Chapter 72: From Treatment to Convalescence (Please vote for recommendations)

The moment the bowls covering the dishes were removed, everyone eagerly grabbed their chopsticks and began picking up food, just like a group of children scrambling for treats. The air was thick with fragrance—not the aroma of meat, but the scent of fresh vegetables. The smell of vegetables and the smell of meat are two entirely different concepts.

Zhong Di inhaled, taking in the scent that wafted through the air. This was the first time he’d cooked with vegetables from his own garden, and the aroma was irresistible. He wondered about the taste and decided he would make something for himself tonight.

“Old Qian, leave me a couple of bites of that cold coriander salad, don’t finish it all,” Zhong Di said.

“I’ll leave you some, but I want to eat more myself!” Qian Weining replied, swiftly demolishing the plate of cold coriander.

“Wow, what’s this? Bitter herb? It leaves a cool sensation after eating, feels really refreshing,” someone exclaimed.

The group ate quickly, paying no attention to manners or appearances.

Zhong Di and the others began preparing more ingredients—hosting even one table of guests was busy enough. He wondered what they would do if more guests came in the future. As he worked, he kept these thoughts in mind, though he had no immediate solution.

For the meat dishes, Zhong Di slaughtered two local chickens—one to make spicy chicken, the other braised. He also prepared a rabbit stew using a rabbit he raised himself, and finally roasted some pigeons using a grill Zhong Hui had recently bought.

Four bowls of meat dishes were plenty for four people; no matter how delicious, there was only so much they could eat—it wasn’t as if their stomachs could explode.

While Zhong Di handled the ingredients, Shao Hong did the cooking. Soon, the aroma of meat drifted out from the kitchen.

Zhong Hui sat nearby, scribbling and sketching, engrossed in her own activities.

“Uncle Qian, the spicy chicken, braised country chicken, and two more dishes will be ready soon,” Zhong Di called out.

“Zhong Di, make another plate of that cold coriander salad, and some other dishes too. Do you have any wine? Bring out a couple of bottles,” Qian Weining demanded as Zhong Di was about to leave.

“Uncle Qian, I have Xiao Lao Jiao, just bought it. I’ll charge you market price, is that alright?”

“I’ll make some more coriander salad for you, and another plate of tomato and scrambled eggs.”

Seeing how much Qian Weining and his friends were enjoying themselves, Zhong Di decided to oblige them with a few extra dishes. After all, he was charging for the meal.

“That’s fine, just bring them out,” Qian Weining replied.

“Hmm, this country chicken tastes even better than last time…” someone remarked.

“Old Qian, you deserve credit for this. The land is wonderful—pure flavor aside, the texture of these vegetables is remarkable. Haven’t felt this way in ages,” another chimed in.

Listening to the uncles chat, Zhong Di grinned and went back to the garden to gather more coriander.

Coriander, similar to celery and Chinese celery, has a shorter growing cycle. With normal soil fertility, watering, and fertilizing, it’s ready for sale in a month. Thanks to the effect of the Sand Immortal Sprout, Zhong Di’s crop matured much faster. It had been over half a month since planting, and the coriander was already flavorful.

It wasn’t until nine o’clock at night that everyone had finished eating to their satisfaction.

Looking at the mess left on the round table, Zhong Di was astonished by their appetites. Did they really have to eat so much?

Not only had they finished everything, but they’d asked for extra dishes. Their stomachs could easily rival those of competitive eaters.

When he tallied up the bill, the chickens and rabbit were the main expense. The rabbit weighed over four kilograms, priced at three hundred per kilogram, bringing the total to about three thousand one hundred. Zhong Di only charged them three thousand, but Qian Weining insisted on transferring five thousand. For them, money was no object, so Zhong Di didn’t refuse.

He calculated only the cost of the raw ingredients, without any markup. According to Qian Weining, in Dongyang, a dish of specialty country chicken weighing 666 grams costs two thousand eight hundred eighty-eight. Here, it was much cheaper.

Qian Weining and his friends were slightly tipsy and called a driver to pick them up.

Smack!

“Zhong Di, does that hurt?” Zhong Hui asked, quickly slapping his arm after the guests left.

“What? Why did you hit me? Of course it hurts.” Zhong Di was puzzled by his sister’s actions.

“So it’s not a hallucination. That means we really made five thousand in turnover this afternoon?” Zhong Hui muttered.

Zhong Di: …

“If you wanted to see if it was a hallucination, shouldn’t you hit yourself?”

Zhong Di was a little annoyed; it seemed she just wanted to test whether it was an illusion.

“It hurts if I hit myself, obviously.”

“So you mean hitting me doesn’t hurt?”

“At least I don’t feel it,” Zhong Hui retorted.

The final payment went into his sister’s account, where she kept the books. Shao Hong was also quite pleased—just cooking for an afternoon brought in five thousand, and his share would be several hundred.

By nightfall, Zhong Di and Shao Hong had finished their chores and started preparing dinner.

Dinner consisted mainly of vegetable dishes; no meat. When Zhong Di tasted them, he finally understood why Qian Weining and the others had been so enthusiastic.

Zhong Di had never been particularly fond of coriander, but now he couldn’t stop eating it.

Woof… woof!

While Zhong Di and Shao Hong were eating at the big round table, Yusheng barked a few times nearby.

Yusheng had been very quiet lately, barking only when something unusual happened. Otherwise, he stayed in his little den, often sleeping.

Though the night was dark, the area around the round table was illuminated by lights Zhong Di had recently installed, making it possible to dine outdoors in the evening.

A cool breeze blew, a sip of cold beer—utterly comfortable!

“Zhong Di, have you noticed how quickly Yusheng has been growing lately?” Shao Hong observed, glancing at the dog. Not only Yusheng—his own health had improved, too. He was working hard every day, yet still energetic the next morning.

He used to have minor ailments, but lately, they’d all disappeared.

“Definitely fast. Life in the countryside means good air and safe food, so of course our bodies are better. Here, Yusheng, have some vegetables for your health, don’t just eat meat every day.”

Zhong Di quickly brushed off the topic, attributing everything to the natural environment—no one could argue with that.

What he said was true: people living in the countryside rarely get sick, but in the city, it’s always something—fever, cough, and so on.

If you’re strong, it’s not so bad; if not, you practically live on medicine.

“That’s true. Can’t eat those store-bought vegetables—soaked in water for ages, covered in a greasy film. You can tell they’ve been sprayed with oil-based pesticides.”

Shao Hong reflected, realizing their recent meals had been almost entirely organic, except for condiments—all from their own garden.

They used only a little foliar fertilizer, rarely any other chemicals.

Nowadays, almost all vegetables and fruits on the market are grown with copious amounts of fertilizer and pesticides. How can that be healthy?

Decades ago, northerners ate pickled and salted vegetables in winter and no one got cancer. Later, people said eating pickled vegetables causes cancer.

Southerners often ate smoked meat, and now are told it’s carcinogenic.

People say smoking causes lung cancer, but forty years ago, rural elders smoked big pipes all day and no one got cancer.

The reason lies in what people eat.

Back then, life wasn’t as developed; most people farmed and used little fertilizer, mostly home-made compost.

Now, farming isn’t profitable, especially in the south. People go out to work, leaving much land idle. The fields that are cultivated use excessive fertilizer and pesticides to maximize yields and prevent disease.

Statistically, fertilizer and pesticide use has decreased globally, but domestically, it’s still rising. With so much pesticide in the air, how could there not be problems?

How can anyone safely eat what’s produced under such conditions?

Take eggs and poultry, for example. The pursuit of profit is staggering.

Chick hatcheries want to profit, poultry farmers want to profit, feed producers want to profit, vaccine makers want to profit, and middlemen want to profit…

With so many people wanting a piece of the pie, how much can a chicken cost per kilo? What’s the final cost? Chicken ready for market in just a month—is that really safe to eat?

There's little to be done domestically; the population is simply too large. Unlike other countries, it’s hard to feed everyone well and ensure quality.

Healthy vegetables do exist, but their prices are too high for most people, so they settle for what’s available in the market.

Still, Zhong Di believes that green, healthy produce is the trend of the future. Someday, people will shift from treating illnesses to preventing them.

“Ha… Yusheng really does eat vegetables,” Shao Hong scoffed at Zhong Di for feeding coriander to the dog. Among all dog breeds, only golden retrievers are known to like vegetables—this was a Chinese rural dog, after all. How could it eat vegetables, especially coriander?

“Why not? Dogs and even cats have a habit of eating grass—they need fiber, too.”

Both dogs and cats require regular fiber intake. When they need it, they’ll seek it out themselves.

“Learned something new today, I didn’t know that,” Shao Hong admitted.

After dinner, the two chatted a while longer before retiring for the night.

No matter what Zhong Di said, Shao Hong refused to play PUBG with him these days. Zhong Di played alone, bored, finishing quickly.

The Xuan Yin account was now run by his sister. According to her, she’d just posted a video yesterday, and the clever fans had already guessed someone new was in charge.

One must admit, netizens are sharp.

Since his sister began managing a WeChat account, fewer people contacted Zhong Di directly. Most now reached out through the specialty small farm account she operated.