In this era, at the end of summer and the beginning of autumn, Wanjin was about to enter the harvest season.
The rice fields looked like a gilded scroll painting, the plump, drooping ears of rice stacked in layers, dyeing the levee into amber waves. As the breeze swept by, ripples of golden light shimmered over the fields, and the rustling sound carried the unique sweetness of new rice, drifting through the humid air.
Just from this scene alone, it was clear that Wanjin would undoubtedly enjoy a bountiful year.
