novelinnhs Chapter 134 134
Chapter 134 134
Their cameras don't speak, but every frame tells a story about what they care about. The third most popular comment was short: "Leeks: Am I now a native?"
It also trended on Weibo with the hashtag "#XuexueFarm". The collection garnered over 20 million views in less than 24 hours after its release.
Someone extracted a clip of bamboo basket weaving and made it into a GIF, captioned "I could watch this weaving rhythm for a lifetime." Someone else created a six-grid comparison image of the entire process of sawing wood, sanding, and oiling the cutting board, making the changes immediately apparent.
Someone created a progress bar showing the entire process of broom grass being cut from the hillside and turned into brooms, marking the time point for each step. Someone else took a screenshot of a dried flower wreath hanging on the wall, adjusted it to the size of a phone wallpaper, and the comments were full of "requests for the original image." Someone singled out the scene of ridging and drawing white lines in a vegetable garden for recultivation, saying, "This is the healing scene for obsessive-compulsive disorder."
One long comment in the top comments section was pushed to the very top: "I grew up in the countryside, then went to school in the city, and haven't been back for a long time. I suddenly cried when I saw the broom grass video."
My grandma used to use this kind of broom when I was little. Every autumn, she would go to the hillside to cut broom grass and bundle it herself. The way she tied the broom, pressing her knee against the bundle of grass and pulling the rope, was exactly the same as in the video. Thank you for filming this.
It wasn't fully light yet. Su Peixue came out of the house, still warm from the blankets, with the blue towel draped over her shoulders, and went to the kitchen to boil water.
The firewood in the stove was pine wood that had been split yesterday. She used fire tongs to arrange the wood, struck a match, and threw it in. When the pine resin ignited, it crackled and sparked a few times. She placed the iron pot on the stove, poured in two ladles of cold water, and put the lid on to wait for the water to boil.
The bamboo grove outside the courtyard gate was half-lit by the morning light, while the other half remained in shadow. The wind rustled through the gaps in the bamboo stalks. While waiting for the water to boil in front of the stove, she turned the rough earthenware vase on the windowsill over. The few sprigs of wild forsythia she had placed there yesterday were still vibrant, their petals glistening with dew from the night before.
When Lin Ran came out of the house, Su Peixue had already poured hot water into the enamel basin and was soaking a blue towel in it.
The towel was the same blue one, used since summer vacation. The edges were frayed and the color had faded from washing, but it was folded neatly. She wrung out the towel and handed it to him. He took it and wiped his face, then she pulled him over and combed his hair a couple of times.
As he sat on the threshold tying his shoelaces, she stood beside him, drinking a cup of hot water. She glanced over the courtyard wall toward the vegetable garden and remarked that the sunlight was lovely today.
Lin Ran finished tying his shoelaces and went to the storage room to move his equipment. He unfolded the tripod, secured the gimbal, mounted the camera, and unscrewed the lens cap. The battery had been charged last night, and the memory card had been emptied last night as well. He carried the camera to the side of the vegetable garden, found a spot facing the edge of the field, inserted the tripod into the soil, and aimed the lens at the rows of furrows.
Su Peixue came out of the storage room carrying a bag of seeds. She had bought the seeds at the seed station in town last week. The bag was printed with pictures and names of vegetables—bok choy, spinach, garland chrysanthemum, lettuce, and cilantro.
She squatted down at the edge of the field, lining up the seed bags on the ridges, tapping her fingers back and forth between the bags a few times, as if she had already mentally assigned what to plant in each ridge. Then she stood up and picked up a hoe from under the persimmon tree.