Chapter 50: Anomalies and Disputes

Xingchen nodded, though a heavy sense of unease weighed on his heart. Su Yao trusted him so deeply, yet he had secretly used the mystical spring water behind his mother's back, and it hadn't even made much of a difference. Gazing quietly at Su Yao's retreating figure, he made a silent vow: he had to find a way to make the slow-growing seedlings thrive, so as not to let Su Yao down or disappoint everyone's expectations. This was a man's responsibility, and he had to fulfill it.

Over the next few days, Xingchen kept up his routine, meticulously observing the growth of the slow seedlings every day, carefully recording their heights and leaf colors, and watering them from time to time. Yet, these seedlings continued to grow at a sluggish pace, lagging further and further behind the normal ones. His anxiety mounted by the day; he could not sleep well at night, constantly dreaming that the seedlings had withered and that everyone was looking at him with disappointed eyes.

By the day the tomato seedlings grew to five centimeters in height, the sky remained overcast, with the wind carrying a hint of coldness and dampness, rattling the greenhouse plastic sheeting with a rustling sound. Lu Xingchen squatted beside the slow seedlings, clutching a small trowel, his fingertips carefully pressing against the crumbling bits of soil. In fact, he had been loosening the soil around the seedlings every day, leaving it soft and airy, yet the plants showed no signs of improvement—if anything, they looked even worse.

Previously, they had only been a bit shorter with slightly yellowed leaves, but now the leaves were curling at the edges, turning a scorched yellow. Some of the stems had even leaned to the side, swaying unsteadily in the wind as if they might topple over at any moment. Xingchen reached out and touched a curled leaf; it felt brittle, snapping off with the slightest pressure, and his heart sank along with it. He hurriedly buried the leaf back into the soil, as if doing so could somehow restore the plant to health.

"Xingchen, do you have any idea what's wrong with these seedlings?" Old Zhou shouldered a hoe as he walked over from his own plot. Passing by the greenhouse, he spotted Xingchen squatting there with a troubled look on his face. He drew closer, his brow immediately knitting into a deep frown, and he poked at the soil around the seedlings with his fingers. "These plants are sick. Look at how the leaves are curling; the roots must be rotting by now. If this goes on, they'll end up infecting the healthy seedlings next to them."

Xingchen snapped his head up, his voice tinged with urgency, "They're not sick! They're just growing a little slow. Give it a bit more time and they'll be fine!" He knew Old Zhou meant well, but the words felt like needles piercing his heart—he had watched these seedlings grow from the start, planted them with his own hands; how could they possibly be sick? Perhaps tomorrow, under the sunshine, they would turn green and vibrant again.

Old Zhou grew a bit impatient, dropping his hoe onto the ground with a thud. "What time are you waiting for? Let me tell you, I've farmed all my life—what kind of diseased seedlings haven't I seen? These curled leaves and soft stems are the classic signs of root rot! Pull them up right now, before the whole field gets ruined and our village's 'space babies' go to waste! Do you understand now?"

"I won't pull them!" Xingchen stood up, blocking the seedlings with his body, his eyes turning red. "These plants can still be saved! I'll water them again, loosen the soil some more, and they'll definitely recover. Grandpa Zhou, you have to believe me!" He thought of the mystical spring water he had secretly used before; although it hadn't completely cured them, it had at least kept them from withering away entirely. Perhaps another application would do the trick.

"Saved? What is there to save? These sick seedlings can't be revived!" Old Zhou raised his voice as well. "You're just too stubborn, boy! You don't know farming, yet you refuse to listen to advice! When all the plants end up dead, how are you going to answer to Comrade Su and the fellow villagers?"

The two of them went back and forth, their voices growing louder and louder, drawing a crowd of passing villagers to stop and watch. Erzhuzi walked over carrying half a bag of chemical fertilizer, quickly dropping the sack to play peacemaker. "Old Zhou, Xingchen, stop arguing, stop arguing! Old Zhou, calm your anger. Xingchen puts so much care into looking after these seedlings, spending all day cooped up in the greenhouse, looking after them even more carefully than his own younger brother. Let's observe them for a few more days—who knows, maybe they really will get better?"

Widow Li also came over, glancing at the slow seedlings and then at Xingchen, whose face was flushed with anxiety. "Old Zhou, Xingchen makes a valid point. These seedlings were grown from space seeds, different from our ordinary plants; perhaps this condition is completely normal? Let's wait a couple more days, and if they still don't improve, we can figure out another solution then."

Other villagers chimed in with words of persuasion, some saying "Let's wait a little longer," and others advising "Don't pull them out so easily." Old Zhou looked at the crowd, then back at Xingchen, who stubbornly refused to budge from in front of the plants. Snorting with displeasure, he picked up his hoe and said, "Fine! I'll give it two more days. But if these seedlings still aren't looking better by then, don't say I didn't warn you!" With that, he shouldered his hoe and strode away, his heavy footsteps thudding loudly against the earth.

Watching Old Zhou's retreating figure, Xingchen felt a mixture of grievance, anxiety, and sorrow. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he forced himself to hold them back. Erzhuzi patted him on the shoulder. "Xingchen, don't take it to heart. Old Zhou only has the village's best interests at heart; he doesn't mean any harm. Rest assured, if something really goes wrong with the seedlings, all of us will put our heads together and find a way."

Xingchen nodded without speaking, squatting back down to water the slow seedlings. His movements were gentler than before, as if he feared damaging plants that were already so fragile. The villagers did not disperse immediately; some helped loosen the soil, while others assisted in inspecting the rest of the seedlings, terrified that the 'disease' of the slow seedlings might truly be contagious.

"Xingchen, what's going on?" Su Yao's voice drifted in from the courtyard entrance. She had just finished her work at the pharmaceutical factory when she heard villagers talking about a commotion in the back courtyard, prompting her to rush right over. Seeing the circle of people and the struggling seedlings on the ground, she understood the situation instantly.

She pushed her way through the crowd, squatted down beside the slow seedlings, and inspected the leaves and stems closely before brushing away the soil to examine the roots. Her brow furrowed as well.

"These plants do look a bit off," she said, looking up to see Xingchen's redrimmed eyes, her heart aching for him. "Don't panic. Tomorrow, your father and I will go to the county agricultural science institute to consult Professor Zhang. He understands these things and will definitely be able to find the cause."

Hearing this, the heavy stone in Xingchen's chest settled slightly. He looked at Su Yao and asked, "Mom, can these seedlings still be saved? They won't really turn out like Old Zhou said, completely beyond help, will they? They can definitely be saved, right?"

Su Yao stroked his head gently and said, "They can be saved, absolutely. Professor Zhang is an expert; he's bound to have a solution. Don't worry too much, and don't exhaust yourself. Go back inside for dinner first, and at the crack of dawn tomorrow, we'll head to the county town."

However, Xingchen shook his head. "Mom, I'm not going back. I want to stay here and keep watch over the seedlings. In case anything happens to them tonight, I can deal with it right away." He feared the night wind might be too strong and blow the plants over; he feared nighttime insects might chew on them; and most of all, he feared they might wither away completely while he was not around.

Su Yao tried persuading him for a long time, but Xingchen remained immovable. Left with no other choice, she had Lu Zhanyao carry over a few wooden boards and an old piece of canvas from the house, hastily erecting a small shed next to the greenhouse. The shelter was crude—wooden planks serving as a floor and canvas for a roof, barely offering protection from the wind and rain—yet Xingchen was utterly content, saying, "This way, I can keep an eye on the seedlings at all times."

That evening, Su Yao brought food out to the shed, but Xingchen barely took a few bites before putting his bowl down, his mind entirely consumed by the seedling plot.

Lu Zhanyao also came by to keep him company for a while, reinforcing the shelter with a couple of extra wooden poles in case the midnight winds blew it down, and left behind a flashlight and a heavy military-style overcoat. "It'll get cold tonight. Put on the coat and don't let yourself freeze. If anything comes up, just shout—I'll be able to hear you from the house."

After Lu Zhanyao left, Lu Xingchen was alone in the shed. The night wind slipped through the gaps in the canvas with a chilly bite, making the shelter creak softly. Holding the flashlight, he periodically swept its beam across the seedling plots, watching the shadows of the slow plants dance in the artificial light as he uttered a silent prayer: "Little seedlings, oh little seedlings, you must hold on. Don't let me down, and don't let everyone down."

He remembered the lively atmosphere on the day of sowing, the expectant gazes of the villagers, and the trusting look in Su Yao's eyes, making his heart ache all the more. If these seedlings truly could not be saved, how could he face everyone's expectations? How could he live up to Su Yao's trust?

He sat there through the night, occasionally shining the light on the plots, flipping through his small notebook from time to time, or standing up to check the perimeter of the shelter. He did not close his eyes for even a second. The beam of the flashlight swept back and forth across the earth like a beating heart, standing guard over a patch of land that carried far too many hopes and dreams.

As dawn approached, the wind died down a little, and the eastern horizon began to show a pale, fish-belly white. Xingchen stood up, rubbed his tired, aching eyes, and walked over to the edge of the plots to take a closer look at the slow seedlings—they were still the same, leaves curled, stems limp, showing not the slightest sign of recovery. He let out a sigh, yet his resolve remained unbroken. "It's fine," he thought to himself. "Today we'll go ask Professor Zhang; we'll definitely find a way to save these plants."

He tidied up his things in the shed, folding the canvas neatly and leaning the wooden boards against the wall, waiting for Su Yao and Lu Zhanyao to arrive so they could head to the county town together to find Professor Zhang. He believed that as long as they found the root cause, these seedlings could surely be saved, and these 'space babies,' bearing so many hopes, would grow up strong and healthy in this soil.