The fields stretched out, one patch after another, unfolding into the distance.
The newly tilled soil was soft, and more than half of the seedlings had already been planted. Occasionally, farmers bent over in the laborious work of transplanting rice.
Fu Tian’s interest was piqued. Ignoring his attendants’ protests, he insisted on walking along the Field Path.
On both sides of the path grew weeds, and the soil was uneven and soft. The servant guiding him was worried he might get into trouble and kept urging him to stop.
Fu Tian found him too noisy and simply sent him back.
He actually wanted to test his somewhat strange Ability.
If he could understand the speech of flowers and plants, then what about these rice seedlings? Could he understand them too?
But from the moment he entered the fields, he hadn’t heard a single voice.
Logically, such a vast stretch of seedlings should be noisy.
Fu Tian quickened his pace and crouched down to examine the lush green seedlings. They stood quietly and upright, without a sound.
He reached out and gently touched the nearest seedling, muttering softly, “Why aren’t you speaking?”
The green seedling swayed slightly but remained silent.
“Could it be that they just can’t speak?” Fu Tian wondered inwardly.
“What are you saying?” Chu Xiangtian, following behind, caught only a few words.
Fu Tian was startled and abruptly stood up, replying guiltily, “Nothing at all!”
Chu Xiangtian said nothing but sighed slowly, concealing his suspicion behind a mask of cooperation. “Mm.”
Fu Tian didn’t dare speak recklessly after that and pretended to walk along the Field Path. The farmland was vast, and after a short while, he noticed a problem.
The first patch of fields he passed had noticeably more abundant water; the roots of the seedlings were submerged, vibrant and glossy green.
But the fields he saw now had only a shallow layer of water—barely enough to cover the roots. In higher spots, there was no water at all, just soft mud.
The seedlings in these fields also looked worse than before: shorter, less glossy green, and less appealing.
Fu Tian frowned. This patch was probably too far from the river; the diverted river water was insufficient by the time it reached these fields, so the seedlings lacked the water supply that the earlier fields enjoyed.
After circling the Field Path once more, Fu Tian faintly heard some fragmented sounds. He followed the source and saw that the seedlings in a few neighboring fields were weakly crying out in thirst.
The sound wasn’t loud—just the collective voice of several fields—but it seemed considerable.
These fields were even drier than before, with almost no flowing water visible. It was no wonder even the usually silent seedlings couldn’t help but start making noise.
Fu Tian crouched and listened for a while. The seedlings’ voices were monotonous, repeatedly uttering “thirst.”
Unlike the plants he’d heard before, they lacked spirit. He wasn’t sure if this was because they hadn’t fully grown or simply lacked innate sentience.
“Let’s go back.” Fu Tian stood up, his long brows knit together, thoughts swirling in his mind as he turned around.
He had read many books on agriculture and already understood the cause.
Walking while thinking, he inadvertently stepped on a collapsing patch of the Field Path, twisted his ankle, lost his balance, and fell forward into the field.
Chu Xiangtian, quick and alert, grabbed him before he could fall into the muddy paddy.
“My ankle seems sprained.”
Fu Tian grabbed Chu Xiangtian’s arm, barely able to stand on one foot. His eyes reddened as sharp pain radiated from his ankle. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.
“Don’t move.”
Chu Xiangtian took off his outer robe and spread it on the ground, then gently laid Fu Tian down on the clean cloth. Only then did he examine the foot that had sunk into the soft, waterlogged path.
The Field Path was soaked and soft. Fu Tian’s boots were caked with thick mud. Chu Xiangtian told him to endure the pain for now and carefully removed the muddy boots.
Fu Tian’s pale ankle was clearly swollen red. Chu Xiangtian pressed lightly, “Does it hurt?”
Fu Tian gasped sharply, tears nearly spilling over his reddened eyes. He was not good with pain, and Chu Xiangtian’s pressing made him want to kick him with his uninjured foot.
No need to answer; Chu Xiangtian saw his reaction and understood. Clearing his throat, he used his robe’s hem to dry Fu Tian’s foot, then crouched down and invited him to lie on his back.
Fu Tian made a low humming sound but obediently wrapped his arms around Chu Xiangtian’s neck.
Chu Xiangtian supported his bent legs and carried him back to the estate.
They walked far. After some time, Chu Xiangtian could barely make out the distant manor.
Fu Tian worried that Chu Xiangtian might not be able to carry him, and said, “Maybe you should put me down and I’ll walk myself.”
“How? Hop on one foot?” Chu Xiangtian teased with a smile, gently bouncing him.
Fu Tian glared and bumped his head against Chu Xiangtian’s lightly, then obediently stayed quiet.
***
Back at the estate, the servants at the door were startled to see Fu Tian carried in and hurriedly called for a doctor.
Fu Tian stopped them, saying, “It’s just a sprain. No need for the doctor, just get me some medicinal wine.”
The servants hesitated but nodded and went to fetch the wine, while also sending someone to find the doctor just in case.
Once Fu Tian was carried back to his room, the servants brought the medicinal wine. Dai Fu served hot water, and Chu Xiangtian personally washed Fu Tian’s foot clean.
Fu Tian pulled back his foot, feeling awkward and stammered, “Let… let Dai Fu do it.”
Chu Xiangtian gripped his foot firmly and casually said, “No need. I’m quicker; I’ll wash it clean and then rub on the wine.”
Fu Tian had no choice but to stay still, though his toes curled shyly.
Chu Xiangtian rolled up the pant leg and lightly circled Fu Tian’s slender, pale ankle with his thumb and index finger. He thought to himself, this would look good with a gold chain.
Though his mind wandered, his hands worked steadily, gently drying the ankle before pouring some medicinal wine into his palm, warming it, and massaging it on.
The sudden rub made Fu Tian’s eyes fill with tears and spill over. Seeing this, Chu Xiangtian comforted him, “You have to rub it well for it to heal, or the swelling will get worse.”
“Then go easy…,” Fu Tian wiped his tears with his sleeve, his eyes red like a little rabbit’s.
Chu Xiangtian paused his hands, frowning, “If I go easy, it won’t heal.”
When the swelling finally eased, Fu Tian’s eyes were still red and teary, looking utterly pitiful and wronged.
Dai Fu wrung out a cloth to wipe his face, and Fu Tian sniffled, muffled through the cloth, “Thanks.”
Chu Xiangtian raised an eyebrow, “Not even looking at me? Are you cursing me in your heart?”
Fu Tian was silent as he switched to a clean cloth to cover his eyes.
This time, Chu Xiangtian thought: This ungrateful little master really does hold grudges.
The doctor wasn’t needed after all. When Fu Youqin and Fu Shuyue arrived, they saw Fu Tian’s red eyes and pitied him, reproaching, “Why did you run off to the fields like that?”
Fu Tian mumbled that he was just taking a casual look.
Fu Youqin sighed and gently patted his forehead, “Don’t run around these next few days.”
He thought to himself, of course he’d run around—there was still much to do. But in front of his mother, he had to behave obediently. So, he nodded and said, “Okay.”
With his injured foot, it was inconvenient to go anywhere. After coaxing Fu Youqin for a while and seeing her off, Fu Tian immediately told Chu Xiangtian, “Carry me to the main hall.”
Then he sent Dai Fu to summon the Steward and several veteran farmers to the main hall.
“Just said to rest up, and now you want to go to the hall? What’s this about?” Chu Xiangtian smiled helplessly.
Fu Tian glared at him and urged firmly, “I have business. Hurry!”
Sighing, Chu Xiangtian resigned himself to carrying the domineering young master and got him to the hall before the Steward and farmers arrived.
Fu Tian tidied his somewhat disheveled clothes and sat solemnly in the master’s seat.
His reputation had already spread. The Stewards lowered their heads nervously, recalling if they’d done anything wrong.
Besides the Stewards, three old farmers came—experienced and taciturn men, all focused on farming. Suddenly summoned to meet the lord, they were unsure how to act and quietly followed the Stewards, heads bowed.
Fu Tian’s attitude was good. He called the Steward over mainly to inquire about the irrigation of the fields.
From what he saw earlier, the fields farthest from the river were poorly irrigated, which explained why the yield per mu was almost a stone less.
He needed to find a way to fix this. The books mentioned digging canals to divert water, but with such vast fields, how to dig, and how much to dig, were practical questions that needed answering.
Fu Tian knew his limits, so he invited the Steward and the three farmers to discuss.
Seeing their uneasy expressions, Fu Tian smiled to reassure them before getting down to business.
“This morning, I toured the fields and found many with insufficient irrigation. That’s why I called you all here—to see if there’s a good solution.”