God-Tier Get Rich System – CH88

Chapter 88: The Machines Join the Battle

When Xu Huazhang arrived home, Mu Lantu was chopping firewood. Seeing this, Xu Huazhang frowned with concern, telling him to leave it and wait until he came back to do it.

But Mu Lantu was strong, and this kind of chore was nothing to him—it was almost like play. Plus, chopping firewood earned him points, so he was enthusiastically at it.

Was he chopping firewood? No, he was making money!

[Ding, you chopped one piece of firewood, +50 points.]
[Ding, you chopped one piece of firewood, +50 points.]
[…]

Xu Huazhang could only let him be. He glanced at the kitchen, and sure enough, the basket in the usual spot already held the vegetables they’d need for dinner.

He washed his hands, pulled over a small stool, and sat at the dining room doorway to sort the vegetables, keeping an eye on Mu Lantu to make sure he didn’t get hit by the bouncing pieces of firewood.

His baby really did chop wood with… flair.

With Xu Huazhang back, Mu Lantu wasn’t bored anymore. He chopped two more logs, tidied up the yard a little, washed his hands, and sat with Xu Huazhang to continue prepping the vegetables.

In the morning, when Xu Huazhang went to get his bicycle, he found a backpack hanging from the handlebars.

After returning to the house to kiss his adorable lover, he headed off to work.

When he entered the machine factory, the backpack drew many envious glances—but in his heart, Xu Huazhang regretted that he couldn’t show off and say, “This was lovingly prepared by my baby.”

Soon came the wheat harvest day.

Before dawn, oil lamps began lighting up throughout the village, followed by a flurry of activity—carrying water, chopping firewood… smoke curled from chimneys, and the air was filled with the smell of all kinds of food.

Time waited for no one. After an early breakfast, the villagers headed out to the fields.

Mu Lantu and Xu Huazhang both got up early.

Today was Mu Lantu’s first official day on duty.

Xu Huazhang repeatedly reminded him to be careful before reluctantly heading to work.

Mu Lantu wore long sleeves and pants, a straw hat on his head, a damp towel around his neck, and a canteen filled with mung bean soup. He also wore white cotton gloves—fully geared up, he arrived at the brigade headquarters.

The brigade had built a small brick house specifically for storing the harvester.

The brigade leader solemnly unlocked the door, revealing the diesel harvester. It was huge, ugly, and looked like a patched-together beast crouching and ready to pounce.

No one minded its looks though—they couldn’t take their eyes off it. The longer they stared, the more they found it… oddly cute.

They didn’t know the term “ugly-cute,” but if they did, they would’ve used it in a heartbeat.

The brigade leader said formally, “Comrade Mu, we’re counting on you!”

“Rest assured, Captain!” Mu Lantu nodded confidently, leaped onto the machine, and started it up skillfully.

The harvester roared ferociously as it slowly rolled out of the shed.

The brigade leader, secretary, and accountant jogged behind it, faces filled with joy and pride. Among all the nearby communes, only their Dongfanghong Brigade had a harvester!

Out in the fields, endless golden wheat glistened under the blazing sun.

Villagers were already at work, swarming the fields.

Wheat harvesting was an assembly-line task: some people harvested, some bundled, and some transported.

Transport was done by manpower, tractors, or handcarts.

For manual transport, they used a tool called a chongdan—made from straight bamboo or thicker dragon whisker bamboo, sharpened at both ends, sometimes fitted with metal tips. Workers would pierce each end into a bundle of wheat and carry it on their shoulders.

Alternatively, bundles could be stacked on carts—one person pushing from behind, one pulling in front, their shoulders cut deep by the ropes.

Tractors were the most efficient—each load could carry over ten bundles. Loose wheat ears that fell along the way were quickly snatched up by sharp-eyed children.

Once in the drying yard, the wheat was spread out evenly. Oxen dragged heavy stone rollers over it again and again until the grains separated from the stalks.

Then, using pitchforks, the straw was moved aside and piled into high stacks, while the grains were left to dry under the sun.

During drying, the grain had to be turned occasionally to ensure every kernel was fully sun-dried.

And it still wasn’t over—after drying, villagers used a winnowing machine to remove impurities, shriveled grains, and straw bits. Only then was the wheat bagged and stored.

The wheat harvest was truly a collective labor. Even those who didn’t normally work—like the brigade leader, the record keepers, health workers, carpenters, and militia members—all had to go to the fields.

Because farmers were racing against time—and every extra pair of hands counted.

Even the elderly and children had roles: elders watched the drying yard to guard against birds, while kids picked up wheat ears dropped in the fields, their eyes squinting into crescent moons with every successful find—even toddlers as young as three or four were busy.

Younger babies were left at home or placed to nap in the shade or carried on mothers’ backs.

As the rumbling neared, workers in the fields straightened up and looked around.

The harvester steadily entered an empty wheat field.

People quickly scattered.

The brigade leader had warned them that harvesters were dangerous.

Parents had already warned their children, who shouted to each other and ran to safety.

Once Mu Lantu confirmed via 005 that no one was in the field, he pressed the accelerator. The harvester surged forward. Wherever it passed, wheat stalks fell in neat, uniform rows.

[Ding, you harvested a batch of wheat, +100 points.]
Mu Lantu beamed. These points were just too easy to earn!

[Ding, you harvested a batch of wheat, +100 points.]
[Ding, you harvested a batch of wheat, +100 points.]
[…]

“Wow!”

The villagers gasped in awe, frozen in place.

The brigade leader and the others arrived just then. Seeing the scene, they burst into hearty laughter.

The villagers joined in, their sparkling eyes full of joy and pride.

When the captain finally stopped laughing, he shouted, “Quick, a few of you—bundle the wheat and carry it to the drying yard!”

Standing tall on the machine, Mu Lantu could see clearly. In another field, Xu Huazhang’s two manual harvesters were also working. Operated by four strong men, each pull felled a patch of wheat, with results similar to the diesel harvester—just a bit slower.

Farther out, villagers wielded sickles—men and women alike—grabbing handfuls of wheat with their left hands and swinging sickles with their right. The sickles made rhythmic “sii sii sii” sounds as they cut through the stalks.

Normally, people might slack off, but not now. Work points were the least of their concerns—if the harvest was delayed and it rained, they wouldn’t just be letting down their families and village, but the entire country.

The educated youth worked slower, but none slacked off. Sweat rolled down their faces and disappeared into the dry earth.

The diesel harvester could clear an acre in about 20 minutes. Mu Lantu worked non-stop from 7:00 a.m. until the noon whistle blew at 12:00.

Aside from being a bit sunburned and hot, he wasn’t tired.

He also snuck a few sips of spiritual spring water from his space, which kept him from suffering.

Others weren’t so lucky—they were soaked in sweat and could barely stand.

To save time, most didn’t go home at noon. Each household sent someone back half an hour early to cook and bring food and water to the field.

Since Mu Lantu lived alone, he had to go home to eat.

That day, it was Lu Manman and Bai Ningning’s turn to cook at the youth housing.

The three met on the way.

Lu Manman offered, “Comrade Mu, why don’t you eat with us during harvest days?”

Bai Ningning added, “Yes! You’ve been working all morning, and then you still have to cook? It’s too much.”

Mu Lantu politely declined. “No need—I already prepared everything this morning. I just have to reheat it.”

That was a reasonable plan. The girls didn’t press him further. After working all morning, they had no energy to chat.

Mu Lantu boiled water in the pot, let the chimney smoke rise, then took the pre-cooked food from his space.

Wangcai had gone out with him in the morning but ran off once it got hot. It only just returned, clearly after some fun.

After eating, Mu Lantu flipped the drying firewood in the yard, took a quick rinse, and returned to the fields.

While others were still eating or resting, he climbed back onto the harvester and resumed work.

The brigade leader, secretary, and accountant sat together under a tree, eating lunch.

The brigade leader stuffed a fried egg into his pancake and took a big, satisfied bite.

“With the diesel and manual harvesters, I reckon we can finish the harvest in just three days this year!”

The secretary added, “Word will spread soon. Other brigades will come asking to borrow them.” Refusing wasn’t an option—it was for national support.

The accountant said, “As long as they offer grain, money, or ration tickets, everything’s negotiable.”

The diesel harvester was useful—but diesel fuel and tickets were hard to get. They couldn’t lend it out for free.

Their brigade had borrowed tractors before—and always paid in grain and cash.

“Exactly,” the captain agreed.

That afternoon, Mu Lantu only stopped when it became too dark to operate machinery safely.

The manual harvesters stopped too.

But manual labor continued.

The commune had reported the upcoming weather to every brigade—but no one fully trusted the forecast. They wanted to harvest as much as possible while the weather held.

With moonlight and a few fire pits, experienced farmers could still work effectively.

Xu Huazhang was already home. He boiled two pots of hot water, filled two thermos flasks, and left the rest warm in the pot. He also brought in the drying clothes, vegetables, and firewood from the yard.

After dinner, he filled the wooden tub with hot water so Mu Lantu could soak.

Mu Lantu added a generous amount of spiritual spring water—it worked wonders in relieving fatigue.