Chen Hao readjusted the plow, gripped the rope tightly, and took a few steps forward. The ditch stretched slowly behind him, the sunlight shining on the turned-up clods of earth, making them gleam. He caught his breath, stopped, and pulled a crumpled waterproof bag from his pocket.
The bag contained several small packets of seeds, the labels worn thin and illegible; only the words "green beans" and "cucumber" were vaguely discernible. He examined them against the light, turning them over and over, but couldn't make anything out of them.
"Nana, how exactly do you plant this?" he asked.
Nana walked over, and the camera panned across the seed packaging. "Beans are suitable for shallow sowing, two to three seeds per hole, with a spacing of thirty centimeters. Cucumbers need to be sheltered from the wind, and the sowing depth should not exceed two centimeters."
"Sounds simple enough." Chen Hao squatted down and gestured with his fingers on the loosened soil. "Shall we plant green beans first? This spot is sunny, so it should be suitable."
"I suggest prioritizing the treatment of the southeast slope," Nana said. "Currently, the frequency of northwesterly winds is increasing, and open areas are susceptible to wind erosion."
"Then why didn't you say so earlier?"
“You were pulling a plow at the time.”
Chen Hao pursed his lips and didn't argue anymore. He walked along the ridge to the southern part of the field and dug at the top layer of soil with his hand. The soil was soft and damp underneath; it wouldn't sink in or slip on him.
“Okay, here it is.” He tore open a packet of seeds, grabbed a handful, and started sowing.
He bent down, his fingers flicked slightly, and the seeds fell through his fingers. He had only sown half a row when the wind suddenly picked up. A gust of cold air rushed over the ground, swirling up fine sand and bits of grass, and hitting his face.
"Ouch!" He raised his hand to block it, but as soon as he covered it, all the remaining seeds flew out of his palm.
He hurried after them, but his foot slipped, and his left leg plunged directly into the ditch where seeds had just been sown. The soil collapsed, and his footprints crookedly rolled over, completely disrupting the previously neat arrangement of the small dots.
"Oh no, oh no." He pulled his foot back and looked down. "I've ruined the land I planted."
Nana has already turned on the wind speed monitoring. "The instantaneous wind speed is 6.8 meters per second, and the duration is expected to exceed ten minutes."
"So, whatever I do now is useless?"
"The loss rate of uncovered seeds is expected to reach 70%."
Chen Hao stood there, still clutching the empty bag in his hand, his face scrunched up. "I should have brought a lunchbox to store the seeds."
“The key isn’t the container,” Nana said. “It’s the protection.”
She turned and glanced towards the warehouse. "There are two high-strength dustproof sheets in the western storage area of the base, 0.6 millimeters thick, with a tear resistance index that meets the standards. They can be used as temporary windbreaks."
Do you remember where that rag is?
"Coordinates locked".
"Then why are you still standing there?"
Five minutes later, Chen Hao emerged from the warehouse carrying a grayish-green piece of cloth, with another draped over his shoulder. The edges of the cloth were badly worn, but the cloth itself wasn't torn. He jogged back, nearly tripping on a ridge in the field, his knee scraping the ground, but thankfully he didn't fall.
"Can this cloth hold up?" he asked, panting.
“The supporting structure needs to be reinforced,” Nana said. “Find two long metal strips to make crossbars, and nail the ends together with scrap metal.”
Chen Hao pulled out a piece of discarded cable and picked up a few pieces of perforated sheet metal. "Will this work?"
"It can replace ground stakes."
The two got to work. Chen Hao was in charge of piecing together the fabric, putting two pieces together and threading a cable through them to create a support. He didn't tie it very securely; it came loose the first time he lifted it.
"Your technique looks like you're hanging sausages," Nana said.
"If you have any objections, you can do it yourself."
"My robotic arm is not suitable for tying knots."
Chen Hao snorted and tied it up again. This time it was more secure. He dragged the whole piece of cloth to the edge of the field, stood it up facing the wind, and used scraps of sheet metal to hammer the ends into the ground to secure them.
"Done?" He straightened up.
"The upper edge is not completely flush with the ground; there are still gaps."
Chen Hao picked up a few more small stones and placed them on the edge. The cloth finally stabilized, swaying slightly in the wind, but it didn't lift up.
"And now?"
"Wind resistance is reduced by 41%, making it possible to sow seeds in sheltered areas."
Chen Hao wiped the sweat from his face and picked up the last bag of seeds. "I'm going south."
This time he learned his lesson and didn't scatter them all at once. He squatted down and pinched out two grains every so often, gently placing them in the soil, and then quickly covering them with a thin layer of soil with the back of his hand.
"Will this work?" he asked, turning around.
“It meets the seeding standards.” Nana stood on the ridge of the field. “The soil covering is 1.5 centimeters thick, which is suitable for germination.”
He nodded and continued moving forward. One grain at a time, row by row. The wind was still blowing, but it didn't reach this patch of land. His movements became smoother, and his rhythm steady.
He suddenly stopped just before the broadcast ended. "Wait, isn't this package a little short?"
He shook the bag, and only one seed fell out.
"I remember this bag was full."
“Maybe the wind blew some of it away just now,” Nana said. “Or maybe you left it behind during the moving process.”
Chen Hao slapped his thigh. "That's right! When I dropped the bag before entering the warehouse, the opening came undone."
"The amount of loss is not enough to affect the overall planting density."
“That’s what they say…” He stared at the last small patch of open space, hesitated for a moment, then took out a medicine bottle from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and poured out a few small brown granules.
"What is this?" Nana asked.
"The Sichuan peppercorns in the hot pot broth," he said. "I'm not sure if they'll survive, but I've got nothing else to do, so I thought I'd give it a try."
He pressed the peppercorns into the soil and covered them up.
"What if we grow spicy cucumbers?" he said. "Then we'll call it 'Spicy King Farm'."
“There is currently no evidence that Sichuan pepper can overwinter in local soil,” Nana said. “Furthermore, its growth cycle does not match that of spring crops.”
“I know it might not survive,” Chen Hao clapped his hands, “but I planted it, so it wasn’t a waste of time.”
He stood up and stretched his shoulders. His knees were a little sore, and his palms were red from being rubbed by the edges of the cloth. He looked up at the sky; the clouds were moving quickly, and the sun appeared and disappeared intermittently.
"The wind hasn't stopped yet," he said.
"It is expected to weaken within two hours."
“Then let’s add another layer of insurance.” He pointed to a low pile of stones to the east. “Is that the old drainage embankment? Is it still usable?”
"Structural integrity is 73%."
"That's enough." Chen Hao walked over, moved a few loose stones, and stacked them back on the outside of the cloth barrier, forming a low wall. "That way, even if the wind lifts the cloth, the stones will still provide some protection."
He stepped back a few paces, looked at it, and nodded. "It looks more like it."
Nana activated the scanning mode, aiming it at the newly sown area. "All seeds have been covered, and the wind protection measures are initially effective. We need to monitor changes in soil moisture going forward."
"We can't worry about that far ahead for now." Chen Hao sat on the edge of the field, took off one shoe and emptied it, revealing a small clump of mud and sand. "Right now, we can only hope that they won't be blown away by the wind or scratched by birds."
“Bird activity was detected in the distance,” Nana said. “The species is sparrow, there are four of them, and they are flying at an altitude of twelve meters.”
"You've already got your eye on this?" Chen Hao stood up, looking around. "Do you have any ideas on how to scare the birds away?"
"Reflective objects can be used to repel them."
"Something reflective..." He felt in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of tinfoil, left over from the last time he ate chocolate. "This?"
"The reflectivity is insufficient, but you can try hanging it at a high place."
Chen Hao found a broken stick, wrapped it with tin foil, and stuck it in the ground. A gust of wind blew, causing the tin foil to rustle and flash a few times.
The sparrow circled once in the air, landed on a metal frame not far away, tilted its head to look at it for a while, and then flew away again.
"Scared away?" he asked.
"Let's evacuate for now," Nana said. "We might return within fifteen minutes."
“Then let’s wait for it to come again, and I’ll smash it with a pot.” Chen Hao stuck the wooden stick into the ground. “Anyway, I’m a farmer now, so I have to act like this.”
He walked back to the south and squatted down to check the last planting site. The soil was firmly covered and hadn't been blown away by the wind. He gently pressed it down with his hand to make sure the seeds were still underneath.
Nana stood to the side, the camera pointed at the ground. "The wind speed dropped to 3.2 meters per second, and the barrier was stable."
"Finally, everything went smoothly this time." Chen Hao breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at the sky.
A crack appeared in the clouds, and sunlight slanted down, falling on his mud-stained sleeves.
He didn't move or speak; he just sat there, watching the light slowly move across the ridge of the field.
Nana said softly, "When you were planting Sichuan peppercorns just now, your heart rate increased by 0.8 seconds."
"Um?"
"This usually happens when expecting an unknown result."
Chen Hao smiled. "Don't you think I'm pretty stupid? Knowing it might not grow, I still insisted on planting it."
“In human behavior data, the percentage of successful cases of ‘knowingly doing the impossible’ is 6.3%,” she said. “Of those, 80% are related to emotional motivations.”
"Oh." He scratched his head. "Then I might want to see what else I can do besides survive."
He stood up and brushed the dirt off his trousers. The right trouser leg was torn at the edge, revealing the fabric underneath. He glanced at it but ignored it.
"What's next?" he asked.
“Observe,” Nana said. “Wait.”
He nodded, about to speak, when suddenly he saw the cloth screen on the east side shake violently, and then one edge began to loosen.
"Oh no!" He rushed over.
The wind suddenly picked up, lifting a corner of the cloth which slapped to the ground with a thud. He lunged forward to hold it down, but as soon as his hand found its footing, he slipped and fell to his knees beside the newly piled stones.
Two stones broke off and rolled into the soil.
He supported himself on the ground, panting, and looked up.
The cloth was still swaying, but it wasn't lifted up again.
He reached out to straighten the wooden stick and flattened the tin foil again.
The wind is still blowing.
His fingers were red from the cold, and his fingernails were full of mud.
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