Chapter 22: Spring Sowing After the Rain

After five days of clear skies, the temperature on Blue Star soared and the Xiang element in the atmosphere finally dropped back to normal. Once most of the remaining Xiang in the soil had evaporated, Xia Qing started getting ready to plant.

She used those five days to clear wild grass and poisonous insects from three villages. In the thirty acres of rich, flat land by the reservoir, she even pulled out all the mutated grass that had gone wild after the Xiang rain. Of course, she only removed the mutated grass that shot up during the rain—she didn’t have time to deal with the sparse regular grass underneath, except for the bits Boss Sheep had nibbled away.

But Xia Qing decided she was done clearing. Time to get plowing. She stood at the edge of the field, waved a bunch of Chinese toon shoots, and shouted, “Boss! Want some toon shoots?”

Boss Sheep, who’d been munching grass, bolted over. While its head was down, Xia Qing quickly strapped a custom harness onto it. She’d made it herself, using a dog-walking vest as the model. There was no way Boss Sheep could wriggle out or break it.

Once the gear was on, Xia Qing grabbed the bamboo pole tied to the plow and gave it a twist. The bunch of toon shoots dangling from the end danced in front of Boss Sheep’s nose. Since they couldn’t talk, Xia Qing and Boss Sheep mostly just communicated through food or by fighting.

With the bait in place, Xia Qing hollered, “Boss, your moment’s finally here. Let’s get to work!”

Boss Sheep finished the toon shoots on the ground and tried for the new ones, only to realize they were just out of reach. It stepped forward. The toon shoots moved ahead too. Boss Sheep refused to give up, stretching farther. As its harness tightened, the three blades of the plow bit deep into the earth. Xia Qing braced herself and held onto the plow handles—the sowing had begun.

The three-share plow was originally meant for a tractor—no handles at all. Xia Qing had dug it out of the village ruins, rebuilt and tweaked it again and again until it became this sheep-powered plow.

Boss Sheep pulled the plow from one end of the field to the other as if it were nothing. Xia Qing flicked the bamboo pole, letting the toon shoots finally reach Boss Sheep’s mouth as a reward. When it stopped to eat, she spun the plow around, set up another batch of toon shoots, and Boss Sheep walked the plow back to the starting side.

After one round trip, a strip of land one and a half meters wide and two hundred meters long was freshly tilled!

Another loop and nearly an acre was done. It was way faster than Xia Qing could ever manage with a shovel, and she could hardly keep from grinning.

When Boss Sheep finished the toon shoots and seemed ready to throw a tantrum about working, Xia Qing switched the bait.

She dangled a small bit of rations in front and Boss Sheep worked even harder, then harder still. It took just over an hour to plow thirty acres—all for one chunk of rations and a handful of toon shoots.

When the work was done, Xia Qing took off the harness, gave Boss Sheep water, brushed its coat, and catered to its every need. Stuffed and pampered, Boss Sheep lay at the field’s edge with eyes half-closed, watching Xia Qing run around with a look of pure pride.

After clearing out roots, grass, and stones brought up by the plow, Xia Qing stood up. Magpies, sparrows, and crows swooped down, pecking at insects in the tilled soil. The sight left her in a great mood.

With the birds eating up the bugs, her crops could grow better. To have such a smooth first day after the Xiang rain—maybe there’d be a real harvest this time.

But that night, the radio announced birds don’t just eat insects—they dig up and eat seeds too. Xia Qing’s excitement faded.

Next, the radio gave tips: “Our base’s planting experts recommend two methods for all lords. First, mix pest-repelling powder into the seeds before sowing—it’ll drive away birds and ward off mutated pests in the soil. Second, use juice from third-level mutated cinnamon or camphor trees in a 1:10 water ratio and spray it on the plot. That drives away most birds. Use both for best results! Experts also warn: don’t just scatter seeds on the surface—wheat should be planted three to five centimeters deep, rows spaced… For cotton… To improve sprouting rates, soak seeds overnight but watch water temperature!”

Xia Qing hunched over the table, lit a candle, and dutifully took notes.

Before the disasters, over seventy percent of Hua Nation’s population lived in cities. Most farmland was run by large, professional farms. After ten years of calamities, most elderly farmers—who knew how but weren’t strong—had died, and most lords knew little about farming. So even though everyone’s phone came loaded with a ‘Planting Compendium’, the base kept blasting detailed farming tips every day, never giving up.

Xia Qing had helped at the Safe Zone’s planting center and knew the basic steps, but she couldn’t let her guard down. The center grew crops indoors, safe from the rain. This was open land.

After the Xiang rain, mutated plants had exploded everywhere. The roads between the Safe Zone and her territory were blocked. Her two power banks hadn’t made it back for charging in time. She had to ration phone battery for the daily broadcast and only used her phone for calls, barely touching the ‘Planting Compendium’ to save power.

Once the seeds were in the ground, she’d have to find a way to score a few solar panels.

Xia Qing packed up her notes, settled onto the tatami, stroked Boss Sheep’s wool, and mulled over the day’s news.

Five days had passed, and Hui San Base’s radio still hadn’t reported how many had died from this Xiang rain. Xia Qing figured, conservatively, it had to be over seven thousand.

Nobody was giving out casualty numbers, but every day the announcer told moving stories in a serious, emotional voice. Today’s tale: six Sufeng Squad members had died protecting public facilities and property, bravely driving back ‘evil forces’.

Xia Qing guessed that Feng Teng was among those six. That would explain why Feng Wen cried so hard when Zhong Tao called.

But Feng Wen’s tears weren’t for her brother out of sibling love—it was because with Feng Teng gone, she’d lost her support. The crying and fussing were her attempts to wrangle more supplies.

As for why Feng Teng died, Xia Qing doubted it was for the reason the radio claimed. If Feng Teng spotted danger, no one ran faster.

But who exactly were these ‘evil forces’ the radio kept talking about? How could they dare take on the Sufeng Squad with Tang Zhengrong, the second-in-command of the entire base, supporting them?

Before Xia Qing could puzzle it out, Boss Sheep got up, pushed open the door, and strolled outside. Over the last few days, it had mastered opening and closing the door with its hoof. The house was secure now.

Xia Qing stopped thinking about Feng Wen and got up to fetch seeds, soaking them just like the radio instructions said. She soaked half in filtered water, half in the pure mountain spring water.

Back in the Safe Zone, Xia Qing grew veggies in pots like everyone. She took great care, but most of them would mutate during the Xiang rain and barely any survived to the table. But the ginger and garlic shoots she’d transplanted here—seventeen in all—had been through red Xiang rain and only three mutated. That mutation rate was way lower than even the greenhouse at the planting center.

Her theory? It was probably eighty percent thanks to watering with spring water and twenty percent due to the good soil. For safety and to test it, she decided to use both waters.

The seeds soaked in filtered water went into the thirty-acre field. Those soaked in spring water, she planted in the patch she’d turned before and after the Xiang rain.

Without any temperature control equipment, Xia Qing had to check the soaking water with her own hands through the night, keeping it between 30 and 40°C. She barely slept at all.