November 10.
It was the day Lin Shuyao officially began working at the grain seed experimental station.
In the deep autumn of the southwestern borderlands, the warmth of harvest season had not completely faded. In the experimental fields, however, the bustle of harvest was already gone. Only neatly cut rice stubble remained standing in the soil, covered with a thin layer of morning dew, glowing faintly white under the cool early light.
Lin Shuyao arrived at the station early.
Her onboarding procedures had already been completed two days ago, and she had been officially assigned to a support role in the experimental fields. Her responsibilities included daily maintenance of the fields, seed drying, tool organization, and assisting with experimental data recording.
Although it was not a core position and did not involve breeding or trial planting, she treated everything with full seriousness. The night before, she had carefully reviewed the agricultural materials she brought with her, recalling details of experimental field management from later generations and forming her own plan.
Even a support role had to be done to perfection—she would not allow herself to be looked down upon, nor waste her years of agricultural knowledge.
The station was small but well organized. One side contained office rooms and research rooms, while the other side held continuous experimental fields. Wooden signs stood neatly along the field ridges, marking different seed varieties and planting times.
Just as she reached the entrance to the fields, she saw a middle-aged man wearing an old straw hat. He was squatting by the ridge, writing in a notebook, while two young technicians stood nearby with serious expressions.
“Hello, I’m the new support staff. My name is Lin Shuyao. It’s my first day at work. May I ask who you are?”
She stepped forward to greet him politely.
She knew that in a research station, whether technician or support staff, everyone worked for the same goal—seed development. There was no hierarchy, only diligence.
The man looked up and studied her briefly before replying flatly, “I’m team leader Fu Peng. I manage experimental fields one through five. You’re the Kyoto college graduate sent by Battalion Commander Lu?”
It was clear he had already heard about her background. However, his gaze carried little approval—only mild disdain.
In his view, students from Kyoto were usually pampered. They likely couldn’t even distinguish weeds from crops, let alone handle fieldwork. A support role like hers was probably just a way to pass time.
The two technicians beside him also looked over. Their eyes carried curiosity—and faint contempt.
One of them, a tall and thin technician, muttered under his breath, “So this ‘connection hire’ really got assigned here? What bad luck.”
The voice wasn’t loud, but it was just enough for her to hear.
Lin Shuyao did not react to their contempt. She simply smiled and nodded.
“Yes, Team Leader Fu. Please guide me and everyone else in the future. Although I came from Kyoto, I can do farm work, and I will do my best in support duties without holding anyone back.”
Her tone was steady, her eyes calm and firm, without the slightest trace of hesitation.
Fu Peng raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. He pointed toward the drying yard and tool shed in the distance.
“The support work isn’t complicated, but it’s tedious. The harvest just ended, so the seeds need drying, sorting, and storage. Tools need cleaning and maintenance. And these fields must be plowed and fertilized to prepare for next year’s trials.
Go follow Old Wang first and learn seed drying. Remember, these experimental seeds are carefully cultivated—too much sun or moisture will ruin them. Any mistake is not something anyone can afford.”
“Understood, Team Leader Fu. I’ve got it.”
She turned and walked toward the drying yard.
There, an elderly man with dark skin and deep wrinkles was using a wooden rake to turn the seeds. His movements were skilled and careful. He was Old Wang, responsible for seed drying and storage.
“Hello, Master Wang. I’m the new staff member, Lin Shuyao. I’ll help you today.”
She greeted him and immediately picked up a small rake, imitating his movements as she gently turned the seeds without delay.
The grains were plump and full—new rice varieties cultivated by the station and key for next year’s trials. Each seed was precious.
Old Wang glanced at her and smiled.
“Careful now, young lady. These seeds are delicate. Don’t crush them. Every grain here affects next year’s harvest—there’s no room for carelessness.”
“I understand, Master Wang. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.”
She nodded and worked in an orderly manner, needing no step-by-step instruction.
To be honest, this kind of hands-on experience was rare for her. In her previous life, she had never personally done such basic fieldwork. Everything had been handled by subordinates; she only needed to manage data precisely.
But different experiences always brought different gains.
“Master Wang, are there any other rules for drying these seeds? How long should they be exposed to the sun? How often should they be turned? And how should they be stored at night?”
She understood clearly that although she had knowledge from later generations, climate, soil, and local practices varied. Asking more questions would help her avoid mistakes.
Old Wang, seeing her sincere attitude and diligence, softened toward her and explained patiently.
“In the southwest, autumn has a big temperature difference between day and night. From about 10 a.m. to 1 p.m., the sun is strongest—that’s when they dry best, but you can’t overexpose them. After 1 p.m., the sun weakens, so you only need to turn them about once an hour. At night, they must be collected, stored in sacks, and placed in a dry, ventilated warehouse. If they get damp, the seeds are ruined.”
“Thank you, Master Wang. I’ve noted it down.”
She listened carefully, nodding from time to time, mentally recording every key detail.
The entire day passed without rest.
From morning until evening, she worked with Old Wang drying seeds and cleaning tools. Sweat formed on her forehead, and dust stained her sleeves and trouser cuffs, yet her energy never faded.
Along the way, she also noticed potential improvements in Old Wang’s methods—for example, adjusting turning frequency based on sunlight intensity, and adding dried plant ash into storage sacks to improve moisture control.
Old Wang noticed her attentiveness and became increasingly impressed.
“You’re really good, Xiao Lin. Unlike those pampered city folks—you can endure hardship, and you’re meticulous. Keep it up. You’ll definitely improve.”
“Thank you, Master Wang. I’m just doing what I should.”
Lin Shuyao knew this was only the beginning.
If she wanted true recognition, it would not happen overnight. It would take more effort, step by step.