"Could it be that you over-fertilized, An Ping, burning the crops?" An Hao asked.
"We spread the fertilizer while tilling the soil; we wouldn’t wait until they’re mature to do so," An Shuchao exhaled a ring of smoke, speaking slowly, "There must be a problem inside."
"Mulling over it here won’t solve the problem. Let’s go back to the greenhouse and take another look," An Hao suggested.
"Alright. Let’s go, then," An Shuchao stood up, dusted the dirt off his behind, and followed An Hao out.
"Sis, you guys go ahead. I’ll tidy up a bit and come right over," An Ping said as he pulled the greenhouse key out of his pocket and handed it over to An Hao.
As soon as An Hao took the key, she felt something was off, "Dad, why does this key look so new?"
"A new key can’t be new now?" An Shuchao found his daughter’s question amusing.
"Where did the old keys go?"
"Ask this rabbit, An Ping!" An Shuchao tapped his pipe against the tree trunk to knock out the ashes and rolled up the pipe before tucking it into his pocket, "Last month, this little rabbit and Erzhuzi went drinking and lost the key in their drunken state. That’s why we got a new one, thankfully we had a spare. Otherwise, wouldn’t we have had to change the locks?"
"You didn’t change the locks after losing the keys?" An Hao couldn’t help but scold her father, "The house isn’t as poor as it used to be, don’t be so stingy. If the keys are lost, just replace the locks; it’s safer that way."
"I know this. An Ping said he probably lost the keys down the latrine when he went to the toilet. Who would fish them out of a latrine? If they are lost, let it be. Anyway, no one would pick them up, so we didn’t change the lock," said An Shuchao.
"In my opinion, it’s safer to replace all the locks," An Hao said, uneasy.
"Alright, change it if you say to change it. I’ll listen to you on everything."
The father and daughter arrived at the edge of the fields. It had rained the previous night, leaving the ground wet and soft underfoot.
An Hao, with her head lowered, carefully avoided the muddier spots as she walked. As she made her way, she suddenly felt that something was not quite right.
"Dad, did anyone come to the greenhouse to buy vegetables this morning?"
"No! This is my first time coming over this morning too," An Shuchao turned his head to look at An Hao, who was squatting down, her gaze fixed on the ground.
"What are you looking at?" An Shuchao was puzzled.
A trail of footprints stretched from Dapeng’s doorway, moving in the opposite direction to An Hao’s. Following the trail, An Hao found that the footprints merged with others at the entrance to the village and could no longer be distinguished.
If neither father nor daughter had been there that morning, whose footprints could these be?
Looking at the size of the prints, they didn’t seem very large. They must belong to a... woman’s foot...
An idea flashed suddenly through An Hao’s mind, but it quickly settled.
"What is it? Did you discover something?" An Shuchao, seeing his daughter’s seriousness, like a police officer on a case, eagerly asked when he thought she had discovered something.
"There’s a little finding. Let’s go to the greenhouse and have a look first," they said, and the pair opened the door to the vegetable greenhouse and walked in.
An Hao directly approached a withered plant and pulled it up by the roots.
After the plant came out, the sight left An Hao puzzled, "What’s this white powder?"
An Shuchao took a look, then brushed it with his hand and sniffed, "It looks like lime? Or maybe baking soda..."