In his reply, the general secretary "hoped that the large grain growers would give play to their advantages in scale operation, actively apply modern agricultural technology, drive the large and small farmers to grow a variety of grain and grow good grain, and contribute to the national food security together.". The moon is still hanging in the sky, and the sky is still dark. The morning wind blows across the fields, bringing a cool breeze. The bright lights go from far to near: at 5 a.m., Xu Congxiang got off the ground on his electric bike. "It's very dry these days, and the crops need water and fertilizer most. I keep looking at it day after day, and I'm worried." Said Xu. Although the good harvest of wheat this year has helped the old Xu family's good life, the old master's concern for the new crop has not diminished. With these words, Lao Xu walked into the corn field along the narrow ridge. The corn is heading. Lao Xu buried most of his body in the corn bush, held the leaves in his palm, and then poked his head to the bottom of the corn stalk for a closer look. From time to time, he took out a small notebook from his pocket to make records. Sweat beads came out from Lao Xu's gray temples and flowed down the "gully" on his face. He breathed a sigh of relief: "you are growing well!" The sky is gradually turning white. Maybe it's because of wearing a white shirt. Lao Xu's skin looks dark. Summer grain has already returned to the warehouse, and the new crop is the "treasure" of old Xu. "This summer, I planted 16 new varieties of corn in the experimental field, and 100 mu of land was planted with soybeans and corn." Along the direction of Lao Xu's finger, I could see the corn heading in the distance and the soybean blooming in a staggered array. "Only with good varieties and methods can we have a good harvest. Soybeans can fix nitrogen and nourish the land, make the land more vigorous, and use less chemical fertilizer. If the yield of corn is not reduced, the income can not be wrong." Said Xu. The sun rose. Old Xu came out of the ground, his feet covered with mud and his shirt was soaked. He wiped the sweat with his hand, took a plastic water cup from the basket, poured a few mouthfuls of strong tea, and took out a vegetable cake from the plastic bag. Sitting on the seat of the car, he ate with garlic. More than 50 years ago, Xu Congxiang, who graduated from high school, rolled up his bags and returned to the village. He thought in his heart: we can't let the crops grow on the ground and harvest in the sky like the older generation. We have read many books ourselves, and we can't make a name for ourselves if we don't believe it. Since then, Xu Congxiang's hand