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Several people in the courtyard took advantage of the cooler morning temperatures and were rapidly plucking leaves. Qiaoqiao, on the other hand, gathered these Ai Cao leaves in bunches and laid them on a plastic sheet.
Meanwhile, Song Tan, wielding the Ancestral Hammer, started hammering away with a "bang bang" sound.
Her strokes were even, and with each hammer blow on the thick leaves, which had been sun-dried and aired out, they did not quickly shatter into dry dregs. Instead, they began to seem like they were oozing a glossy oil, almost as if they were developing a fuzzy appearance.
Zhang Yanping squatted quietly on the side, watching for a few minutes, before suddenly turning around:
"Qiaoqiao, bring your phone over quickly!"
Qiaoqiao, not understanding why but always obedient, didn't question the command and put down the leaves he was holding. He turned and went upstairs to fetch his phone.
Zhang Yanping took the phone—70% battery life, that'll do.
