After Su Yicen sat down, she rested her hands on her knees, lowered her head, and her shoulders rose and fell slightly.

He picked up the rough porcelain cup on the table and, without caring whether the water was cold or warm, drank it all in one gulp.

The bottom of the cup hit the table with a "thud," and only then did he raise his eyes, his face finally regaining some color.

But his eyes were still bloodshot, and his gaze revealed an undeniable weariness.

"Big brother, have you guys not drunk any water all day?"

She couldn't help but ask.

Su Qingzhi squatted down beside him, looking up at his chapped lips, and felt a tightness in her heart.

She remembered that she had specially packed two water pouches in their bags before leaving the house, enough to last them all day.

Judging from this, the water bladder is probably already empty.

Her voice was filled with heartache, mixed with a hint of disbelief and doubt.

"Of course I drank the water."

Su Yicen wiped her mouth, "But my lips are dry from talking, how is that enough?"

He smiled, but the smile seemed somewhat bitter.

His fingers unconsciously traced the rim of the empty glass, and his voice deepened: "We went to town and met with the brigade leader. We talked for more than six hours straight. We only took two breaks in between, each time just to drink a couple of sips of water. We kept talking non-stop."

As he spoke, he sighed softly, as if trying to expel all the pent-up emotions from his chest.

As soon as Su Yicen spoke, Su Qingzhi couldn't help but want to know what had happened to make everyone look like this.

Her fingers tightened slightly as she gripped the towel, her gaze fixed firmly on her elder brother's face.

The others in the house also perked up their ears, and even Zhu Xiuqin, who was boiling water, slowed down her actions of adding firewood.

They had initially only guessed, but after hearing what Su Yicen said, it was clear that things were not so simple.

The conversation lasted a full six hours, without even a sip of water. What was hidden behind this?

Is it a difficult dispute?

Or is it an urgent mission?

"What does the captain mean?"

Zhu Xiuqin also became anxious.

When their daughter brought it up, they were actually unsure and worried that it wouldn't work out.

But since the child was willing to try, they wanted to lend a hand.

She walked quickly over and stood in front of Su Wanshan, her voice trembling slightly: "Did you agree, or is it stuck?"

She gripped the corner of her apron tightly, her knuckles turning white.

She recalled the determined look on Su Qingzhi's face a few days ago when she secretly tested the herbal samples, and the planting diagrams and profit calculation tables she drew again and again.

Parents always hope their children will be successful, but they also fear that their children will encounter setbacks and frustrations.

Now that the outcome is about to be revealed, how can I not be anxious?

If it can bring prosperity to an entire village, then everyone will have food to eat and clothes to wear.

These words weighed heavily on everyone's heart, like a heavy stone.

If the project succeeds, medicinal herbs can be planted on the village's wasteland, every household will have work to do, and the old and young will no longer have to worry about food.

Children can go to school, the elderly can see a doctor, and even that muddy road at the entrance of the village might one day be paved with stone slabs.

This is not just an attempt, but a chance to change one's fate.

Don't underestimate rural people; their heads are full of practical knowledge.

Generations have cultivated this land, relying not on books, but on experience, on accumulated observations and judgments.

The elderly can tell you clearly, even with their eyes closed, which slope is suitable for planting beans and which low-lying area is prone to waterlogging.

The solar terms for spring sowing and autumn harvest are not determined by the calendar, but by observing the sky, the movement of clouds, and the flight of birds.

What grasses in the mountains are edible and what are not? Our ancestors figured it all out by tasting them with their tongues.

How many people, in their youth, squatted in mountain gullies, trying to find wild vegetables one by one to fill their stomachs?

Someone accidentally ate the poisonous leaves and lay on the kang (a heated brick bed) with a high fever. The first thing they said when they woke up was, "Don't let the child touch those leaves."

It is through these trials, bite by bite, and the passing down of knowledge from generation to generation, that children today know to avoid hemlock and recognize bitter lettuce when they go up the mountain.

Without these knowledgeable people, city dwellers would be eating rice and flour every day, how could they have such an easy life?

Every grain of rice in the granary was harvested by farmers, one ear at a time, with their backs bent; behind every bowl of white porridge on the table are countless early mornings spent in the fields before dawn.

Without them weeding under the scorching sun and harvesting in the torrential rain, the city's dining tables would have been empty long ago.

But some people have forgotten their roots, thinking that farming is a dead-end job and that farmers are "rustic" and don't understand "civilization".

How many times have we rushed to harvest grain before the rain, and how many times have we gone to the fields before dawn?

It wasn't about fighting for a pride; it was about ensuring my family could survive.

Those figures running in the wind and rain, those hands trembling in the cold wind yet still wielding sickles, weren't they all trying to give children more food and the elderly less hunger?

What they sought was never glory, but rather stability.

A good harvest means a warm winter for the whole family; a bad harvest means they'll have to tighten their belts the following year.

Look at that threshing ground. Just a moment ago, the sun was blinding, but in the blink of an eye, people are bustling about. Why?

The sun was still high overhead, making the grains crackle as it scorched, and people sat in twos and threes chatting idly.

But the old village chief only needed to look up at the horizon once, and he immediately stood up and shouted, "Things are going to change!"

So every household sprang into action.

Some were harvesting the grain, others were laying out tarpaulins, and even three-year-old children were running to the edge of the field with brooms in their hands.

Old experience tells them that when the clouds press down, rain is just around the corner.

The dark clouds slowly rolled in from behind the mountain, like an inky tide, obscuring the sunlight.

The wind changed direction, carrying moisture as it blew onto people's faces.

The ability to recognize celestial phenomena and discern wind direction is not something learned in a day, but rather a memory etched into one's bones through decades of exposure to the elements.

These are skills that city dwellers can't really learn just by thinking about them.

Anyone can be smart if they're willing to use their brain.

Knowledge from books is important, but true wisdom is often hidden in the soil, in sweat, and in the experience of battling nature time and time again.

Anyone can become smart as long as they are willing to learn and put in the effort—regardless of whether they live in a rural area or have a particular background.

Su Wanshan and Su Yicen exchanged a glance, their eyes meeting briefly in the air before both of them frowned slightly.

It was a silent exchange, concealing both worry and contemplation.

As soon as Zhu Xiuqin finished speaking, Su Wanshan did not immediately respond. Instead, he lowered his head, took a sip of tea, and stared calmly at the ground, as if he was weighing some important decision.

"Ningning, don't be sad if the captain doesn't agree."

Zhu Xiuqin gently grasped her daughter's hand, her palm warm, carrying a mother's unique comforting tone, "If all else fails, we'll talk about it again once you're in the family compound. Your second brother said there are military-run factories there that provide side jobs for the families, such as sewing, canning, and weaving. There are plenty of opportunities, so we won't miss this one. We'll take it slow, and there will always be a way out."

"Mom, let my older brother finish speaking first."

Su Qingzhi raised her head, her gaze clear and firm, looking directly at Su Yicen. Her voice was soft, but it carried an unyielding seriousness.