CHAPTER 73: MUSHROOM VILLAGE 23

Wan Qian widened her eyes in confusion, somehow sensing a tense atmosphere between the few people present.

She scratched her head and mumbled quietly, "Ancestral hall? If you’re curious about it but not sure whether outsiders are allowed in, why don’t we ask the village chief?"

As she spoke, Wan Qian raised her phone. She still remembered that back at the farm, she had picked up the note her great-uncle had left for her, which had the Mushroom Village chief’s contact information written on it.

Wan Qian unlocked her phone and looked at the tiny two bars of signal at the top. She frowned a little and muttered under her breath, "No idea if the call will even go through."

Hao Shijun, Fang Minglan, Xie Jia, and Wang Hui—who had not said a word the entire time—were all startled.

"You—" Hao Shijun stared at her, wide-eyed, wanting to ask something but not knowing where to start.

Wan Qian seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and said casually, "Oh, I have the village chief’s telephone number."

Hao Shijun and Fang Minglan exchanged baffled looks—when did Wan Qian get the village chief’s telephone number?

Before either of them could figure it out, Wan Qian had already dialed.

At that moment, she had to admit it was lucky the village chief’s hotline was simple and easy to remember, or she really wouldn’t have memorized it.

The call was answered quickly.

"..." The voice on the other end sounded distant, like wind howling past.

Wan Qian couldn’t hear clearly and frowned slightly, repeating, "Hello? Hello? Hello?"

Finally, there was more than just wind noise. Though the voice was still faint and broken up by the wind, she could make out a few scattered words.

"It’s... Mushroom... where..."

Wan Qian glanced at Hao Shijun and Fang Minglan, then turned and walked a bit farther away, cupping the phone to her ear.

Seeing that they didn’t follow, she lowered her voice and said into the phone, "Hello, I’m the owner of Dark Farm."

As soon as she said that, the voice on the other end became clear, and the howling wind vanished.

"Hello, hello! So it’s the farm owner—so that farm finally has an owner again. May I ask your name?" The man’s voice was warm and enthusiastic.

When you’re out in the world, having the status of a entrepreneur really does come in handy. Wan Qian cleared her throat and straightened her posture. "Ahem, my surname is Wan."

"Oh, oh! So you’re Ms. Wan." The voice on the other end remained just as warm and proactively asked, "Ms. Wan, did you call this time because you have some news about the ’dog’ to tell us?"

Hearing the village chief mention the dog, Wan Qian felt a little embarrassed. But she quickly pushed that awkwardness aside.

She thought back to when she first found that dog on the farm — filthy and scruffy from head to toe. She was the one who had cleaned it up and washed it until it was tidy again.

At worst, she’d ask the dog later whether it wanted to return to the village or stay with her.

"It has nothing to do with the dog," Wan Qian said. "I came to the village this time because the farm needs more workers. I hope to hire some strong young people from your village."

The village chief perked up immediately.

"What? Our village is actually lucky enough to be chosen by you — to have our people work at your farm? I’ll have someone gather all the able-bodied young folks in the village right away! You can pick whoever you like."

"Not so fast, not so fast," Wan Qian hurriedly said. "The thing is, I find your village really unique—the buildings have that charming, antique style, and you’ll be holding a festival here soon. So I’d like to take a little tour around the village first. Once I’ve seen your festival, then we can talk about hiring."

The village chief replied, "Oh, you’re far too kind. Ms. Wan, your visit truly honors our village. Please feel free to explore—go wherever you like; nobody here would dream of stopping you."

Wan Qian immediately asked what she really wanted to know. "Um... I saw your village has an ancestral hall. I’m an outsider—would it be alright for me to go inside and have a look?"

The village chief hesitated for a moment, then quickly replied, "That’s no problem at all — if you’d like to look around, feel free. Oh, by the way, there’s some incense in the ancestral hall — it’s one of our village’s specialties. If you like it, feel free to take some with you."

Wan Qian gave a little "oh," exchanged a few more polite words, then hung up and walked back to Fang Minglan and Hao Shijun.

"I asked the village chief—he said it’s fine to go in," Wan Qian told them.

"Ah, oh... okay." Hao Shijun and Fang Minglan both nodded blankly, looking like they had just woken up. Who am I, where am I?

After a moment, Hao Shijun asked, "It’s not that I don’t believe you, but... that call just now, was that really to the village chief?"

Wan Qian could not accept being doubted. "Of course."

Just as she finished speaking, a figure suddenly appeared, as if out of nowhere. No one had seen where he’d come from.

The man walked straight toward Wan Qian. "Hello, the village chief said I can take you to visit the ancestral hall."

When he stopped in front of Wan Qian, they could see he was a man in his forties or fifties with a simple, honest face. But the powerful muscle lines showing through his shirt made it clear he was strong and good at fighting.

Hao Shijun noticed this at a glance and turned his head to look at Wan Qian.

Wan Qian, however, didn’t seem to notice any danger. She gave a slightly shy smile, waved her hand, and said apologetically, "Oh dear, I’m really troubling you."

The group then followed the man toward the ancestral hall.