➤ Chapter 4: "Farming Is Planting the Future"
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The sun crept slowly over the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the plains. Dew sparkled on the grass blocks like tiny diamonds. Ehsan opened his eyes, his head still heavy with sleep, but his mind already racing with quiet purpose.
Today was different.
Today, he wouldn't mine. He wouldn't build.
He would cultivate.
He stepped outside with an empty bucket in hand, his eyes scanning the landscape like a painter before a blank canvas. The pond beside his cabin was calm, its surface rippling gently with the morning breeze. He crouched, filled the bucket, and whispered:
"Time to begin something that lasts."
Ehsan opened his chest and gathered what little he had for farming: four wheat seeds from punching tall grass the day before, and a single sugar cane stalk he found growing beside the pond. That was it.
Small beginnings.
But farming wasn't about abundance—it was about potential.
He crafted a stone hoe and walked around the side of his house, where the land dipped slightly toward the water. That would be his field.
He used his shovel to flatten the land, making it four blocks wide and ten blocks long. The soil wasn't rich or dark—but here, with water, light, and care, it would grow.
He irrigated the plot first, digging a shallow trench down the middle, filling it with water from his bucket.
Then, one by one, he tilled the soil—click, click, click—until the dull brown of dry dirt turned into moist farmland. He planted the four seeds carefully, placing them at equal distance across the furrows. The seeds seemed to vanish into the soil, waiting patiently for sunlight and time.
It didn't look like much.
But to Ehsan, it was a promise.
Next came sugar cane.
He walked to the pond's edge and found the perfect corner—sandy, near water. He placed the lone stalk and stepped back.
"Grow well," he said, smiling softly.
That one stalk could become a dozen.
And then—paper. Maps. Books. A future.
Everything began with one plant.
He returned to the cabin and placed down a new chest near the door labeled FARM. Inside, he dropped in the remaining seeds, hoe, sugar cane cuttings, and bone meal from the skeleton he'd fought days before.
He debated using the bone meal right away.
But then he shook his head.
"Let it grow slow," he muttered. "Like me."
The afternoon sun moved higher, and the land warmed with it. Ehsan decided to explore the surrounding plains for more resources.
He headed northeast, keeping his house's torchlight just within sight. He punched tall grass as he walked, gathering more seeds—eight… twelve… nineteen.
Eventually, he found a patch of wild flowers. Blue orchids, oxeye daisies, and dandelions. He picked a few of each and stored them in his inventory.
"Decoration for later," he thought. "Home needs beauty too."
Soon, he crested a small hill and paused. In the distance—sitting beyond a patch of birch trees—stood a village.
His heart leapt.
Roofs. Paths. Lanterns.
Civilization.
He marked the coordinates carefully in his journal and turned back.
He wasn't ready yet. Not today. No tools for trading, no emeralds, no crops to share.
But just knowing it was there changed everything.
He had neighbors now.
Even if they didn't know him yet.
Back at home, Ehsan planted the new seeds and expanded the farmland by another row. He also began a second pond behind the house—a calm place, ringed with cobblestone and flowers. He called it his "thinking pond."
There, he placed a simple bench of oak slabs and sat down.
Time passed.
Birds chirped. Water bubbled. Crops gently waved in the breeze.
In that quiet, Ehsan spoke aloud—not to anyone in particular, but to the world.
"Back home, I never stopped to grow anything. Everything was instant. Ordered. Delivered. Deadlines and apps. But here…"
He looked down at the wheat.
"I wait."
And in waiting, he felt something he hadn't in a long time.
Peace.
As night fell, Ehsan lit a few torches near the farmland and retreated inside.
He checked on the furnace—his iron from yesterday fully smelted. With it, he crafted his first bucket, a shield, and saved three ingots for later.
The remaining two he held in hand, watching them shimmer in the firelight.
"I'll make shears next," he noted. "For wool. Maybe even a banner."
His house was small, but his dreams were growing.
He added another log to the campfire just outside the house and sat down beside it, warmth crackling in his ears, the moon rising silently overhead.
He opened his journal once more.
Day 3
Location: Plains biome, Cabin with pond
Progress: Farmland established (24 plots). Sugar cane planted. Found nearby village (~300 blocks northeast). Collected 19 seeds. Began flower collection.
Resources: 18 iron smelted. First tools crafted: bucket, shield.
Ehsan closed the journal and lay on his bed.
His dreams were filled with green fields, sunlit paths, and wheat swaying like golden waves.
And in the center of it all, a house—a small one—but filled with meaning.
Home.
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▶ To be continued...
Next Chapter: "A Village Beyond the Trees"
Thanks for reading!