Zhang Huai hadn't expected a single comment to provoke such a lengthy response from her. Glancing at Qingmu, who was trying to suppress a smile, he rubbed his nose sheepishly and said, "Juhua's right. Your brother and I are trying to figure out how to plant two rice crops a season! I asked Changyu to buy me a few books on agriculture, and they describe the southerners' experience with growing rice. But it's much hotter down there. Some places can even grow three crops a year, so we can't really compare or just copy what they do."
Juhua nodded. "You're right, you can't just copy them. You have to adapt to the local conditions."
Qingmu smiled and asked Juhua, "What're you doing squatting there? I saw you staring at the rice as if you were in a trance. Got any ideas?"
Hearing this, Zhang Huai nodded again and again, looking at Juhua expectantly. That was exactly what he had wanted to ask her—what she'd noticed about the rice.
