The night was deep and silent, and on such a large, unsculpted depression, it was very easy for Song Tan to employ some tricks.
But there was no rush.
She took out her phone, searched on the spot for the usual yield per acre of rushes, and the ideal length and condition for harvesting… Then she stretched out her hand unhurriedly.
After all, she had never grown this stuff before!
The moonlight quietly fell from the sky, and the stars around twinkled visibly, making the summer night's sky so tranquil it could intoxicate.
And in this gentle breeze, the rushes in the field were growing at breakneck speed.
Their elongated roots silently twisted through the soil, following the fine threads of veins as they absorbed nutrients.
Something indescribable in the air supported their blades, making them greener, and they were studded with tiny dewdrops that had condensed.
When the night breeze blew, they swayed and jingled, shedding droplets.
