Old Zhang's words, "The earth doesn't recognize the emperor's might, only the sweat," were like a resounding slap across Xiao Che's imperial dignity. His face darkened, he took the ladle of water and drank it all in one gulp, his resentment and competitive spirit igniting like a wildfire.
He could accept losing to a hoe; it was simply a matter of having the wrong tool. But to lose to an old rascal's "farmer's experience"? Absolutely not!
He, Xiao Che, was a great ruler who was well-versed in military strategy and could strategize and win battles from afar! Could a mere vegetable garden be more complicated than the deployment of troops on the battlefield?
That night, Xiao Che locked himself in his study and began reading by candlelight. Lin Wanwan curiously peeked over and nearly popped her eyes out. He wasn't reading agricultural books or works on farming, but rather—*The Art of War*, *The Thirty-Six Stratagems*, and… *The Art of War*?!
"What... are you trying to do?" Lin Wanwan asked, looking completely bewildered.
Xiao Che raised his head, his eyes gleaming with a wise light that seemed to say, "Everything is under control." He pointed to the vegetable garden outside the window and, using his unique "artificial voice pack" system, announced a new battle plan:
"Old Zhang's methods are nothing more than the common experience of an ordinary farmer, completely without any method, and are nothing to fear. I will use military strategy to cultivate this land!"
Lin Wanwan: "..." She began to seriously suspect that retirement life had driven this retired emperor crazy.
The next morning, Xiao Che refused Old Zhang's "kind" offer of "farmer's experience" on how to select seeds and till the land. He adopted a smug look, as if to say, "How could you mere mortals understand my strategies?" which infuriated Old Zhang, who stormed back to his own courtyard.
Subsequently, Xiao Che began what can be described as an astonishing "military strategy for farming".
He first used lime powder to meticulously draw a standard... "Bagua" diagram on the vegetable garden. The eight directions—Qian, Kan, Gen, Zhen, Xun, Li, Kun, and Dui—were clearly marked.
Lin Wanwan stared in disbelief, "Why...why did you draw this?"
Xiao Che confidently explained, "This is the 'Eight Trigrams Formation' vegetable garden! According to the principles of mutual generation and restraint of the five elements, vegetables of different attributes are planted in corresponding positions. For example, radishes belong to earth and are planted in the Kun position; leafy greens belong to wood and are planted in the Zhen position... In this way, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth can be gathered, and the essence of the sun and moon can be collected. The vegetables that grow will definitely be extraordinary!"
He spoke with great conviction, as if he were not planting vegetables, but setting up an unparalleled formation that could defy fate.
Lin Wanwan had completely given up on arguing with him. She decided to treat it as watching a large-scale, immersive performance art show.
Over the next few days, Xiao Che completely turned that vegetable garden into his sandbox. He didn't sow the seeds by hand, but used a small wooden spoon to precisely "place" the seeds onto the "lane" he had planned. He didn't water the plants by splashing water, but used a small spray bottle to simulate "rain from heaven," which he euphemistically called "precise irrigation to avoid flooding the army."
The most outrageous thing is that, in order to prevent weeds from growing, he actually used small stones to create a circle around the vegetable garden... a "maze"!
Seeing his serious and focused demeanor, as if he were commanding a war to destroy a nation, Lin Wan-wan's daily pleasure was to sit on a small stool, eat sunflower seeds, and watch the show from the sidelines.
A few days later, the stark contrast between the two vegetable plots became unsurprisingly apparent.
On the other side of the dividing line, General Zhang's vegetable garden was still a vibrant scene. The lush green seedlings were arranged neatly, straight and level, like soldiers waiting for inspection, swaying gracefully in the breeze, full of vitality.
On this side of the dividing line, Xiao Che's "Bagua Formation" vegetable garden was a scene of utter devastation.
Scattered and crooked.
The few tender shoots that finally sprouted looked sickly, their leaves yellowish, as if they were about to die at any moment. To make matters worse, because he had boldly planted seeds of several kinds of weeds as "surprise troops" when he sowed the seeds, the ground was now overgrown with weeds, which were growing stronger than his precious seedlings and had almost completely submerged the poor "regular army".
His prized "Bagua Formation" had long been pecked into a mess by the few hens from next door, who had wandered over and were considered the "vanguard of breaking the formation." Chicken droppings and messy footprints were scattered throughout the "formation," proclaiming the crushing defeat of the human theorists in this "human-chicken war."
Xiao Che squatted in front of his only "gateway to life," where a few half-dead vegetable seedlings still survived, his face as solemn as water.
He reached out and gently stroked a vegetable seedling that had been eaten away by insects, leaving only half a leaf. His expression was as if he were caressing a loyal and brave soldier who was seriously wounded and on the verge of death.
He remained silent for a long time before finally raising his head and looking at Lin Wanwan, who was trying so hard to suppress her laughter that she was almost internally injured.
His "artificial voice pack," carrying a profound sorrow of being betrayed by the whole world, slowly began to play:
"Wanwan, I suspect..." He paused, as if searching for a suitable word to describe this inexplicable defeat, "I suspect... this land has 'deceived the emperor'!"
"Pfft—cough cough cough!"
Lin Wanwan couldn't hold back any longer. She choked on a sunflower seed, coughing violently, and tears streamed down her face.
Deceiving the emperor?!
How could he even think of that!
After suffering a crushing defeat in the matter of farming, this retired emperor didn't reflect on the problems with his own "military strategy," but instead blamed the land for not having a high enough "political awareness"?!
"Are you... are you alright?" Seeing that she was coughing so badly, Xiao Che quickly got up to pat her back, his face showing a hint of confusion, as if he didn't understand why she was reacting so strongly.
Lin Wan-wan finally caught her breath, her face flushed red. Looking at Xiao Che's innocent face, which seemed to say "It's not my fault, it's the land's fault," she really didn't know what to say.
She cleared her throat, deciding to deliver the final, fatal blow from her "ally" to her "theoretical" husband.
She suppressed a laugh and said in a serious tone, "Your Majesty, please don't rush to condemn the landowner. I just overheard General Zhang from next door say something, and I'm not sure if I should say it."
"Speak," Xiao Che frowned.
Lin Wanwan suppressed a laugh, trying to make her tone sound sympathetic: "Old Zhang said that the vegetables you planted... well, they don't grow as well as his chickens, which eat them with gusto."
"..."
Xiao Che's face turned completely dark the moment he heard those words.
They don't even eat as much as his chicken?
This statement is a hundred times more insulting than if Old Zhang had told him to his face that he was "lazy and ignorant of farming"!
He turned around abruptly and, sure enough, saw the culprit, the incredibly fat old hen, swaggering into his "Bagua Formation," stretching its neck, and in one gulp, precisely plucked his only surviving seedling from the "gate of life" into its mouth, then clucked triumphantly twice, as if showing off its victory.
Xiao Che's pupils contracted instantly.
A surge of anger, his imperial majesty utterly crushed, ignited within him!
He lost to a hoe, but he endured it!
He lost to the land, and he accepted it!
But now, he can't even compare to a chicken?!
This is intolerable!
The former emperor, pointing at the fat chicken swaggering in his vegetable garden, exuded a chilling murderous aura. He forced out a sentence through gritted teeth, his voice so cold it seemed capable of dropping shards of ice:
"I...I want to eat 'Beggar's Chicken' tonight!"
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