The wind is picking up, and it's going to pour. Chun Nuan hurriedly goes to the corner of the sandy field to pick vegetables.
The rice in the fields has already turned yellow, and seeing them leaning east and west in the strong wind, Chun Nuan is a bit worried that it might affect the yield.
"Your sandy field isn't very fertilized, the stalks aren't sturdy, they won't be blown down by the wind." Uncle Zhu, looking at his own field, sighs: "At the start of the year, I put ten loads of manure in, and scattered a large heap of ash over the field, hoping for a good harvest this year. But who would have thought we'd encounter this strong wind just before autumn is approaching? Look over there, my rice has truly been flattened by the wind."
