Her Cultivation Diary
Chapter 308 - Chapter 308 308. Tobacco leaf shredding_1

Chapter 308: 308. Tobacco leaf shredding_1 Chapter 308: 308. Tobacco leaf shredding_1 There it was, Song Tan watched with wide eyes as Song Youde pinched the tobacco leaves tightly and then took out a cutting board and kitchen knife to slowly chop them into fine tobacco shreds.

The movements were neither hurried nor slow, especially meticulous, and the tobacco was cut so finely that it was almost indistinguishable from what was sold in the markets.

Song Tan: …

Qiaoqiao came out of the room to pour a cup of water, and at that moment, seeing the pile of golden tobacco shreds before her, she twisted her head and “hmmphed” loudly.

Song Youde quickly tried to please her with a smile, then shouted loudly, “Qiaoqiao! Grandpa will weave you a straw mat, and you’ll be able to sleep on it tonight.”

Song Tan let out a “huh” and said, “Grandpa, weave it now, and I’ll let him sleep on it right away!”

Song Youde: …

He chuckled sheepishly, put down the kitchen knife, and looked at the several bundles of rushes. He then spoke the honest truth, “I haven’t tidied up the rushes yet. You go find the others first, help me sort these rushes by length – I don’t have much tobacco left and will finish cutting it soon.”

He had planned it for personal use, indeed he didn’t cut very much.

The pile of tobacco leaves had been flattened and was just about finished being chopped up.

Song Tan chuckled mockingly and went over to tidy up the rushes.

Looking back at Song Youde, he seemed to be meticulously handling his treasured possession, bit by bit, strand by strand, until the entire cutting board was covered with finely chopped golden tobacco leaves. Then he took out a plastic bag and carefully put all the tobacco shreds inside.

After that, he pulled out his smoking pipe from behind his waist, stuffed the remaining handful of tobacco shreds into the cloth bag hanging below the pipe bowl.

Before doing anything else, he filled the pipe mouth with a pinch of tobacco, lit it with a lighter with a “click,” and sat there blowing smoke rings, looking intoxicated as if he were an immortal.

Suddenly, Song Tan’s heart softened.

Tobacco was not a good thing, but for her grandfather, it was the only thing that could comfort and soothe his body and mind after the exhausting farm work.

Besides, Grandpa was already of such an old age…

Well, since the tobacco had already been grown, there was no point in stopping him now.

She called over Zhang Yanping and Song Sancheng to help sort the bundles of rushes by length. While sorting, she asked, “Do we need to dry them afterwards?”

“No hurry.” Seeing how adept his siblings were at sorting, Song Sancheng simply took out a knife, sat down, and began to split the rushes in half.

Rushes aren’t fine and long like thread; rather, they are quite thick and need to be split open entirely.

The process was quite troublesome!

It was apparent that Song Youde’s previous claim that Qiaoqiao could sleep on it tonight was just to bluff his grandson.

By the time all these bundles were finished, it was already noon.

Meanwhile, after finishing his smoke, Song Youde had come over to help.

He split the rushes even more skillfully and efficiently than Song Sancheng, and soon, there was a pile of rush fibers on the ground.

Only then did he stop, “Move them outside to the open area to dry. We’re weaving straw mats for our own use, so there’s no need to bundle them up – drying them loosely is better for ventilation.”

Song Tan: …

Is it this troublesome?

No wonder he wasn’t weaving now; it truly does take a lot of effort.

However, a straw mat isn’t as cool as a bamboo mat, but it still works fine in an air-conditioned room. When there’s time, they should go gather more rushes and weave several more mats.

This way, if the elders are reluctant to turn on the air conditioning, at least sleeping on the mat would be a bit cooler.

Qiaoqiao’s classes were over, and he came out with Xin Jun to help scatter and dry the rush fibers evenly. Then he saw Song Youde and hurriedly asked loudly,

“Grandpa, can I sleep on it tonight?”

Song Youde: …

This kid, why is his memory so good?

…

He pretended to be old and hard of hearing and walked straight up to Seventh Uncle:

“Where’s your smoking pipe?”

Seventh Uncle glanced at him, “I’ve left it at home, haven’t brought it back.”

It was one that he had taken a liking to on Tremolo, and then had asked Song Tan to help purchase. It looked almost as elegant as the one Song Youde had, except Song Youde’s, being used over many years, had acquired a glossy sheen and couldn’t be compared with his new one.

Song Youde, however, eagerly opened his cloth pouch that he used to carry tobacco:

“How is it, good or not?!”

Then he hastily suggested, “It’s still early; why don’t you go back and get it? Let me tell you about this year’s tobacco–”

He took a deep breath, now fiddling with his own smoking pipe, and the poor old farmer was momentarily at a loss for words.

Thinking it over for a while, he didn’t know how to describe the quality of the tobacco.

In the end he concluded, “You’ll know once you take a drag. It’s really good!”

But Seventh Uncle became wary:

“The way you’re talking… I see you haven’t smoked for half the day; are you feeling the itch?”

Song Youde was puzzled and said, “Itchy? Not at all. I just like to take a few puffs normally; I’m not that addicted.”

Then he caught on, “What do you mean by that? I don’t even want to share my good tobacco with you! Don’t want it? Fine by me.”

Seventh Uncle then forced a sheepish smile.

“The way you’re describing it, it doesn’t sound like tobacco…”

“If not tobacco, what then!” Song Youde glared at him, and the two old men faced off, each snorting disdainfully.

Yet Song Tan couldn’t help but interject, “Grandpa, the tobacco’s been planted for you, but this winter we have to go for a medical check-up.”

Last winter, the old man had a sore back and stayed in the hospital for a few days; having been hospitalized and being able to get a reimbursement, he also had a scan done.

The results showed a shadow on his lungs.

And still, he smoked!

Song Youde genuinely wanted to stubbornly refuse, but he would need his granddaughter’s assistance for next year’s tobacco; he could only hum and haw, “Fine, I’ll go.”

While mumbling under his breath, “I’ll tell you, there’s no trouble until you look for it. Once you start looking, problems suddenly appear. You young people just have too much money to spend…”

But he didn’t dare to revolt, and glancing at the sky, he pulled a large bundle of tobacco leaves from the house:

“Xiaozu brought over a couple of bottles of fine Maotai wine last time; we need to give something back. I’ll cut some tobacco for them.”

This was indeed strange.

Song Tan asked curiously, “You only have about 200 pounds of tobacco leaves; aren’t you worried?”

Song Youde looked at her proudly, “What’s there to worry about? You silly girl, do you have any idea how long 200 pounds of tobacco leaves can last me?”

He picked up his smoking pipe, ready to impress her with some numbers, but after thinking about it, since he only smoked a small pinch at a time, he didn’t have any real data to share.

So he switched to another example, “If you roll these tobacco leaves into cigarettes, one pound of tobacco can make 600, can you imagine how many packs that is? Two pounds of tobacco as a gift won’t be shameful at all.”

Initially, the two mu of land dedicated to growing tobacco was casually tended, with a yield that was just about enough to cover home usage for a year or two.

Who knew that once Tantan took over, the output would increase severalfold, and now it seemed as though the harvest was quite ample.

Song Tan was somewhat surprised, “One pound of tobacco can roll 600 cigarettes? Then your 200 pounds of tobacco leaves are quite a lot!”

Song Youde grew cautious, “Not a lot.”

“Don’t you still have to strip the stems off those leaves? That will reduce the weight.”

“Both Seventh Uncle and I need to smoke, plus I’m giving Xiaozu two pounds, there’s not much left, not much at all…”

The old man guarded his treasure jealously.

Song Tan had only mentioned it casually since she saw how dearly her grandpa treasured those tobacco leaves, building a special drying room for them.

However, the drying room wasn’t wasted; now slightly modified, it served as a simple toilet.

After all, with summer coming and house construction on the schedule, keeping the drying room as it was seemed unnecessary; it was best to make it convenient for everyone first!

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