Chapter 451: Day 16 into the Farming Story

Chapter 451: Day Sixteen of Transmigrating into a Farming Novel

An Yi looked at him, his amber eyes appearing especially clear under the autumn sun, distinctly reflecting the apologetic expression on Di Qingji's face. An Yi smiled slightly, the smile carrying a hint of subtle playfulness, and his tone was light: "Young Chief Di... your arm still sore?"

His gaze swept meaningfully over the upper right arm that Di Qingji had just been rubbing.

Di Qingji's smile grew even wider. He shook his head and even flexed and extended that arm with deliberate force, the movement agile and powerful: "It doesn't ache anymore now. Perhaps moving it a bit helped—the muscles worked themselves loose."

An Yi watched him with that self-assured demeanor and let out a low chuckle: "Young Chief Di certainly knows how to read a person."

Di Qingji's smile remained unchanged as he looked at An Yi, his tone carrying a touch of matter-of-fact innocence: "You didn't exactly hide it either—it was pretty obvious."

"Ha-ha-ha." This time An Yi laughed more heartily, his brows curving upward: "Indeed."

The two walked side by side along the street in the autumn afternoon, their steps unhurried, strolling at a leisurely pace.

Di Qingji was in an excellent mood—a light, almost giddy sense of ease and joy.

This feeling was somewhat unfamiliar, as if even the most familiar streets around him had become unusually lively and charming.

He glanced sideways at An Yi beside him.

Simply walking beside him, saying nothing at all, the calm, peaceful aura around An Yi was enough to give Di Qingji a strange sense of contentment and ease.

As they continued walking, not far ahead by the roadside, a gray-haired old woman sat on a small stool, two baskets woven from fine bamboo strips in front of her, piled high with golden autumn pears.

The pears were not large, but each was round and plump, with smooth skins, giving off a fresh, subtly sweet fruity scent that looked quite tempting.

Di Qingji stopped mid-step and headed over to the stall, asking, "Grandma, how much are these pears?"

The old woman looked up, revealing a face full of wrinkles, and said with a beaming smile, "Three coppers a catty, young man. Just picked from the trees in my own yard—sweet as can be!"

"Sure, let me pick a few," Di Qingji replied, selecting from the small bamboo basket.

He picked out five or six and wrapped them up loosely in the dried leaves she handed him.

After paying, Di Qingji took the pears and looked around. Spotting a nearby house with its courtyard gate slightly ajar, he walked over and called out to the people inside, "Excuse me, sorry to bother you—could I borrow some clean water to wash these? I'll pay for it."

A middle-aged woman soon came out. Seeing Di Qingji, tall and handsome with a hearty smile, holding the wrapped pears, she waved her hand with a smile: "Just washing a few pears—no need to be so polite. Go right ahead."

She gestured to a wooden basin and a gourd ladle.

Di Qingji thanked her, quickly rinsed the pears and dried them off with a clean cloth.

Then, from the leaf-wrapped bundle, he took out the plumpest-looking pear, turned back to An Yi, and with an easy, natural smile, held the pear out to him:

"Young Master An, want to give one a try? These autumn pears are in season now—great for soothing dryness and quenching thirst. Perfect for this time of year—refreshing and good for you."

An Yi looked at the golden pear, still slightly damp, held out before him. His eyes lingered on the pear for a beat, then lifted to meet Di Qingji's.

An Yi hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took it: "Thank you."

In the instant his fingers took the pear, his fingertips unavoidably brushed against Di Qingji's warm palm for a fleeting moment.

Di Qingji's fingers tightened slightly around the pear, making his heart give a little flutter.

His smile remained unchanged, but a brief flash of awkwardness crossed his eyes before he swiftly suppressed it, as if that momentary tremor had been nothing at all.

An Yi held the pear, feeling the cool, smooth skin of the pear against his fingertips.

Seeing that he had accepted it, Di Qingji picked up a pear for himself and took a big bite.

A crisp crunch rang out, revealing snow-white flesh and a burst of juice.

"Mmm, really sweet, and juicy too," Di Qingji said with a smile as he chewed, his eyes bright: "When I'm on escort duty, I often pick wild fruit in the mountains to quench my thirst, but this time of year, wild fruit is mostly sour and bitter. These home-grown pears are the best—sweet and full of juice."

An Yi watched him eat with such obvious enjoyment, then looked down at the pear in his own hand and smiled softly. He took a bite as well.

The sweet juice burst in his mouth, carrying the fruit's distinct fragrance. Indeed, as Di Qingji had said, it was sweet and refreshing, moistening and quenching.

"Yeah, it's really good," An Yi said, nodding after swallowing the sweet flesh.

And so, the two of them, each holding a pear, slowly ate as they continued unhurriedly along the street.

Occasionally, passersby shot them admiring looks, but An Yi didn't seem to notice.

When the pear was finished, Di Qingji naturally reached for the core left in An Yi's hand. An Yi hesitated, didn't hand it over, and tossed it himself into the roadside bamboo basket for trash.

Di Qingji withdrew his hand naturally.

He glanced sideways at An Yi and suddenly spoke: "Young Master An, I have a small request."

An Yi was just looking at the flowers blooming profusely over the wall of a house by the street. He turned to look at him: "Young Chief Di, please speak."

Di Qingji's gaze grew more serious: "Though we haven't known each other long, our conversations have been truly delightful. I feel a real connection with you, Young Master An. You are knowledgeable, open-minded, and sincere in your dealings with others. What's even rarer is this tranquil and perceptive nature of yours—it fills me with admiration and also a sense of closeness."

He paused, as if weighing his words, but his gaze never wavered.

"It's just that... calling each other 'Young Master An' and 'Young Chief Di' feels too formal and distant—it always seems to put a layer between us."

He smiled: "If you don't mind that I'm a rough fellow, unversed in those refined formalities, then from now on... why not just call me 'Qing Ji'? And I, in turn, will take the liberty of calling you 'An Yi'—how does that sound?"

The corners of An Yi's lips curved upward, his voice soft and clear: "...Qing Ji?"

Those two syllables, spoken from his lips, fell upon Di Qingji's ears like spring waters beginning to thaw.

He felt his earlobes tingle sharply the instant he heard his name spoken in such a clear, resonant voice.

That tingling sensation quickly spread from the base of his ears down to the back of his neck, then radiated through his limbs. His heart gave a heavy thump in his chest, followed by an uncontrollable rapid beat.

The smile on his face froze for a moment: "...Mm."

Then, as if eager to cover up this momentary lapse, he hurriedly called back in return: "An Yi."