si-mexico Chapter 146 146
Chapter 146 146
The croaking of frogs came from the grass by the pond. Several frogs squatted by the water's edge, their cheeks puffed out, croaking in waves. Occasionally, one would leap into the water with a splash, creating ripples on the surface. A few birds flew down from the persimmon tree, skimming across the pond's surface, the sound of their wings flapping overhead. A thin layer of mist floated on the pond's surface, mixed with the unique fragrance of lotus leaves—a scent that was hard to describe precisely, just damp and cool, and when you inhaled it, your lungs felt refreshed, as if they had been washed by spring water.
Su Peixue walked along the pond carrying a bamboo basket. It was the new basket she'd woven in spring, a size larger than the old one, specifically for carrying lotus leaves, vegetables, and things harvested from the fields. She walked along the pond's edge, her canvas shoes dampened by the dew on the grass, the toes stained a darker shade, and she could feel the slight dampness under her feet with every step. The grass along the pond had grown quite tall, its blades brushing against her calves, leaving shallow watermarks. She walked slowly, looking at the lotus leaves on either side, her gaze shifting from one leaf to another, searching for the most suitable ones—not too old, for the fibers would be coarse and easily crack; not too young, for the leaves would be thin and unable to hold anything; no insect holes, no withered spots, no curled edges. They had to be just fully opened, with thick leaves and intact veins.
She stopped in front of a clump of lotus leaves, bent down, and reached into the foliage to part a leaf. The leaf's surface was dark green, while the underside was light green, with veins radiating outwards from the center, each clearly visible like a fine network of blood vessels. She turned the leaf over to examine the underside—no insect eggs, no withered spots, the leaf was thick and intact, and she could feel its elasticity when she flicked it with her finger. She memorized the location, then parted several other leaves, examining them one by one. After selecting three of the largest and most intact leaves, she took out scissors from her bamboo basket. Holding the underside of a lotus leaf in her left hand, her fingers spread to support the entire leaf steadily in her palm, she reached for the scissors at the base of the leaf stalk with her right hand. The scissors snapped shut, the crisp sound of the stalk being cut particularly clear on the quiet pond, like snapping a tender cucumber. She folded the cut lotus leaves and put them in the basket, then cut another, and then a third. Before cutting each leaf, she carefully considered its position, using her left hand to push aside any adjacent lotus leaves as she inserted the scissors, ensuring no other leaves were damaged. The three lotus leaves, vibrant green and glistening with dew, were stacked in the bamboo basket, their surfaces still adorned with water droplets from the pond, shimmering in the morning light. She gently ran her fingertips along the edge of the topmost leaf; a water droplet rolled beneath her fingertip, trembled slightly at the edge, and then fell to the bottom of the basket.
Back in the yard, several chickens were pecking at the ground in the coop. The coop was a small square enclosed by a bamboo fence, lined with a layer of dry straw. In the corner sat a ceramic basin containing leftover wheat bran mixed with vegetable leaves from yesterday. Several speckled chickens strolled leisurely inside, occasionally lowering their heads to peck at the wheat bran on the ground, clucking softly, their necks stretching and retracting. Next to the coop was a rabbit cage, where several gray rabbits were dozing in a corner, their ears twitching from time to time. The chickens and rabbits were long accustomed to each other's presence; sometimes, the rabbits would peek out from the cage gaps to sniff the wheat bran in the coop.