Weeding the Herb Field

Staring at the sincere smile of the Artifact Sect freshman, Su Qing felt something was off.

She glanced at his shabby refining setup and his attire.

The first-year student tied his hair with a simple cloth strip, his body covered in dust, wearing the plainest Sword Sect-issued blue training robe, frayed at the cuffs and elbows. Luckily, as a refiner, he was handy with a needle, meticulously patching it up.

His waist was bare—no jade pendants, rings, or even a decent cord. The paper he used for her request was the cheapest yellow straw paper—Su Qing could buy a thousand sheets for ten spirit seeds at the second cafeteria.

No matter how she looked, he didn’t seem like someone rich enough to be charitable.

Su Qing was puzzled. “If you don’t want money, do you mean I should trade something?”

“No need.” His eyes were clear. “Just provide the materials, and I’ll finish within the set time.”

“I get it—you mean I bring the materials, right? I’ll prepare three portions.”

Su Qing sighed in relief.

That made sense. No free lunch in this world.

“No need for three.” He shook his head cheerfully. “My success rate’s high—one’s enough.”

“You don’t want materials, money, or me to do anything.” Su Qing was increasingly baffled. “Don’t you need money?”

He smiled. “I don’t have anywhere to spend it.”

“How could you not?” Su Qing felt money was needed everywhere. “How do you eat? The cafeteria’s sauced chicken legs went up by one spirit seed this month. Soup used to be unlimited; now it’s ten bowls max, and you can’t just fish out the meat.”

“The tea shop’s snacks? Half went up a tenth in price, with smaller portions—six pastries down to four. Manager Lin even serves two for aesthetics now. What a schemer!”

She cursed inwardly. “Everything’s rising—workload too—but not my wages. Infuriating!”

Muttering about Manager Lin, she concluded, “Earning money’s tough. Without it, you’re stuck. Make money when you can—it’s not bad.”

He listened quietly, blinking occasionally. When she finished, he said with interest, “You’re fun to listen to. No one’s talked to me about chicken legs or pastries. But I don’t have much appetite. Sunshine and water are enough for me.”

Su Qing thought: *You don’t have chloroplasts. We’re all human—why can you live on sunlight and water?*

Unfair.

She pressed, “What about cultivation? That costs money, right? Don’t you need pills, artifacts, or better refining materials? Especially pills—post-tribulation, they’re discounted 95%, but Yueling said Dan Pavilion raised base prices first, so it’s no real deal. Stingy.”

“And refining,” she sighed. “I was embarrassed to admit my budget’s low. A good sword’s pricey—materials, labor, all cost more than I planned. Spirit stones everywhere.”

She’d initially wanted a second-year to refine her sword, but they politely declined her vague, low-budget request.

She understood, but being broke hurt.

“No worries.” He repeated, smiling. “Sunshine and water are enough. Save your spirit stones for pills and materials.”

“Really?” Su Qing was skeptical. “You said you have 121 orders and 89 refining plans. All those clients, and you do it free?”

“Yes,” he said matter-of-factly. “All free.”

Su Qing was speechless: *What a sucker. What a bunch of freeloaders.*

She stressed money’s importance and her willingness to pay, but he deflected every time. Oddly, she was used to being coaxed into spending, not meeting someone with no place to spend.

But at this point, she figured she could take advantage of his free offer. He insisted on no payment, and she’d tried persuading him. Plus, refining likely benefited his cultivation—why else do it for free? No one’s that foolish. There had to be a perk.

Resolved, she gritted her teeth. “I don’t care about those 121 others. I’m paying you. Name your price—”

She untied her spirit stone pouch, unraveling three ropes and four cloth layers, spilling glowing stones onto his workbench. “Here’s 100 as a deposit. Draft a detailed plan. I’ll pay the rest when you start refining. Deal?” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

The stones sparkled, lifting her spirits.

She’d paid readily but felt a pang of loss.

His ordinary face showed new confusion. He looked at her, the stones, back at her, then the stones again.

His brain seemed to crash, his voice weak. “But I don’t need spirit stones. Even if you give them, I don’t need them…”

“That’s your problem,” Su Qing said. “I’m paying so you’ll do a better job—it’s for my peace of mind. Spend it, toss it, your call. I’m not taking advantage.”

But then, “I’ve never met someone who doesn’t spend. Even if you don’t now, you’ll learn. Keep them—tossing’s a waste.”

He stood dazed. Su Qing took charge. “I’m paying, and you’re moving me ahead of those freeloaders. Got it? It’s fair exchange. I want my plan next week. Hear me?”

“I hear you,” he said, hesitant, “but my heart’s troubled.”

She cut him off. “Right, what’s your name? I’m Su Qing. Let’s exchange names so I can find you next time.”

An easy question. He smiled. “Weed. My name’s Weed.”

“What?” Su Qing thought she misheard. “Say it again.”

“Sure.” He repeated obediently, “My name’s Weed.”

“You mean *weed*? Like grass on the ground?” She frowned. “What’s your surname?”

“Surname?” He pondered, smiling blankly. “Jiang, I think. But just call me Weed. You’re right—the common, everywhere weed.”

“Jiang Weed.” Su Qing eyed the pile of spirit stones, regretting slightly. *Weed? Such a casual name, and the surname sounds made-up. A fake name to scam my stones?*

But meeting his clear, honest eyes, she doubted he was a liar.

If she got scammed, she’d misjudged. She’d curse herself and plot revenge.

“You really have chloroplasts?” she muttered. “Living on sunlight and water—like a weed?”

Her tone was soft, possibly mocking, but Jiang Weed beamed. “I don’t know what chloroplasts are, but a weed’s a weed. No need for chicken legs or pastries—just sunlight and water.”

Weird. Su Qing dropped it, grabbing his order form and placing it atop his drawer’s stack. “Fine, weeds have their ways. My sword’s on you—do mine first!” @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

…

That evening was her spirit beast literacy class.

Her small class had grown to five beasts: Divine Dog Yuanbao, Red Fox Ahuo, Koi Little Rainbow, Black Bird Jiuxiao, and Teacher Qingge, the shriveled vine.

She couldn’t take more—five was overwhelming. They fought over being story protagonists or villains, bickering over everything. Each class left her nose full of fur. Back at the dorm, Tianning sneezed near her.

As for the teacher becoming the student and vice versa, Su Qing had accepted it. They called each other “Teacher”—everyone was a teacher.

She couldn’t take more students, but her picture books were a hit. This month, fifteen Beast Sect disciples paid ten spirit stones each to copy them, earning her a tidy sum.

After class, sword practice, body refining, and meditation, Su Qing woke the next day ready to work.

Today’s sect task: weeding the herb field.

Sword Sect had many herb fields. The land was vast, spiritual energy dense—ideal for herbs. Demand was high, and external supplies fell short.

Fields weren’t on the six sects’ peaks or the main peak but on twenty-four surrounding mountains. Sword Mountain was a range, peaks stretching endlessly.

Su Qing dreamed of mastering sword flight to count them from the highest point.

She trekked between peaks daily. The herb field’s mountain had no shortcut from the main peak. Unable to fly, she walked, climbing up and down, exhausted.

At least it doubled as body training.

At the herb mountain, she used her token to start the task. The steward warned, “Stay within the barrier. Don’t cross to the back mountain out of curiosity. It’s full of ferocious beasts—even the Sect Master couldn’t save you.”

Safety first, Su Qing nodded.

Not all fields belonged to Dan Sect; each sect had some, varying in number. Even poor Body Sect had half a peak for body-refining herbs. Sword Sect’s fields, nearly matching Dan Sect’s, supplied all disciples. The daily qi-replenishing pill Su Qing took came from Sword Sect’s fields.

Today, she tended a Sword Sect field growing Mugwort Qi Grass, the main ingredient for qi-replenishing pills.

Mugwort Qi Grass survived winter, regrew in spring, and boosted qi and body when consumed regularly—an excellent body-refining herb. Its growth conditions were strict; only Sword Mountain cultivated it at scale, a local specialty.

This knowledge came from the field’s student overseer.

First day on the job, Su Qing learned to distinguish Mugwort Qi Grass from weeds to avoid uprooting the wrong ones—a laughable mistake. @Infinite Good Reads, Only at Jinjiang Literature City

Luckily, Mugwort Qi Grass had a distinct aroma and appearance: woody main root, long strip-like leaves with silky fuzz, and abundant foliage.

In hair terms, it was the king of volume; weeds were sparse. Easy to spot.

Once learned, Su Qing worked confidently.

She used no tools, channeling spiritual energy into her thumb, index, and middle fingers, turning them iron-strong. No weed could resist.

For deep roots, she dug around to gauge the spread, then sliced them out cleanly—her potato-digging experience applied.

Su Qing found she had a knack for this, quickly becoming skilled. Squatting and digging, she cleared her field in four hours.

A nearby student, impressed by her efficiency, asked, “I’ve got three fields left—won’t finish today. Can you take one? I’ll transfer fourteen task points and toss in some wild fruits. No spiritual energy, but they’re sweet.”

Having just learned herb identification from her, and with no urgent tasks, plus two extra points, Su Qing agreed.

They swapped tokens. The student, Chen Minjing, was a Body Sect first-year.

Chen Minjing transferred fourteen points and gave Su Qing five or six fist-sized red fruits.

Paid, Su Qing worked diligently. Chen Minjing finished her field, greeted Su Qing, and headed to two farther fields, repeating the warning about the back mountain’s beasts—where not even a corpse would be found.

Su Qing rested, ate her rations, drank water, wiped sweat, and continued weeding the new field. By dusk, she’d nearly finished.

But her heart wasn’t light—it sank.

Turning back, she saw half a row of Mugwort Qi Grass missing.

*Why do I always catch thieves eating?*

Do I have to pay for this?

What if they think *I* ate it?

And why eat so blatantly? Couldn’t they be sneakier?

Muttering a breath-concealing technique, hand on her wooden sword, Su Qing crept over to see who was stealing.

She nearly drooled.

A snow-white creature, cheeks stuffed, ears twitching, munching herbs—what else but a rabbit?

What a fat rabbit!

Holding her breath, Su Qing grabbed its ears, lifting it. It kept stuffing herbs until she shook it, startling it to spit them out, whimpering “ying ying ying.”

“I’m not killing you,” Su Qing explained. “I just need to turn you in. How else do I explain the missing herbs?”

The rabbit, uncomprehending, kept whimpering, as if calling something.

Calling what? More rabbits?

Her instincts screamed danger. The air froze, her blood surged—she wanted to drop the rabbit.

Too late. Danger struck.

Too fast!

She saw nothing, heard nothing, just felt a force slam her down. Her chest throbbed, throat bloody—ribs broken again!

No time to dwell, she looked up. Glowing green eyes locked on her, their vertical beast pupils radiating menace. It roared, baring red gums and sharp white teeth, hot drool dripping onto her collar with a foul stench.

“Human, let it go!”

A ferocious beast!

“Alright, alright,” Su Qing said calmly. “Ow ow ow, can you lift your paw? My bones are crushed. And wipe your drool—it’s on me.”

Hearing her, the beast’s fierce eyes rounded. It sniffed her, nuzzling left and right, then leapt up, paws pressing harder, shocked and confused. “Su Qing? Su Qing! It’s you! Why are you here? Why do you smell like dog?”

It whined aggrievedly. “I didn’t recognize you!”

Su Qing, mouth bloody, thought: *You’re aggrieved? My ribs are worse.*

“Cough, cough—ow ow ow, you’ve grown, cough—get off me first, okay?”