Chapter 455: Day 20 into the Farming Story

Chapter 455: Day Twenty in the Farming Novel

Roughly an hour later.

When An Yi gently closed the book after finishing the last passage describing the ancient mountain temple in the travelogue, the small, barren flower bed in the backyard had been completely made over.

All the hardened clumps of soil had been thoroughly broken up and turned over, exposing darker, moister earth to the autumn sun, giving off a faint, earthy smell.

Di Qingji straightened up, let out a long breath, and propped the small hoe against the wall.

He brushed the dirt off his hands and turned around to look at An Yi, who was sitting in the bamboo chair. A smile spread across his face as sweat trickled down his chiseled cheeks. "All done! An Yi, look, you can sow the seeds now."

An Yi set down the book and got up from the bamboo chair.

He walked to the well, lowered the bucket, and hauled up half a bucket of clear well water.

Then he went inside, fetched a clean cloth, and soaked it in the bucket. After wringing it until it was half-dry, he walked over to Di Qingji and offered him the cool, damp cloth. "Here, wipe your sweat."

Di Qingji stared at the cloth, which smelled faintly of soap and felt cool from the well water, clearly caught off guard.

Then his smile instantly widened as he took the cloth. "Thanks!"

He didn't stand on ceremony, carefully wiping his cheeks, neck, and behind his ears. He savored how the cool moisture chased away the heat and sticky sweat, feeling so comfortable he almost wanted to sigh out loud.

After he finished, he walked back to the well, rinsed the cloth clean, wrung it out hard, and hung it up to dry.

Meanwhile, An Yi picked up the packet of Qiuxia Flower seeds, which were carefully wrapped in oiled paper.

He walked back to the freshly turned flower bed and tore open the seal of the oiled paper, revealing the fine, dark brown seeds inside.

He began sowing, and the tiny seeds obediently scattered onto the soil in front of him.

Di Qingji came over and squatted down beside him.

"Not sure if they'll make it," An Yi said softly, folding the empty oiled paper after sowing the last seed.

"They will," Di Qingji replied almost without thinking, his gaze shifting from the soil to An Yi's face. "I asked around specifically—the local farmers said this flower is hardy. It's not picky about soil, can handle drought and a bit of cold. Give it some dirt and water, and it'll grow like crazy on its own. Don't worry, by next spring, you'll definitely see a whole patch of Qiuxia."

An Yi turned to look at him.

Di Qingji was crouching there, his face slightly tilted up, watching him intently, waiting for his response.

The autumn afternoon sun, slanting from the side, fell across his face, illuminating his thick dark brows, straight nose, and slightly sharp jawline. It also lit up the unguarded, fervent, and sincere light in his eyes.

The sunlight also ruthlessly revealed a tiny, dark brown smudge of dirt on the right side of his nose.

Probably picked up again while he was watching An Yi sow the seeds.

An Yi's gaze lingered on that smudge for a moment, then he naturally reached out and brushed it away with the tip of his index finger.

The touch was warm and springy, slightly damp with sweat, and the tiny smudge vanished in an instant.

Di Qingji went completely still.

His pupils contracted in that instant, and his breath seemed to catch entirely.

He stared, almost dazed, at the hand that had just brushed his nose.

The hand was naturally withdrawing, a barely visible brown trace still lingering on his fingertip.

As if possessed, Di Qingji raised his own hand, still slightly damp, and grabbed An Yi's, wrapping his fingers around it.

His hand was broad, his fingers strong, radiating body heat that was higher than normal from the work.

That warmth seeped through An Yi's slightly cool skin, burning hot.

An Yi stopped.

He raised an eyebrow, looking at his trapped fingers, then looked up at Di Qingji.

Di Qingji's face still held shock and blankness, his gaze somewhat unfocused. Yet he stared fixedly at their clasped hands, as if he himself didn't understand what he was doing.

"Let go," An Yi said, his voice still calm and clear, with little emotion in it.

That calm voice snapped Di Qingji's chaotic mind back to reality.

As if burned by the sound and frightened by his own sudden action, his fingers released abruptly. He even staggered back slightly from the force of the recoil, nearly losing his balance.

An Yi withdrew his hand naturally, his expression unchanged.

He straightened up, brushed off the nearly nonexistent dust from his hands, and ended the seed topic flatly. "Alright, the seeds are sown. The rest is up to fate."

Di Qingji remained crouched in place, still looking up at him, his gaze somewhat vacant. It was as if he hadn't fully recovered from his own loss of control moments ago.

A few seconds later, as if his soul had finally returned to his body, he practically jumped to his feet.

The movement was so abrupt it was almost funny.

His cheeks flushed visibly, the redness spreading rapidly from his cheekbones to his ears and down his neck. His bronze skin couldn't hide the embarrassment and shame. His ears were so red they looked like they were about to bleed.

"Y-yeah, up to fate..." he stammered, repeating An Yi's words, his gaze darting everywhere—the flower bed, the bucket, the well edge—anywhere but at An Yi's eyes.

Desperate to find something to hide his embarrassment, he clumsily bent down to grab the half bucket of well water. "I-I'll water it... just sowed the seeds, gotta water..."

He scooped up a ladle of water and sprinkled it over the flower bed, leaving a dark, wet patch.

An Yi stood nearby, quietly watching him flounder, trying to mask the turmoil within with frantic activity. A faint trace of amusement flickered deep in his eyes before vanishing.

After watering, Di Qingji set down the ladle and turned his back to An Yi. He took several deep breaths and roughly wiped his face with his hand, using the pressure and slight sting to sober himself fully. He needed to calm the heart still pounding wildly in his chest and the burning heat on his face that left him at a loss.

When he finally felt his breathing steady and the heat on his face subside a little, Di Qingji turned around, trying to look natural, though his still-red ears gave him away. "Um... An Yi, the flower bed's done, I should probably get going—"

"Stay for dinner," An Yi interrupted his unfinished farewell, his tone gentle. "You've worked all afternoon; you must be hungry."

The words "head back to the escort agency" that were on the tip of Di Qingji's tongue got swallowed right back down.

Stay... and have dinner with An Yi? Of course he would!

He said quickly, "Okay."