Jian Qingqing understood what he was thinking and released a trump card. "Grandpa Village Chief, those crops are all high-yield grains that produce more than 500 catties per acre."
"What?!" The village chief cried out in shock. His body lost its balance and he fell backward.
Jian Qingqing and Ming Zhiyan were able to support him in time. They hurriedly helped him breathe. "Take a deep breath! Grandpa Village Chief, Quick, inhale... Exhale..."
After doing this a few times, the village chief finally regained his strength. He shakily stretched out his withered hand and grabbed Ming Zhiyan's clothes. He widened his eyes and asked in a trembling voice, "Sir, is what Qingqing said true?"
