Chapter 134 This Night

That night.

Inside the wooden cottage, at the dining table.

Four-year-old Lev stared blankly at the egg in front of him.

At dusk, his father had suddenly run home overjoyed, grabbed him, picked up his younger brother, and dashed triumphantly out of the wooden cottage, running all the way until they reached the strip-farms.

There were so many people at the strip-farms!

It was the first time Lev had ever seen so many people.

So many people crying, laughing, and making a commotion.

Feeling a little scared, Lev wanted to reach out for his mother, but she was busy lifting up the leaves over and over again, peering underneath.

Lev wanted to find his father, but his father was too busy laughing and chatting endlessly with the uncles nearby.

Lev wanted to find his older sister, but she was nowhere to be found.

"Don't look for Sister, she went to find Grace," his older brother had said.

Who was Grace? Why did Sister need to find Grace? His brother didn't answer, only reached out and patted Lev's head.

"The buckwheat at home has grown so many seeds, everyone is happy."

"Look over there, that's a beehive, the beehive Ross moved."

"The steward lord is coming, let's make way quickly."

"The reverend lord is coming too."

"Ross! It's Ross! Lev, look quickly!"

His brother had said a great many things and told Lev a great many things.

The things with leaves and flowers were called buckwheat, and one mustn't step inside them;

The dark things with creatures flying in and out were called beehives; they would bite, but they made the buckwheat grow well;

The people wearing different clothes with a large crowd following behind them were the steward lords, and one had to step aside to the edge of the path;

Such people were sometimes also called the reverend lords, and one had to step aside to the edge of the path just the same;

Amidst so many words and so many things, the one thing Lev remembered most clearly was: there was another kind of person, not very tall, with his face and body exceptionally clean, walking out from the light, while everyone shouted his name at the top of their lungs, his father smiled, his brother cheered, and his mother wept. That person was called Ross, Ross Moer. When you saw Ross, you had to step aside to the edge of the path, you had to call his name, and you had to thank him.

By the time night fell, an egg had appeared in front of Lev.

"This egg is for you and your younger brother to eat," his mother said.

Someone else arrived. His father was holding his younger brother, walking outside to talk with the person who had come.

Lev stared blankly at the egg.

Lev had eaten an egg once before.

It was delicious.

His mother went off to prepare the evening meal.

Lev desperately wanted to eat the egg.

So, Lev cautiously peeled off a fingernail-sized piece of eggshell and sucked on the shell inside his mouth.

Once the fingernail-sized piece of eggshell was eaten, Lev went back to staring blankly at the egg.

After a short while, Lev peeled off another tiny bit of eggshell.

Then Lev peeled off a slightly larger piece of eggshell.

Lev began peeling off large patches of eggshell.

Once the eggshell was finished, Lev cautiously peeled off a layer of the inner membrane.

When the membrane was also eaten, Lev cautiously peeled off a bit of the egg white.

And just like that, Lev finished eating the entire egg.

His father came in, carrying his younger brother.

Looking at the empty dining table and the traces at the corner of Lev's mouth, the younger brother burst into tears.

Lev hugged his head and lay down on the floor, preparing for a beating from his father.

His father did not beat Lev; instead, he handed his own egg to the younger brother.

His mother wept.

That night.

Also in a wooden cottage, at the dining table.

"No way!"

The second son slapped the dining table heavily: "The strip-farms were already divided days ago, why change them now?"

"We're not just swapping directly," his mother soothed. "Didn't your older brother explain? That strip-farm a bit past the public land, right by the edge of the forest—that one will be yours from now on."

"I don't want it!" the second son refused without a moment's hesitation.

"We'll add the strip-farm near the middle-water bend as well," the eldest son upped the ante.

"Still don't want it!" the second son refused once more.

"Then what do you want?" the eldest son asked.

"I don't want anything!" The second son shook his head frantically: "I just want the one that was originally assigned to me!"

"Must you have that one?" the eldest son asked.

"Must!" the second son answered with finality.

"If you insist on that one, it's not entirely out of the question," the eldest son sneered, "you'll have to cede two more strip-farms to me in compensation!"

"Why?" The second son was filled with indignation. "The strip-farm was assigned to me fair and square, why should I compensate you with other land?"

"Why? Why you know well enough in your heart!" The eldest son was equally furious. "Just because that strip-farm borders Ross's strip-farm!"

"So what?"

"So what? Everyone heard the reverend lord's words clearly at dusk—Ross is going to continue moving beehives very soon. Do you still have any doubt in your mind about where the beehives will be moved next, and which side's fields will receive them first?"

That night.

Inside the wooden cottage, at the dining table.

Having finished a portion of porridge much larger and much thicker than usual, Hansel put down his wooden bowl and contentedly patted his belly.

"About that—" Richard turned to look at his wife, who had finished her evening meal earlier and was already tidying up the house, "how many beans are left in the house?"

"Not very many."

"Drag them out and let's see."

His wife, whose belly had already been visibly enlarged for several months, walked over to the side of the bed and dragged out the earthenware jar containing the beans.

"Hmm." Hansel picked up a basket from the corner, walked over to the earthenware jar, and began loading beans into the basket.

The family's gazes instantly focused on Hansel.

"What is it, Hansel?" the wife asked. "What are you loading beans for?"

"Packing a little to send over to Scott's family."

"What for?!" the son blurted out immediately.

"Because he exchanged strip-farms with our family to work on," Hansel replied while continuing to shovel beans.

"But," the son asked in bewilderment, "wasn't that because Scott wanted to marry off his daughter and specially asked to swap with us?"

"That's right," Hansel nodded. "However, now I am the one who wants him to keep swapping with us."

"Why?" The son was even more confused.

"So that the remaining flowers on the buckwheat can yield just as many wheat seeds," Hansel explained.

"But didn't the reverend lord say it must be because of the beehives?"

"Being careful is never wrong!" Hansel finally raised his head and looked at his son. "Look at the strip-farms over there—the few households with the most seed yield, our family, Richard's family, Rachel's family, and even Sanchez's family, are all farming on exchanged strip-farms!"

"Ross's family didn't exchange! Besides, the buckwheat stalks in his family's strip-farm yielded the most seeds of all! More than any other strip-farm!"

"You—" Looking at his son, who held his neck high as if he had discovered some incredible truth, Hansel felt his temples throbbing painfully.

"You think Ross's family didn't exchange strip-farms! Ross's family! Ross! Is Ross someone you can compare to? How on earth did I spawn such a fool of a son!"

Sighing deeply, Hansel helplessly turned his head away.

Fortunately.

Judging by the look of his wife's belly, it was indeed looking more and more like it would be a daughter.

That night.

The church.

Inside the room built of square stones, several lit rushes emitted a soft glow.

Rev. Praia and Steward Evariste sat before the table.

The head bailiff, the scribe, and the bailiff stood beside the table.

Wu Qingchen and Andre stood a little further back.

On the table surrounded by them all, nearly twenty buckwheat stalks were laid out in a row.

At the very front were the buckwheat stalks plucked from Wu Qingchen's family's strip-farm, where the seed-bearing rate had increased by nearly threefold.

Next were the buckwheat stalks from the strip-farms of Richard, Hansel, and Sanchez, with seed-bearing rates increased by about twofold.

Following those were buckwheat stalks whose seed-bearing rates increased anywhere from eighty percent to one and a half times.

The final few stalks showed seed-bearing rate increases ranging from ten to fifty percent.

Cross-referenced with the locations of the strip-farms recorded on the sheepskin scroll, the pattern of the increasing seed-bearing rates of the buckwheat stalks, along with the changing distances of these strip-farms from Wu Qingchen's family's strip-farm, revealed a trend so consistent it was clear at a glance.

"Look! Can there possibly be any other reason?"

Stabbing heavily at the location of the final strip-farm on the sheepskin scroll, Rev. Praia's bright, piercing gaze locked firmly onto the steward: "Aside from the beehives, what else could it be?"

"I know, I don't need to look at this, I knew by dusk," Steward Evariste said, still looking quite hesitant as he stared at the sheepskin scroll. "Even so, granting that it's absolutely because of the beehives, is there any need to rush like this? Shouldn't we at least inform Lord Baron first? As for the village, we could try moving a few more hives first as a test—"

"Move how many?" Rev. Praia immediately pressed.

"Ten?" Evariste suggested. "Take half of the beehives that belong to us?"

"Too few!" Rev. Praia shook his head instantly.

"Twenty?" Evariste gritted his teeth. "At worst, we won't eat honey this year."

"Far too few!" Rev. Praia shook his head vigorously.

"Then how many do you want?"

"At least a hundred!" Rev. Praia threw out his bottom line.

"Cough—" Evariste choked on his breath. "A hundred! By the Lord, to move a hundred beehives directly without informing Lord Baron... Rev. Praia, your uncle, Lord Valles, will certainly come to visit me brandishing a whip!"

"You don't need to worry about that," Rev. Praia shook his head. "I will write a letter to my father and ask him to guarantee it for me."

"Write a letter to your father..." In an instant, several thoughts surged through the steward's mind, and a glimmer of understanding dawned upon him.

"Yes." Rev. Praia smiled and nodded.

This smile undoubtedly reinforced Steward Evariste's suspicions.

"I understand." Having figured out a certain problem, Evariste no longer fussed over the number of beehives, instead asking: "However, why must you move the beehives so quickly?"

"Because the buckwheat flowering period will not last much longer."

Though the indigenous people of the medieval world did not understand complex relations such as "pollen," "stamens," and "bisexual flowers," they had nevertheless accumulated practical experience regarding the fact that buckwheat flowers must appear first in order for buckwheat seeds to possibly be produced.

"Hmm," Evariste also understood. "Since you will write the letter, then you shall decide."

"Next—"

Next, Evariste and Praia simultaneously turned their heads to look in Wu Qingchen's direction: "Let us watch your student, let us witness the handiwork of our Ross."

That night.

The forest.

The night grew deeper.

Beside yet another strip-farm.

Erecting wooden poles, building a canopy, strapping down a beehive—with the experience of the previous three times, the task of moving a beehive no longer required the assistance of the cowherd. Four serfs from the livestock shed were already able to complete it with great adroitness.

Perhaps because at this very moment, the entire managerial hierarchy holding sway over the village of Ecrigny—the reverend, the steward, the head bailiff, the scribe, the bailiff, Wu Qingchen, and Andre—was watching, the livestock-shed serfs exerted themselves with extraordinary diligence, making the entire process flow as smoothly and briskly as moving clouds and flowing water.

Uncovering the hive entrance—the swarm flies out—the swarm circles the hive—the swarm returns to the hive.

As the swarm finally settled back into the hive, the serfs cheered in unison.

A dozen paces away, beneath the bright torches, having witnessed the prior practice, the meticulous preparations, and the smooth execution, Rev. Praia and Steward Evariste nevertheless furrowed their brows at the same time.

"Ross," Praia asked, "were the previous beehives all moved this way?"

"Yes," Wu Qingchen nodded, "all of them."

"In that case," Praia mused aloud, "it takes quite a long time."

"I'm sorry, lord," Wu Qingchen showed a somewhat embarrassed expression. "This is a clumsy method, and it is rather troublesome."

"No," Praia shook his head. "The method is quite good. It would just be even better if it could be done a bit faster."

"If we put more muscle into it," Wu Qingchen hesitated, "we should be able to move two to three in a single night."

"Far too few!"

Given a baseline of a hundred hives, that was far, far too few!

"It doesn't matter." Standing a little further back and pointing at the serfs who had just finished their work, Evariste suddenly said: "Didn't Ross just say so a moment ago? These fellows only need to be taught for a day or two to master it. Ecrigny Village might lack many things, but as for lazybones... aren't there as many as you could possibly want?"