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墨書 Inktalez
As dawn broke, the yard of Lin Dahe's home was packed with people. He was showcasing the few potato seedlings that had miraculously survived—their roots wrapped in specially formulated humus, and new white tendrils had already pierced through the toxic black layer.
"Crop rotation isn't just random planting," he explained while breaking apart a tuber. "Plant beans this year, wheat next year, and the soil won't be depleted." He gestured towards a nearby wooden barrel filled with decomposing green manure. "Rotting vegetable scraps mixed with horse urine is three times better than just applying manure."
Old farmer Uncle Wang squatted down to feel the soil and suddenly widened his eyes. "Hey? This soil feels warm!"
"Lime warms up when it meets water," Lin Dahe told a little white lie; in reality, it was an active microbial agent rewarded by the system. "With higher temperatures in winter, the seedlings won't fear frost."
Just then, a heart-wrenching wail erupted from outside the crowd. Aunt Ma burst in, her hair disheveled, dragging along a seven or eight-year-old boy. "You heartless scoundrel! You fed poison to my dog!"
The child had a rosy complexion, with sesame seeds stuck at the corners of his mouth—he looked nothing like someone who had been poisoned. Just as Lin Dahe was about to speak, the boy suddenly vomited a mouthful of yellow liquid—but with the keen eye of an agricultural student, he immediately recognized it as ginger soup.
"Call Doctor Li!" Seventh Uncle shouted, stomping his cane.
Aunt Ma became even more agitated at this, yanking open the child's shirt. "Everyone look at these red spots!" The skin clearly bore fake rashes drawn with touch-me-not flower juice.
"I'll report you! Let the county magistrate take your head!" Her voice was sharp enough to pierce eardrums, and her finger nearly poked Lin Dahe's eye.
"Wait." Cui Xiaoman, who had somehow squeezed to the front, held up an oiled paper bag. "Dogwa, do you recognize what this is?"
The boy's eyes lit up. "Sesame pancakes! Uncle Zhou gave them to me!" After saying that, he suddenly covered his mouth.
The crowd gasped in shock. Aunt Ma's face turned from red to pale as she suddenly dashed towards the stone mill. "I can't live anymore—"
Lin Dahe quickly stepped in front of her, and their momentum sent both crashing into a haystack. He instinctively protected Aunt Ma's head with his left hand while his right accidentally pressed against her waist—where there was something hard tucked away that felt like...
"Smack!"
A slap sent stars dancing before his eyes. Aunt Ma broke free, but an oiled cloth bag fell from her arms. Lin Dahe's pupils constricted—that was his lost hybrid notebook!
"Give it back!" He reached out just as Aunt Ma was grabbed by Cui Xiaoman. In the struggle among the three of them, the oiled cloth opened up to reveal dense charts and symbols inside. The onlooking villagers gasped—the diagrams of photosynthesis looked like demonic spells in ancient eyes.
"She really knows sorcery!" Aunt Wang screamed as she clutched her grandson tightly and stepped back.
Amidst the chaos, Lin Dahe suddenly caught sight of Cui Xiaoman on the outskirts of the crowd. The girl’s face was pale, tightly clutching another half of the notebook—it was the one she usually helped him transcribe!
Their eyes collided in midair, and Cui Xiaoman turned and ran, her hair flying behind her like a scythe ready to cut.
By dusk, Lin Dahe paced back and forth at the door of Cui's woodshed. Inside came the sound of sharpening—a familiar "scritch-scratch" that meant she was sharpening her pig slaughtering knife whenever she got angry.
"Xiaoman, let me explain..."
With a creak, the woodshed door opened a crack. Cui Xiaoman's eyes shone ominously in the shadows. "Explain what? Explain how you calculated wheat yields to two decimal places? Or explain this 'photosynthesis' diagram of sorcery?"
Lin Dahe opened his mouth to respond when suddenly a system prompt popped up: [Trust level insufficient; key information locked].
"My mother once said," Cui Xiaoman said as she plunged the tip of her knife into the wooden post. "When you encounter someone with an unclear background, you either hand them over to the authorities or..." She yanked the knife out forcefully. "Castrate them and make them a eunuch!"
The moonlight glinted off the blade, dazzling Lin Dahe's eyes. Just then, a sudden urgent whistle echoed from afar—it was Peddler Zhang's signal for help!
By the time they reached the village entrance, they found Peddler Zhang slumped on a donkey cart, a deep knife wound in his left arm exposing bone. He trembled as he pointed northward. "The main road... The officials are capturing those who can calculate..."
Lin Dahe's heart raced as he snatched the bloodied bundle from Peddler Zhang's grasp. Inside was a newly posted notice from the county office: "Those who claim to be sorcerers and speak of agricultural matters, skilled in deceitful arts... A reward of ten taels for their capture..."
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