Lin Wan Yi grabbed the corner of the red cloth and pulled it back forcefully.
Three pots of extremely lush-growing wheat were revealed to everyone. The stalks were twice as robust as ordinary wheat, and the heavy heads drooped down, with grains so plump they seemed to be bursting through the husks, and even sparkling droplets of water hung on the leaves.
Beside the wheat pots, there was a shallow bamboo basket containing a few ripe red tomatoes and some cucumbers with flowery tops and prickly skin.
The meeting room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
Smith suddenly stood up. His elbow toppled the glass teacup beside him, and with a "crash", the tea trickled down the wooden table. He didn't bother to wipe it, taking long strides toward the iron cart, nearly pressing himself against the wheat stalks.
"My God! Were these grown in saline-alkali soil?" Smith reached out and touched the rough husks, turning his head to the translator beside him.
