The farmer did not return home quietly that evening.
At first, he had intended to keep what he experienced to himself. After all, it sounded ridiculous even in his own mind. Farming becoming easier? Soil responding better? A strange sense of calm just by standing in a field?
It made no sense.
But the feeling lingered.
Even after leaving, his body still felt lighter than usual. His thoughts were clearer. The usual fatigue from a day of labor had not returned as expected.
That alone was enough to disturb him.
By the time he reached the village, the sky had already darkened. A few lanterns were lit, and small groups of villagers were gathered, talking as they usually did after a day's work.
He hesitated.
"…If I say this, they'll laugh," he muttered.
But in the end, curiosity won over caution.
"I went to Old Lin's field today," he said, sitting down among them.
One of the villagers snorted. "And? Did his crops suddenly become gold?"
A few laughed.
The farmer shook his head.
"No… but something is wrong there."
The laughter stopped slightly.
"What do you mean?"
He took a breath.
"There's a young man there. Says he's cultivating."
Silence.
Then—
"Cultivating?" someone repeated, confused.
"Yeah. Sounds crazy, I know," the farmer said. "But when I worked the soil there… it felt different."
"How different?"
"…Easier."
That answer was underwhelming.
A few villagers immediately lost interest.
"Maybe you were just in a good mood," one said.
"Or maybe Old Lin finally learned how to farm properly," another joked.
But the farmer shook his head again.
"It's not that simple."
He paused, trying to find the right words.
"It's like… the soil listens."
That made the group quiet again.
Because even as a joke—
that sentence felt strange.
"Are you serious?" one of them asked.
The farmer nodded slowly.
"I don't understand it. But I'm going back tomorrow."
He looked at them one by one.
"If you don't believe me… come see it yourself."