Chapter 57: Secret! He Feng cautiously got up that morning,…

He Feng cautiously got up that morning, took the bitten bear, and went to Mrs. Liu's house to ask how to hide the needle.

He had always been a rough sewing person, just sewing it up. He hadn't cared much before, because Song Qingshu's clothes wouldn't get torn, so he only needed to mend his own clothes.

But this bear was different. He had to sew it to look exactly like the original, which was a challenge for him.

"How did it get like this?" Mrs. Liu took the bear and examined it. He had stuffed cotton inside earlier, but the cotton inside was still visible through the tear.

"It was windy yesterday, and it fell to the ground before it dried. Xiao Hei and Xiao Hua tore it apart."

Little Bear's face was still grimy, and Mrs. Liu instinctively patted it. "It's okay. Teach me how to sew it, and I'll wash it after I'm done."

Mrs. Liu agreed, squeezing Little Bear's hand. "I have some cotton left over from making clothes for Nannan last time. I'll stuff a little more into this doll's belly. It's not soft to the touch."

"Okay." He Feng sat down next to Mrs. Liu, pulled needle and thread from his pocket, threaded the needle, and took out his handkerchief, ready to practice before

actually starting. If Mrs. Liu had done it, it would have been done in a few strokes.

But He Feng had promised to fix it for the baby, so he should do it himself.

Mrs. Liu's hidden needle technique wasn't difficult; He Feng mastered it in just half an hour, watching and learning.

He practiced with his handkerchief while Mrs. Liu found cotton and stuffed it little by little into Little Bear's belly, arms, and head.

When He Feng looked up and prepared to take it to sew, the originally "slender" little bear had become a chubby little bear.

"How are you stuffing it? Don't let the thread get ripped," He Feng said with a smile.

Mrs. Liu looked at the doll in her hand. The fatter little bear looked even cuter and softer. Song Qingshu would definitely like it. She smiled and said, "It's okay. The cotton will flatten if pressed."

He Feng also thought it was cute. He took it and pinched the hole to thread the needle. When he was tying a knot, Song Qingshu came over.

"Brother?" Song Qingshu had just finished washing up. There was no sign of He Feng at home, so he thought of going out to look for him.

He Feng cut the thread with scissors and held up the little bear. "Is this okay, little bear?"

Song Qingshu took the little bear, which was heavier than before and still a little dirty. There was no hole in the chest anymore. Without a close look, it was hard to tell it had been sewn.

The little bear was chubby, like a child who had gone out to play and got himself dirty. Song Qingshu's eyes lit up and he nodded and said it was okay.

"Sister-in-law, you haven't cooked yet, have you?" He put the needle back into the loop and put it in his pocket.

When he arrived, Sister Liu had just finished washing and was tidying up the house. She had indeed not cooked yet. "No,"

He Feng said, holding Song Qingshu's hand, to Sister Liu, "Let's go, let's go back and cook something so we can eat."

Seeing his owner come out, Xiao Huang ran home to play with Xiao Hei.

It had grown a bit, but its breed was known for its agelessness. Its fur was golden yellow, with two white patches between its eyebrows, and a little white hair on the tip of its tail.

Song Qingshu was still looking at the little bear in his arms, a small smile playing on his face. He Feng didn't bother him and led him home.

...

In the afternoon, He Feng was going to the fields to pick wheat germ, and Song Qingshu followed him. He told He Feng that he was picking cat grass for Xiao Hua.

He Feng had never heard of it before and asked him what it was.

Song Qingshu had learned all this from watching short videos. The most common cat grass cats like is wheat seedlings.

"It's a secret." Song Qingshu blinked his eyes, like a cunning kitten.

When they got to the field, a dense layer of new green emerged on the ground. It looked tender from a distance, but when they got closer, they found that it was not that dense.

And they could smell the fragrance of malt, which was a little sweeter than the smell of grass, with a very light aroma of wheat.

Song Qingshu then understood the specific scene of "the grass looks green from a distance, but it is not there when you get close" in the ancient poem.

He Feng stepped on the ground and found that it was not too wet, so he walked a few more steps in, turned his head and said: "Zizi, don't squat and pull it, go find the grass you want." "

This is what I found." Song Qingshu squatted at the edge of the field, and had already pulled a small piece of malt in his hand. He tilted his head to show He Feng.

He Feng was a little skeptical, "Will this little flower like to eat it?"

Song Qingshu nodded, "Of course it will."

"Then don't squat all the time, just go to the edge of the field and thin out the wheat malt if you see it's too dense. If you see any weeds, pull them out too."

He Feng had already squatted down and started to pull out the wheat malt, and he kept giving instructions as he pulled. Song Qingshu lowered his head and agreed.

When he was having breakfast in the morning, He Feng asked Mrs. Liu how to make malt sugar. Song Qingshu knew at that time that He Feng was going to go to the field to pull out the wheat malt, so he followed He Feng as soon as he woke up from his nap.

When he saw He Feng was going to ride his bike, he sat directly behind him, and said to He Feng with a smile, "Let's go!"

On the way, someone asked He Feng what he was doing, and He Feng said he was picking out the wheat malt. It didn't matter if the wheat was a little dense. Everyone would wait until it grew into wheat seedlings before going to the field to check. They would only pull out some of the dense places.

Someone saw Song Qingshu following behind, smiled and said hello, and walked away with the hoe.

Song Qingshu felt that he had a certain talent in this area. It didn't take him long to even out the malt at the edge of the field. There were no particularly dense areas.

He glanced at He Feng who was getting farther and farther away from him, put the malt in his hand on the cloth that He Feng had laid out in advance, and quietly took a step inside.

He Feng was weeding while picking malt. When he turned to look at Song Qingshu, he could see that he was quietly walking into the field because of the difference in vision. He just told him to stand up slowly and take a rest.

"Oh, brother, stand up too!"

He Feng walked out of the field with the cloth in one hand, only to find that Song Qingshu had already walked inside along the edge. There was some mud on his shoes. He... had already gone to someone else's field.

"Baby."

"Hey!"

Song Qingshu was holding a handful of tender green malt in his hand, and was still studying the little ladybug on the ground carefully. The little red ball was trying hard to crawl.

The voice seemed a little close.

He suddenly looked up and found He Feng standing behind him. He pursed his lips and said, "Brother."

He Feng just walked over. "How long have you been squatting, kid? Are your legs numb?"

It shouldn't be too long. Song Qingshu didn't feel numb yet. He rolled his eyes and said, "A little bit."

He Feng's hands were covered with mud and he couldn't help him stand up. He stretched out his arm and said, "Help me, stand up slowly."

"Give me the seedlings in your hand."

Song Qingshu's hands were much cleaner than He Feng's. He was very careful when plucking the wheat seedlings, but there was still some mud. He Feng didn't care because he had to wash it when he got home anyway.

Song Qingshu stood up by holding on to He Feng's arm and smiled with some pride. "I plucking quite a lot!" His

white fingers pointed at the cloth on the side. There was indeed quite a lot on it. He Feng was standing in front of him. "Well, kid, you're great. Move your feet. When you're no longer uncomfortable, we'll go up."

It was a bit perfunctory.

Song Qingshu moved his feet. Actually, they were not numb at first. He was standing very close to He Feng. The familiar smell reached his nose, which made him feel at ease.

He wrinkled his nose. "It doesn't hurt anymore. Let's go up."

He Feng led him straight to the end of the field. There was a piece of wood hammered into the ground beside him. Half of it was exposed and the other half was stuck in the ground. It looked like it was quite old.

"Kid, look at this."

Song Qingshu looked in the direction of He Feng's fingertips. "What is this? Why are you hammering wood into the ground?"

"This is a wedge used to divide the land. You stepped on someone else's field."

Song Qingshu's eyes widened immediately. He stayed there for quite a while. The malt in his hand was from someone else's field.

He blinked his eyes and clumsily proposed a compensatory measure, "Well, then why don't I plant some more in the field for them."

He Feng was amused by him, "It's okay, kid, it's just a little bit. It's Sister Liu's field. When the sugar is ready

, I'll send her some to try." When the two returned home, Song Qingshu went to Sister Liu to tell her that he had gone to the field to pick up some malt, but he didn't pick it randomly. He picked up some very dense wheat.

Sister Liu saw that he was explaining seriously, a kind smile appeared on her face, and she told Song Qingshu calmly that it was okay.

"I'll give you some malt sugar when it's ready." Song Qingshu leaned over and rubbed Xiao Huang's head, and prevented it from pulling up his trouser legs.

"Okay." Sister Liu agreed, still cutting cloth in her hands.

"What are you doing?" Song Qingshu asked curiously.

"I think your doll is pretty good. Make a small one out of cloth and give it to our daughter to play with when she comes."

Song Qingshu looked at the cloth she had cut, which indeed looked like a doll. "That's amazing! You'll know how to make it just by looking at it once?" "

It's nothing special. It definitely won't look that good."

Mrs. Liu studied the stitching while packing the cotton. She had buttons and other things at home, so while she might not be able to make one as detailed as Song Qingshu's bear, she definitely had the general shape.

"You're very skillful, you'll definitely be able to do it."

Mrs. Liu was delighted by his coaxing and waved him off to play. Song Qingshu hadn't used malt to test whether Xiaohua liked it yet. He said hello to Mrs. Liu and went home.

He Feng was chopping the washed wheat seedlings when he heard him come back and tell him he'd left a handful of malt on his bicycle and asked him to feed it to Xiaohua.

Song Qingshu carried Xiaohua in one hand and the malt in the other and went into the kitchen. The aroma of the cut malt was even more pronounced, and Xiaohua meowed in He Feng's direction.

Song Qingshu handed over the one in his hand. Xiaohua held the malt with her little paw, licked it a few times, and began to eat.

Xiaohua had always had a habit of eating, but since she couldn't hold the malt, she tilted her head and bit it. She looked so cute, and Song Qingshu took the opportunity to rub the little kitten's belly.

He Feng made a quiet noise as he cut the malt. He put it in a large porcelain bowl large enough for kneading dough, then turned and washed the glutinous rice he had bought the previous day from the cupboard and poured it into the pot to steam.

When Song Qingshu saw him put down the knife, he said, "Brother, look, it will eat it."

He Feng had never heard of a cat eating malt before, and he was stunned for a moment, then began to praise him again, "Teacher Song, you know so much."

He Feng came over and sat behind the stove. He took out a match, struck it, and lit a handful of stalks of wheat straw.

The stove flames instantly lit up the bottom of the pot. Song Qingshu sat next to He Feng, watching Xiaohua eat. He didn't take much, just five, but Xiaohua only ate three and stopped.

"What if it doesn't want to eat anymore?"

He Feng looked at the two small sprouts in Song Qingshu's hand, "Find a bowl, grab some soil and add some water, and put the remaining malt in it."

"Put it on the ground and let it eat by itself."

Song Qingshu put the little flower down and was about to go out. He Feng held his wrist, and the man who was about to get up fell into He Feng's arms.

One of He Feng's hands had a hint of gunpowder smoke, very lightly, brushing against Song Qingshu's jaw, his eyes fixed on Song Qingshu's pink lips.

Song Qingshu was stared at and hugged by him, licking his lips, and whispered: "Brother."

He Feng watched the tender red tip of his tongue brush against his lips, making them pink and bright, rolled his throat, and leaned over to kiss him, sucking his soft lips, breaking through the gap between his lips, and biting his soft, seductive tongue.

The sound of tsk-tsk drowned out the tiny crackling sound of the burning firewood. Song Qingshu's waist softened due to the kiss, and he still held the two wheat straws tightly in his hands.