Chapter 11: Processing seeds

Early the next morning, Song Sancheng woke up and was stunned for a moment.

The air... is so fresh!

Only to see the distant mountains shrouded in clouds and mist, with a layer of faint golden light lightly dyed, looking as beautiful as that scenic spot.

The pond at the door was even more covered with a layer of white mist, thick, viscous, almost covering the entire water surface. The mist was pressed extremely low and was moving slowly.

And a plum tree around the courtyard, Song Sancheng clearly remembered that it had withered last month, why did it bloom a few more flowers today? Small yellow buds, half-open and half-closed, not only cute but also a faint fragrance from afar.

At this moment, the old farmer rarely had a feeling of appreciating beauty, but he felt that something was not quite right, as if he was also being appreciated...

He turned his head and looked!

Only to see seven or eight local gray squirrels climbing on the courtyard wall, looking at the courtyard like paparazzi. Looking at the back mountain again, it was clearly a desolate scene after the cold winter, but it revealed a new brightness.

It's like... it's like it's been polished!

Song Sancheng stared for a long time, and he was amused by his own thoughts: "Achoo!"

It's too cold in the early morning.

He hurriedly threw away his messy thoughts, hugged a pile of firewood, and went to burn the stove.

Alas, men of his age are hard-working. Everyone is afraid of the cold, but he has to get up to burn the fire.

In the room.

Song Tan slowly withdrew her spiritual sense, and the spiritual energy attracted around her was refined and transformed through her water-wood spiritual method, and now it turned into a richer vitality and quietly dispersed.

Inside and outside the house, the air was fresh.

And feeling the abundant spiritual energy in her body, she breathed a sigh of relief—she could finally say that her body was almost repaired.

Song Tan walked out of the room, washed up, and pulled two wild grass stems from the firewood pile. At this moment, she tied them into a "cross" at will, and then squatted in the empty vegetable garden, holding the cross in her palms with both hands, the ends slightly touching the ground—

Then she closed her eyes slightly and said softly:

"How is my life-saving benefactor now?"

This is Fuju (spirit writing).

An ancient way of measuring like the I Ching and Eight Trigrams, which has low requirements for spiritual energy, and many ordinary people with slight spiritual methods can do it. It is also the only thing Song Tan, who is currently in the Qi Condensation Stage, can do.

Of course, the entry threshold is low, and the measurement results are... also sloppy.

That man who saved her in the car accident—if it weren't for him, even if she had crossed back and repaired her body with spiritual energy, she would have found it hard to preserve herself in such an explosion.

The memories were too chaotic, and the conflict between spiritual energy and physical injuries made Song Tan only remember the man's dark brown eyes and thick eyelashes...

She didn't ask in the hospital, and now that her spiritual energy had slightly recovered, she naturally wanted to investigate at the first opportunity.

Cultivators value cause and effect, and she, Song Tan, values grace.

Not to mention anything else, sending some local specialties is always okay.

She always felt that something was wrong with the vague words of Dr. Zhang Yuan in the hospital.

Spiritual energy surged, and the simple spirit pen in her hand slid slowly in the moist mud of the early morning. Song Tan opened her eyes, only to see a line of scattered answers on the ground:

"Not dead"

Song Tan:...

She cracked.

What kind of answer is this? No wonder no one in the Cangxuan Realm uses this method!

She was unwilling and closed her eyes again to think and ask: "Where is the life-saving benefactor?"

Spiritual energy surged again, and finally scratched out a line of more scattered characters:

"At home"

Song Tan was even angrier!

She threw the cross grass in her hand, and for the first time, she felt that metaphysics was useless. Thinking about it, she gave the doctor at Ning Province People's Hospital another message:

"Dr. Zhang, sorry to bother you, but how is the gentleman who saved me doing now? Is the transfer due to physical reasons? If possible, can you give me his contact information?"

"A life-saving grace, even if the other party doesn't need me to repay, I must thank him in person."

The message took a long time to reply: "Then I'll ask for you again."

In the early morning of winter, washing vegetables is also freezing. Wu Lan simply boiled a big pot of dumplings. Looking at Qiao Qiao, who was like a spinning top, serving dumplings for his sister, and serving dumpling soup for his sister...

The couple burned the fire and cooked, serving themselves and eating, self-reliant!

What about Song Tan?

She sat on the chair and coaxed people with her mouth: "Qiao Qiao is so good!"

"Qiao Qiao is so obedient!"

"The dumpling soup Qiao Qiao served, sister drank it all in one gulp!"

Wu Lan and Song Sancheng were silent.

Silly son, what can we do?

Out of sight, out of mind, Song Sancheng "ahem" shifted the topic:

"That, the plowman is coming this morning, let's have more food at noon."

Song Tan was curious: "Are you transporting it with a tractor?"

Where are there tractors now?

"Use a small tricycle."

Song Tan:!!!

The plow machine is small, but is it a bit looking down on it to transport it with a tricycle? Besides, can the tricycle climb mountains and ridges?

But she hadn't figured out this problem yet, when she heard a car sound on the road outside, and went out to see, wow!

Sure enough, it was an old, jujube-red tricycle, very much like the private small tricycle that helps people move and deliver goods on the side of the road in Ning City.

The not-so-big but seemingly very large rear bucket carried a plow machine that was also not new, clearly intending to go to work.

"Old brother, where is the land? I'm going!"

"Coming so early? Have you eaten?"

The two big men greeted each other and walked toward the field in the roar of the tricycle.

Here, Wu Lan was calculating the dishes at noon, and didn't forget to tell her daughter:

"I invited quite a few people to cut trees on the back mountain, just to saw those Quercus trees that are too dense and as thick as a bowl. On one hand, it's to make room for the pigsty. On the other hand, aren't you going to plant black fungus and silver fungus? The trunks are just right for that."

The money was spent, and Wu Lan could only acquiesce to these plans. At this moment, she was calm when talking about it:

"I'll ask again, invite people to pull the weeds on the hillside by the pond. Otherwise, it will affect the planting of silver fungus."

Muttering: "Inviting people to pull weeds is more expensive than using pesticides..."

Song Tan pretended to be a quail. Anyway, using pesticides is impossible.

However, she didn't escape being a quail. Wu Lan stared at her again: "You want to farm yourself, so you can't be idle. Go process the seeds for me."

Song Tan nodded hurriedly.

Qiao Qiao held his bowl, just took his chopsticks and poked a big dumpling, and didn't understand anything, so he hurriedly said: "Sister! I'll help you!"

—Wu Lan looked even angrier.

The seeds of Chinese milk vetch are quite simple to process.

Song Tan took Qiao Qiao to shovel two shovels of sand from outside, mixed it with the Chinese milk vetch seeds, and rubbed them hard—this can grind the thick outer shell thinner, and they will sprout faster.

This kind of rubbing across the bag, besides needing some strength, also has a special kind of fun. Song Qiao rubbed and laughed, clearly having a talent for farm work.

After rubbing, it's drying.

Dry for a few hours, then play with water—no, just soak the seeds for half a day.

Wait until noon, stir a few times, and then throw away those floating inferior seeds.

The seeds are considered processed.

After all, it's green manure, and everyone has used such rough planting methods for so many years. The only difference is that when soaking, Song Tan dissolved some spiritual energy into the water.

Qiao Qiao looked at the seeds in half the courtyard, and at this moment, he was very proud: "Sister, farming is so fun!"

It's just that his arms are a bit sore. ===== CHAPTER 12 =====