Chapter 453: Day 18 into the Farming Story

Chapter 453: The Eighteenth Day of Transmigrating into a Farming Novel

An Yi's gaze lingered on the pages, the descriptions of foreign customs and scenery drew him in. At the same time, he listened to the lively discussions about the emotional progress of the protagonist Jiang Chiliu, and a faint smile unconsciously curved at the corner of his lips.

Jiang Chiliu's life was indeed steadily advancing along the predetermined path of the original story.

His business was thriving, and his relationship with Fu Cong was heating up fast through daily interactions and one unexpected incident after another—they were already talking marriage.

As for himself...

An Yi lifted his gaze from the pages and looked out the window.

He'd already made up his mind—he planned to find a suitable storefront and open a bookshop.

He could sell classics, history books, primers, storybooks, miscellanies, and so on—not just from this world. He could also acquire and restore old books.

Think of it as cultural exchange between worlds.

He'd already made quite a few rubbings and transcriptions of books.

That afternoon, the sun was warm and pleasant, not harsh at all.

An Yi changed into a short jacket that was easier to move in and headed to the backyard.

That long-abandoned little flower bed had soil packed so hard it was like stone, with weed roots tangled in a dense web, mixed with gravel and debris.

He picked up a small hoe leaning against the wall, bent down, and started clearing the little patch of wasteland.

The hoe came down, prying open the hard clumps, turning up the moister soil underneath, then picking out the stubborn grass roots and stones one by one, tossing them into a nearby bamboo basket.

The smell of earth mixed with the faint, sharp scent of broken stems and roots spread through the air.

Just as he'd finished loosening the soil in a small area and was about to continue, a knock came from the front courtyard.

"Knock, knock, knock."

An Yi straightened up. With a flicker of thought, a stream of water silently condensed from the air, wrapping around his dirt-stained fingers and palms, washing away the dust and grass clippings, then quietly dispersing without a trace.

His fingers and palms were instantly clean and dry.

He leaned the small hoe against the wall and turned to head to the front courtyard.

He pulled back the latch on the courtyard gate, and with a creak, there stood Di Qingji.

He seemed to have just gotten back from a trip, still carrying an obvious air of travel-worn weariness.

He wore a cloak over his shoulders, collar slightly open, revealing dark clothes underneath.

"An Yi," he called out, his voice familiar and affectionate. "Haven't seen you in a few days—you doing okay? I'm back."

Slung over his shoulder was a modest cloth bundle, tied tight and bulging—whatever was inside looked like it had some weight to it.

An Yi stepped aside from the doorway and said with a smile, "All good. Come in—looks like you just got back from the road?"

"You know it!" Di Qingji strode through the threshold with long steps, laughing. "Took an urgent escort job to the neighboring county—three days there and back. Just settled the payment for the goods at the escort agency. With everything done, I thought..."

He paused mid-sentence, his gaze quickly sweeping across An Yi's face, and his smile turned a bit sheepish: "I thought I'd come see you first."

He walked straight to the stone table under the old tree and set the somewhat heavy cloth bundle down in the middle of it, producing a soft, muffled thud.

"Have a seat." An Yi gestured to the stone stool across from him, then turned and headed inside. "I'll brew some tea."

"Hey, no need to bother..." Before Di Qingji could finish, An Yi had already lifted the blue cloth curtain and vanished into the house.

Di Qingji rubbed his straight nose bridge, sat down on the stool, but his gaze involuntarily followed where An Yi had gone, until the curtain stopped swaying. Only then did he reluctantly pull his eyes away, turning to the bulging bundle on the stone table, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously curled up again.

Before long, An Yi came out carrying a tray—on it sat a porcelain teapot with steam curling from its spout, teacups, and a small dish of pastries topped with osmanthus sugar. These were sent over today by Old Man Zhou's wife next door, who said they were homemade osmanthus cakes and wanted An Yi to try them.

He set the tray on the stone table, sat down across from Di Qingji, and reached for the porcelain teapot, pouring tea into both cups.

Warm steam rose into the air.

Di Qingji took one of the cups and drank a sip.

The warm liquid slid down his dry throat, soothing the thirst from the trip. He let out a satisfied sigh, his whole body relaxing: "Your tea's still the best."

An Yi picked up his own cup and took small sips, his gaze falling on the cloth bundle: "What's in the bundle? Sounds heavy."

Di Qingji set down his teacup, his smile widening. He reached over to untie the slipknot on the bundle: "On this trip to the neighboring county, besides the escort job, I took some time to browse the market there. I saw some interesting little trinkets, thought you might like them, so I brought a few back."

He opened the bundle, revealing a few miscellaneous small items inside.

There was also a neatly wrapped package in thick oil paper, square and tidy.

Di Qingji picked it up, untied the thin string, and spread open the oil paper. Inside were fine, dense granules—like seeds.

"This is a kind of seed I asked a brother at the escort agency to find—he often runs the route to Pingfu City down south, and he got these from the mountains there."

Di Qingji picked up the packet of seeds and handed it to An Yi: "The locals call it 'Autumn Glow,' because the flowers bloom in pale purplish-red, and when they spread out in patches, from a distance they look like the glow of the sky at dusk in autumn—really beautiful."

He described it carefully: "He asked an experienced old farmer there, who said this plant is cold-hardy and not picky about soil. It should be able to grow in our climate too. Isn't your courtyard flower bed still lying fallow? I thought—scatter these seeds and give it a try. Loosen the soil, water it a bit, and maybe next year you'll see Autumn Glow blooming."

An Yi reached out and took the packet of seeds.

Through the paper, his fingertips could feel the texture of the fine granules, slightly prickly.

He looked up at Di Qingji: "You went out of your way to find these?"

"Not exactly out of my way," Di Qingji waved his hand. "It's just that on a previous escort job, I happened to pass through those mountains. While resting, I saw these flowers blooming by the cliffside, thought the color was really pretty, and made a note of it. This time I figured you might like them, and since a brother happened to be heading there on business, I just asked him to bring back a packet. Didn't take any extra effort."