American Farmers: Facing a Cutoff at the Start

Lina is, after all, an elite woman in her twenties who has seen her share of ups and downs. Even if her words have hidden meanings, they still carry a sense of testing and discretion between adults.

Colera is different.

She was only eighteen or nineteen years old, the age when her mind was most sensitive and prone to overthinking, as unpredictable as a cat.

One wrong word angered her, and she quit. What will happen to this business that was just starting to pick up?

Their business relies entirely on the image they project on television!

Fett took a deep breath, gently placed the pistol on the windowsill, and made a soft "click".

He stood up, slowly turned around, and looked at Leila sitting on the edge of the bed.

The embers in the fireplace in the corner, not yet completely burned, emitted a faint, dark red glow, which, mixed with the cool moonlight streaming in from the window, outlined Lyra's figure.

She sat on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees, a few strands of hair hanging down her cheeks, trembling slightly with her somewhat rapid breathing.

Most of his face was hidden in the shadows, making it impossible to see his expression.

Her beautiful eyes shone brightly in the dim light, staring intently at Fett.

"What...is your relationship with Lina?"

Her eyes seemed to hold a pool of water that could overflow at any moment, revealing a stubbornness, as well as a hint of barely perceptible grievance and unease.

Fett didn't speak, but slowly approached Lyra.

He walked to the bedside and reached out his hand to the figure curled up in a ball.

Lyra looked at the large, kind hand that Fett offered, hesitated for a moment, and then slowly extended her own hand, her fingertips slightly cool.

Fett gave her a gentle grip, without using any force, yet it was enough for her to feel that unwavering strength.

Leila used the momentum to stand up without letting go.

She stood in front of Fett, tilting her head slightly upwards, looking into those eyes so close to hers:

"So what is our relationship now?"

Fett looked at her, didn't answer, but suddenly pulled her arm.

Layla gasped as she was suddenly pulled into a strong, warm embrace.

Her full figure pressed tightly against Fett's chest, filling his embrace completely.

In that instant, her body, which had been tense, seemed to have its bones removed, and it went completely limp.

The two embraced tightly, neither of them saying a word.

In the quiet night, only the sound of two heartbeats gradually overlapped, as they greedily inhaled each other's familiar and reassuring scent.

"Fett, I won't give you up to Lina..."

Lyra's voice whispered in Fett's ear.

She hugged Fett even tighter, as if asserting her sovereignty.

Her soft, unreserved body pressed against Fett's chest, rising and falling gently with her breath.

This unexpected and intimate contact caused Fett's breath to catch in his throat.

Leila stiffened, clearly sensing something was amiss.

Her face flushed instantly, and she jerked away from Fett's arms as if she'd been electrocuted, scrambling to the door.

"Um...that..."

She lowered her head, her voice barely audible, and stammered:

"My parents said... we have to go to church for a service and make a vow before God... before... can we..."

After saying this nonsensical sentence, she didn't dare to look at Fett again. She turned around, opened the door, and fled like a frightened rabbit, her footsteps filled with panic.

Fett stood there, staring at the door that was still swaying slightly, and paused for two seconds.

He glanced down at his jeans and sighed helplessly.

He walked to the window, letting the cold night wind blow in to cool down his face and body.

After taking a few deep breaths of cold air, Fett sat back down in his chair, his eyes sharpening once more as he stared intently at the dark night outside the window.

Suddenly, two dim yellow lights appeared in the dark yard of old Johnny's house in the distance, followed by the heavy sound of the old pickup truck's engine starting up, like an old bellows.

"Rat-a-tat-tat..."

The light spot moved slowly; it was the car's headlight.

Fett squinted as he watched the two beams of light sweep across the withered grass before turning onto the highway, leaving only two dark red taillights gradually disappearing into the darkness of the night.

"It really was that old bastard!"

Fett snorted coldly. Driving out in the middle of the night instead of sleeping must be either a crime or a theft.

He picked up the double-barreled rifle leaning against the wall, turned around, and strode out of the bedroom.

In the living room, Leila was curled up in a corner of the sofa, aimlessly pressing the TV remote control, her face still flushed, looking somewhat absent-minded.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up abruptly, only to be met with Fett's serious face.

Without a word, Fett took the M1911 from his waist, holster and all, and tossed it through the air in an arc to her.

"Let's go! Let's set off and meet this old bastard!"

Laila caught the gun, her eyes sharpening instantly, transforming from the shy young girl into a decisive female gunslinger.

She deftly holstered her gun at her waist and followed Fett into the night.

Fett climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key.

Old Pikachu let out a deep growl, then his breathing returned to steady.

Fett didn't turn on the headlights; the whole car looked like a lurking beast of the night.

The car slowly drove out of the farm gate.

Fett drove very slowly, making his way along the road by the faint moonlight.

Leila sat in the passenger seat, her hand resting on the gun handle at her waist, her eyes scanning the shadowy figures on the roadside warily.

She turned her head and asked in a low voice:

"Fett, where are we going? Have you seen old Johnny?"

"right."

Fett kept his eyes on the road ahead, his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

"I saw his car coming this way. If he wants to block the road again, there are plenty of good spots on this road."

The car slowly moved forward for two miles.

After rounding a gentle slope, Fett suddenly slammed on the brakes, stopping the car in the shadows of the roadside bushes.

About a hundred yards ahead, a pickup truck with two red taillights was parked quietly on the side of the road.

A figure was standing in the back of a pickup truck, holding something in his hand, and busily working on it.

What is he doing?

We're not cutting down the trees anymore?

Fett squinted, trying to make out the furtive figure.

However, the windshield of the old pickup truck was a bit scratched, and it wasn't very clear through the glass.

He rolled down the car window and stuck his head out.

As soon as he peeked out, a strong, nauseating stench carried by the wind entered Fett's nostrils.

"Oh shit!"

Fett couldn't help but curse, quickly covering his nose as his stomach churned.

It was obvious that old Johnny wasn't sawing trees.

At this point, the tailgate of his pickup truck had been lowered.

By the cold moonlight, Fett could see him shoveling the dark, sticky stuff from the truck bed into the middle of the road, one shovelful after another.

That thing landed silently, yet it was extremely lethal!

The answer is about to come out!

It's pig poop!

"Holy crap!"

Fett gritted his teeth, and a surge of anger suddenly welled up in his eyes:

"That old bastard, he's dumping pig manure on the road!"

"He wants to completely ruin this road, so that nobody wants to pass through here!!"

"What a fucking bastard who harms others without benefiting himself!"