Chapter 457: Day 22 into the Farming Story

Chapter 457: Day 22 of Transmigrating into a Farming Story

The one calling him was Old Zhang, the veteran escort of the agency.

Old Zhang stood at the entrance, looking at him with a mix of confusion and amusement.

"Ah, Uncle Zhang." Di Qingji quickly composed himself, wiping all emotion from his face as he hurried over. "What is it?"

"Nothing, really." Old Zhang smiled at him warmly. "I saw you standing across the street zoning out for quite a while—I called you a few times before you answered. Got something else to take care of? It's getting late, and there's nothing urgent at the agency. Why don't you head home and get some rest?"

He'd clearly seen Di Qingji walk right past the door in a daze and continue on, and assumed he had other matters to attend to.

Di Qingji forced a calm smile and brushed it off. "It's nothing. I'll head in now."

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The old tree in the yard had shed even more leaves, piling up thick on the bluestone ground. Each step made a soft, pleasant crunch.

When An Yi opened his door one morning and looked up, he noticed the branches had thinned out—only a few leaves stubbornly clinging to the highest ones.

Only then did it hit him that winter had quietly crept into every corner of the city, and was now just as quietly getting ready to leave.

The air was biting cold, and his breath turned to white mist. An Yi blew out a breath and watched the mist rise and fade.

An Yi's bookshop, after all his careful prep, had opened its doors in late autumn.

The shop was on a street in the western district—small, with two storefronts, with a sign that read "All Realms Bookstore."

He'd written the calligraphy for the sign himself. The day it went up, people tried to buy the sign outright.

When they couldn't buy it, they tracked down the calligrapher, offering big money for a sample of his work.

An Yi turned them down politely.

As for the shop itself, at first, only students from nearby would wander in to browse. But soon, the shop's reputation spread through the town's scholarly circles.

It got famous because scholars could always find books on the shelves of All Realms Bookstore that they had never read before—or even heard of—along with sharp commentaries and annotations.

The books were clearly freshly printed, still smelling of paper and ink.

Every book had been handpicked by An Yi—things that could exist in this world and were actually useful.

The range went from the classics and histories to medicine, divination, astronomy, farming, silk-making, water management, and foreign travelogues—all over the place but not messy. Every book had been screened and had real value.

At first, scholars who considered themselves orthodox secretly suspected that this young shopkeeper had gathered some unorthodox "junk books" or "banned texts" just to show off—how else could there be so many good books they'd never even heard of?

Were they really that clueless?

But once they actually sat down to read, they'd often clutch the books like treasures, blown away by how brilliant they were.

Those books might be obscure and unheard of, but they were definitely not heretical.

Gradually, people started seeing An Yi as a collector from a deep scholarly family—someone whose ancestors might have had ten thousand books stored away, and who himself was obsessed with hunting down scattered and lost texts.

An Yi could only laugh at that.

He thought about it—and wasn't that the truth? His collection spanned way more than just time and place.

Ever since he got the space, he'd developed a hoarding habit: words, knowledge, the sparks of civilization from every world... he'd read and saved them all, connecting across countless realms.

He was seriously too rich!

A crooked grin (?)

Jiang Chiliu's malatang stand had also gotten an upgrade around this time.

The original tent had been replaced with a proper storefront, a bit further into the East Market, with a proper sign that read "Jiang's Eatery," with square tables and long benches inside—now able to seat plenty of dine-in customers.

Malatang was still the signature dish, but that wasn't all. Jiang Chiliu had slowly added other items, including simple noodles, stir-fries, braised dishes, and various snacks. Business got busier and busier, with a steady stream of customers from morning to night.

An Yi and Di Qingji had by now become regulars at Jiang's Eatery, often going there together.

When Fu Cong saw An Yi at the eatery again, he no longer displayed the wary, guarded mannerisms he once had.

The reason was simple: Liu Geer had agreed to marry him.

The betrothal gifts had been sent, and the wedding was set for the following summer.

With everything settled, Fu Cong's anxious, sensitive heart had finally found solid ground, leaving only anticipation and joy.

During this time, whenever An Yi came to Jiang's Eatery for a meal, he more than once saw Fu Cong arrive straight from the academy and pitch in at the shop.

He'd roll up his sleeves, help greet customers, clear bowls, wipe tables, and wash ingredients in the back kitchen.

Between him and Jiang Chiliu, a single exchange of glances was often enough to convey their meaning—sweet and affectionate, no words needed. Even the surrounding diners could easily sense that warm, tender atmosphere, and people would often tease them good-naturedly.

Comments section:

"So heartwarming! This is what I love about farming stories—the everyday domesticity and the slow, steady flow of life! (skull blooming.jpg)"

"Master Fu is now basically the lady boss of Jiang's!"

"Liu Geer just patted Fu Cong's arm for blocking his way, and Fu Cong's ears turned red instantly! What do you call that? The Amorous Palm! (rose) (rose)"

"This An Yi has shown up quite a few times and gets a fair amount of screen time? But is there no other plot? He's just eating? So he's not Fu Cong's rival at all—just a plain old foodie?"

"Looks that way—turns out he's a foodie! (sudden realization.jpg)"

"Then why did the author spend such an exaggerated amount of space describing An Yi's appearance? (funny) (dog head)"

"Pure padding! @author, caught you! (Einstein.jpg)"

"Speaking of which... the name An Yi... why does it sound familiar to me?"

"Now that you mention it... I think it appeared at the beginning of the novel? Wasn't he some village loafer? The one who stole chickens and dogs? Also named An Yi!"

"Hahahaha, I remember now—the one who called himself a rogue!"

"Speaking of that guy, I thought he'd have more plot later, but after a funny bit he just disappeared."

"No way? Is the author that lazy? Can't even be bothered to come up with a new name?"

"The author is terrible at naming!"

"..."

An Yi smiled.

It's the same person.

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An Yi sat by the window, having just closed a local gazetteer newly acquired from out of town, his fingertips tapping lightly against the smooth cover.

He looked out at the scene in the small courtyard.

The patch of earth in the back yard where the Qiuxia Flower seeds had been sown, after several rounds of autumn and winter rain and snow, had grown darker and richer in color, exuding a fertile readiness poised to burst forth.