As time passed, the weather became colder.

Ten days later, the yellow bud rice was harvested. Chen Mu looked at the five bags of yellow bud rice in front of the wooden house and sighed.

"If it were in the lower courtyard of Tongtianhe, how could it be possible to harvest more than 1,700 catties of yellow bud rice from these five acres of land."

"Look at it now, I'm thankful to be able to have 600 catties!"

The old man Yang, who hadn't seen him for a long time, put down the half-person-high black pottery pot: "You can be content."

As he spoke, he glanced around, and then pointed at Chen Mu with his chin.

The content of this chapter is being updated...