Chapter Fifty-Six: The Birth of a Lamb

In every industry, one must pursue technical innovation and breakthroughs; agriculture is no exception. To remain conservative without striving for progress and creativity is to invite elimination sooner or later.

When Zhong Di first observed his own jujube orchard, he considered the method of girdling. Though girdling yields good results, it comes with many drawbacks. After girdling, the bark is easily gnawed by insects, and it harms the tree; a careless mistake can kill it. Girdling doesn’t just improve fruit-setting rates—tree recovery alone is impressive.

After briefly discussing this with Shao Hong, the two went their separate ways to rest.

Lying in bed, Zhong Di browsed through the messages on his phone, reading them one by one. The popularity of videos on Xuanyin had waned; apart from clamoring for a hedgehog growth series, there wasn’t much left for discussion. The incident with the Pallas’s cat had made Zhong Di realize not everything should be posted on public platforms.

After deleting a minor message from Xuanyin, fewer people added Zhong Di—only two today. As usual, he approved them and began replying to messages.

Those who came to see the hedgehog or who bought eggs all praised their taste, admitting they had misunderstood Zhong Di. Such delicious eggs were not expensive at all.

For other less important messages, Zhong Di replied briefly, then came across a message from Su Rou:

“Don’t take what my father said today the wrong way. I’ve never brought a boy home before. He only said it because he found you agreeable.”

There were several withdrawn messages before this one, so he had no idea what she had initially sent.

Misunderstanding? What did he misunderstand? There was no misunderstanding at all!

A bit bewildered, Zhong Di replied with: “Thank you for everything today.”

What could he possibly misunderstand in such matters? And even if he did, what difference would it make? Zhong Di didn’t answer in that direction but shifted to other topics.

Once he finished replying, Zhong Di was ready to sleep when he heard the bleating of sheep.

“Is the Pallas’s cat back?” Shao Hong whispered from the upper bunk. Zhong Di quickly got up.

Woof...

Yusheng barked. Whenever Dad acted this way, something was happening. Yusheng perked up his ears, listening intently.

“It’s probably the Pallas’s cat. I’ll go check,” Zhong Di said, groping for his flashlight and heading outside.

Yusheng followed; Shao Hong stayed put.

At the sheep pen, there was no sign of the Pallas’s cat, nor did the flock scatter. Instead, several sheep huddled together.

“Shao Hong, did you forget to add feed today?” This seemed more like a shortage of grass or water.

The iron bed creaked as Shao Hong quickly climbed down.

“No, I remember feeding them. I even double-checked,” Shao Hong replied, following Zhong Di to the pen.

A few steps brought them there. There was plenty of feed and water.

“So what’s going on?”

“Look, Zhong Di—the sheep might be lambing.”

Shao Hong pointed at where the flock clustered. One sheep cried out in pain, its belly large; they hadn’t noticed it when feeding.

“What should we do?” Zhong Di saw the cluster and worried the lambing sheep might get hurt.

“I don’t know. I’ve never dealt with this before,” Shao Hong admitted, lost. He’d seen many sheep since childhood, but never witnessed lambing. This was a first.

“That’s odd—sheep usually lamb during the day. Why at night? Never mind, let’s try separating the others. Shao Hong, find some boards and something to fix them with,” Zhong Di said as he entered the pen, beginning to herd the other sheep aside.

Bleating continued. The mother sheep’s cries meant lambing was imminent. He’d heard they cry when lambing, but didn’t expect the sound to be like this.

Lambing at night is harder to manage than during the day, but there’s no choice.

Shao Hong, strong as ever, quickly brought over several large boards. Together, he and Zhong Di fenced the sheep in place, right where she stood.

Best not to move her. They had no experience, so better to leave her be.

After a while, the mother sheep seemed ready to give birth. Though it was time for bed, neither felt sleepy—they waited nearby, watching the process.

An hour passed, but no lamb emerged. Zhong Di checked some information: sometimes it takes six or seven hours, sometimes over ten.

Forget it, he thought. They’d return in the morning, and by then it should be done.

Woof...

Yusheng barked again.

Something was off. Yusheng’s bark was different—no whimper, just a solid bark. The puppyish whine was gone.

He was starting to look like a grown dog now, his body much larger than before. Maybe it was the excellent diet; Yusheng was growing fast, nearly half-grown already in such a short time.

Zhong Di glanced toward where Yusheng barked. At the spot where they left eggs for the yellow weasel, he found a rabbit—also bitten to death.

“Shao Hong, where’s that rabbit the yellow weasel brought? Another one’s just arrived.”

Zhong Di carried the rabbit inside.

“We cooked it at noon. Uncle Zhang and the others were working and wanted to kill a chicken, but the cost was five or six hundred per chicken—a meal over a thousand. Rabbit meat is much better.”

“No need to be so exact about the cost. Eat what you like. Here’s another rabbit—perfect for tomorrow. Haven’t had rabbit meat in ages.”

“Alright, we’ll fry rabbit again tomorrow.”

After a few words, the two fell asleep.

At dawn, Zhong Di and Shao Hong got up together. Today, Zhong Di unusually did not sleep in; he usually waited until the sun was high.

“Look, the lamb’s out! It’s so small,” Shao Hong exclaimed, pointing at the newborn lamb, excited by his first sight of one.

“So tiny, really lucky we bought a pregnant sheep.”

After admiring the lamb, they began their day. Today’s task was removing jujube tops, aiming to finish early.

With this, the orchard was preliminarily sorted. The rest would take time.

The vegetables had all sprouted, looking robust and vibrant—no issues at all.

What surprised Zhong Di was the herb garden. The medicinal seeds were sown late, but half had sprouted, no longer the barren patch it once was.

By afternoon, Zhong Di received a call from his mother—the surgery was scheduled for Sunday, the twenty-sixth.

Today was Thursday, just a few days away.

He’d barely put down his phone when it rang again. The caller ID showed Sun Miao Miao.

“Zhong Di, check Xiao Xin. I’ve sent you some information.”

Information? Zhong Di paused, replied with a simple “okay,” and hung up.

Upon reading the documents, he realized what Sun Miao Miao meant—details about business licenses and other requirements.

Overall, setting up a leisure farm in Shache County was quite complicated—not just simple agricultural production.

Looking over the information, Zhong Di began to plan.

For the orchard, picking, breeding, and planting would be essential. Deep processing should be included as well, along with special breeding.

Picking, planting, and breeding are the basics—the primary agricultural industry. For tourism, only one business license is needed.

For deep processing, Zhong Di intended to use fruit to make wine and other products—these were definite plans.

For special breeding, he thought of raising hedgehogs, peacocks, and Mongolian gazelles—rare animals that required specific permits. If handled early, future projects would be easier without needing new paperwork.

Having outlined his development path, Zhong Di sent his requirements over. As for the name, he settled on “Specialty Leisure Farm.” No need for a grand title—simple and clear was best.

For documents like ID cards and household registration, Zhong Di would need to return home.

After briefing Shao Hong, he went back to prepare the materials, working until dusk before returning to the orchard. The rest would be a waiting game.

With someone handling the procedures, Zhong Di was glad for the leisure. Sun Miao Miao and her team were likely well-versed in these matters. In return, he could send more agricultural products to Dongyang.

“Rabbit stir-fry tonight?”

“Sounds good. Let me help with the vegetables.”

Zhong Di set about preparing the side dishes.

For dinner, they planned to dry-fry the rabbit meat. It had been processed that morning and salted for flavor.

Chili powder, sesame seeds, Sichuan pepper... Zhong Di mixed the dipping sauce, which would soon be scalded with hot oil.

This was the famed oil-splashed chili. Once the rabbit meat was dry-fried, they dipped it in the sauce—Zhong Di was nostalgic for the taste.

It didn’t take long to finish. They also made a plate of fried eggs.

The dry-fried rabbit meat was golden and crisp in places. Zhong Di dipped a piece in chili oil and took a bite—the flavor was exquisite.

“Shao Hong, you really missed your calling as a chef,” Zhong Di muttered.

“When I worked as a waiter at school, I learned to cook and helped out. My skills aren’t great—it’s mostly the ingredients,” Shao Hong replied, embarrassed.

That night, apart from the insects singing, there was little movement. Even the yellow weasel’s egg-stealing was silent.

But the eggs still disappeared as usual. Zhong Di suspected the weasel had found a familiar path, located a gap, and was now stealthily—no, conveniently—taking them.