Fang Zichen followed them out in a daze. Halfway there, he came to his senses and could only sigh.
The old saying is true—desire can truly cloud a man's judgment.
He was utterly and completely wrapped around Zhao Ge's little finger.
Guaizai, holding Yang Mingyi's hand, skipped and jumped ahead, pointing at the wild vegetables by the roadside. "Yang pig, this is pennywort."
"Can you eat it?"
"You can!" he replied, his small face scrunching up into a frown like a little old man's. "But it's very bitter. Not tasty at all."
During past winters when other wild vegetables were scarce, people would resort to eating pennywort despite its unpleasant flavor. Zhao Ger had gathered it often, and Guaizai had been forced to eat so much of it that he'd grown thoroughly sick of it.
Yang Mingyi was still young, after all, and it was his first time in a village. Everything seemed novel to him.
"What about this? What is it?"
"This is daylily, it's tasty."
Yang Mingyi pointed at a plant about a foot tall with a few small red berries the size of soybeans. "And this one?"
When it came to wild vegetables, there wasn't any Guaizai didn't know. But this thing wasn't edible; everyone said it was poisonous. People in the village didn't know its name either.
He pattered to the back to pull Fang Zichen. He thought Fang Zichen was amazing and knew everything, so he must know this too.
But how could Fang Zichen possibly know? Before his transmigration, he had never even held a hoe. The fact that he knew corn grew on stalks was, in his own opinion, impressive enough.
Yet, under the expectant gazes of both Guaizai and Yang Mingyi, the simple words "I don't know" stuck in his throat, utterly refusing to come out.
He couldn't lose face in front of his son!
Moreover, Zhao Ger was also looking over.
Old Master Wu heard him cough. "This is called Red Berry Grass."
"Wow~" Guaizai's eyes seemed to sparkle. "Father really knows! Then what about this one?"
"This is called Jili Gulu."
[Jili Gulu (叽里咕噜): Chinese onomatopoeia describes the sound of rapid, unclear, or incomprehensible speech, like mumbling or gibberish]
Guaizai and Yang Mingyi had a hundred thousand 'what is this's, and Fang Zichen almost became an encyclopedia.
"This is called Gulu Jili."
"This is called Dongsi Dasi."
[Dongsi Dasi" (动死打死): move death hit death]
"This is called Yamete."
[Yamete (やめて): stop it]
"This is called Dame."
[Dame (だめ): no good]
"This is called Aiyowei."
"This is called Hello!"
"This is called Nidong."
[nǐ dǒng (你懂): you understand]
Guaizai jumped up: "Father said all of them right, father is so amazing~"
Old Master Wu: "..."
These two, father and son...
It's unbearable to look at, truly unbearable to look at.
Although Old Master Wu knew nothing about farming, just from listening, he knew Fang Zichen was completely making things up.
The child himself had no idea what the plants were, so how could he possibly know if his father's answers were correct?
For a moment, Old Master Wu thought that this family must have at least one sensible person. He turned his gaze toward Zhao Ger... but then he immediately reconsidered.
He took back that thought. It was true what they said: every pot finds its lid, and people who aren't alike don't end up together. There was a clear reason why Zhao Ger had been able to stay with a character like Fang Zichen for so long.
The look of worship in Zhao Ger's eyes was really far too obvious.
After Guaizai finished asking, he went to the roadside, picked a few flowers, and gave them to Yang Mingyi.
They weren't particularly beautiful, just common little wildflowers that often bloomed by the roadside, the buds only as big as glutinous rice balls, plain and ordinary, not comparable to the roses and peonies planted in the backyard. But Yang Mingyi still accepted them, treasuring them as he gently sniffed them, there was only a faint scent of grass. "Thank you, Guaizai."
Their group was eye-catching. The villagers watched from a distance.
"That old man and that young ger must be the guests who came earlier!"
"Who are they? I see the fabric of their clothes looks quite good!"
"I don't know, but they came by carriage, so they must be from a wealthy family. That young ger is really beautiful, better looking than any girl or ger I've seen."
This trip to dig for fishmint was like going into battle. Fang Zichen spent the entire time leaping about, shrieking and howling in panic, nearly fainting from fright several times.
In the end, it was Yang Mingyi and Guaizai who collected the fishmint. Old Master Wu stood with his hands clasped behind his back, shaking his head at Fang Zichen in utter disdain. "Utterly useless."
Fang Zichen: "..."
You're useful?
At your advanced age, after just two sentences, you were almost out of breath, and you have the nerve to say that about me? Where do you get the face?
Although the village was poor, the scenery was indeed beautiful. The roadside was lush and green, with wild flowers in full bloom. A few people stood scattered here and there in the fields, working.
In Xiaohe Village, they only planted one crop each of corn and rice. After the harvest in the eighth month, the fields were left empty. Those with land close to home, the women and gers, would clear and plant some seasonal vegetables like radishes and napa cabbage.
During the spring and summer, the mountains provided an abundance of wild vegetables, so there was little need to plant much in the fields. But when winter came, it was different. Suddenly, the weather turned freezing cold. Never mind whether people were willing to go up the mountain; even if they were willing, there were no wild vegetables to pick. Furthermore, when it was cold, the small animals in the mountains hid away, and the larger animals, having nothing to eat, would often come out, making it very dangerous.
Farming families were used to being diligent. Being poor, they valued their land highly. If they didn't work for a day, they felt uncomfortable. Even if it wasn't time to plant yet, people would come to the fields to pull weeds and turn the soil. When the soil was loose, it would be easier to plant later, and the crops would grow more easily.
Fang Zichen had previously thought this behavior of theirs was purely a case of having nothing better to do after a full meal.
Weeds grew rapidly. Pulling them now was futile, as the hoe could never remove all the roots. With the return of the spring rains, they would sprout again in less than a week. It seemed like wasted effort.
But if they were willing to do wasted work, seeking peace of mind, then others couldn't say anything about it.
At the moment, the work was not urgent. No one minded the fatigue. They hoed a few times, then paused to chat with neighbors in the adjacent fields. If the distance was great, they had to raise their voices.
Their lively banter often sounded like arguing.
Yet the atmosphere was vibrant and cheerful.
Old Master Wu felt his spirits lift, his mood light and carefree.
It was now afternoon. The fishmint had been gathered, but he wasn't willing to go back yet. Since it was rare for him to visit, he wished to see more of the village. Zhao Ger instructed Guaizai to take them on a further stroll.
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