Chapter Forty-One: The Birth of the Hedgehog

Most of the messages were about trivial matters—some people wanted to buy free-range eggs, and Zhong Di replied to each one. He wasn’t in a hurry to reach out or promote just yet, mainly because of the Dongyang order. No matter how many eggs he had, Dongyang could consume them all, leaving him with practically zero stock.

After closing the messaging app, Zhong Di remembered he’d posted a short video on XuanYin the night before. Compared to collecting eggs, hedgehogs were more interesting and might attract some attention. He’d barely opened the app before a flurry of notifications poured in—his old phone even froze for a few seconds.

Wow! There were so many notifications—likes, comments, private messages, and several hundred new followers. Sure enough, the hedgehog video had blown up, probably making it onto a local trending list.

One comment read, “Impressive, you actually dare to catch a ‘prison-sitting beast’.”
Another replied, “Are you nuts?”
A warning: “High alert ahead—you’ve caught the attention of the local forestry bureau!”
Someone else wrote, “By law, only the illegal hunting or sale of wild animals is forbidden. Our friend here didn’t sell or kill anything, just kept it contained. Surely you wouldn’t expect him to just let it steal eggs, right?”
Another: “Hedgehogs are so cute, how could you be so heartless?”
Yet another: “Well said, it’s just a few eggs. Let it eat its fill!”

There were hundreds of comments, each with their own take. Zhong Di was surprised—no one cared when he shared about collecting eggs, but catching a hedgehog brought such a stir.

He left a reply in the comments: “The hedgehog will be released tomorrow!”

Immediately, people liked his comment and left more replies.
Someone joked, “Wouldn’t hedgehog soup be delicious?”
Another said, “This is the right thing to do.”

After reading a couple, Zhong Di exited XuanYin. He decided to release the hedgehog early the next morning. It was definitely a protected animal, though he wasn’t sure how strictly that was enforced locally. Given the abundance of hedgehogs in the area, it shouldn’t be a problem as long as he didn’t go overboard.

What mattered was that he’d shared it on a public platform—he’d have to follow the proper procedures. It wasn’t worth getting into trouble over two hedgehogs.

This also sparked an idea—maybe he could try breeding hedgehogs. They were hardy, omnivorous, and could eat almost anything. Plus, they attracted attention with their cute looks and might even draw in some female fans.

Glancing at the time, he realized it was late and went to bed.

At dawn, as the first rays of sunlight...

“Zhong Di, get up and get to work!”

So much for the poetic sunrise—the sky was still dark when Shao Hong woke him with a commotion.

“Can’t I sleep a bit longer?” Zhong Di grumbled. He’d seen eager workers, but never anyone this enthusiastic.

“This is nothing. Back when I had a job, sometimes I’d work fourteen hours a day, plus a side gig.”

“I added it up yesterday—we barely worked ten hours. That’s not enough.”

Shao Hong busied himself with his clothes as he spoke.

“Fourteen hours a day? That’s insane—don’t you need to rest?” Zhong Di was incredulous. Even at his agricultural company, the longest shifts were ten hours, never fourteen.

“More hours, more money. Every extra hour meant an extra ten or so yuan,” Shao Hong replied, unconcerned.

Zhong Di wiped his face and muttered, “Tomorrow get up by yourself, don’t wake me.”

Now fully awake, he slowly got dressed. Outside, the air was fresh and all trace of drowsiness vanished. Mornings in the northwest were the coolest part of the day. Once the sun rose, temperatures climbed rapidly—a hallmark of the northwest, with its vast deserts causing quick temperature shifts.

As the saying goes: “Wear a cotton coat in the morning, gauze at noon, and eat watermelon by the stove!” Zhong Di had lived here for years and was well used to the climate.

Shao Hong was already collecting eggs. Remembering his plan to release the hedgehog, Zhong Di figured he’d take care of it right away—such things shouldn’t be put off lest they be forgotten.

When he opened the lid of the bucket, he saw several fuzzy balls. Hadn’t he forgotten to put food in there after catching the hedgehog? On a closer look—had the hedgehog given birth?

Six tiny, pink bundles nursed under the mother’s care. It was the first time Zhong Di had ever seen newborn hedgehogs.

For a hedgehog so close to giving birth to still be stealing eggs—just how irresistible were his eggs? Or maybe eggs had some kind of special effect on hedgehogs?

He didn’t touch the babies, just observed. The little ones didn’t have spines yet, only fur. He’d always wondered how spiny creatures like hedgehogs were born—now he knew.

Releasing them was out of the question now. After looking up some information and key precautions, Zhong Di set about building a nest for the hedgehog.

Using some bricks he had on hand, he made a shelter on the west side of the storage room. It took about an hour to put together. Five meters long, two meters wide, and a meter high, with straw bedding and two small nests. It was plenty of space.

Once finished, he fed the mother hedgehog one of his own eggs. The babies didn’t need extra care as long as the mother was fed.

He recorded another XuanYin video, giving a close-up of the babies, noting that he wasn’t releasing them yet because the hedgehog had just given birth and needed to be cared for temporarily.

By the time he’d posted the video, Shao Hong had finished the chores—only watering with manure was left.

“Let’s water with manure,” Shao Hong said, seeing Zhong Di had finished building the nest and preparing to filter the slurry.

“Wait, not so fast. I bought some medicinal herb seeds. Let’s plant a patch today. First, clear the fallen leaves, then turn the soil.”

The spot for the Wild Sand Immortal Sprout was right in the corner between the two chicken coops. Surrounded by bindweed, the area was hidden except for an entrance by the coops. Together, the two corners amounted to nearly half an acre—a good amount of space for medicinal herbs.

Zhong Di chose honeysuckle, isatis root, and astragalus. Later, he’d transplant some goji berries to block off the entrance, and that would complete the setup.

“Alright, you rake the leaves, I’ll turn the soil—I’m stronger, so I’ll be faster,” Shao Hong offered, eager from the egg sales and motivated by the promise of high income.

“Don’t get cocky about being faster,” Zhong Di replied with a knowing smile.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get to work.”

An hour later, they’d turned the soil and planted the seeds. The understory soil was well-aerated and fertile, so little prep was needed. The seeds had been soaked in Wild Sand Immortal Sprout water the day before, which should help them sprout.

“Zhong Di, the egg buyer is here—I’ll go deliver them,” Shao Hong said as a car pulled up. He’d been glancing toward the road every so often for the past half hour, clearly waiting.

“From now on, just deliver ten kilos at a time and store the rest,” Zhong Di said, thinking of all the people who wanted eggs yesterday. He’d promised pickup at his place—better to have a buffer in case he ran out, even if he’d warned them that supplies were limited.

Eggs could be stored for a while as long as they weren’t exposed to heat—just keep track of the dates and there’d be no problem.

“Alright,” Shao Hong agreed after a moment’s thought, weighing out the order. Zhong Di’s suggestion made sense—whatever they delivered, the buyers would take, and sales were assured.

After the eggs were delivered, Zhong Di started up the well to water the fields, which were getting dry. He’d delayed because there were still some tasks to finish, but now, with the high temperatures, even the jujube blossoms were starting to wilt. Too much more of this and fruiting would be much harder.

“Zhong Di, with the watering today, we can’t get into the fields. What else can we do?” Shao Hong paced around, unable to find any suitable task and feeling restless.

Water... That’s it!

“How about this: I remember there’s a reservoir nearby. With irrigation at its peak, the water level should be down. Let’s see if we can catch some fish and make fish soup.”

They could have gone into town, but with the watering underway, they couldn’t stray too far, and the reservoir was just three or four kilometers away.

“Working hard and you still have time for fishing? Come on, be serious—think of something else,” Shao Hong protested, not used to such a flexible schedule after years of rigid employment.

“You’ve got a problem, man. Have you been brainwashed by your job? Think about it—I haven’t had a day off since I got back. Normally, you’d get two days off a week. It’s been more than a week straight.”

“You’re right. Fine, let’s go catch some fish. Do we have a net?”

“Of course,” Zhong Di said, heading to the storage room to dig out an old cast net—still sturdy after years, unless damaged by snags.

They brought some buckets and crushed chicken bones to use as bait.

Once ready, they hopped on the electric tricycle and headed for the canal, leaving a sign on the gate with a phone number in case anyone came by.

Tall poplars lined the road, their shade keeping the ride cool and pleasant. The reservoir wasn’t far—just three or four kilometers—and was mainly for irrigation.

Rumor had it that people had tried raising fish there before, but for some reason, nothing thrived. Every spring, thousands of fingerlings were released, but by autumn, only a few half-grown fish could be caught—never enough to turn a profit.

Though the matter had been investigated, no one found a cause, so the idea was abandoned. For years now, the reservoir served only as a water supply.