That Rare Farmer

This is a slow-burning book, similar to a mortal cultivating immortality, but a little bit more funny. "My father is a farmer, and so is my mother, so I am a farmer." "What's wrong with being a farmer? People in the mountains are farming. If you go to the city, you won't even meet a single acquaintance, and if you die, no one will collect your body. That would be miserable." "Oh, Tian Xiaomei forgot about me when she went to the city. Last time she came back, she didn't even let me touch her hands. I even kissed her mouth and touched her before..." "Oh, life is really boring. A man like me who can cultivate two acres of land a day can't even get a wife. Life is really boring." "Hey, why haven't you spoken? Can't you say a few words?" "What do you mean..." "Woof, woof," the big yellow dog barked twice. It neither said yes nor no, it just kept barking. "Forget it," he chuckled. The seventeen-year-old, honest and honest Yi Yao touched the big yellow dog's head and said nothing. He was humming a song, lying on the grass in the mountains. A gust of breeze made the green grass droop and the leaves sway.