The sky was overcast, drizzling with fine rain.
Wearing a straw hat and draped in a cloak, Roman gazed at the shrubbery before him.
The locals called it wild sour jujube, but the fruit was inedible. Only cattle and sheep could consume it, and it was widespread, ubiquitous.
A sickle couldn't cut through it—it had to be chopped several times with a heavy knife to sever it.
After wintering, the above-ground plant tissue entirely died, but the root system in the soil beneath remained alive, exhibiting great tenacity.
Roman strained to pull out the shrub.
The surrounding soil first bulged, then cracked, and finally shattered.
The dense roots, when exposed to air, clung to clods of soil like large tumors, which Roman held in his hand.
His palms were protected by a layer of tough calluses, shielding him from the friction and force, but the back of his hand still suffered the shrub's dying retaliation.
