Song Liyun took out the "small bag," and the haystack disappeared the moment she touched it.
Song Zhenping and the others put the bag back in her arms, then swallowed hard and asked in shock, "Xiaoyun, how much can that bag of yours actually hold?"
Every time he saw this divine object, he was amazed; this time, he was even more surprised.
The fodder from 100 acres of land, plus the straw we bought, is enough to fuel the whole village's firewood for two years.
In his mind, no matter how much the "little lucky bag" could hold, it was impossible to fill it all at once, but it did, leaving only three large white areas.
Seeing that Song Zhenping was curious about how much the "lucky bag" could hold, Song Liyun was actually wondering how much it could hold as well.
In the apocalypse, her space was only a dozen cubic meters, without air, and was essentially a portable safe.
But since it transmigrated here, its size has increased, turning into a gray, half-basketball court.
Moreover, she discovered that as more and more of the world's original elements were added, the space expanded like a full sphere.
Just like now, it's already packed full, but if you squeeze it in, you can still feel that there's still a little space.
Perhaps this is the result of the absence of high technology and chemical pollution.
However, she couldn't talk about these things with Song Zhenping, so she changed the subject: "Brother, the things here are missing. What will you explain to people if they ask?"
Song Zhenping's attention was indeed diverted, and he said with a relaxed expression, "These are all mine. No one else has asked except me, and even if they do, I can choose not to answer."
The happiness of his family and his financial resources gave Song Zhenping the confidence to speak.
He's the major shareholder in the village's acorn workshop, and the people who go out to work work under Song Liyun's name, so who would want to cause him trouble?
Making up any excuse is considered giving face.
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