Xu Changqing stood on the ridge between the fields and guided his second disciple's posture by hand. "Squat halfway and bend your knees. Keep your weight forward, or your back will be aching before long!"
Lin Feng was still small, and the hand holding his sickle trembled a little.
He tried several times, but either cut the rice stalks crooked or scooped up a great clump of mud with one swing.
Xu Changqing did not rush him. Instead, he stepped closer and demonstrated. "Look, leave half a finger's width between your right hand and the handle. Don't grip it too tightly.
"Hook your left hand around the stalks, then cut diagonally about a finger's width above the ground.
"That way, the stubble stays even and the rice doesn't get muddy."
Lin Feng watched his master's movements, repeating each point to himself again and again.
Once he had memorized them, he took the sickle and started harvesting again, following the steps.
It went more smoothly this time, but before he had cut ten stalks, his arm began to ache. Sweat ran down his cheeks from his forehead.
It dripped into the field, sending up tiny splashes.
But he did not stop. Instead, he tightened his grip on the handle, wanting to cut a little more.
For one thing, his master was watching right beside him. He had to prove himself.
For another, both his mother and father had warned him never to make his master angry.
Xu Changqing saw it all and chuckled. "No rush. Rest a while before you keep cutting.
"You still have a mortal body. Push too hard and you'll strain your muscles."
With that, he pulled a piece of candy from his pocket and put it in Lin Feng's hand.
Lin Feng froze, surprised by the gesture.