Song Tan’s Chronicle - Chapter 107.2

Since her phone was her main way of contacting customers, recharging it was more urgent.

But just as she reached her doorstep, Qiao Qiao ran up to her. “Sister, Dad says he wants you to go up the back mountain.”

Then he automatically reached out for her sickle, “I’ll go cut the vetch.”

He did this every morning and was quite used to it. Although Song Tan cared for her younger brother, she didn’t spoil him. She handed over the sickle, “Don’t forget to carry the baskets over too.”

Then, she headed straight for the back mountain.

There, the small excavator was still diligently at work.

Zhang Yanping must have found a reliable person for the job; the worker was out early, stayed late, and did the work of one and a half men.

For that reason, even if he ate three bowls at each meal, Wu Lan was still all smiles at home.

When Song Tan reached the back mountain, she saw that besides her father, Song Sancheng, there was also a stranger standing on the hillside.

The man was thin, of short stature, with a slightly stooped back, standing just over five feet tall. His hair was cropped in an old-fashioned buzz cut, which could be done at the town barber for five yuan, including a shave.

He was wearing the same kind of shirt and black trousers that Song Sancheng often wore for work. When he saw Song Tan, his wrinkled face showed a look of embarrassment.

“Tan Tan,” Song Sancheng introduced, “You might not recognize him, but this is Uncle Zhang.”

He then pointed toward the opposite hilltop, where there was a simple red-brick house.

“Your Uncle Zhang lives up there.”

The mountain land that Song Tan had leased had a unique terrain, resembling a closed ring. The inner circle was like a bowl, with the pond at the bottom.

Around the pond were several acres of vegetable fields, and the slopes around were barren hills.

But the entire area was integrated.

The back mountain of Song Tan’s home, combined with the leased area, occupied less than a quarter of this bowl-shaped land.

From one side of the mountain, you could clearly see the scenery on the opposite side.

Looking at this solitary household and its location, Song Tan instantly realized who this Uncle Zhang was—he was from the Zhang Wang family that people had been talking about recently.

“Uncle Zhang,” Song Tan greeted him politely. Even though the man was her father’s age, he looked worn and haggard, as if he were at least ten years older.

What could he need from her?

Song Tan even thought it might be about borrowing money. But upon reflection, she knew that the villagers had their principles. They would never borrow money from a younger person, especially a girl like her.

As she was pondering, she noticed that Zhang Wang looked increasingly embarrassed, rubbing his hands together in distress. He pointed toward the large piles of weeds, shrubs, and branches they had stacked on the edge of the mountain.

“These… these shouldn’t be wasted. You can use them for composting.”

“Are you planning to burn them?”

Song Tan had intended to do just that.

Ash from burnt plant matter could kill bacteria and insects and served as an excellent fertilizer. Leaving these things around would only attract pests and bacteria. Burning them was the easiest solution.

Zhang Wang quickly shook his head, “No, don’t burn them! It would be a waste! I know how to compost!”

He finally got to his point and nervously rubbed his hands again:

“I heard Old Li is helping your family look after the rice fields, so I was wondering if I could also work for your family.”

Afraid she might refuse, he quickly added:

“I’m really good at composting! Every year, people come to ask me for help. I have several piles already at the edge of my field. If you need them, you can take them all.”

“I can do other farm work too, as your father knows.”

Nothing more, nothing more. I’ll really try hard at the end of the month. I still owe you more chapters. But these days… It’s not up to me, depends on my health.