In the sixteenth year of Great Liang Dezheng, the threads of rain during the Qingming Festival wove diagonally across the sky like silver lines, shrouding Zhao Family Village in a hazy mist.
Wu Guohua squatted in the bushes, his fingers gently fiddling with a stalk of winter wheat that had just headed.
The wheat ears were heavy, and the golden grains were so plump they almost burst through their husks—this was the winter wheat he had secretly planted, which matured twenty days earlier than ordinary winter wheat.
Just as he returned home, a heart-wrenching wail came from afar, breaking the silence of the rainy day.
Wu Guohua looked up and saw Widow Li from the west end of the village being dragged away by several strong men; her withered, stick-thin arms clung desperately to the doorframe, her fingertips digging out blood.
"Please... don't take my little girl... she's only eight years old..." Widow Li's cries cut into Wu Guohua's eardrums like a dull knife.
Zhao Fu, the Zhao Family's steward, puffed on his dry tobacco pipe and waved his hand impatiently: "If you can't repay the grain you borrowed, then use your daughter as collateral! It's only right and proper!"
Wu Guohua saw a small, thin girl being forcibly dragged out of the house, held like a chick in the strong man's hand. The girl's cries and Widow Li's wails mingled, sounding particularly desolate in the rain.
"What a sin..." A sigh suddenly came from behind him. Wu Guohua turned around and saw his Grandparent He Xiaoqin standing under the eaves, tears welling up in her cloudy eyes.
"This is already the third family this month..." During the spring famine, Landlord Zhao Zhilin's family had raised the interest on borrowed grain to fifty percent, forcing many families into ruin.
If the Wu Family hadn't relied on the wild vegetables and potatoes he occasionally "picked up," they probably wouldn't have escaped this fate either.
"Come inside, the rain is getting heavier." His Grandparent beckoned, her withered arms like branches that could break at any moment. In the main hall, the whole family sat silently around a pot of thin wild vegetable and potato porridge.
Third Uncle Wu Wenwu still had a wound on his forehead—that was from being beaten by the family's servants yesterday when he went to the Zhao Family to borrow grain.
"Eat." Grandfather Wu Jiulong's voice was as hoarse as sandpaper rubbing, "Just bear with it for another month, and the wheat will be ripe."
Wu Guohua lowered his head, looking at the few floating wild vegetable leaves in his bowl, his throat tightening.
He secretly glanced at the rice seeds piled in the corner—that was the family's last hope, six catties of precious rice seeds, enough to plant three mu of barren land. If the harvest wasn't good...
"I'm full." He suddenly stood up and rushed out of the house under the surprised gazes of his family. The rain hit his face, icy cold and bone-chilling, but it couldn't extinguish the fire in his chest.
In the secret field on the barren slope, a dozen stalks of winter wheat swayed gently in the rain. Two of them were exceptionally tall, their wheat ears so full they almost touched the ground.
Wu Guohua's trembling hands caressed the golden grains, and a crisp notification sound suddenly rang in his mind:
"Harvest mutated winter wheat, experience +20"
"Mutated Winter Wheat Characteristics: High yield, extremely strong adaptability, five-month growth cycle"
A golden light flashed, and the talent attribute panel automatically unfolded:
Name: Wu Guohua
Talent: Farming
Level 3 Talent (865/10000): Crop survival rate increased by 300%, growth speed increased by 40%, mutation evolution chance 20%
"Winter wheat also mutated and evolved? Level 3 Talent is indeed powerful." Wu Guohua's eyes lit up.
He carefully picked a grain of wheat and rubbed it open in his palm. The grain was plump and round, emitting a faint fragrance, noticeably larger than ordinary wheat.
He carefully wrapped all the mutated wheat grains, intending to plant them in winter. With these seeds, he could easily plant half a mu of land.
As for the ordinary wheat grains, Wu Guohua also collected them, planning to tell his family that he found them in the mountains, and they could be used as seeds in the latter half of the year.
A month later, after the family harvested the winter wheat and planted rice in the three mu of barren land, Wu Guohua secretly hid a handful of rice seeds, numbering two to three hundred.
That afternoon, the rain grew heavier, but Wu Guohua was oblivious, taking the opportunity to go into the bushes on the barren slope.
He frantically reclaimed half a mu of sandy land on the other side of the barren slope in the mud. The hoe fell again and again, making his tiger's mouth numb, but he seemed to feel no pain.
"Upland rice... if I can grow upland rice..." he murmured, sweat mixed with rain flowing into his eyes, stinging them painfully.
By the time night fell completely, Wu Guohua had finally planted all two hundred-plus rice seeds.
His fingers were covered in blisters, and his back ached so much he couldn't straighten up, but looking at the neat furrows, a long-lost smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"Plant rice, experience +10"
"Watering, experience +1"
The notification sounds kept ringing, but Wu Guohua was already too tired to open his eyes. He swayed to his feet, and as he descended the slope and returned home, he suddenly blacked out and collapsed in the mud at the entrance of the small courtyard.
When he woke up again, he found himself lying on the kang, covered by the family's only thick cotton quilt. His Mother Zhang Chunfang was wiping his burning forehead with a wet cloth, her eyes red-rimmed.
"You child... what were you doing running out in the rain..." His Mother's voice choked, "You're burning up so badly..." Wu Guohua wanted to speak, but found his throat was as dry as if it were on fire.
Three days later, when Wu Guohua finally recovered from his fever, he noticed that his family's gazes towards him had changed. His Grandfather squatted on the doorstep, smoking his dry tobacco pipe, occasionally glancing at him with a complex look;
His Father and two uncles often huddled together, discussing something in low voices; even his little sister Guofen would look at him with adoring eyes.
"You were talking nonsense while you were unconscious," Third Aunt suddenly said in a low voice during dinner, "Saying something about the sandy land behind the mountain being able to grow potatoes, wheat, and rice..."
Wu Guohua's chopsticks clattered onto the table. He looked up and around, finding that the whole family was staring at him.
"I..." His voice caught in his throat.
"We went to the back mountain and saw that those potatoes and medicinal herbs, you secretly planted them, didn't you?" His Grandfather suddenly spoke, tapping his pipe on the sole of his shoe, "And those wild vegetables too."
The main hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Wu Guohua felt countless gazes pierce him like arrows, and his back was instantly drenched in cold sweat.
"I... Grandfather, it was me."
"Don't be afraid." Grandfather Wu Jiulong's voice suddenly softened, and his rough, large hand gently pressed on his shoulder, "You are the lucky star bestowed upon the Wu Family by the heavens."
Wu Guohua was stunned. He saw tears in his Father Wu Wenbin's eyes, his Mother Zhang Chunfang covering her mouth, silently weeping, and the younger ones looking at the adults with innocent confusion.
"From now on," his Grandfather stood up, his voice as firm as iron, "plant whatever you want, and tell the family whatever you need."
"Also, this is our Old Wu Family's biggest secret, no one can reveal a single word." Hearing his Grandfather's words, Wu Guohua's tears finally burst forth.
The next morning, as the first ray of sunlight pierced through the clouds, Wu Guohua saw his Grandfather, Father, and two uncles already reclaiming new land on the barren slope.
"We adults are responsible for clearing the land, and we'll leave the Farming to you. You say how to plant, and we'll plant it that way." This is what Grandfather Wu Jiulong told Wu Guohua last night.
The distant village was still shrouded in the shadow of hunger, but on this barren slope, hope was breaking through the soil.
Wu Guohua looked at his busy family, a warm current surging in his chest. He knew that the hardest days would soon be over.
As the sun set, the newly reclaimed sandy land on the barren slope had been personally planted by Wu Guohua with the remaining half a catty of rice seeds. Wu Guohua stood on the field ridge, watching his shadow stretch long, extending all the way to the foot of the distant mountain.
"Plant rice, experience +10"
"Watering, experience +1"
That shadow was no longer thin and small, but like a young tree growing vigorously, destined one day to be lush and leafy, providing shade for the entire family.