In the afternoon of June, the scorching sun was like fire, scorching a piece of farmland in Qilu. The soil has been cracked by the sun and has fine lines, like the furrows and wrinkles on an old man's face. The corn leaves in the field are also rolled up and drooping listlessly.
Nian Galen stood on the ridge of the field. The beads of sweat on his forehead were like broken beads, rolling down his dark cheeks and hitting the ground under his feet, disappearing in an instant. He held a sickle in his hand and had just helped Uncle Zhang cut half an acre of early-maturing wheat in the field next door. He was currently looking at his experimental field in trance.
"Galen, take a rest. It's a very evil day. Don't get a heatstroke!" Not far away, his wife Li Mei came over carrying a large enamel jar, which contained mung bean soup with rock sugar. It was so chilled that you could feel a chill even from a distance.
Nian Galen turned around, grinned, and showed his white teeth: "It's okay, I can handle it with my physique. Look at the few acres of improved rice we have, it's about to ear. You have to keep an eye on it to make sure nothing goes wrong."
He is thirty-five years old, the leader of the village's agricultural cooperative, and a well-known "Tian Xiucai" from all over the country. Over the years, he has led the villagers to engage in scientific planting, introduced new varieties and new technologies, and turned the thin fields that once yielded less than 1,000 jins per mu into high-yielding fields with a yield of more than 2,000 jins per mu. From soil improvement to pest control, from water conservancy planning to agricultural machinery deployment, he is proficient in everything, and his mind is full of ways to increase land production and make villagers rich.
Li Mei handed him the enamel jar: "No matter how expensive you are, you still have to take care of yourself. Look at this day
