Daily Life in the Countryside After Being Reborn-Chapter 18 - 17 Little Steamed Bun Goes into Town to Select Rice (Part 2)

San Gouzi spoke with enthusiasm, but Xiao Xian's little head remained motionless, displaying a distinct lack of interest.

Zhu Shijun saw and teasingly scolded him, "This kid was amazed by every little stream when he first came to the mountains."

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

Little did he know that the "Zhu Xiaoxian" of that time was a typical city child who believed "strawberries grew on trees and rice and leeks came from the same mother." How could he not have been excited by the sight of green mountains and clear waters?

But now, Zhu Xiaoxian is someone who came from the Yunteng Sect. Not to mention the surrounding emerald Immortal Mountain, where birdcalls are like heavenly music. Any creek that might be picked at the corner of the mountain would reveal clear waters and pebbles, so naturally, he wouldn't find the nearby good mountains and water as interesting.

Chishui River is famous not only because every Chinese knows of the "Red Army's Four Crossings of the Chishui River," but also because it's the mother river of more than a dozen famous liquors including Moutai. Anyone who knows and appreciates good alcohol holds this river in endless reverence.

More than twenty years ago, Zhu Shijun passed by Chishui River and even deliberately stayed in Moutai Town for a few days. It was the peak of Zhu Shijun's official career, a time of limitless splendor. Ten years can bring about great changes to the east side of the river and another ten years to the west. Twenty years later, both he and the Chishui River had weathered the years.

The truck was moving fast, and the mountain breeze slapped Zhu Shijun's face. The majestic mountains on both sides, like the stars shifting in the sky, kept sweeping past the old man's eyes. As it was autumn, with ample rainfall, the rivers flowed rapidly. The red maple leaves spun in the red whirlpools of river water, while the truck also wound its way through the embrace of the mountains.

"Xiao Xian, let your grandpa tell you the origins of the Chishui River," said Zhu Shijun, his face flushed with the Chishui River's wind as if he had drunk wine, and he began to tell a story.

San Gouzi first pricked up his ears to listen carefully. Zhu Shijun told his story slowly and calmly, his voice rich and powerful like fine wine, enchanting both the young and the old in the driver's seat.

The hour-long trip went by quickly, amidst the winding Chishui River and Zhu Shijun's narration. Around ten in the morning, the people of Zhuge Village, on that truck, arrived at their destination, Bai Family Ancient Town.

The village chief climbed down from the truck and called out to the villagers, "Remember, the adults watch the kids, if anyone's not coming back tonight because they're visiting relatives, come register with me. We have to leave before three in the afternoon, and we won't wait for stragglers." When they left, the village chief had counted heads. Including Xiao Xian and Mr. Zhu, there were twenty-eight people on the truck. There were twelve people either visiting relatives or going to the county town; the seats they vacated were just enough to fit the items the villagers would buy, with each person having space equivalent to a basket to place their goods. If this had been a market day, San Gouzi's truck would have been insufficient.

"Old Master, will you be okay taking care of Xiao Xian by yourself?" Among the twenty people, only the village chief was there for official business. This year, the village's harvest fell short, and the township government refused to release the village's grain subsidy fund. The village chief had to go to the town government to see if the money could be released as soon as possible.

"No problem, I'm just going to the grain procurement station in town to check if there are any suitable rice seeds. Then I'll take Xiao Xian for a walk around town and have a cup of tea before heading back," Zhu Shijun replied. Holding the fresh fruits and vegetables that the village chief's wife had bought, he enquired about the grain procurement station and took Xiao Xian to find it.

Bai Family Ancient Town is located at the border of Southern Yunnan and Northern Guizhou and is an old market town with a history of five or six hundred years. The Yun Gui region is home to many ethnic minorities and Han people, and Bai Family Ancient Town is no exception. It experienced little impact from warfare around the time of liberation, preserving the historical features of Ming and Qing dynasties well. Seven years ago, it was designated a national-level ancient town cluster by the State Council. In the years since, driven by tourism, the town has also flourished.

San Gouzi's truck was parked at the entrance to the town, and Zhu Shijun led Xiao Xian through a stone gate marked with traces of time. There was a century-old tree planted at the town entrance, which Zhu Shijun said was a Baiyu.

Xiao Xian took a few glances and was now sure that with the help of the iron space, she could only see through the information of trees under fifty years old; she was powerless against ancient trees over a hundred years old.

The grandfather and granddaughter walked on, and the town was dotted with broad-leafed banana trees. Unfortunately, the banana season had passed, and they missed the beautiful view of bunches of yellow bananas hanging on the branches. The banana trees couldn't hide the suspension houses built along the street, most of which were even older than Zhu Shijun.

As they walked down the narrow stone street of Bai Family Ancient Town, the street suddenly came alive. Xiao Xian saw many Miao people and a few familiar villagers, with food and goods filling their view. Fish just pulled out of the Chishui River, pork still fresh with blood, piles of chicken, duck, and goose eggs resembling small hills, and fresh flowers brought from the Yunnan region—this narrow stone street had turned into a bustling market.

After squeezing through the crowd, Xiao Xian's forehead was covered with sweat, and Zhu Shijun took out a handkerchief and wiped her face for her.

"Tired, aren't you? Just past this street is the seed station. We'll go to a small shop by the street afterward and have some sour soup dish. You've been in Guizhou for so long and still haven't tasted authentic Miao cuisine," Zhu Shijun said tenderly as he stroked Xiao Xian's head. During this half-month, Xiao Xian had truly grown. She looked around the street, yet she didn't cling to buying anything.

At the end of the stone street was the local grain procurement station. The harvest had just ended, and the station, still busy, had newly harvested millet drying outside. A middle-aged woman, the head of the station, was sitting at the door, cracking sunflower seeds, wearing clip-clopping sandals and a perm, with her fingernails painted bright red.

"Hey, don't step on the millet, I'm talking to you," the middle-aged woman, who was the director of the procurement station, had developed a loud voice from arguing with farmers when buying grain. Even though Xiao Xian was still seven or eight steps away from the drying rice, she started shouting.

"Comrade, we're here to buy rice seeds. Could you please check if you have suitable seeds in the station? We'll pay a good price," Zhu Shijun knew the dealings of the grain procurement station. Local procurement stations would provide seeds during spring plowing and buy grain during the autumn harvest. In principle, they did not sell seeds to the public. However, the station had some local influence, and residents who liked to gossip and take advantage of small benefits could buy good seeds with a little money.

After hearing this, the middle-aged woman's lips puckered and spat out the shells of sunflower seeds, which all landed on the drying rice, "You've come to the right person. I've got some Thai Fragrant Rice Seed that just came in, meant for the town's trial fields. I heard it can yield over a thousand pounds per acre. Selling you a bag is fine, but it'll cost one hundred and ten per bag."

The middle-aged woman gestured towards the corner of the wall; a cloth bag lay there, its mouth revealing the golden glint of the seeds.

**

Those who haven't flirted with "Little Xianmiao" yet, come and flirt~~ Striving for three hundred followers, Monday blitz to the charts, usual midnight update, asking for votes, reviews, and all kinds of support.