A sudden inspiration struck.
Written by: Xibei Pi Nu.
He forgets how to write characters; he only studied at a school for a year and a half, and there are many characters he can recognize but not write.
Chen Gui looked at an elderly man who had been silent in the crowd.
"Old Song, what do you think?"
Old Song leaned against a tree.
He didn't say anything, just quietly watched the commotion.
At this moment, Chen Xian's desire to speak seemed like a conditioned reflex, and I watched from my lying position.
These are the surnames in a village; having too many would be a disadvantage.
There were many disagreements, and everyone was sticking to their own opinions.
Qingxia Village is like that.
Several years ago, the villagers of Qingxia Village were mainly surnamed Chen. Later, people who fled famine from other places began to cultivate the land around Qingxia Village.
Gradually, these people with different surnames and villagers gathered and integrated.
People with all sorts of surnames are represented.
Of course, there are also advantages. Disputes lead to democracy, and the industries of all villagers can be discussed and decided together, so that the village head can no longer rule unilaterally.
Old Song's full name is Song Renyi. When he was young, he worked as an accountant in the largest restaurant in town.
He has a clear mind, is proficient in mathematics, and writes beautiful characters.
Chen Gui handed the note to Lao Song.
Old Song began to calculate.
"Two thousand steps, and a two-year-old bamboo pole is four to five zhang long, how many bamboo poles are needed?"
After calculating for a long time, Old Song was deeply confused.
who I am?
Zhang Daguang stretched out his head to chop, but he didn't understand it for a long time. He only understood it after someone explained it to him.
"Ha, let's all go home and sleep. The spring is two thousand steps from the foot of the mountain."
"What the hell?"
Is the old village chief joking with us?
Chen Xian looked at it for a long time and saw that Old Song was confused. He kindly reminded him: "One step is equal to half a meter, two thousand steps are equal to one thousand meters, and the length of a two-year-old bamboo is four and a half zhang. One zhang is equal to three point three meters, so that is about sixty-six bamboos."
Old Song used a twig to count back and forth on the land.
He kept picking at his fingers, and his right hand kept twisting his beard until it broke off, but he didn't even realize it.
Okay, after a while his eyes brightened.
"Yes, seventy is indeed about right."
"Brother Xian, where did you learn mathematics from?"
Chen Xian calmly replied, "It was taught by the school teacher."
Chen Qingshan asked in confusion, "When was this taught? How come I didn't know?"
"Don't believe me? Go ask them!"
With a smirk, I thought, "Where the hell am I supposed to ask? The master has long since passed away, lying on the ground."
The bones have all turned into a handful of yellow earth.
Chen Erzhu's eyes were bright and thoughtful.
Seventy bamboo poles—that doesn't sound too exaggerated.
The villagers were puzzled.
Chen Gui didn't give them any time to think. Many things are harder to accomplish if you think too much about them.
He said seriously, "You have 15 minutes to prepare. Prepare your own axes, sickles, machetes, and ropes. Record any damage, and the village will reimburse you from their account."
There is a lot of wasteland in the village. The idle land is rented out to other villages to make workshops. It's not much, but a few hundred coins a month, which is enough to reimburse miscellaneous public expenses.
Granny Jia pretended to be in pain: "My back hurts."
Zhang Daguang's eyes darted around: "My legs hurt."
Chen Gui: "They won't come; the bamboo tubes will automatically bypass the field."
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