American Farmers: Facing a Cutoff at the Start

"Go back home! Study the script diligently and practice it a few more times!"

Fett drove Leila to her doorstep, watching her turn back several times as she went inside, before finally driving away.

When he got home, he didn't go straight to his room to sleep.

The garage lights came on again.

He turned on the blower and filled the coal stove with coke.

……

The next day, when Fett opened his eyes, it was almost noon.

I spent half the night working on it, and finally managed to get the little folding knife I promised Lyra out.

He pulled the folding knife out from under his pillow.

Unlike the previous rugged style, this knife is small and exquisite, more like a piece of jewelry.

The handle is still made from the same top-quality Osage orange burl, which has been finely polished and oiled, giving it a warm, jade-like feel.

Push the blade away.

The blade of the dropper head undergoes a special acid pickling treatment, resulting in a deep matte black finish.

Near the spine of the blade, Fett put a lot of effort into applying tape to the blade and then carving words on the tape.

Finally, the "Layla" lettering was etched out in a floral script, now appearing and disappearing with the undulations of the blade pattern.

He put the knife away with satisfaction and tucked it into his pocket.

After finding something to eat, Fett pushed open the door, and the dark clouds had mostly dissipated.

Although the temperature has not yet risen, the cold sun has already begun to appear, and the ice on the eaves has started to melt, dripping water down.

Old Frank had already let the cow out, and it was frolicking in the yard, trampling the muddy ground into a mess.

Just as Fett was about to head towards the garage, several black SUVs, interspersed with two all-black vans, braked suddenly and blocked Johnny's doorway, shutting out all exits.

Old Frank pushed a cart of hay out of the barn:

"What's wrong? Have we had guests?"

"No, I'm looking for old Johnny."

Fett understood and beckoned his father to the fence separating the two houses.

In the neighboring yard, the car doors opened simultaneously. A group of SWAT officers wearing bulletproof vests with the yellow "DEA" logo and tactical helmets quickly jumped out of the vehicles, carrying automatic rifles, and efficiently fanned out to surround the dilapidated main house and the shed in the backyard.

The lead detective walked to the door, holding a search warrant stamped with a red seal, followed by two officers with shields.

He pounded on the door, and the shouts from the loudspeaker were deafening:

"DEA! Open the door!"

"Federal search warrant!"

"Break down the door!"

With a command, the battering ram slammed heavily against the wooden door, and with a loud "bang," the lock broke, and the police officers filed in.

Meanwhile, demolition sounds and the frantic barking of the hunting dog could be heard coming from Johnny's backyard.

However, the shouts only lasted for a few seconds before a gunshot rang out, and then all was silent.

Not long after, two detectives came out carrying an old man who was disheveled and looked terrified.

Johnny's head was still wrapped in bandages from the day of the car accident, stained with blood. He was limp as a board and was roughly pressed onto the hood of the police car, his hands handcuffed behind his back.

Immediately afterwards, rows of lush green cannabis plants, pulled from the greenhouse, were piled up in the open space in the front yard, quickly forming a small mountain that emitted a strong, pungent odor.

"My God..."

Old Frank stared at the pile of things, his mouth agape, nearly dropping the pitchfork in his hand.

"That's... marijuana?"

"That old bastard actually grows drugs?"

"No wonder he's always so secretive!"

At that moment, an officer wearing a police badge walked over and asked through the fence:

"Sir, I'm a DEA agent. As neighbors, have you noticed anything unusual lately?"

Fett looked utterly shocked: "No! Officer! We had absolutely no idea! His dog is incredibly aggressive; we couldn't even get close."

Old Frank, standing nearby, shook his head and said, "Yeah, officer, I was wondering what kind of animals he kept in his greenhouse! I never would have guessed!"

Seeing that the two men's expressions didn't seem fake, and knowing they wouldn't dare get so close if they had something to hide, the detective quickly jotted down a few words in his notebook: "Thank you for your cooperation. Please contact us if you have any further leads."

After saying that, he turned and left.

Old Frank sighed and slammed the pitchfork in his hand onto the ground.

"That old bastard, I never thought he'd end up like this."

He shook his head, his tone somewhat complicated:

"People should still walk the right path, even if they are poor or tired, at least they can sleep soundly at night."

He turned his head and looked at Fett, his eyes serious:

"Fett, although our family is short of money, we have to earn it back cleanly."

"When I die, this farm will be handed over to you. You mustn't follow his example!"

"Did you remember?"

Looking at old Johnny's weathered yet still upright face, Fett nodded earnestly: "Don't worry, Dad!"

"Besides, you'll live a long time! Stop saying things like that."

Old Frank chuckled and patted Fett on the shoulder. "I didn't realize it before, but ever since you came back from your vacation, I feel like you've grown up."

"You've grown up, so shouldn't I be getting old too?"

"But you're a bit too mature. You're still young; do whatever you want!"

Live life to the fullest! Leave no regrets!

"This is my advice to you!"

"You can watch the show by yourself. We have guests; I'll go greet them!"

After saying that, old Frank put down his pitchfork and left.

As Fett watched his departing figure, these words churned within him.

Yes! I seem to have been too hesitant and cautious in my daily life.

Youth never returns, even if one transmigrates into this body that is still young.

There's no going back.

Not long after, a windowless, enclosed van backed into old Johnny's yard.

Several police officers in protective suits tossed the marijuana plants piled up in the front yard into the truck like garbage.

After inspecting the scene, the lead detective took out a roll of bright yellow warning tape and completely surrounded the main house and the shed.

Then, two red seals bearing the words "SEIZED BY US GOV" were affixed across the farm gate.

As the sirens faded into the distance, the area around the farm fell silent.

Fett stood by the fence, looking at the deserted house covered in seals, and on a whim, picked up his phone and sent a message to Mike Finch.

He should be quite interested in this.

When he arrives, I need to ask him in person to investigate the car accident.

"Fate!"

Light footsteps came from behind.

Leila walked over wearing a coat, looking curiously in the direction of Johnny's house.

"What happened to Johnny's house? Why is it sealed off?"

Fett regained his composure, shrugged, and said, "I got caught by the DEA for growing marijuana."

"What? Marijuana?"

"Does he dare to grow marijuana?"

"Yes, it's marijuana!"

Fett took the delicate little folding knife he had just made the night before out of his pocket and handed it to her:

"Let's not talk about him anymore. He got what he deserved by being arrested and imprisoned."

"Here you go, the folding knife I promised you."

Leila's eyes lit up, and her curiosity about old Johnny was instantly forgotten.