The Night the Cornfields Cried

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the vast expanse of Jiangyong's cornfields. Farmer Li Hua, a man in his late fifties with a weathered face, watched as the last rays of light faded into the evening twilight. The day's harvest was over, but his mind was far from rest. The corn had been yielding more than usual, and with each passing week, the yield seemed to grow by leaps and bounds.

Li Hua's eyes wandered over the rows of towering cornstalks, their green leaves shimmering in the fading light. He had been a farmer all his life, and he knew his land like the back of his hand. Yet, something was off. The corn seemed to have a life of its own, swaying as if in a silent, ominous dance.

That night, as he sat by the fire, a shiver ran down his spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that the cornfields were alive, watching him. The wind howled through the stalks, and the sound was unlike anything he had ever heard. It was as if the corn itself was crying out, a sound of pain and sorrow that seemed to resonate in the very air.

Li Hua's son, Li Ming, a young man of twenty, had recently returned from the city. He had grown up in the city, but something in his eyes told Li Hua that his son had always felt a connection to the land. Li Ming had always been fascinated by the folklore of their village, stories of spirits and ancient curses that were whispered among the villagers.

"Father, have you heard the cornfields tonight?" Li Ming asked, his voice tinged with fear.

Li Hua nodded, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames of the fire. "Yes, I have. It's as if they're calling out for help."

Li Ming's curiosity turned to concern. "We should investigate. It's not normal, and it's not just the corn. I've felt it too, the unease, the... presence."

Li Hua hesitated, but the thought of the cornfields crying out for help was too much for him to bear. "Very well, we will go tomorrow. But be careful, Ming. This is Jiangyong, and these fields are ancient."

The next morning, the two men set out into the fields at dawn. The air was cool and crisp, and the sky was clear. The cornfields stretched out before them, an endless sea of green. Li Ming, with a flashlight in hand, led the way, his footsteps careful and cautious.

As they approached a particularly dense patch of corn, the wind picked up, and the cornstalks began to sway even more wildly. Li Ming shone the flashlight, and they saw strange marks on the stalks, as if someone had carved into them with a knife.

Li Hua's eyes widened in shock. "This is no ordinary carving. Look at the patterns. They're... they're ancient symbols!"

Li Ming nodded. "I think these symbols are meant to be read. If we can decipher them, maybe we can understand what's happening."

The two men worked together, deciphering the symbols, their flashlight casting an eerie glow over the cornfields. The symbols spoke of a long-forgotten ritual, one that had been performed to appease the spirits of the land. But the ritual had been forgotten, and now the spirits were restless.

Li Hua's voice was a whisper as he read the symbols aloud. "It says that the cornfields are sacred, and they must be treated with respect. But they have not been, and now they cry out for help."

Li Ming's eyes were filled with determination. "We have to do something. We have to make amends."

They returned to the village, seeking the wisdom of the elders. The elders listened in silence, their faces etched with worry. Finally, an old woman with silver hair and eyes that seemed to see into the past spoke. "The ritual must be performed, but it is dangerous. The spirits are not to be trifled with lightly."

Li Hua and Li Ming knew the risks, but they were determined to make things right. They gathered the necessary supplies and returned to the cornfields under the cover of night.

The ritual was long and arduous, but the spirits seemed to be appeased. The wind stopped howling, and the cornstalks no longer swayed with an eerie dance. The symbols on the cornstalks began to fade, and the cornfields seemed to return to normal.

As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, Li Hua and Li Ming stood in the cornfields, their hearts heavy with relief but also with a sense of profound respect for the land and its ancient spirits.

The cornfields of Jiangyong were no longer crying out. They were at peace, and so were Li Hua and Li Ming. The night the cornfields cried had passed, but the memory of that eerie night would stay with them forever, a reminder of the deep connection between humanity and the land.