In the blink of an eye, the autumn harvest arrived, the time of year the common people looked forward to most, as it represented their annual food supply. This year's autumn harvest only brought them worry and hardship.
Zhulan took several grandsons and granddaughters to stay at the manor for a few days. Upon arrival at the manor, without resting, she went straight to the fields and stood on the ridges to watch the harvest.
Ming Jung, fidgety with idle chubby hands, picked up a bunch of wheat, "Grandma, why are there so many shriveled wheat ears?"
Zhulan took them and sighed heavily in her heart, "This year's harvest is not good."
Their family's manor lands were fertile, and the eldest son said the yield had decreased by a quarter, not to mention the even worse conditions in infertile areas.
Ming Jung, who cared a lot about food, asked, "Grandma, after paying the grain tax, will we have enough food to eat?"
