Qingmu laughed at Zhang Huai's words.
He straightened up and glanced at the lush green Huangdou seedlings in front of them. Then he looked at the distant Shanyu field, where another row of Huangdou had been planted along the edges of the furrows. In fact, Huangdou had been planted in every available patch of soil, making full use of the land.
He turned back to Zhang Huai and said, "As long as the officials aren't too unreasonable, we won't be poor. County Magistrate Hu is an honest official, so we've benefited from that. Besides, acorns are edible even for people, and they aren't taxed like the crops in the fields."
Zhang Huai looked up. The two men met each other's gaze and couldn't help but laugh happily—this was what truly made them happy.
After all, they were hardworking farmers, and the land at Little Qing Mountain was good. If it weren't for the unaffordable taxes, how could they possibly be poor?
