Chapter 17: Little One Invents the Corn Peeling Machine, Part 2

The autumn sun blazed fiercely, roasting the earth, and the heat rising from the cornfield carried the scent of soil. Su Yao squatted in the furrow, her fingernails stained yellow with corn silk residue. After shelling the third sack, a sudden sharp pain stabbed the web of her right hand. Raising it, she saw a blister rubbed raw, mixed with sweat, burning fiercely.

“Mom, take a break,” Lu Xingchen called, running over with a water bottle. The lid was loose, and water dripped down his elbow, darkening a patch of the scorching ground.

Su Yao took the bottle, gulping down the cool water, though it barely soothed the restlessness coursing through her body. Nearby at the threshing ground, the villagers bustled around heaps of corn, the rhythmic pounding of backs and murmurs of complaint drifting over. Widow Wang’s fingers were swollen like carrots as she struck the corn stalks with a sickle. “This blasted weather—if we keep shelling like this, we’ll lose more than just skin!”

Erzhu’s wife spat into her palm, rubbing it until it creaked. “No kidding. My husband groaned all night with pain and only eased up after soaking in hot water for hours.”

Su Yao worriedly eyed the small mountain of corn. With this year’s good rainfall, the harvest was abundant, but relying solely on hand-shelling, they might not finish until frost fell. As she pondered hiring help with Old Li, her gaze caught Lu Yuxuan crouched by the corn pile, fiddling with something unknown.

The boy had picked up a chipped wooden board and clutched a rusty nail, gesturing toward the corn cobs. The kernels were scattered messily where he’d poked them, yellow shards dusting his clothes.

“Yuxuan, stop playing and rest under the shade,” Su Yao called.

Without looking up, the boy furrowed his brows tightly. “Mom, I’m thinking.” He hammered the nail crookedly into the board until it stood upright. “Look, can this scrape off the husk?”

Su Yao walked over and couldn’t help but smile. Three nails were hammered into the board, spaced just a bit narrower than the corn cob. He rubbed a cob back and forth between the nails, and sure enough, the tough shell cracked open along a seam.

“This is interesting,” Su Yao squatted to steady the board. “Try again.”

Yuxuan’s eyes lit up. He found a length of thin hemp rope and tied the board to the side of a nearby stone mill. Standing on tiptoe, he grabbed a large cob and pressed it hard against the nails. The shell cracked open with a crisp snap, revealing plump kernels inside.

“It worked!” he jumped excitedly, kernels spilling down his clothes. “Mom, look, now I don’t have to dig so hard!”

The other villagers gathered around, curious. Erzhu crouched down and tried it, clicking his tongue in amazement. “This little gadget is way faster than hand-shelling! Yuxuan’s a clever kid, just like his mom.”

Flushed from praise, Yuxuan bent down again to hammer two more nails into the board. This time, he staggered the nails like tiny teeth. Su Yao helped hold the corn steady, and as he rubbed the cob along the nails, the shell cracked neatly, making shelling so much easier.

“It’d be even better with a wooden handle,” Su Yao suggested, finding a short stick and tying it onto the board with hemp rope. “That way, you don’t have to squat—you can shell standing up.”

Yuxuan made two more, giving them to Widow Wang and Erzhu’s wife. The women tested them and laughed joyfully. “This is so much faster than using our hands! Yuxuan really is a little inventor!”

That afternoon, three simple shellers appeared at the threshing ground. The villagers lined up to use them, and their shelling speed increased significantly. Yuxuan guarded his invention closely, watching everyone use it and occasionally reminding, “Push slowly, don’t scrape off the kernels.”

As the sun set, Su Yao counted the sacks and found they’d shelled nearly half more corn than the day before. She ruffled Yuxuan’s hair, leaving corn silk stuck to his face. “Our Yuxuan has done a great job!”

Yuxuan buried his face in her lap, muttering, “Mom, I can make it even better.”

For the next three days, Yuxuan was like possessed. After school, he sneaked into the commune warehouse, rummaging through piles of scrap wood and old nails. Lu Xingchen helped find tools, Lu Shihan brought a small stool and sat nearby, handing him nails and hammer, humming off-key tunes.

After finishing her work at the cannery, Su Yao went to check on him. The warehouse floor was covered with straw, scattered with all manners of parts: bicycle chains, tin sheets cut from cans, a small saw borrowed from Erzhu’s home. Yuxuan knelt on the straw, nose dusted with grime, sanding a piece of wood, so focused he didn’t notice her arrival.

“Hungry? Mom brought you steamed corn buns,” Su Yao offered, handing over the wax paper package.

Only then did Yuxuan look up, his eyes bloodshot. “Mom, look!” He held up a palm-sized wooden box fitted with rows of sharp metal teeth. “I added this—it can scrape off the corn silk too.”

Su Yao tested it on a cob, and sure enough, the silk and shell came off cleanly. Her face lit with delight. “This is much better than before!”

Yuxuan grinned, revealing two newly grown baby teeth. “I want to add a foot pedal next, so you don’t have to use your hands—just step on it to shell.”

Su Yao looked at his cracked, chapped hands, her heart aching and warming all at once. She found her thimble and slipped it onto his finger. “Don’t wear yourself out. Finish it tomorrow.”

Early the fourth day, Yuxuan came home brandishing a new sheller. It was larger than before, with two wooden boards nailed at the base and a bicycle chain foot pedal on the side. Stepping on it made a clacking sound, and the metal teeth above rotated.

“Mom, look!” He pressed the pedal loudly, inserted a cob, and after turning it twice, the corn was stripped clean. “It’s three times faster than hand-shelling!”

Su Yao hurried to fetch Old Li and Erzhu to try it. Erzhu stepped on the pedal, shelling ten cobs in half the usual time, laughing as he lifted Yuxuan and spun him around. “Wow! This thing is worth three laborers!”

News quickly spread to the commune. Secretary Li came personally to inspect, turning the sheller over in his hands and praising it repeatedly. “This is a great invention! It solves a big problem! Su Yao, photograph this and send it to the county research station!”

Su Yao borrowed a camera from the commune’s correspondent and took a picture of Yuxuan standing beside his invention, holding a cob, grinning with a gap-toothed smile and wood shavings still dusting his face.

The day she mailed the photo, Su Yao enclosed a letter detailing how the sheller worked and its efficiency. Yuxuan leaned over the table watching her write, then suddenly said, “Mom, I want to make one that shells peanuts.”

“Good idea,” Su Yao stroked his head. “When you finish, I’ll send it off for you.”

Half a month later, the commune correspondent arrived by bicycle, holding a certificate wrapped in red silk and a set of brand-new books.

“Is Lu Yuxuan here?” the correspondent called loudly. “The county research station is awarding you!”

Yuxuan, who was crouched in the yard tinkering with a peanut sheller, ran out at the shout. The man handed him a certificate stamped with a bright red seal, inscribed “Youth Innovation Award.” The set of five books titled “One Hundred Thousand Whys” had covers illustrated with rockets and Earth, fresh enough to smell the ink.

“These are for you from the research station. They want to promote your invention throughout the county!” the correspondent patted Yuxuan’s shoulder. “Kid, you’re amazing!”

The whole village gathered, marveling at the certificate and books. Widow Wang clasped Yuxuan’s hand, beaming. “This child has a bright future!”

Blushing, Yuxuan hugged the books tightly and solemnly said, “Mom, I want to build lots of machines so no one has to work hard.”

Su Yao’s eyes grew moist watching his earnestness. She remembered when he first arrived, shy and hiding from strangers—now he could stand in front of others and speak his dreams.

That night, Su Yao pinned the certificate in the main room’s most visible spot. Yuxuan lay under the lamp reading, occasionally pointing at pictures and asking, “Mom, why can rockets fly into space? Is the Earth really round?”

Patiently, Su Yao explained, though in her heart she thought it was time to send him to the county middle school, where better teachers could teach him more.

Late at night, Yuxuan fell asleep clutching his books, a slight smile playing on his lips as if dreaming sweetly. Su Yao tucked him in and turned to open a letter received that day. The handwriting was familiar—it was from Lu Zhanye.

The letter was brief, saying he was well, asking how the children were, and how the cannery business was going. As Su Yao read, her fingers brushed something hard within. She shook the paper gently, and a photograph slipped out.

In the photo, Lu Zhanye wore a brand-new military uniform, standing beside a huge machine in front of tall factory buildings. He looked darker and thinner than before, but his eyes were bright, and a faint smile curved his lips. Su Yao touched his face lightly with her fingertip.

On the back of the photo was a small inscription: “This is our base’s new equipment. When you arrive, I’ll show you.”

Her heart quickened. She carefully slipped the photo inside Yuxuan’s book, hiding it in the first volume of “One Hundred Thousand Whys.”

The next morning, Su Yao went to see Secretary Li, expressing her wish to send Yuxuan to the county middle school. Secretary Li was supportive. “This child is a promising seedling and deserves good nurturing. Don’t worry about tuition; the commune will cover part of it.”

On the way back from the brigade office, Su Yao passed the threshing ground. Villagers were happily shelling corn with Yuxuan’s invention. No one complained of sore hands anymore. Erzhu sang softly as he stepped on the pedal, shelling swiftly.

“Su, your Yuxuan really is a genius!” Erzhu’s wife laughed. “This thing works better than any city machine!”

Su Yao smiled but thought it was time to write back to Lu Zhanye—to tell him about Yuxuan’s award and school plans; about the thriving cannery and the popular canned corn; to tell him how much the children missed him, and how she herself…

Her steps faltered, cheeks warming. In the distant cornfield, Yuxuan chased his siblings, their laughter ringing like silver bells. Watching them, her heart brimmed with hope.

Life was like this autumn’s corn—full and real. With children’s laughter, neighbors’ mutual aid, and the ties that bound them to a faraway man, such a life was truly good.

Turning homeward, Su Yao resolved to write Lu Zhanye soon, to tell him everything. To tell him that when he returned, Yuxuan would show him the corn sheller, to prove just how wonderful their child had become.

On the road, Yuxuan ran up, clutching his books excitedly. “Mom, I know why rockets fly—they have fuel!”

“Really? Then will you build a rocket someday?” Su Yao smiled.

“Yes!” Yuxuan nodded vigorously. “I want to build flying machines that take you, my siblings, and Uncle Lu all into space!”

Su Yao laughed, watching his earnest face. The sunlight warmed them like Lu Zhanye’s military coat.

She knew the children’s dreams would come true one day. And perhaps her own dream was not far off. As long as she guarded this home, these dear ones, waiting would be no torment but hopeful anticipation.

That night, under the lamplight, Su Yao wrote her letter to Lu Zhanye—about Yuxuan’s invention, his award, his schooling; about the new cannery products; about the plentiful corn harvest; about how much the children missed him.

At the end, she hesitated, then added: “We all look forward to your early return.”

Setting down her pen, Su Yao gazed at the moon outside, her heart warm. She could almost see Lu Zhanye receiving her letter, holding Yuxuan’s certificate, a look of comfort on his face.

Night deepened. She sealed the envelope, affixed the stamp, knowing the letter would travel far to reach him. But she was not anxious. Good waiting was worth the time.

Like the crops in the fields, which passed through spring planting and summer growth before yielding a bountiful autumn, their love too grew steadily through days of waiting and longing, destined to bring its own harvest.