Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

With the rice harvested from Grandpa's house, the siblings busied themselves harvesting the rice from the experimental paddy field in front of their house. They had planted only thirty stalks, and after drying them, they secretly weighed them – a whopping two and a half jin (approximately 1.75 kg). Since the family didn't farm regularly, the eldest brother, second brother, and Guixiang had no idea what the yield was, muttering that it was too low, barely enough for two days' worth of food. Only Xingbao knew perfectly well that the rice paddy had a high seed set rate; even at the 80% rate of his previous life, it should yield two jin. Converted to per-mu (approximately 0.067 hectares), at 20,000 stalks per mu, that's 1,300 jin, matching the yield of his previous life! However, this batch was a failed breeding variety, so Xingbao casually put the seeds into a cloth bag, not intending to continue propagating them, but to store them for later use. The real focus of cultivation is on the rice seed that was found with great effort—it produced more than a hundred seeds, which Xingbao carefully divided into several portions and had already started cultivating in his space.

As for the timing of rice pollination and the points to note, that evening, the four siblings sat around the lamp. Xingbao, relying on his memories from his previous life, gently reminded his eldest brother, second brother, and Guixiang, filling in any missing details. Finally, the eldest brother carefully wrote them down on paper. Xingbao also chimed in with a suggestion: "Brother, when you help people with weddings and funerals in the future, ask the host family for some large red or yellow paper. Next year, when the rice is pollinated, put it on the door so the villagers can see it whenever they want." (As mentioned in Chapter Two, the eldest brother studied literature with a teacher and helped people with errands, doing proper work like organizing weddings and funerals and writing eulogies. White paper wasn't used here because it was a taboo in the village—putting black words on white paper on the door was like having a funeral at home, which was too unlucky.)

Today is the Beginning of Winter, and my eldest brother finally gave everyone a day off! The sweet potato leaves in the field are gradually turning yellow, showing that the spiritual spring water not only makes the crops grow strong but also adds some cold resistance. Seeing that it's about to snow, Xingbao knows that once the snow falls, the temperature will plummet, making the crops in the field difficult to dig and prone to freezing. After breakfast, with nothing else to do, Xingbao grabbed Guixiang and called out to his eldest and second eldest brothers. Each of them grabbed a small hoe and headed briskly to the experimental field in front of the door, intending to dig up all the sweet potatoes.

With a single stroke of the hoe, the reddish-brown sweet potatoes rolled out of the soil, clustering together on the field ridges. Each one was plump and heavy, with four or five potatoes per plant. The largest one weighed a whopping six pounds, a yield far exceeding that of ordinary sweet potatoes. Of the thirty plants, these sweet potatoes were far more eye-catching than the potatoes from before. Normally, such a high yield would have attracted the entire village's attention, but right now everyone was busy tending their own rice harvest and calculating this year's taxes, paying no attention to the activity in the fields. Only Uncle Long and Uncle Deng, who lived nearby, saw their elder brothers occasionally breaking open while digging, and came over with smiles to lend a hand.

Xingbao was happy to have some peace and quiet. After the sweet potatoes were all cleaned, he beckoned to the nearby charcoal tree and asked it to help carry them home. He specially picked out the four largest and most perfectly shaped ones from the pile and handed them to Uncle Long and Uncle Deng, saying with a smile, "Uncle Long, Uncle Deng, these are for you to keep as seeds. Try planting them next year; maybe you'll have a good harvest." The two men quickly took them, weighed them in their hands, and kept praising, "These sweet potatoes are really good. Thank you, Xingbao!" After seeing the two uncles off, Xingbao began to arrange the remaining work.

He gazed at the empty experimental field, then glanced at the cabbages planted beside it, and a thought suddenly popped into his head: if he could build a simple greenhouse, the cabbages would grow better, and the harvest would last longer, so they could have fresh cabbages even in winter. But the thought was quickly suppressed. Every household in the village pickled vegetables, and jars of pickled vegetables were enough to last the whole winter. The villagers didn't have much demand for fresh cabbages; even if he managed to grow them, people would at most come over to look, casually take a head or two to taste, and he would feel embarrassed to charge them.

Moreover, the origin of the greenhouse construction technology is inexplicable; he can't exactly claim to have been reborn. Even disregarding the technology, this is purely a thankless and risky endeavor, a sure-fire way to lose money. Xingbao secretly pondered: He'd better wait for a future opportunity. Growing greenhouse vegetables requires big cities; only city dwellers are willing and able to afford fresh vegetables. It simply won't work in the village. Thinking this, the idea of ​​going to the city quietly surfaced in his mind.

He carefully examined the idle experimental field again, thinking to himself: It's too late this year, so I'll leave this land empty to allow it to fertilize. Next year, I might as well cultivate some winter wheat and plant it. But then, the planting area in the space will be a bit insufficient, so I'll have to plan it out properly.

Actually, not many families in the village grow wheat. They mainly grow wheat to make soy sauce, bake rye cakes for festivals, and those who are better off can even make maltose. As for noodles, buns, dumplings, and other wheat-based foods, Xingbao had never even heard of them since his rebirth, let alone seen them. In addition, wheat yields are not high to begin with, and the village's fields are not fertile enough. Planting wheat would also affect the sweet potato harvest, so most villagers prefer to let the land rest for the winter, burning some wood ash to add fertilizer.

Having figured this out, Xingbao stopped worrying and immediately made a new plan: first, he would spread the compost he had made in the experimental field to nourish the soil, and then, following the method he had discussed with his older brother, he would pile up a vat of fertilizer to use next year. Having made up his mind, he turned around, went home, brought back some charcoal, and carried all the remaining sweet potatoes home in one go.

For the next few days, the siblings were constantly busy, turning the soil, mixing the composted fertilizer into the experimental field, and even piling up a vat of fertilizer as planned. It was a pity that Grandpa only had the blacksmith make a plowshare a couple of days ago; if it had been finished a couple of days earlier, Heitan could have pulled the plow and tried it out, saving him some effort in turning the soil!

The outhouse at the breeding base has been in use for quite some time now. Village children and passersby alike love to relieve themselves there. Firstly, the outhouse is kept clean and tidy; secondly, Xingbao and his siblings specifically told the children that relieving themselves there is helping to cultivate better rice seeds. Hearing this, the children felt both excited and proud, and thus came even more readily. Now, the accumulated manure in the latrine is just enough for this composting project—a happy accident, really.

Xingbao had assigned tasks to the children beforehand, clapping his hands and instructing them: "The older ones, those with more strength, take bamboo rakes and baskets and go into the mountains to collect dry leaves; the younger ones, cut some fresh weeds along the nearby field ridges and roadsides." The children responded in unison and busied themselves with their tasks. Once all the materials were gathered, they gathered around their eldest brother and, following his instructions, methodically laid the materials into the pre-dug compost pit: first a thick layer of weeds, then a layer of dry leaves, followed by a layer of manure, and finally, a layer of fine soil, repeating this process. Each time a layer was laid, everyone tiptoed to tamp it down, and they even found several evenly sized wooden sticks to insert into the compost pile for ventilation. Because they had collected a lot of leaves, fearing that fermentation might not be thorough, their eldest brother brought several buckets of water and slowly poured it down the compost pile, thoroughly soaking all the materials. After all that work, the fertilizer pit was full, and all that was left was for it to ferment and decompose naturally so that it could be used as fertilizer for breeding next year. Taking advantage of the abundance of leaves in the mountains, the eldest brother burned some wood ash using the same method as before, put it in a cloth bag, and stored it for planting potatoes next year.