"Jiujiu (sister), is what you said really true?" Everyone was so shocked that they all stood up, their eyes wide open.
In years of favorable weather, the maximum yield for rice and wheat planted in fertile fields could be four or five hundred catties per mu, but these three crops didn't need to be planted in fertile fields; they could be grown in wastelands and still produce over a thousand catties per mu. In times of drought, they could save many lives. Is this really true?
Yang Mengchen nodded.
"Does Jiujiu know how to plant them?" Old Master Yang asked eagerly.
Yang Mengchen nodded again.
Old Master Yang was immediately overjoyed, dancing with excitement, "Good, this is really wonderful!" He was a farmer, so of course, he cared most about crops and harvests.
The others were ecstatic.
"No wonder Jiujiu insisted on buying them; those ten taels of silver were indeed well spent!" Yang Chengrong exclaimed with emotion and excitement.