PCJ – Chapter 175 Hundred Herb Curse

“Summon the King of Hundred Herbs, hastily descend to my altar. Born on the second day of the second lunar month, at the hour of the dog, is the King of Hundred Herbs. Three daughters born with the placenta, go to Mount Tai to observe the hundred herbs, to Mount Heng to observe the hundred flowers. I invite the master to plant the valley seeds, the master to grow the seedlings. At the first watch, plant the valley seeds, at the second watch, grow the seedlings…”

The younger generation is truly formidable. Zhang Jiaohua summoned the gods, but it was to farm. If the ancestor awoke, who knows if he would spank a certain child. However, Zhang Jiaohua didn’t care. That night, a brand-new method of planting rice appeared in Meizi’ao Village. Poke a hole, drop two or three grains of valley seeds. The density strictly followed the instructions on the seed bag. The spacing between rows and plants was very precise. The strangest part was that after all the seeds were planted, not a single footprint was left in the paddy field. Zhang Jiaohua didn’t dirty his feet at all, leaving everything to Jin Hu and the others. These guys were tireless and shared Zhang Jiaohua’s enthusiasm for the novel task. The five spirits coordinated like an automated machine. Several sticks poked holes in the front, followed by precise placement of three seeds per hole, and the last one sprinkled a bit of soil diluted with plant ash into each hole. This was completely a method for planting beans. Planting valley seeds wasn’t supposed to be done this way.

Early in the morning, Zhang Manyin hurried over, “Jiaohua, where are the seeds?”

Zhang Jiaohua had just finished his morning exercise and cold bath, running out of the house wearing only shorts.

“Why aren’t you wearing clothes? Hurry and put them on, don’t catch a cold.” It was still very cold in the morning, Zhang Manyin quickly said.

“I’m not cold at all. I’m still sweating,” Zhang Jiaohua replied, unfazed by the cold.

“Even so, catching a cold means getting an injection,” Zhang Manyin threatened.

Only then did Zhang Jiaohua go inside to put on clothes, still dressing lightly.

“Where are the seeds? Didn’t I tell you to hang them on the beam?” Zhang Manyin looked around but saw no trace of the seeds.

“I planted them in the field,” Zhang Jiaohua said proudly.

“What! How did you plant them?” Zhang Manyin was distressed about the money spent on the seeds, almost ten yuan, now seemingly wasted.

“Just like planting beans, I did it last night,” Zhang Jiaohua led Zhang Manyin to the field, pointing to the neatly arranged small holes.

“You rascal…” Zhang Manyin started to scold Zhang Jiaohua but was stunned by what he saw.

In each hole in the field, there was already a shoot about the length of a finger. As an experienced farmer, Zhang Manyin could tell at a glance that these were indeed rice seedlings! But how could they sprout and grow so tall overnight? This defied all the common sense he knew.

“Grandpa, the seedlings are already out. There’s nothing wrong with planting them this way, right?” Zhang Jiaohua asked.

“How would I know?” Zhang Manyin replied gruffly. He had farmed all his life and never seen rice planted like this. How could he possibly know?

Zhang Manyin suspected his grandson must have used some strange magic. He had no idea what the yield would be with this method, but since the seeds were already planted and the seedlings had sprouted, it was all up to Zhang Jiaohua’s luck. Forget it, he would let his troublemaking grandson handle it however he wanted.

Without saying anything else, Zhang Manyin walked away with his hands behind his back.

Zhang Jiaohua, hoping for some praise from his grandfather, watched his retreating figure. Instead, he got a silent riddle and his grandfather left.

Zhang Jiaohua didn’t think there was anything wrong with his method. The ancestors were idle anyway, so why not ask for their help? It wouldn’t hurt to ask. Surely, the ancestors’ farming skills would be better than any regular farmer’s, right?

If the ancestors knew that Zhang Jiaohua doubted their farming abilities, they might just send down a bolt of lightning to strike the rebellious disciple.

In the morning, after cooking rice, he didn’t bother making dishes and simply climbed the Chinese toon tree to pick some tender green shoots. He mashed them in a mortar, added a bit of salt, and mixed in some chili sauce, making a simple breakfast side dish. Chinese toon leaves had a strong flavor; those who liked it found it a delicacy, while those who didn’t, wouldn’t touch it. But for the villagers of Meizi’ao Village, it was a convenient dish, easy to make and went well with rice.

With a full stomach, Zhang Jiaohua cheerfully headed to school, singing, “I go to school, never late.”

Zhang Jiaohua’s seat was no longer at the back. Though he wasn’t the tallest in class, he was among the tallest. But Zhang Jiaohua excelled academically. Even though Teacher Gong didn’t supervise Zhang Jiaohua much, he thought, if he didn’t want to study, sitting at the front would force him to listen. So, Zhang Jiaohua’s seat was placed right under the podium. Previously, except for the Dumb, no one wanted to sit with Zhang Jiaohua. But now, many did. He was top of the class, had talents, and earned more money than some adults. Naturally, everyone wanted to sit with him. Teacher Gong, perhaps considering Zhang Jiaohua’s feelings, arranged for the Dumb to be his deskmate. The Dumb now walked around proudly, as sitting under the podium meant the teacher’s attention.

Zhang Jiaohua didn’t like sitting under the podium. He used to read whatever he wanted, but now, under the podium, he felt embarrassed reading other books during class. So, he listened to the lecture, flipped through the book, and within one class, read from front to back without much difficulty. Besides the boring and awkward pinyin, nothing seemed challenging. Sometimes, Zhang Jiaohua didn’t understand why they had to learn pinyin. He could read and write characters already, so why learn pinyin? It was like teaching a person with healthy legs to use crutches. Pinyin was for those who couldn’t read, right?

Thinking of the boring symbols he learned in his dreams, he remembered how dull they were. If he hadn’t been beaten so many times in his dreams, how could he have remembered them? While following the teacher in writing pinyin, Zhang Jiaohua unconsciously drew a fire symbol on the paper. After finishing, the tip of the pen halted, and the paper burst into flames, scaring Teacher Gong so much that his legs gave out, and he sat down abruptly. But when he looked closely, there was no fire at all.