Autumn arrived.
The leaves in the forest turned yellow, and the pasture grass in the fields withered.
In the farmland, waves of golden wheat rolled like the sea beneath the breeze.
The heavy ears of wheat bent the stalks so low they could barely lift their heads.
Whenever they passed this field, Rose Town's farmers found their eyes irresistibly drawn to its plump, round grains and golden stalks, each bearing thirty or forty kernels.
As harvest time drew nearer, more and more farmers gathered around the field to discuss it. Their heated conversations even reached Baron Connor's ears. The lord came to the edge of the field with his family and several knights, staring at the sight in disbelief.
"Oh God, these plots must yield at least 10 Taren each, right? Some miracle must have happened here. Only divine power could make this land grow so many ears of wheat!"
A noblewoman wearing a hooded, fitted gown, its long skirt supported by an enormous hoop and exposing her snowy bosom, covered her lips and cried out in shock.
"Mother, Steward Brunode said this land might have been cursed with dark magic by a witch. Only a witch's dark magic could make land that had never grown this much grain suddenly produce so much. So this grain is the fruit of the devil and must be burned!"
A five- or six-year-old boy with a face full of freckles shouted beside the noblewoman.
"Is that so, Brunode?" the noblewoman asked the steward doubtfully.
The short, fat steward Brunode bent at the waist and said fawningly, "Honorable Madam Madeline, I believe that is likely the case. This land has not produced so much grain in twenty years. Besides, I heard that Little Ryan, the one who planted it, is only six years old. How could he accomplish what even adults cannot? And some time ago, Little Ryan did many strange and absurd things in town. He even carried all that filthy, stinking manure back to his home. Everyone in town suspects that a witch must have secretly used dark magic to bewitch Little Ryan!"
Brunode delivered his conclusion with absolute certainty.
"Is that so? Oh God, I never thought those wicked witches would not even spare a six-year-old child." Madam Madeline clutched her chest, her face filled with fear.
"Kyle, bring Little Ryan here. I have something to ask him," Baron Connor said to a blond knight beside him, having realized the severity of the matter.
"Yes, my lord."
Before long, Zhou Ming, looking utterly lost and with "terror" in his eyes, was brought before Baron Connor by the knight.
"Little Ryan, speak! Were these wheat fields of yours cursed with dark magic by a witch? Have you already been secretly controlled by a witch?" Baron Connor asked sternly.
Zhou Ming trembled as he sprawled on the ground, repeatedly knocking his head against it. "No, my lord, no! No witch cast dark magic on me. I grew this wheat myself by finding a way."
"You dare lie to my face? Speak! Who exactly is the witch controlling you?" A trace of viciousness flashed across Baron Connor's face, and his right hand had already settled on the hilt of his Side Sword.
"Dear, Little Ryan is only a child. Don't frighten him like this."
As a mother of three, Madam Madeline was full of maternal warmth as she tried to persuade her husband. She crouched slightly, pulled Zhou Ming to his feet, took out a handkerchief to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes, and said kindly, "Little Ryan, tell me. How did you grow this wheat field?"
Only then did Zhou Ming stop crying and explain, point by point, everything that had led to him growing this wheat field.
"Cow dung?"
"You mean that after you put cow dung on this land, the wheat grew like this?"
"Impossible. Little Ryan is lying! No matter how useful cow dung is, one mu of land cannot possibly grow the grain of four mu." Steward Brunode flatly rejected the idea.
"It's true! I saw that wherever there was cow dung, the grass nearby grew tall and thick. So I thought: if I put this cow dung into the wheat field, would the wheat grow as plentifully and densely as that grass? So I collected the cow dung and sheep dung, crushed them up a little, and put some beneath every wheat seedling. Didn't that make all this wheat grow tall and dense too?"
The people around him nodded as they listened to Zhou Ming's explanation. It seemed to make some sense.
Several knights searched the nearby grassland as well. Sure enough, they found cow dung or other animal droppings in many patches of thick weeds.
"Clever Little Ryan!"
Madam Madeline scooped Zhou Ming into her arms and kissed his face several times, making the freckled five- or six-year-old boy beside them pout and snort heavily.
"Although what you said makes some sense, whether cow dung is useful can only be known after it has been used in the fields. If it is not, Little Ryan, do you know the consequences?"
Baron Connor had actually begun to believe what this six-year-old boy said. Yet as he looked at the boy, who seemed a little too clever, Baron Connor felt something strange. He always felt that this child was different from everyone else in his territory, though he did not know whether that was good or bad.
"Thank you, my lord! Thank you, my lord!"
Knowing he had been spared, Zhou Ming immediately kowtowed in profuse gratitude... and let out a long sigh of relief inside. He had finally passed this hurdle.
Very soon, with the "enthusiastic help" of many townspeople, Zhou Ming's six mu of wheat fields were completely harvested, threshed, and bagged in only half a day.
When it was weighed on the balance scale, cries of amazement rang out. The six mu of wheat fields had produced a full 70 Taren of grain, four times the yield of ordinary wheat fields!
Zhou Ming was quite satisfied. The land in this world isn't as barren as I imagined. I only made a few minor improvements to the planting methods and applied a little more fertilizer, yet the yield per mu reached more than 460 jin. There's still huge potential for increasing production. Farming in this world definitely has a bright future!
However, Zhou Ming also knew that an innocent man could get into trouble for possessing a treasure. The lords of this world were no decent people. It was fine to cultivate his fields a little better as long as he did not infringe upon their fundamental interests. But if he touched those interests and made them think of eliminating him as a "threat," then changing his strategy and figuring out how to survive would become the most urgent matter.
For now, he had planted a few good fields mainly to solve his food and clothing problems, and also to test the waters.
Of the 70 Taren of barley, he handed 42 Taren over to Tax Officer Dilak. Zhou Ming asked several kind neighbors to help carry the remaining 28 Taren of barley, which belonged to him, back to his home. Seeing the granary piled full with enough food for himself and his little sister to eat for a year, he felt much more at ease.
Less than two days later, when Madam Madeline at the lord's castle learned that only Zhou Ming and his three-year-old sister remained in his household, she shed a few sympathetic tears and had servants deliver a large sack of flour and a piece of smoked meat... There was certainly some sympathy involved, but it was also a small reward tacitly permitted by Baron Connor after Zhou Ming discovered the secret of cow dung increasing crop yields.
Not long afterward, more people in town began collecting cow dung. Some even copied Zhou Ming's household and dug manure pits outside their doors.
As for the nickname "Shit Ryan" that those little brats had called him, it had now become "Clever Little Ryan"...
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