NOVEL WEB Chapter 152: Working on the Garden.
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"The essence wakes dormant nutrients," Xian Yu explained. "But it needs seed to anchor."
Nima dashed to the shed and returned with an envelope of carrot seeds Kent had stashed for a festival market. Some packages were scorched, but the seeds inside were dry. She knelt opposite the old man, tearing open a corner, scattering brown granules in neat furrows that Kent's rake quickly pressed closed.
They worked across the whole charred bed. When the final row was covered, Auri landed on Kent's shoulder. "Chip." He opened his beak and breathed a thin line of golden flame across the soil's surface. It wasn't enough to burn—just a gentle warmth. The burned earth steamed, releasing a scent halfway between rain and pepper.
Kent wiped sweat from his brow, smearing a streak of ash across his cheek. "Stage one done," he said.
As if answering him, a faint pulse rippled through the mud. In the very first row, one seed cracked open. A pale rootlet stretched, seeking depth. Kent, Nima, and Xian Yu watched in silent awe as within seconds a green sprout broke the surface—tiny, trembling, alive.
Nima clapped like a child at fireworks. "It's working! It's working!" She sprinted the length of the bed, pointing as other sprouts popped up: dozens, then hundreds, each one glowing faintly with leftover essence.
Kent's chest felt painfully full. Yesterday everything had looked hopelessly ruined; today green life claimed ash as its own. He glanced at his master. Xian Yu's eyes brimmed with quiet joy.
"This is only the beginning," the old man said. "By week's end the whole field will follow."
They spent the rest of the morning repeating the process on a second patch. Though they only restored a quarter of the field before noon heat rose, the transformation was undeniable: black wasteland now bordered bright lanes of infant green.
At midday they paused for water and steamed buns under the shade of a lone persimmon tree that had survived the lightning. Nima leaned against Kent's shoulder, eyes half‑closed. "I'm proud of our garden," she murmured.
Kent swallowed a lump of emotion. "Me too."
Auri hopped down, snuggled into Nima's lap, and promptly dozed. Xian Yu unpacked a bamboo flute from his robe sleeve—a curious habit. He played a gentle tune, notes swirling with the bees that had come to inspect the young sprouts. In that shade, with simple music and sweet buns, the world felt mended.
When the sun edged past noon Kent stood, brushing crumbs from his shirt. "I'm going to mix compost. Old man, can you mark the third section for tomorrow?"
Xian Yu nodded, grinning behind his white beard. Nima volunteered to fetch fresh water. They moved again, hearts lighter, tasks clear.
By dusk a soft carpet of seedlings shimmered under the first stars. Kent's muscles throbbed, but it was the satisfying ache of honest labor. He and Nima washed up at the outdoor tap, water turning black as it carried away ash.
Before going inside, Kent lingered. He gazed across the revived strips of green, the raw earth waiting its turn, and Silver Muse parked like a silent guardian overhead. Tomorrow they would repeat the cycle, till the essence, seed, flame. In a fortnight carrot tops would sway in the breeze again, sweet and crunchy and ready to sell.
Nima joined him, hair damp, cheeks glowing. "Snack land 2.0 is almost prettier than the old one," she declared.
Kent slipped an arm over her shoulders. "Give it time. It will be a hundred times better."
She nodded, leaning into him. Auri circled once above, leaving a ribbon of red sparks, like fireworks celebrating quiet victories.
Kent looked to the horizon, where dark silhouettes of distant towers marked the city's edge. But right here, beneath the stars, beneath the smell of newborn plants, was a different kind of answer: that ruin could be tilled, that family could be built, and that tomorrow always grew from the seeds you dared to plant tonight.
He exhaled, a slow hopeful breath, and guided his sister toward the lit doorway of home.
Kent did not sleep long. A gray dawn was only just lifting when he opened his eyes and remembered, today the garden needed more work. He rolled his sleeves, tugged on muddy boots, and stepped outside.
The air smelled of wet earth and new leaves. Rows of tiny carrot shoots shimmered pale green in the half‑light, a promise whispered by yesterday's labor.
Kent thinks, "If all of these grow strong, I can sell them for good money. Maybe enough to buy fresh parts for the next sky‑boat frame."
He grinned at the thought, then walked to the water barrel and filled two wooden pails. From the porch came soft footsteps. It was old man grandpa Xian Yu, robe sleeves already tied back, a hoe balanced on one shoulder.
"Morning, boy," the old man said, voice quiet but warm. "Soil wakes early. We must greet it."
Kent nodded. They carried tools to the unplanted strip at the east edge of the field. A window slid open. Nima leaned out, hair in wild braids. "Soup in five minutes!" she called. "Sweet potatoes again."
Auri poked his head beside her, gave a quick "Chip! I am hungry, the breakfast is ready,"—then disappeared from the garden.
Inside the kitchen the steam was thick. Nima stirred congee while humming a victory song she had written the night before.
La La La La ~
"Carbs equal power," she told Kent again when he sat down. She ladled porridge into bowls, added diced sweet potatoes and a spoon of pickled radish. Auri fluttered overhead, fanning the steam with slow wing beats.
Grandpa tasted the congee, smiled, and tapped his bowl. "Good fuel. Nima, your cooking skills are getting better."
They finished fast, rinsed dishes, and split tasks amongst themselves. Kent and Grandpa Yu, tilling and measuring two more seed beds. Nima will fetch water and later polishing Silver Muse's. Auri will act as a flying scarecrow. Most of the crows are under Auri. He will also hunt worms that might chew young shoots.
The plan lasted exactly ten minutes. Because that is when Aunty Zhou arrived at the garden, waving a shopping list that flopped like a flag.
Aunty Zhou's cheeks were pink from morning wind. "I must get pepper seeds, fish meal, and flour," she said. "The tram is crowded today, my knees ache, and the seed market is across the river."
She glanced at Silver Muse with shy hope. "Maybe your fast flying boat would give an old woman a gentle ride? Nima, aren't you supposed to take me shopping on your flying boat?"
Nima's eyes lit up like festival lanterns. "Captain Nima accepts! Aunty Zhou, I will take you on a shopping adventure." she replied, already sprinting to fetch her goggles.
Kent set down his shovel and rubbed his temple. "You just promised that you will take the water duty," he murmured.
Nima spun. "We can carry water later. This is efficient! We fly, buy fertilizer, snacks, pepper seeds, and be back before lunch. Big brother, give me some money."
Kent wanted to object, but Grandpa chuckled.
"Let the young ones travel by sky," the old man said. "We older roots will stay in the ground."
So it was settled. The ladies will go shopping. While the gentleman works on the field.
Nima dashed about the yard: checking lift runes, wiping canopy glass, and stuffing money into a small purse. Auri zipped circles overhead, leaving red spark trails. Aunty Zhou changed into a thick shawl and sensible boots, she also wears sunglasses.
Kent walked around the hull once more, hands on cold metal. "Altitude under five hundred meters," he warned. "Don't clash on a building. No stunt rolls either. You must be responsible for aunty Zhou."
Nima saluted. "Yes, Ground Control." She helped Aunty Zhou climb the short ladder, buckled her into the back seat, then took her own place at the helm.
The lift runes hummed, silver veins glowing blue. The boat rose slowly, clearing the fence. Wind tousled Aunty Zhou's hair, but she only laughed.
Kent and Grandpa raised hands in goodbye as Silver Muse angled south‑east and slipped above rooftops, tail lights blinking until they vanished.
Kent thinks, "They'll be fine. Time to dig."
Grandpa Yu picked a new patch, twelve strides long. He drove the hoe deep, turning the earth in steady strokes. Kent followed with rake, breaking clods, and clearing bits of scorched drip pipe.
Sweat soon beaded on their necks. The morning sun climbed, bright but not harsh. Between rows, tiny sprouts from yesterday shimmered, already an inch tall.
Old man Xian Yu paused, leaning on his hoe. "Life is stubborn," he said, voice quiet. "Give it a spark and it grabs hold, even in ashes."
Kent nodded, feeling the truth in his aching arms. He thought of tribulation lightning, of seedlings rising despite damage, of his own path climbing levels despite odds.
Kent thinks, "If veggies can bounce back, so can business. My ginseng is okay. They will fetch me big money. But who knows how long it will take them to mature."