Chương 117: The Southern Fields

The southern fields. Once a barren stretch of neglected land, they had transformed into something entirely different. Lush and thriving, the fields now stretched as far as the eye could see, a patchwork of green and gold under the warm sun. The term "wasteland" no longer applied. A better name would be "vast and fertile farmland." To the west, near the marshes, lay the flooded paddies where rice and other aquatic crops grew tall and straight.

Their stalks swayed gently in the breeze, the water between them glinting with reflected light. In the central region, the drier fields bore wheat, corn, and sorghum, their golden heads heavy with grain, rippling like waves in the wind. To the east, on the poorer soils, soybeans and peanuts had been planted, along with Fang Cheng's most beloved crop, sweet potatoes. Their broad leaves spread across the ground in a thick, green carpet, hiding the treasures beneath.

It was worth noting that the land around White Flower City was part of the alluvial plain formed by the Xijiang River as it flowed downstream. The soil here was rich with organic matter, dark and crumbly, perfect for farming. Though the Xijiang had long since dried up, the nearby marshes still provided ample water. Even the marginal plots, the ones that might have been left fallow elsewhere, flourished here, nourished by the moisture seeping up from the wetlands.

Fang Cheng descended from the sky and landed in the sweet potato field. The last time he had been here, the potato seedlings had only just broken through the soil, tiny green shoots barely visible above the earth. Now, the leaves had grown thick and lush, spreading across the field like a living blanket. At this rate, in another two or three months, the potatoes would be ready to harvest. Tender, sweet, and perfect for roasting. Too slow. Way too slow. Fang Cheng's mouth watered at the thought.

He remembered the first time he and Xiao Ming had snuck out to steal sweet potatoes. The memory came back to him so clearly it was almost real. It had been a pitch-black night, so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. The two of them had crept to the edge of a field, hearts pounding with the thrill of mischief. The air had been cool and still, carrying the earthy smell of freshly turned soil and the faint, sweet scent of ripening crops.

Crickets chirped in the grass, and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.

"Xiao Ming, my dear Xiao Ming, why do we have to steal someone else's sweet potatoes?" Fang Cheng whispered.

"Fang, stop saying 'I' all the time. You sound like a simpleton. And as for why we're stealing, it's simple. Stolen food always tastes better." Xiao Ming had grinned, his teeth white in the darkness.

"Can't we steal something else? I've been eating sweet potatoes at home until I'm sick of them. Haven't you?"

"I've been sick of them for a long time. Everyone in the village has. And that's exactly why we won't get caught. When people see the field dug up, they'll just assume wild boars did it. They won't suspect us."

"Haha, you're so smart, Xiao Ming. But I'm still a little scared. It's my first time stealing."

"I knew you'd be a coward. That's why I picked sweet potatoes. Relax, I told you, everyone's tired of them. Their cellars are all full of potatoes anyway. Even if someone saw us, they'd just think we were a couple of fools, not thieves."

"Hehe, Xiao Ming, you really are clever."

"Enough talk. Stick to the plan. I'll keep watch. You dig."

"Hehe, alright. Here I go!" Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. The memory made Fang Cheng smile. He crouched down, his hands plunging into the soft soil. The earth was warm and crumbly, rich with the scent of damp loam. He imagined himself as a ruthless excavator, his fingers tearing through the dirt with mechanical precision, scooping out a large hole in the blink of an eye. The thrill of it was intoxicating.

This was the true taste of sin, the sweetness of forbidden fruit. His heart raced with excitement, and he could already picture the roasted potatoes, their skins charred and cracking, steam rising to reveal the golden, sugary flesh within. He was a little field mouse now, a thief in the night. He wanted to sing, to praise the sweet potato plants that had endured so much. The harsh summer sun, the battering storms, the gnawing pests, and the clumsy hooves of grazing sheep.

Despite it all, they stood tall and proud, like solitary swordsmen facing an endless army. The potato plants seemed to speak to him, saying, "Though I die today, I am still the king of this field." And the little mouse, Fang Cheng himself, replied, "Die well. I will take care of your body and your children. Look at them, so sweet and tender. I can't resist. Crunch, crunch. Delicious, delicious."

"Death is beautiful! I love to sing for the dead potato. Life is precious, and these potato plants, they die by the thousands. Isn't that worth singing about?"

"Uh... City God, are you alright?" The voice came from behind, snapping Fang Cheng out of his reverie. He blinked and looked down at the hole he had dug, then at his hands, covered in dirt. His heart raced with guilt. He scrambled to his feet, brushing off the soil as casually as he could.

"Oh, nothing. I'm fine. I just saw a field mouse dart into a hole, that's all."

"Aha! Those little pests are the worst. They love to nibble on young sweet potato shoots. And they breed like crazy, a whole litter at a time. If we don't stop them, they'll multiply and ruin the entire harvest. Good thing you caught it early, City God."

"Exactly." Fang Cheng nodded sagely, pretending he had intended to do exactly that.

"Amazing, truly amazing! Even with all your responsibilities, you still find time to personally deal with a pest problem in the fields. I'm in awe. Truly, truly in awe." Just then, the farmer in charge of the potato field came running over. He was a sturdy man, his face tanned and weathered from years of working under the sun. He looked at the hole, then at Fang Cheng, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"A field mouse? I didn't see one. And I watered this field just yesterday. If there were any holes, the water would have flooded them out. I would have seen bubbles." Squad Leader Zhang snorted.

"What do you know? Any mouse that catches the City God's attention is no ordinary pest. It's a spirit beast. A demonic mouse. No amount of water is going to flush one of those out. It's got tricks. It can fool your eyes, make itself invisible."

"Ah! That's it! It must have been an enchanted beast!" The farmer's eyes widened in awe. He bowed deeply, his voice thick with reverence.

"I was careless! If not for the City God's quick action, the entire field would have been ruined. You are truly a living Buddha, a bodhisattva of compassion! No, no, you're an immortal, a divine being! Meeting you in this lifetime is a blessing I must have earned over many lives! Thank you! On behalf of all the farmers, I thank you!"

"Alright, alright. It was nothing. Don't worry about it." Fang Cheng waved his hand, his face reddening. Even his thick skin couldn't handle this much praise. He grabbed Squad Leader Zhang's arm and practically dragged him away from the scene. The farmer's enthusiasm was too much. He was one of those loyal followers from Xiangshi City, the kind who would kneel and pray if Fang Cheng so much as sneezed. If he didn't leave now, the man would probably start kowtowing and calling him a living deity.

They walked south, toward the part of the fields where the "oxen and horses" were kept. That was the nickname the laborers had given the convicts, the criminals who had been caught stealing or worse. There, Li Zhuangniu and a dozen burly men stood with whips in hand, shouting orders at the hunched figures in the fields. Fang Cheng frowned.

"I see the number of 'oxen and horses' has increased." Squad Leader Zhang stopped at the edge of the field and sighed. He looked out at the criminals, their backs bent, their hands caked with mud.

"They say when people have enough to eat and wear, they begin to value civility and manners. But I've found that's not always true. Even now, when the people of White Flower City are better fed than ever, there are still those who prefer to steal. They say stolen things taste better. Makes me want to beat them even harder." Fang Cheng laughed nervously, wiping the last traces of soil from his hands.

"Haha... yeah. They should be beaten." Squad Leader Zhang sighed again.

"But you were right, City God. We need to make these criminals understand the hardship of honest labor. Only by feeling the weight of the work can they truly repent. And only then can they become decent men again."