Interstellar to 80s: A Scientist's Farming Mission

An Ning returned to her dorm, carrying the food box Jiang Xia had given her, and had a meal with Luo Li, who had just come back from class.

By the end of the meal, Luo Li was stunned.

She stared at the exquisite meal box on the desk, her mouth hanging open slightly as the delicious aftertaste lingered.

"I... I thought the school cafeteria was the best food I’d ever eaten."

"Aren’t you from Old Beijing?"

An Ning had barely finished asking when she locked eyes with Luo Li, already knowing the answer.

"You’re poor."

"I’m poor."

The two shared a knowing smile. Luo Li cleaned up the food box, while An Ning packed a few items of clothing, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and left.

Having taken time off from school, eaten her fill, and packed her bags, An Ning first went to the classroom to give Zhou Xiaoshan a new notebook, collecting his last assignment while she was there.

At the classroom door, Zhou Xiaoshan clutched the notebook, his knuckles white. "Master, have mercy."

"Relax."

An Ning said gently, "You know I won’t."

Zhou Xiaoshan whimpered as he released the notebook. He pointed pitifully at his stomach. "Master, I’ve lost weight!"

"Hmm, you look much better than before. Keep it up."

An Ning, feigning ignorance of his unspoken plea, departed with a flourish.

Zhou Xiaoshan clutched the new notebook from An Ning, on the verge of tears.

’So this is how tiring college is! The worst part is, An Ning won’t let me skip class! She even demands I take detailed notes in every single lecture.’

Although Zhou Xiaoshan didn’t understand the reason for her arrangements, he obeyed.

After leaving, An Ning met Yu Zheng, who was waiting for her at the school gate.

After receiving An Ning’s call, Yu Zheng had arranged their upcoming itinerary. An Ning didn’t need to worry about a thing; her full-time steward was officially on duty.

THUNK. The car door slammed shut.

Yu Zheng walked around to the driver’s side, and after getting in, he said, "Zhou Yicheng is ready. They’re waiting for you."

"Let’s go."

An Ning, sitting in the back, opened a book. With a pencil in hand, she began to write and sketch.

The car soon arrived at the Zhou family’s home. Zhou Yicheng, now mostly recovered from his injuries, personally opened the door. He was wearing an olive-drab dress uniform.

Before stepping inside, An Ning hesitated for a moment, conscious of her own attire. In the end, she simply took out her notebook and went in.

Inside the Zhou family’s study, Zhou Yicheng introduced An Ning to his two guests. The four of them then had a discussion about the micro-device.

"Comrade An Ning, your camera device is excellent."

"This is just the first generation. I have better models that are virtually undetectable."

An Ning’s direct and bold statement was right up their alley.

To many, her words would have sounded immodest or even arrogant, but to them, it was a display of confidence.

One of the two men was a professional designer. After a brief discussion with An Ning, he turned to the man beside him—who was clearly his superior—and said excitedly, "Black tea, black tea."

The leader gave a speechless, awkward smile, but the technician didn’t seem to notice, still repeating the two words excitedly. "Black tea."

Finally, the leader just explained it bluntly. "Black tea is our code word. Black tea means you’re incredibly skilled. Green tea means all style, no substance."

An Ning raised the teacup before her. "Thank you," she said to the technician who was still repeating "black tea."

"No, no, no, no," he stammered, "you... I’m no match for you."

Her first meeting with the other party’s personnel went very smoothly.

However, An Ning didn’t offer any new designs. She wasn’t looking for a private meeting, but an official response.

She wanted an official status.

At the door of the Zhou family home, An Ning shook the leader’s hand.

"I trust we’ll be seeing each other again soon."

"I won’t have any time for the next two weeks, and it’s unlikely you’ll be able to reach me. If your side comes to a decision, please contact my steward, Yu Zheng."

An Ning introduced Yu Zheng, who professionally produced a business card. The man seemed to appreciate An Ning’s straightforward personality and accepted the card without any hesitation.

The two parties parted ways, looking forward to their next meeting.

The visitors left first. An Ning had also planned on leaving, but Zhou Yicheng asked her to stay and meet one more person.

They were in another room in the Zhou home. A man of average height—about five-foot-nine—with a face that was unmemorable at first glance, sat across from An Ning.

"These are what I’ve shot recently. Don’t worry, I developed the photos myself. The negatives are here. It’s your choice whether you want to destroy them or keep them."

"Thank you. This is your payment for the job."

An Ning placed a stack of cash on the table, but the man didn’t take it.

"I have another request."

An Ning had intended to open the large envelope, but she looked at the man, waiting for him to continue.

"I heard you practice Feng Shui?"

"Yes."

An Ning did not deny it. She had never hidden it, and she was not surprised the man knew. In fact, she hoped more people would know.

The man took a partially burned photograph and a worn-out hair tie from inside his jacket.

"I want to ask, is she still... alive?"

The man’s eyes held a mixture of hope, fear, and the agonizing conflict of wanting to know the truth.

"I’ll try."

An Ning took out five Copper Coins. After asking for the woman’s birth details, she began the divination.

’This is a real test of my Feng Shui skills.’

As An Ning used her Feng Shui abilities in earnest for the first time, she felt a strange, profound connection to the mystical. It also reminded her that she still owed her teacher a disciple.

’I should find that history teacher from the train.’

The thought passed in a flash. An Ning focused her mind and continued the divination.

An hour later, An Ning opened her eyes, her forehead beaded with a cold sweat.

’In that moment, she finally understood why there were so few practitioners in the esoteric arts, and even fewer with true ability.’

’The mental toll alone was more than any ordinary person could bear.’

"She... is alive."

Three words. They released the man from half a lifetime of suffering.

"Good. That’s wonderful. As long as she’s alive... that’s all that matters. As long as she’s alive."

"Would you like me to point you in the right direction?"

The man’s eyes widened. He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward.

"Can you do that?"

"I can."

An Ning wrote a general direction and location on a piece of paper and slid it across to the man.

"With your skills, you should be able to find her."

"I can! I can! Thank you! Thank you so much!"

The man bowed repeatedly in gratitude. An Ning gave a dismissive wave, and he left the room.

An Ning was now alone in the room. She opened the envelope on the table. It was filled with black-and-white photographs.

The subjects of the photos were none other than Xiao Yan and Jiang Dongcheng.

This was the work of the man she had requested from Zhou Yicheng, who had been tailing Xiao Yan and Jiang Dongcheng.

The photos showed very little interaction between the two. One picture was particularly interesting: they were coming out of the same doorway but heading in opposite directions—one left, one right, like north and south.

You could almost feel the palpable disdain in their retreating figures.

An Ning flipped through the photos one by one. The slightly coarse texture of the prints felt vaguely unpleasant, making the fine hairs on her arms stand up.

"Hm?"

An Ning noticed another person in one of the photos. She flipped it over and found a note written by the man on the back.

’Xiao Xian? Xiao Yan’s older brother.’

An Ning continued flipping through the stack. Xiao Xian didn’t appear often, but whenever he did, Xiao Yan’s expression was quite interesting.

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