A Farm Girl: Three Acres of Fertile Land Can Be Exchanged for a Country

Chapter Eight is called Nanxing.

Abdo didn't speak to her, but looked directly at the boy: "Do you know where this is?"

The boy nodded obediently: "The army."

"Do you know what the army is for?"

"We need to fight a war."

"If you stay here, what will you do if we all die in a war someday?"

The boy hesitated for a moment, then said, "Pick up your knives and fight again."

"Ha ha……"

Abuduo laughed a few times and rubbed his head: "With your build, how can you fight back? You should just obediently follow Wutong and learn to write."

Upon hearing this, Wutong asked with delight, "General, do you mean... he can stay?"

Abdo said, "What other choice do we have? Are you willing to let him go?"

Of course I couldn't bear to part with it.

After returning to the manor, Wutong went to the street again to find him, because she was worried that he would be bullied again.

Abu smiled knowingly, slung his knife over his shoulder, and left the courtyard. His sturdy figure looked much more dashing than before.

The scent of alcohol still lingered on his body in the air.

Wutong breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the boy, saying, "The answers I gave just now were all made up. Why don't you tell me your name so we can address each other in the future?"

"No." The boy shook his head.

"Ok?"

“My name is Nanxing,” he said firmly.

Wutong was stunned. She looked at him for a while, then patted his shoulder with a sense of relief.

"It's getting late, let's go inside. You'll be living with me from now on."

She got a new quilt from the storeroom, made a bed for Nanxing, and slept on the floor herself.

After that, she went to boil water for Nanxing to take a bath and prepared a clean set of clothes for him.

Nanxing said no need, and then ran to the kitchen to fetch a basin of hot water, very diligently.

Wutong looked at him, a strange feeling rising in her heart.

This child is quiet and reserved, but he is just as thoughtful as anyone else. It's just that something must have happened in the past that traumatized him, which is why he is unwilling to tell others about his troubles.

What exactly happened?

She felt a sense of curiosity, but before she could ask, she realized it wasn't really necessary.

If you don't want to talk about it, then don't. In chaotic times, a person's identity isn't that important. Whether you're a member of the royal family or a member of the Beggars' Sect, a person is a person, and that's the only identity.

Who can't have their own secrets? She didn't tell Abuduo and the others that she was a time traveler either.

One person slept on the floor, and the other slept on the bed; they passed the first night peacefully.

The next morning, Wutong woke up early, went to the kitchen to cook medicine for herself, and also made breakfast for two people, which she brought back to her room to eat with Nanxing.

After breakfast, she remembered Abudo's instructions and taught Nanxing to write.

It was only after she got to the study that she discovered that Nanxing actually... actually... actually knew how to write!

Moreover, he writes much more fluently than Wutong and knows many more characters.

This is really baffling.

As the saying goes, "Teaching a disciple can starve the master," and she hadn't even started teaching yet, and the other person had already crushed her.

A beggar who was so unassuming.

She grabbed Nanxing by the collar: "Tell me, how did you learn all this?"

"It was taught by the teacher."

"Who is sir?"

"Yang Chongyang".

Who is Yang Chongyang?

Wutong realized that her question was completely unnecessary, because the other party mentioned a name that she had never heard of before.

This kid's background must be extraordinary. In these days, a family that can afford a tutor is definitely not an ordinary person.

She pressed on, "Who exactly are your parents?"

Nanxing slowly wrested his collar back from her hand, picked up the brush, and began to write characters earnestly.

Wutong: "...Hey, don't pretend you didn't hear me, okay?"

Nanxing kept his eyes straight ahead and wrote with exceptional neatness; his handwriting was even more vigorous and powerful than that of many adults.

Wutong was speechless and choked with sobs: "Hmph, I'm so angry, I'm going to copy my official documents."

I thought I could get a well-behaved and adorable apprentice, but who knew she had no authority at all...

She sullenly returned to her seat, spread out the official documents, and began copying them.

Nanxing glanced at her casually, a faint smile playing on his lips.

In the afternoon, after inspecting the city gates, Abdo swaggered in, carrying a knife.

"Oh, practicing your writing? How's it going?"

Before the two could answer, he grabbed the paper that Nanxing was writing on and glanced at it with feigned interest: "Not bad, not bad, it's written quite beautifully."

Wutong asked with a grin, "General, you know him?"

Abuduo rolled his eyes at her: "Can't I appreciate it as a painting? Wutong, you heartless bastard, you eat my food and live in my house, and you still want to laugh at me for being illiterate?"

Wutong knew he was joking, and her smile grew even more sly.

Nanxing glanced at her, then at Abuduo, and silently put the paper away.

Abuduo walked over to Wutong, plopped down, and asked Wutong to read the official documents to him.

After reading a few letters, he started to doze off, his chin poking the knife handle, almost biting his tongue.

"Go away, stop reading. Come with me to the training ground, I'll teach you swordsmanship."

Abudo acts on a whim, so Wutong had no choice but to put away the official documents and paper and pens, placing them on the bookshelf behind him.

The bookshelf, which was originally empty, is now neatly arranged and more than half full, all thanks to her.

She feels a great sense of accomplishment every time she opens the door and sees these things.

The two went out one after the other, and Nanxing also stood up, wanting to follow them out.

When Abdo turned around, he saw him and instructed him, "You don't need to come. Just stay here and continue learning to write. Try your best to graduate as soon as possible and help Wutong with her work."

Nanxing didn't say anything, but his expression showed that he was very unwilling.

He turned his gaze to the sycamore tree, which sighed, patted his shoulder, and said, "Don't be afraid, I'll be back soon."

He then retreated, but even from a great distance, Wutong could still feel his gaze.

Abudo was as thick-skinned as a tree and was completely unaware of this. After arriving at the training ground, he first asked Wutong to show him a few moves.

I've been in contact with Wutong recently. I can't say how much progress he's made, but at least he won't hurt himself the moment he draws his sword.

After completing the routine, Abdo stroked his chin and shook his head: "No good, you're as limp as a woman. Haven't you eaten enough? You have no strength at all."

Wutong: "..."

She's a woman, what can we do?

"Look at me."

Abdo said, raised his knife, and swung it with a sweeping motion: "Drink!"

A wooden stump as thick as an adult's waist was instantly cut in half.

The blade tip points upwards, and he dashes forward, leaping.

"what!"

A row of bamboo poles was crushed into pieces by the impact.

It was another dive, a flexible yet powerful spin.

A trench two meters deep was cleaved into the ground by a large sword.

Abdo slung the knife over his shoulder: "Look, now that's real kung fu!"

Wutong felt nothing but admiration and resignedly raised her short sword.

End of this chapter