The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 471

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Chapter 471 Do You Remeher Coraz

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Chapter 471 Do You Remember, Cora?

Tommy paused and looked over at Roger

Roger rubbed his hands together and gave them his honest smile

“Well, look at how sharp you guys are,” he said. “Today was my first day

The boys’ eyes lit up in an instant.

“Wow! Really?”

“Tommy, your dad works at Tycoon Farm!”

“So does that mean you get to eat this stuff every day from now on?”

on the job, and you figured it out afready.”

Tommy stood there listening to his friends fire off one excited remark after another, watching the genuine envy on their faces, and for some reason, a swell of pride rose in his chest.

He lifted his head and looked at Roger.

His father still looked the same.

That honest face, the old work uniform, the rough, calloused hands, the slow, steady way he always spoke.

But in this moment, he thought his father was incredible.

Roger felt a little embarrassed under his son’s gaze and dropped his head, going back to pulling things out of the bag.

“I’ve got apples and grapes too. Try those,” he said. “There’s more if that’s not enough.”

The boys let out a cheer and dove back into the fruit.

“Tommy, come on, you too!”

“Yeah, eat with us!”

“Man, I’m so jealous you’ve got such a cool dad. I wish my dad worked at Tycoon Farm too!”

Tommy was pulled in to join them, crowded shoulder to shoulder with his friends, picking off one piece of fruit after another.

The strawberries were sweet, the grapes were even sweeter, and the apples were crisp, with juice flooding his mouth at the first bite.

Somewhere along the way, he started to laugh.

He laughed until his eyes curved into little crescents, his two small canine teeth peeking out.

Roger stood to one side, watching his son’s smiling face, a warmth rising behind his eyes. That boy hadn’t smiled like that in a long

time

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Chapter 471 Do You Remeniher. Cora?

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m themed room over, Roger’s wife was lying in bed, listening to the noise from outside, the corners of her mouth lifting too.

Her health was poor, her mental power had never been stable, and she had been bedridden for years.

But in this moment, hearing her son’s long missed laughter, she felt like she had gotten a little bit better herself

The door pushed open gently.

Roger came in carrying a freshly washed fruit plate, with strawberries, grapes, and sliced apples arranged neatly on it.

He walked to the bed and sat down beside his wife.

“You’re awake?” He gave her his honest smile. “Those boys out there were so loud. Did they wake you?”

His wife shook her head, her eyes drifting to the plate of fruit in his hand.

“Where did this come from…”

“Brought it home today.” Roger held the plate out toward her. “Try some. It’s so sweet. Those little rascals outside are fighting over it like it’s a battlefield.”

His wife looked at the bright red fruit and was quiet for a moment.

“Save it for the kids,” she said. “I don’t want any.”

Roger paused.

“This is for you,” he said. “I set it aside just for you. There’s another whole bag; the kids have plenty.”

His wife shook her head, her voice soft. “Roger, you know my situation. With this illness of mine, eating anything is just a waste. Save it for the kids. They’re still growing.”

Roger didn’t say anything.

He just kept his head down, looking at the plate in his hands, at those vivid red strawberries.

A long moment passed before he finally spoke.

“How is it a waste?” His voice came out muffled, like it was being pushed up from somewhere deep in his chest. “Everyone is saying this farm’s fruits and vegetables have real mental healing power.”

His wife let out a soft sigh.

“That’s just talk,” she said. “With this illness of mine, I’ve seen doctor after doctor, spent so much money, and none of it made a difference. What good could a few pieces of fruit possibly do?”

Roger raised his head and looked at her.

His wife had grown so thin, her cheekbones jutting out sharply, her eyes sunken deep in their sockets, her face pale without a hint

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