an excuse and quickly leaves, prompting a round of good-natured laughter from the others.

On his way back from the threshing ground, Zhang Shu spots Wang Changfa, Zhu Dabao, and Da Gouzi sitting on a pile of firewood by the roadside. In front of them are two chipped bowls and three dice. Wang Changfa, acting as the dealer, shakes the bowls vigorously, as if he might break them.

The other two stare intently, ears perked as if they can hear the dice rolling inside.

Scattered in front of them are a few copper coins—clearly, they’re gambling.

“Big! Big! Big!” Zhu Dabao flares his nostrils, breathing heavily, his eyes bloodshot with excitement.

“One, three, four!” Wang Changfa grins, scooping up the copper coins from Zhu Dabao and Da Gouzi.

Zhu Dabao groans in frustration, while Da Gouzi’s small, beady eyes dart around. Spotting Zhang Shu, he nudges Zhu Dabao.

“Hey, hey, look at that big fool over there.”

Zhu Dabao and Wang Changfa follow his gaze, their faces stiffening as memories of their last encounter with Zhang Shu resurface—the desperate, merciless way he beat someone.

Zhang Shu, noticing their stares, simply smiles and keeps walking.

Da Gouzi finds it odd. Normally, Zhu Dabao and Wang Changfa would take any chance to bully Zhang Shu, yet this time, they stay silent.

“Boss Wang, how about we ask that big fool for a couple of coins?”

Wang Changfa tosses the two copper coins he just won and says lazily, “If you want to, go yourself. I’ve got money now.”

“Fatty, then let’s go together?” Da Gouzi turns to Zhu Dabao.

“Me? No way! Zhang Shu hits people…” Zhu Dabao shrinks back, still scared from the last time.

“Why not? He’s getting away,” Wang Changfa interrupts, pointing to Zhang Shu, who is already several feet away.

Seeing this, Da Gouzi suddenly stands up, scrambles up the dirt path, and runs toward Zhang Shu.

Zhu Dabao hesitates. “Boss, why didn’t you tell him that Zhang Shu’s different now?”

Wang Changfa glances at him. What good would that do? Besides, he wants to see for himself—whether Zhang Shu is truly strong now, or if that incident was a fluke.

Zhang Shu frowns as Da Gouzi blocks his path, grinning slyly.

“Brother Zhang Shu, Laiwang took you to the county town a few days ago, right? How much did you earn? How about lending me some?” Da Gouzi chuckles, but he’s far from amused. In truth, he resents Zhang Shu immensely.

He has always thought Zhang Shu took his place because Laiwang didn’t bring him along that time. What he doesn’t realize is that his laziness and tendency to eat too much while working already drew complaints from the employers. Laiwang can’t afford to let someone like that tarnish the village’s reputation, can he?

Borrowing money? This is daylight robbery! Zhang Shu eyes him with clear displeasure. He assumes that after beating Wang Changfa and Zhu Dabao last time, these troublemakers would have learned their lesson. How can they still be this clueless?

He glances around and confirms that only Da Gouzi is present. A quick thought tells him that Wang Changfa and Zhu Dabao have wised up. It seems Da Gouzi is the type who won’t believe fire is hot until he gets burned.

“No money, no loan,” Zhang Shu says curtly, turning to leave.

The money he earned has already been divided—some goes toward buying necessities, and the rest is given to his grandmother and Li Mujin. He hasn’t kept a single coin for himself.

Da Gouzi’s forced smile freezes. Being rejected so bluntly makes him feel even more humiliated. “Come on, you expect me to believe you don’t have a single coin?”

“Even if I had money, I wouldn’t lend it to you.” Zhang Shu stops, then steps toward Da Gouzi. “What? You got a problem with that?”

Da Gouzi instinctively takes a step back. Zhang Shu’s expression is anything but friendly, and he carries a certain air of authority. Da Gouzi has heard rumors about Zhang Shu taking on Wang Changfa and Zhu Dabao alone, but he dismissed them. Now, seeing Zhang Shu’s fearless stance and the way he looks ready to throw a punch, Da Gouzi panics.

“No problem, no problem! I was just asking as a neighbor. Since you’re short on money, I’ll go ask someone else… someone else….” The last words trail off as Da Gouzi turns and bolts.

Zhang Shu is prepared for a fight, so seeing Da Gouzi flee leaves him momentarily stunned.

When he returns home, his grandmother is out. The gate is left ajar, so he pushes it open and walks in.

Without stopping, he heads straight for the woodshed, grabs an axe and a carrying pole, and goes up the mountain.

Villagers usually gather firewood and cut grass outside the village, often clearing the paths along the way.

Now that autumn has arrived, the grass and trees are withering. Zhang Shu quickly chops two bundles of firewood, ties them together with a rope, and slings the pole across his shoulders to carry them home.

By the time he gets back, his grandmother is home. He unloads the firewood in the yard, planning to let it dry before storing it in the woodshed the next day.

“Ah’shu, why did you go out to chop firewood? Today’s a holiday, don’t work so hard.” Grandma Zhang hands him a bowl of water, her eyes filled with concern.

“It’s fine, Grandma. Where did you go just now?” Zhang Shu asks after downing the water.

“I went to see a matchmaker. I’m thinking of going to the Li family after the festival to discuss the proposal. I talked to them first to make sure we’re not missing anything.”

Zhang Shu’s ears burn at the topic, especially with the way his grandmother smiles at him.

“Grandma… are all the necessary things prepared? Do you need me to buy anything tomorrow?” he asks hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, your grandma has already welcomed two daughters-in-law into this family. Everything is ready,” she says with confidence. She has even made sure to get the additional items needed for her future grandson-in-law.

“…That’s good. Grandma, I’ll go check on Grandpa,” Zhang Shu mumbles, quickly making his escape.

By now, seven or eight elderly men have gathered at the threshing ground. They’re chatting and laughing, while Grandpa Zhang sits in silence. No one finds this unusual—they all know he’s not much of a talker.

The straw ropes are nearly finished, and the eldest man in the village, Uncle Yu San, begins weaving the tower. He first drives a pointed wooden stake into the ground, then coils a long straw rope around it, making the base wider as he works downward. Soon, the pointed top of the tower takes shape.

Zhang Shu watches attentively, which makes the surrounding villagers chuckle.

“Uncle Zhang, does your grandson want to learn how to weave towers now?” someone teases.

“He’s just watching. What, you won’t even let him look?” Grandpa Zhang replies with a rare smile. His Ah’shu is so hardworking, unlike the young men from other families who aren’t interested in this kind of work.

“Look at Uncle Zhang! He hardly speaks, but the moment it’s about Zhang Shu, he’s suddenly talkative.” The men laugh, and Zhang Shu grins sheepishly. He knows how much his grandfather cares for him.

…

Once the tower is finished, it stands tall and imposing. The village chief arrives with two young men, one of whom carries a shoulder pole laden with supplies.

Uncle Yu lifts the lid of a container and takes out strips of red cloth, which have been cut by the village chief’s wife.

The elderly men each take a strip and tie them to the pointed corners of the tower, making it look even more festive.

Along with the red cloth, the burden contains offerings of food, all bought by the villagers. Since this is a communal ritual, every household contributes—any family that refuses faces social exclusion.

After the offerings are placed, everyone works together to lift the straw tower onto the village cart, ready to transport it to the riverside at dusk.

There’s a saying: women do not worship the Kitchen God, and men do not worship The Moon. So when the tower is burned, only the men of the village gather by the river—elders, adults, and boys alike.

The straw tower is placed by the water, with a table set before it. Incense and fruits are arranged neatly. The village chief leads the group in kneeling, then recites a long prayer.

This is a solemn occasion. No one dares to speak—not even the village’s most notorious troublemaker.

When the prayer is finished, everyone kowtows under the village chief’s guidance. Then, standing up, the chief takes a torch and lights the straw tower. Flames engulf it, and it burns fiercely until nothing remains but ashes.

As the fire dies down, the expressions of the village chief and the elders relax. A smooth, mistake-free burning means that this year’s autumn harvest will be abundant.

The autumn harvest is different from the summer harvest—it holds deeper significance for the villagers.

Ko-fi

Storyteller Valeraverucaviolet's Words

Dear readers, this novel is now completely translated (not completely unlocked) Gonna move on to translating the The Butcher’s Little Husband. Please check it out.

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