The valley, south bank.
As a result of Long Qiu's industrious work, Phoenix Mountain now had six mu of rice paddies. It was September at the moment and just the season for harvesting the early-sowed rice, which was the topmost priority. The family of four stood in a line by the field, watching the rice undulating in the wind in golden waves. It was a pleasure to both body and mind.
Xiaojin washed four fresh peaches with pink tips and handed one each. The four started chewing off the fruits right away. Needless to say, the peaches were from the peach trees in the valley—that's right, instead of a poisonous miasma, the peach trees they planted had given them fruit.
The first dozen they planted all fared well, their branches heavy with peaches the size of an adult fist. They were tender, juicy, and even contained a tiny amount of spiritual essence.
