The next morning, as soon as Song Sancheng got up, he was taken aback.
The air… so fresh!
In the distance, mists wreathed the mountain ranges, tinged with a thin layer of pale gold, as picturesque as a scenic spot.
The pond by the door was blanketed with a layer of white mist, thick and dense, almost entirely covering the water's surface. The mist was pressed low, slowly drifting.
And around the courtyard, a plum tree—which Song Sancheng clearly remembered had withered last month—had inexplicably bloomed several flowers. The tiny, yellow buds, only half-open, were not only exceptionally charming but also gave off a delicate fragrance from afar.
At that moment, the old farmer unexpectedly felt an appreciation for beauty, but also sensed something amiss, as if he too was being admired...
He turned his head to look!
He saw seven or eight local grey squirrels clinging to the courtyard wall, watching into the yard like nosy pups. Then looking towards the back hill, which also shared the desolate view of the passing winter, there was somehow a sense of renewed brightness.
As if... as if it was polished and shining!
Song Sancheng stared blankly for a long time, amusing himself with his own thoughts: "Achoo!"
The morning was too cold.
He hurriedly cast aside his disordered thoughts and gathered a bundle of firewood to go light the stove.
Ah, being an older man is tough, everyone is afraid of the cold, yet it's always he who must get up to start the fire.
…
In the room.
Song Tan slowly withdrew her spiritual awareness, and the Spiritual Energy drawn to her vicinity was transformed by her Water Wood Spiritual Method, now dispersing secretly as a richer vitality.
Inside and outside the house, the air was fresh.
Feeling the abundant Spiritual Energy within her body, she also took a long breath—her body was almost fully recovered.
Song Tan stepped out of her room, and after a brief wash-up, she took two wild grass stems from the pile of firewood. Casually tying them into a cross, she then squatted in the open vegetable garden, holding the cross in her palms with the ends slightly touching the ground—
Then, with eyes half-closed, she whispered softly,
"Is my savior doing well now?"
This was mystic arts divination.
An ancient method capable of divination much like the I Ching hexagrams, it required little Spiritual Energy, and even ordinary people with a slight understanding of spiritual methods could do it. It was the only thing that Song Tan, still in the Qi cultivation phase, could manage.
Of course, with a low entry barrier, the divination results were also... rather crude.
…
The man who saved her from the car accident—if not for him, even with her return and the restoration of her body through Spiritual Energy, she still would have had a hard time surviving the explosion.
Her memories were too disordered, and the conflict between the Spiritual Energy and her physical injuries only left her with a recollection of his dark brown eyes and thick eyelashes...
She failed to find out who he was in the hospital, and now that her Spiritual Energy had slightly recovered, naturally, she wanted to investigate first thing.
Cultivators value cause and effect, and she, Song Tan, valued gratitude.
Not to mention others, at least sending some local specialty would be feasible.
Dr. Zhang Yuan from the hospital was evasive, and she always felt something was off.
The Spiritual Energy surged, and the makeshift divination instrument in her hand began to slide slowly through the dew-moistened earth. Song Tan opened her eyes and saw the scattered answer on the ground:
"Not dead"
Song Tan: ...
She cracked up.
What kind of answer was that? No wonder no one uses this method in the Cangxuan Realm anymore!
Dissatisfied, she closed her eyes and focused once more, asking, "Where is my savior now?"
The Spiritual Energy surged again, and eventually scribbled out an even more scattered line of text:
"At home"
Song Tan grew even more frustrated!
She threw the cross of grass in her hand, feeling for the first time that mysticism wasn't very helpful. After thinking for a moment, she decided to send another message to the doctor from Ning Province People's Hospital:
"Dr. Zhang, could I trouble you to inquire how the gentleman who saved me is doing now? Did he transfer to another hospital due to his health? If possible, could you give me his contact information?"
"Saving a life is a grace one cannot ignore. Even if he does not require my gratitude, I must offer my thanks in person."
The reply took a long time to come: "Then I'll ask for you again."
...
On a winter morning, even washing vegetables in the kitchen could freeze your hands, so Wu Lan simply boiled a big pot of dumplings. And there was Qiaoqiao, spinning like a top, one moment serving his sister dumplings, the next moment bringing her dumpling soup…
The married couple, one tending to the fire and the other cooking, just served themselves and ate by their own efforts!
And Song Tan?
He just sat carelessly on a chair, using cajoling words, "Qiaoqiao is so good!"
"Qiaoqiao is such a good boy!"
"Qiaoqiao, the dumpling soup you brought, your sister finished it in one gulp!"
Wu Lan and Song Sancheng both fell silent.
Their silly son, what to do with him?
Out of sight, out of mind, Song Sancheng grunted and changed the subject:
"Right, the people for the land ploughing arrived this morning, make some extra food for lunch at home."
Song Tan asked out of curiosity, "Did they bring it with a tractor?"
Where is there a tractor now?
"It was brought on a three-wheeled cart."
Song Tan: !!!
As small as the ploughing machine was, wasn't using a three-wheeler to transport it a bit of an understatement? And besides, could a three-wheeler even make it over the hills and mountains?
But before she could ponder this question, she heard the sound of a vehicle out on the road, and, going out to look, holy moly!
It was indeed an old, date-red three-wheeler, just like those private little three-wheelers you see on the side of the road in Ning City, helping people move or deliver goods.
In its seemingly small yet seemingly huge carrier, a similarly aging date-red land ploughing machine was clearly ready to get to work.
"Hey, bro, where's the field? I'll head right there!"
"You're here so early? Have you eaten yet?"
The two men made small talk as they walked toward the fields amidst the roar of the three-wheeler.
On this end, Wu Lan was considering what to cook for lunch and didn't forget to instruct her daughter:
"We've also found quite a few people to cut trees on the back hill, just right to saw down those overly dense trees the size of a bowl's mouth, on one hand, to clear up space for a pigsty. On the other hand, weren't you planning to grow black and white fungus? These tree trunks will come in handy."
Having spent the money already, Wu Lan could only acquiesce to these plans, and she spoke of them in a calm manner:
"I'll ask around to have someone clear up the weeds in the Chestnut Woods on the hillside beside the pond. Otherwise, it'll affect the growth of the white fungus."
Meanwhile muttering, "Getting someone to clear weeds costs even more than spraying pesticides…"
Song Tan pretended to be a quail; in any case, using pesticides was out of the question.
But pretending to be a quail didn't help her escape, as Wu Lan turned her attention back to her, "If you're going to farm yourself, then you can't sit idle. Go and prepare the seeds."
Song Tan quickly nodded her head.
Qiaoqiao, holding his bowl, had just secured a big dumpling with his chopsticks and, not quite understanding everything but eager to participate, quickly added, "Sister! I'll help you!"
—Wu Lan looked even more annoyed.
...
Preparing Milk Vetch seeds was quite simple.
Song Tan took Qiaoqiao outside to shovel a couple of scoops of sand to mix with the Milk Vetch seeds, vigorously rubbing them together—the friction helped thin out the thick husks, allowing for quicker germination.
This type of rubbing through a bag, aside from requiring some effort, was also particularly fun; Qiaoqiao giggled as she rubbed, clearly showing a natural talent for farm work.
After enough rubbing, it was time to sun the seeds.
A few hours of sunbathing, then play with water—ah no, it meant soaking the seeds for half a day.
By lunchtime, after a few stirs and tossing out the lower-quality seeds that floated to the surface.
The seeds were considered ready.
After all, it was green manure; for so many years, everyone had been using this rough method of sowing. The only difference was, while soaking, Song Tan infused some Spiritual Energy into the water.
Qiaoqiao looked at the half-yard full of seeds, now extremely proud, "Sister, farming is really fun!"
Even if his arms were a bit sore.