Zuo Ling's first impression of Qingzhou was its vastness. At an average altitude of 4,000 meters, the sound was muffled, as if the eardrums were covered with a membrane, and his voice echoed.
The sky was so blue, the clouds were so low. Having grown accustomed to the smog of Kyoto, seeing such a pristine blue sky felt surreal.
Large, fluffy clouds hung so low you could almost reach them with your hand.
Abundant water resources were another major impression Zuo Ling had of Qingzhou; it seemed like you could encounter babbling brooks everywhere.
The trucks were filthy from hauling coal continuously.
Upon encountering the first river, Zuo Ling couldn't wait to use a high-pressure water gun to thoroughly clean the truck inside and out.
No need to worry about using too much water or getting the ground dirty; once the car is clean, you'll feel refreshed too.
So I took out the Tank 500 and the car and gave them a refreshing cold shower.
After washing up, we continued on our way.
We arrived at a valley where cattle, horses, and sheep grazed peacefully on the hillside, and women were washing clothes by the river.
Remembering that there were still many water vats in the space that were not full, he asked the woman if the water in the river was drinkable.
The woman, speaking in broken Mandarin, replied:
"Yes, it's sweet. We're very close to the sky here, so the water is the cleanest. We've been drinking it since we were little."
Zuo Ling felt envious of the slow-paced lifestyle, and suddenly wanted to slow down after being constantly on the go.
The stream meandered and twisted. Zuo Ling chose a spot away from the crowd, took out a bucket, and, using the Tank 500 as cover, filled it with water and poured it into her spatial storage.
The woman looked from afar and thought Zuo Ling was playing in the water. She laughed at the city girls for being so playful, saying that they were too busy with housework to have time to play in the water.
Filling the space with water was not as easy as filling it with coal; it left Zuo Ling sweating profusely, but she enjoyed it immensely.
Suddenly I realized how silly it was to pump water from the reservoir. I didn't think of using bottled water to pour into my space. It was tiring, but also fun.
After filling more than twenty tanks with water, Zuo Ling stopped. She was afraid that if she continued filling them, she might not be able to lift her arm tomorrow.
Continuing forward, when they reached a deserted area, the Tank 500 moved into the space and replaced with a van.
The moment Zuo Ling saw the woman, she regretted it. She regretted that she had driven a Tank 500 and couldn't have bought cattle and sheep from the women.
Each shepherd had his own grazing area. After walking a while, they encountered another large flock of sheep.
They went up to the shepherd and asked if they could buy a few sheep from him.
The shepherd's Mandarin wasn't fluent, so he called over a child running wildly in the distance to act as a translator so that he could understand.
"1000 each, take your pick."
Zuo Ling was stunned by the low price.
The sheep she bought in Kyoto cost an average of 4,000 yen each.
On second thought, it makes sense. It was bought in Kyoto, and it had passed through several hands. Each time it passed through, the seller would have skimmed off the top. By the time it reached her, 4,000 yen was already a very reasonable price.
I bought 20 sheep from the shepherd and, with the shepherd's help, drove them onto the cart.
Drive it to a secluded spot, electrify it, and send it into the spatial dimension.
This process was repeated, and soon 200 sheep were collected.
Zuo Ling originally wanted to buy a yak, but the yak's large size made him hesitate.
I stocked up as I went.
Highland barley wine, Tibetan carpets, Qaidam wolfberries, milk skin, Qilian yellow mushrooms, and Ledu sand fruit.
I didn't stock up on much of anything; I just wanted to preserve some local memories.
When I bought Ledu crabapples, I was reminded of the crabapple tree at my grandma's house.
Every fruit-bearing season, she would go to the vegetable garden countless times.
When fully ripe, the crabapple is translucent and has a sweet and sour taste, making it one of Zuo Ling's few snacks.
If it weren't for the mare's milk grapes from New South Wales, Zuo Ling could have stayed in Qingzhou for a month longer.
When they left Qingzhou, the 1,000 water tanks in the space were about half full.
During the journey, she did not deliberately search for energy crystals, nor did she go to any larger cities.
The power of the reclusive family is unimaginable; I fear they might set a trap for me again.
She was too weak to be provoked, so she could only avoid him.
Wandering around at my own pace, stopping whenever I came across a stall selling jade, I would take a few glances at it.
No matter how powerful a hermit family is, it's difficult for them to plant spies all over the countryside.
In recent days, there have been almost no results, with only two low-level energy crystals received.
Zuo Ling was anxious, but there was nothing she could do.
Hoping to find something in New South Wales, a jade-producing region.
Upon entering New South Wales, Zuo Ling first went to the cotton-producing areas.
When I was in Kyoto, I was really envious of New South Wales cotton, so there's no reason why I wouldn't stock up on it now that I'm in New South Wales.
We can't buy energy crystals as recklessly as we did at the beginning. If we don't stockpile some supplies, the 80 million in our account might not be able to be spent.
They found out about the largest cotton producer in the area and went directly to their door.
"5 million worth of cotton, oh, my guest from afar, you are my most honored guest, I have been neglected, I have been neglected."
The cotton farmer was a Kazakh man with a face that was both shrewd and kind.
Cotton is a basic commodity, just like rice and flour, which everyone needs, yet it is very cheap.
5 million can buy nearly 400 tons of cotton.
The cotton farmer led Zuo Ling to one of his warehouses and said to Zuo Ling:
“My esteemed guest, this contains my finest cotton, 380 tons, no less.”
Zuo Linggang emerged from the black coal mountain and turned to enter the white cotton mountain.
Cotton is lightweight; 380 tons is a huge pile if you don't see it.
As I walked along, the soft, warm touch made me reluctant to leave.
There was too much cotton, and Zuo Ling didn't want to load it in one trip after another with the small truck. Even if she just went through the motions, she would be exhausted to the point of vomiting blood.
New South Wales is sparsely populated, and cotton farmers' warehouses are located in remote areas, often with separate entrances and yards.
Zuo Ling asked the cotton farmer, "Could you give me the warehouse key? I'll send someone to pick it up."
The cotton farmer readily agreed: "No problem, that's a very simple matter. Do you need me to leave someone to help you load the truck?"
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