Chapter 444: Day 9 into the Farming Story
Chapter 444: Day 9 into the Farming Story
Chapter 444: The Ninth Day of Falling into a Farming Novel
He turned and left the now-empty, rundown courtyard without looking back.
Tomorrow, once he got the papers, he'd head straight to the county seat.
The next day.
The village was still wrapped in milky-white mist and the curling smoke from every household's cooking fire. The air was cool, carrying the smell of dirt and plants.
An Yi flashed to the village head's doorstep.
He grabbed the travel pass and household registration papers while the village head's family stared, dumbfounded.
Watching An Yi's figure quickly disappear, the village head murmured, "Is he really just one guy? Did he swallow an immortal pill?"
The village head's son: "He must've become an immortal."
The whole family: "..."
The village head smacked his lips. "Maybe."
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Life in the county seat was peaceful.
An Yi bought a two-courtyard house with a small garden in a fairly quiet alley on the west side of town.
The alley was narrow, paved with uneven flagstones, mostly lined with homes, and pretty quiet during the day.
The original owner was a small-time merchant whose family had hit hard times, desperate to sell off stuff to plug a hole in his business. His asking price was fair, maybe even a bit low.
An Yi bought it without much haggling, and the formalities were handled quickly.
The courtyard wasn't big, but the layout was clean and tidy.
The front yard was square, with an old tree by the wall—thick trunk, wide-spreading branches, casting a big patch of shade.
Under the tree sat a simple stone table and stools, the tabletop worn smooth.
Through a moon gate was the back courtyard, even more private, with a well lined in blue stone in one corner and a long-abandoned flower bed on the other side.
The house was standard blue-brick and gray-tile construction. Though a bit old, the beams, pillars, doors, and windows were all solid, and the walls were freshly whitewashed—clean and bright. The previous owner had clearly kept the place up well, though all the furniture and stuff had been cleared out.
After settling in, An Yi gradually bought the furniture and household stuff he needed.
Once he was more or less settled, the neighbors on both sides came calling with homemade pastries and seasonal fruits. To the left was a retired old bookkeeper named Zhou, an upright man. To the right, across the narrow alley, was the back courtyard and warehouse of a silk shop. It was both a neighborly gesture and curiosity about the new guy.
When An Yi received them, he was always gentle and polite, with a warm smile and well-chosen words that left people feeling warm and at ease.
The old bookkeeper initially maintained some scholarly airs, but after several conversations, he had to admit that this young neighbor, though perhaps too handsome, spoke with substance and carried himself with composure—no ordinary young man.
The silk shop's manager also stopped by once, a shrewd middle-aged guy. Seeing An Yi's refined speech and uncommon bearing, he also wanted to build a connection, and his words were quite polite.
An Yi just let things happen naturally.
He collected some common classics, local records, travelogues, and miscellanies from this era, using them to understand the customs, social rules, and how knowledge worked in this world.
Every time he entered a new world, he'd systematically collect, read, and understand the local written records and other knowledge sources, keeping a backup copy in his space.
The books from each world, whether in paper, printing, or binding, had distinct marks of their era and region, and their contents reflected local ways of thinking and social structures—pretty interesting to read.
After flipping through the books he bought, he'd copy them into his space and file them away in his huge collection.
Over time, the neighbors' curiosity about the new arrival, the ridiculously handsome Young Master An, gradually faded into a normal neighborly relationship.
The kids in the alley would sometimes peek at him through the door crack. When caught, they weren't scared—they'd just get a gentle smile from him, and sometimes a few pieces of fancy candy cake.
When the adults talked about him privately, they'd sigh that Young Master An had a great temper and couldn't be better looking, but was too quiet by nature, not into going out or socializing.
There were even warm-hearted older women who, once they learned he was young, lived alone, had some money, and wasn't married, eagerly tried to set him up—but An Yi firmly declined all of it.
Before he knew it, An Yi had been living in his new house for over a month.
The summer heat quietly faded, autumn set in, the air turned crisp, and the sky seemed especially high and wide.
The old tree in the courtyard started to show faint gold on the edges of its leaves.
That afternoon, the sunlight was just right, filtering through the thinning leaves to cast shifting patches of light on the stone table.
The wind carried the dry smell of plants and the faint, distant sounds of the market—not loud, but making the small courtyard feel even more peaceful.
An Yi was in the front courtyard at the stone table under the old tree, taking his time setting out a set of plain white porcelain tea things he'd just bought from a ceramics shop.
The tea set was fine in texture, with a warm, glossy glaze, and the design had a cute, playful touch—from a distance, it looked like a curled-up cat. An Yi liked it very much.
An Yi tapped the cat's head with his fingertip, but sadly, no meow came out.
He chuckled softly, pulled his hand back, and started warming the pot, rinsing the cups, putting tea leaves in, washing the tea, and brewing. The clear tea poured into the white porcelain cup, and wisps of steam rose with a unique fragrance, swirling in the afternoon light.
He'd just raised a cup to his lips, hadn't even tasted it yet, when he heard a racket coming from the alley entrance.
The sound carried clear hoofbeats—"clop, clop"—the heavy rumble of wooden wheels rolling over the stone slabs, and a man's hearty, booming voice talking loudly:
"Sorry, sorry! Manager Ke, I'm really sorry! This batch of brocade from the south—we hit a landslide on the mountain road up ahead, and clearing it cost us two days. We hurried as fast as we could, but we still got here late! Per our contract, our escort agency will knock off an extra half-percent on this shipment's freight. How about that? It was really our scheduling screw-up—we've put your shop out!"
Another, smoother and more diplomatic middle-aged male voice replied right away: "Young Chief Di is too kind! Your escort agency is famous for its integrity. An occasional delay on the road is unavoidable! As long as the people and goods arrive safe, that's the best outcome! Please, come in. Men, give a hand—unload the goods to the back courtyard warehouse for counting first! Young Chief, you've had a rough trip—come in and have some tea to rest your feet!"
The voices grew closer and finally stopped next door to An Yi—at the rear courtyard entrance of the silk shop.
Immediately followed were the shouts of unloading, the dull thuds of crates hitting the ground, and the hurried footsteps of the workers.
An Yi paid it no mind.
The silk shop had goods coming and going every few days; it was just that this time the commotion was a bit louder.
He lowered his gaze, looking at the gently rippling tea in the white porcelain cup. The surface reflected his own calm features and the swaying shadows of the leaves behind him.
With his other hand, he opened a notebook by a former-dynasty literatus that he'd just picked up from a secondhand book stall, and began to read.