My name is Shen Qinghe, and I was a female Ph. D. In soil science who worked with soil samples and data analysis in a modern laboratory. An unexpected explosion on the experimental platform made me open my eyes in severe pain, and I became an orphan girl from a farm in Luoxia Village of the Dayong Dynasty. My parents fell off a cliff and died half a month ago, leaving behind two leaking adobe houses, half an acre of saline-alkali land, and a divorce note with the four words "life is too tough to overcome the relationship" on it, which hurt my eyes. The "agricultural database" embedded on my wrist is my only thought. It will never jump out and shout "Come on host". It will only awaken the professional knowledge engraved in my bones when my fingertips touch the soil and rub the crops. Looking at the withered and yellow straw in the yard and the unbearable sorrow in the eyes of the village women, I suddenly didn't want to just live on my own. I want to use the technology at hand to lead this group of sisters who are trapped by fate to plant hope in the barren land and build a "pastoral community" where they can settle down and live. Along the way, I don't want to write about ruthless relatives looking for trouble, nor do I want to have a mindless sense of slap in the face. I just want to improve the soil in a down-to-earth manner, think about crops, and earn as much copper as I can with my sisters. As for feelings? Just take your time - after all, women of our age know that the sense of growth, healing and professional accomplishment earned by one's own hands is the warmest and most stable source of support.
