Ch 30: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

When they arrived at the Baishi County station, it was already dark.

Yu Xianghai was strolling around the station, waiting. He didn’t know the exact time of arrival but figured it would likely be this train. Expecting possible delays, he stayed and waited patiently. Indeed, the train had been delayed—stopping for over half an hour at one of the stations for unknown reasons.

When they finally reached their destination, they all breathed a sigh of relief. Following the crowd out of the station, they soon spotted Yu Xianghai.

Seeing their large bundles of luggage, he was surprised. “What’s all this? So much stuff?”

Yu Qingshan glanced at Yu Xiang’an, who awkwardly laughed. “It’s mostly food—specialties from sister’s place. They’re cheap and worth buying, no loss.”

“And some were gifts from others. I know my limits, and even if I didn’t, Dad’s here. Don’t you trust us?”

That made sense. If she didn’t know her limits, their father surely did. Without another word, Yu Xianghai grabbed a large bundle and started walking. “You must be tired from the trip. Let’s get home and rest early.” They had work tomorrow, after all.

As they walked, Yu Xianghai took most of the heavy bags, leaving Yu Xiang’an with only a few lighter ones. Exiting the station and moving some distance away, the crowd began to thin out. Breathing in the fresh air outside, Yu Xiang’an untied the makeshift cloth mask she had worn and took deep breaths.

Yu Qingshan chuckled, shaking his head. “The smell might bother you at first, but after a while, you get used to it.”

When they arrived home, Yu Xiangju was waiting at the door. Seeing them, he shouted, “Dad’s back! They’re home!”

Zhao Qiaoniang and Ye Qijia came out to help with the luggage. “Have you eaten yet? There are still sweet potatoes and porridge in the pot,” Zhao Qiaoniang said.

Yu Qingshan let out a breath. “Not yet, bring it out.”

To save money, they hadn’t eaten on the way, planning to have dinner at home.

Yu Xiang’an stretched and loosened her muscles. “I’m exhausted. I’m taking a bath first. I’ll eat after that.”

Wearing a mask helped a little with the smell, but after being in a cramped train car for hours, her clothes carried an odor she couldn’t ignore. She didn’t want to eat while feeling grimy.

Zhao Qiaoniang nodded. “There’s hot water on the stove.”

Yu Mingjie came closer, sniffed her, and quickly pinched his nose before stepping back.

Yu Xiang’an: “…”

Was that reaction really necessary?

Oblivious to her resentful gaze, Yu Mingjie had already wandered off.

Yu Xiangju, seemingly slower to react, hovered near Yu Qingshan. “Dad, did you see Fourth Sister? How is she doing?” After more than a year without seeing her, Yu Xiangju’s memory of his fourth sister had grown faint. Without the family portrait at home, he might have forgotten her face altogether.

Yu Qingshan replied, “Your fourth sister has grown taller and tanned a bit, but she’s become much more capable. She’s learned how to do farm work she didn’t know before. If she came back, your grandfather would surely praise her.”

Yu Xiangju didn’t fully understand, but it sounded like a compliment, so he grinned.

Meanwhile, Yu Xianghai, Ye Qijia, and Zhao Qiaoniang felt heavy-hearted. For her to learn these skills, she must have endured significant hardship—skills she shouldn’t have needed in her lifetime.

“Is she really okay now?” Yu Xianghai hesitated, unable to finish his sentence.

Yu Qingshan shook his head. “Don’t worry. She’s come to terms with it and doesn’t take it to heart anymore. If she doesn’t mind, then it’s all fine. Things will only get better from here.”

“Like your little sister said—discovering the problem early and cutting it off is a blessing in disguise.”

Hearing this, Yu Xianghai relaxed a bit. If Fourth Sister had moved on, that was all that mattered. But he couldn’t help asking, “What exactly happened?”

Yu Qingshan explained, “He found a better opportunity. He’s now dating the daughter of a cadre in the commune. Thanks to her, he got a temporary job in the commune office. Compared to your sister, it seemed like a better prospect to him.”

Yu Qingshan’s tone was calm, but Yu Xianghai’s fists clenched tighter and tighter.

He had three sisters. Setting aside the eldest, who was no longer with them, the other two had both experienced heartache, betrayed by their partners. Although the circumstances were different, the outcomes were the same.

If superstitions were still popular, he’d be tempted to go to a temple and get them protective talismans to ward off bad luck.

“Little Sister is doing better and better now, and Fourth Sister will be the same in the future,” Yu Xianghai said, though inwardly he was already planning a visit to the Liang family. He wanted to find out when Liang Yong would be back so he could finally put his sack to use.

Yu Xiangju, not fully understanding, furrowed his small brows. “Did someone bully Fourth Sister?”

Yu Xianghai ruffled his younger brother’s hair playfully. “Yes, your Fourth Sister was bullied. You need to grow up quickly so you can stand up for her.”

Yu Xiangju nodded with a serious expression. “I’ll grow up fast. When I’m big, if anyone bullies her, I’ll bully them back so no one dares to mess with my sister.” He spoke with conviction, and Yu Mingjie chimed in enthusiastically, “Me too! I’ll help protect them!”

Just out of the bath, Yu Xiang’an couldn’t resist their adorableness and gave each of their cheeks a playful squeeze.

“Well, Xiao Ju and Mingjie, you need to eat more and sleep well. That’s the only way to grow big and strong quickly. Until then, we’ll protect you. If anyone bullies you, we’ll stand up for you.”

Yu Xiangju placed his hands on his hips. “No one bullies us!” He was confident. If anyone dared, he and Mingjie would fight back.

With that, Yu Xiang’an sat down, quickly ate some food, and began unpacking the bundles with Zhao Qiaoniang and Ye Qijia.

“We’ll set some aside for Grandpa, some for Grandma and Uncle. It’s rare to bring back such unique items from over there. Everyone should get a taste of something new. It’s also a way to show that Fourth Sister is doing well and there’s nothing to worry about—otherwise, we wouldn’t have had the heart to bring all this back.”

Ye Qijia, curious, examined the unfamiliar items. Though she had seen many things in the supply cooperative, some of these were entirely new to her.

“I even brought back some seeds. If they taste good, we can try planting them ourselves,” Yu Xiang’an added.

After organizing everything, Yu Qingshan finished his bath, and Zhao Qiaoniang set up a table in the courtyard, bringing out mooncakes and other food for both offering and moon gazing.

It was Mid-Autumn Festival, a day meant for family reunions.

With mooncakes, biscuits, candies, and pomelos on the table, Yu Xiangju and Yu Mingjie were unusually well-behaved. Despite it being bedtime, they were wide awake, their eyes sparkling with excitement.

Who could blame them? There were so many delicious treats—four kinds! Their happiness and laughter filled the air, making this Mid-Autumn Festival truly joyous.

---

The next day, at the factory, Yan Yuzhen asked a few questions.

She knew where Yu Xiang’an had been, considering the Mid-Autumn holiday was only one day, and Yu Xiang’an had taken an extra day off. After all, it was Yan Yuzhen who had approved her leave request.

“How’s your sister?”

She didn’t know what had happened, but under normal circumstances, there wouldn’t have been a need for such a visit.

Yu Xiang’an smiled and nodded. “She’s doing well. I even brought back some local specialties from over there.”

“That’s good,” Yan Yuzhen said, not pressing further.

For families with members sent to the countryside, it was a shared pain. If there were any other option, who would willingly send their children away? Even she preferred not to discuss the matter—her own family had rural sent-down youths too.

Yu Xiang’an smiled in gratitude for her sensitivity. She truly didn’t want to delve into the topic further; any careless word overheard could spark new troubles.

Just as the dust settled over Yu Xiangqing’s situation, trouble arose with the Qin family—one wave barely passed before the next rolled in.

Qin Shengsong had been reassigned at work. Previously stationed at the neighborhood office, he was now sent to the recycling center to manage scrap collection. The change was significant—a demotion in all but name.

When asked why this happened, he refused to explain. If pressed, he’d only say it was voluntary. At the time, formal dismissal wasn’t a common practice. Even for mistakes, the solution was often a change in role. If the new job wasn’t a fit, there’d be another reassignment.

Now, Qin Shengsong was essentially at rock bottom, his post barely better than being sent to guard a gate.

Qin Shengsong and Qin Shenghua were brothers, sons of the late eldest uncle Qin who had sacrificed his life. Qin Shenghua served in the military, while Qin Shengsong had also wanted to enlist but was deemed unfit. Left behind, he stayed in the hometown.

Yu Xiang’an learned about the matter when her grandmother, Yao Cuifen, sighed helplessly.

“I’ve asked him, and so has his wife, but he just won’t talk,” Yao Cuifen said. “You two get along. Go and see if you can get him to open up.”

Taking the time to visit the recycling center, Yu Xiang’an saw Qin Shengsong and immediately understood his demeanor—resigned yet calm.

“I know why you’re here,” he said with a faint smile. “You’re here to pry my lips open, right? I’ve already told them there’s nothing wrong. This is voluntary, but no one believes me.”

The calm on his face was unusual and made it clear there was more beneath the surface, but he wasn’t going to say.

Yu Xiang’an chose not to push. “Alright, if you say it’s nothing, I’ll believe you. What’s your plan moving forward? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Shrugging, Qin Shengsong replied, “I’ll just keep working hard. It’s my job, and I’ll take it seriously.”

At the recycling center, there was an elderly woman working alongside him. She was hard of hearing, and conversations with her required raised voices; otherwise, she couldn’t catch the words. She was sorting glass bottles on the other side of the room.

The recycling center accepted all kinds of items—old furniture, newspapers, glass jars—anything that still had value. The purchase prices were low, but reselling them brought in some money. Sometimes, cleaned and repaired old furniture would attract buyers looking for bargains.

Yu Xiang’an nodded. “How’s it been so far? Getting used to it?”

“Not bad. Want to buy some old newspapers? The new arrivals are good for wallpapering—makes walls look newer.”

Old newspapers were often used for wallpapering, their most common purpose.

Yu Xiang’an shook her head. “No need. Mind if I take a look around?” She was genuinely curious. Growing up, television shows and novels often depicted recycling centers as treasure troves filled with hidden gems.

Shortly after arriving here, she’d visited once, eager to test the stories. Reality, however, was less glamorous—television and novels clearly exaggerated. Unless one scoured meticulously, there wasn’t much hope of finding hidden treasures.

The truly valuable items confiscated during raids never made it here. What ended up in places like this were damaged furniture, shards of glass, and broken porcelain. Anything truly valuable had long been divided and hidden away, waiting for the right moment to reappear.

Trying to hunt for treasures here was nearly impossible.

Perhaps the only worthwhile finds were old books. However, most were damaged—pages stuck together, torn, or missing sections.

What counted as a treasure? It was hard to discern. In one word: challenging.

“Take your time browsing,” Qin Shengsong said, focused on his task. He held a screwdriver and was tinkering with a broken radio he’d picked up from a corner. “This thing’s broken and unusable, but I’m trying to see if I can fix it.”

Yu Xiang’an glanced at the radio, an idea dawning on her. “Are you thinking of…?”

“Cough, cough!” Qin Shengsong interrupted, lowering his voice. “I just want to try my hand at repairing it. If I can fix it, I’ll use it at home. If not, at least I’ll gain some experience.”

Yu Xiang’an smiled encouragingly. “I believe in you, cousin! Keep it up!”

If he could repair it successfully, she thought, it might open up opportunities. Acquiring broken radios through scrap purchases, fixing them, and reselling could become a profitable venture. New radios cost over a hundred yuan and required ration tickets, but a repaired one might sell for dozens of yuan—a potentially lucrative business.

Qin Shengsong, pleasantly surprised by her support, asked, “You really believe in me?”

“Of course! Oh, by the way, if you ever come across an old bicycle, let me know. It doesn’t have to be new or fancy—just functional. It’ll make commuting much easier for me.”

Qin Shengsong nodded. “Got it. I’ll keep an eye out. There’s no old bike here right now, but if one turns up, I’ll see what I can do.”

He seemed more comfortable with bicycles than radios, given his prior experience maintaining the one at home.

Meanwhile, Yu Xiang’an wandered to a pile of books. Turning back, she saw Qin Shengsong deep in concentration. His decision to work here remained a mystery, even to his wife. It was clear he was under some kind of pressure, but since the decision was made, there was no point dwelling on it. His salary stayed the same, though he’d miss out on perks like holiday benefits.

Yet, if he managed to unearth value from the scrap, his side earnings might surpass any lost benefits. Still, this line of work required caution; any extra activity had to be kept discreet.

Yu Xiang’an sorted through the books, picking up a few textbooks and some other potentially useful reads. Among them were volumes she couldn’t understand but decided to buy anyway. Perhaps they’d turn out to be valuable. It was a gamble.

In addition to books, she found fragments of beautifully crafted items, some bearing markings suggesting they were antiques. One shard had a base label that read “Ming Dynasty.” Unsure of its authenticity, she collected the pieces nonetheless. They didn’t take up much space, and if genuine, they might be worth something after restoration—possibly even more than their original, unbroken state.

Qin Shengsong weighed her finds, deducted two jin from the total, and sold the rest to her. He admitted he’d also scoured the place when he first started working there but hadn’t found anything particularly valuable. Treasure-hunting here was more disappointment than discovery.

As for books, anything prohibited had long since been removed—ripped apart or burned. What remained were books deemed acceptable. Those could be browsed at leisure.

“If there’s anything specific you’re looking for, let me know. I’ll keep an eye out for you,” Qin Shengsong offered.

Yu Xiang’an grinned. “Thanks! Please watch out for books on cooking, medicinal recipes, or encyclopedias.”

---

After Lin Chuanbai had worked in the county hospital’s pharmacy for three months, he was officially hired.

During those three months, he had never made a mistake in preparing prescriptions. He became adept at sorting, categorizing, and processing various medicinal herbs. After passing the assessment by his superiors, he was officially rooted in the county hospital’s pharmacy.

When he returned home to share the news with his grandfather, the old man was delighted. “That’s great, that’s great,” he said, visibly pleased as he looked at his grandson’s calm and composed demeanor.

Originally, Lin Chuanbai had been recommended to attend a worker-peasant-soldier university, a golden opportunity. Attending such a university would have guaranteed him the prestigious status of a college graduate and secured his future employment. However, at the last moment, his name was replaced by someone else’s.

There was no recourse. The opposing party held significant influence and, in terms of qualifications, they were neck and neck. Moreover, the other person was a local heavyweight. If they wanted to continue living in the area, they had no choice but to acquiesce.

Seeing that the situation in the city didn’t bode well for their family, Lin’s grandfather decided to return to their hometown county. While the city was bustling and prosperous, staying there would lead nowhere. Back in their hometown, they still had a house, and his grandfather had some connections from his years working in the city hospital. With these connections, he managed to arrange for his second grandson to work at the county hospital.

Thanks to Lin Chuanbai’s solid skills, he passed the exams and was successfully retained.

Lin Chuanbai’s journey began after the original soul of the body he now inhabited fell gravely ill upon learning his university spot had been taken. The original owner of the body succumbed to the blow and passed away, allowing Lin Chuanbai to take over.

The original soul had been a quiet, brooding individual, prone to keeping his feelings bottled up. What had crushed him was the belief that the university admission was his way out of the suffocating environment he lived in. When the opportunity was snatched away, it pushed him into despair, worsening his condition and leading to his untimely death. This paved the way for Lin Chuanbai’s transmigration.

The cause of the original owner’s melancholy was deeply rooted. Long story short, his parents had divorced early in his childhood. Both parents remarried quickly after the divorce—an uncommon situation, given their official ranks. Rumors swirled around him incessantly, and over time, the lively, cheerful little boy transformed into a withdrawn, quiet teenager.

By the time Lin Chuanbai came into this world, the family had recently moved back to the county. This was not a bad situation for him. The change in environment meant fewer familiar faces and less scrutiny. Except for his grandfather, most people around him were strangers, giving him a chance to let down his guard.

Moreover, considering the scandal of having his university spot replaced, any subtle changes in his behavior would have been attributed to the shock, making his adaptation easier to explain.

Lin Chuanbai hadn’t expected that saving someone in his past life would cost him his own life. He felt a twinge of regret but also a sense of relief. He had no significant attachments in his previous world. Now, he had a family, and his grandfather bore a striking resemblance to the old Taoist who had raised him. Every time he saw his grandfather, it felt like the Taoist was still by his side, offering him comfort.

Adapting to life here, Lin Chuanbai maintained the same positive outlook he had in his previous world. Occasionally, he thought about the girl he had saved, wondering if she had met the same fate as him. If she had, he hoped she, too, had found a second chance at life.

Despite the restrictions of this era, life itself was precious, no matter the time or place.

Occasionally, he felt a pang of frustration that his expertise in Western history was useless in this parallel world. The timeline here differed subtly but significantly from his previous world. Small changes rippled outward, altering events drastically.

For instance, last year, he heard about a massive earthquake in a neighboring country. That event confirmed the divergence of this world from his previous knowledge. Based on his stellar academic record, he could confidently assert that no such earthquake had occurred in that country during this period in his original timeline.

The earthquake even reached their region, though the impact was minimal. However, the fact that it could reach them, despite the distance, indicated its severity.

At just eighteen years old, Lin Chuanbai still had plenty of time to slowly explore and understand this world’s history. Beyond his age, he also gained an unscientific “cheat” ability.

On the night before he saved someone, he had been helping a junior organize some old books, one of which contained various medical recipes. The book was damaged, with many pages illegible due to insect damage. The only intact page featured the formula for Ginseng Nourishing Pill. This remedy was famously used in Dream of the Red Chamber, where Lin Daiyu relied on it to improve her fragile health.

Before becoming an orphan, Lin Chuanbai had aimed to become a doctor. However, after losing his parents in a medical dispute, he had erased that ambition from his life plans. Yet now, fate had brought him full circle. His grandfather was a retired hospital director, and his cheat—a mystical medicinal garden—tied him back to medicine.

The garden spanned about three acres and allowed him to grow the herbs required for the Ginseng Nourishing Pill. Moreover, it had a time-acceleration function that drastically reduced the growing time for herbs—a cheat ability that defied logic.

Though he regretted that the garden couldn’t grow rice or raise chickens, the herbs it produced were immensely valuable, especially with the time-acceleration feature. For example, a year of planting ginseng equated to ten years in real time, and ten years equated to a hundred years.

At any time in history, ginseng had never been cheap. With this cheat, Lin Chuanbai could easily achieve wealth and success.

For now, however, he was constrained by the era’s restrictions. Talk of “getting rich” was just wishful thinking. When reform and opening came, his path would undoubtedly be smoother. Until then, he had to keep his cheat hidden. Even eating a little more meat required consideration of appearances.

Wages were fixed, and people would question where he got the money and tickets if he frequently dined at state-run restaurants.

Back at home, Lin Chuanbai shared the good news with his grandfather, then went to draw water from the central well. Their courtyard was spacious, containing two houses. Years ago, his grandfather had divided the family assets between his two sons, splitting the courtyard in half but without erecting a dividing wall.

Currently, Lin Chuanbai and his grandfather lived alone on their side of the house, while his uncle’s family lived in the house on the right.

Life working in the county hospital’s pharmacy was uneventful and calm. His supervisor was strict but never resorted to scolding as long as he completed his tasks on time.

Compared to his previous life in the city, this county life was less bustling but more aligned with his preferences. The simplicity and tranquility of daily life here were exactly what he had longed for before.

Of course, being able to eat meat openly and in large quantities would make it perfect. For now, he could only treat himself secretly in the medicinal garden.

That aside, tonight’s dinner at the canteen was unexpectedly good—the chef must have been inspired.

“Chuanbai, you’re back. What’s the happy occasion today?” His second aunt, who had overheard snippets of conversation, came over to probe.

Lin Chuanbai looked up and calmly replied, “Nothing much. I’ve been made permanent.”

Upon hearing this, Xu Haili’s expression twisted momentarily.

“Permanent? And you say that’s nothing?”

In her eyes, this was a major event. The old man had two sons: the elder, accomplished and successful; the younger, her husband, was honest but dull, and had only gotten his job through connections. Despite working for years, he had never been promoted. The old man largely ignored him.

She had two children of her own. Without good job prospects, she had to retire early and let her daughter take over her position to keep her in the city. Now, her son was about to graduate, and if there were no better options, she would have to let her husband retire to secure her son’s job.

And here was Lin Chuanbai, a mere eighteen-year-old, achieving permanent employment so effortlessly. How could she not feel resentful?

The fact that Lin Chuanbai had secured a permanent position—wasn’t that something worth celebrating?

Xu Haili took a deep breath, forcing herself to maintain a calm expression. After a moment, her face softened, and she managed a strained smile. “Of course, that’s good news. Or does Chuanbai think otherwise? Your younger brother doesn’t even have a job yet.”

Lin Chuanbai paused before replying, “He’s not interested in studying. The hospital is short on staff.”

Xu Haili felt like spitting blood. Both her children took after their father—dull and unmotivated. In the medical field, expertise was essential, as mistakes could cost lives. The easiest route to success was now blocked.

Suppressing her frustration, Xu Haili said with feigned indifference, “So, you’ve eaten at the hospital already, haven’t you? Well, then you’ll have no luck tonight. We got some meat today, but if you’re full, you’ll just have to watch us enjoy it.”

Lin Chuanbai nodded politely. “Second Aunt, enjoy your meal. I’ll go boil some water.”

He wasn’t tempted by the meat at all. Before acquiring his cheat ability, he could only dream of such luxuries. Now, with his medicinal garden, he had both income and food coupons and could cook for himself anytime.

The county hospital purchased medicinal herbs, though most people couldn’t identify them. Lin Chuanbai, however, could. Occasionally, he would sell a portion of herbs from his garden, earning a small but steady income.

The real profit lay in ginseng. However, since older ginseng fetched a much higher price, he was letting his plants mature in the accelerated environment of the garden.

Seeing Lin Chuanbai’s nonchalant attitude, Xu Haili quietly snorted. She didn’t believe he wasn’t tempted—he must have been embarrassed. Good, she thought. Embarrassment is a start.

Determined to tease his appetite, she decided to stir-fry the meat with extra care, ensuring the aroma spread throughout the house.

In the meantime, Lin Duzhong, Lin Chuanbai’s grandfather, noticed the smell of meat and asked, “Did Chuanbai eat enough tonight? If not, invite him to join us.”

Xu Haili quickly interjected, “Dad, I already asked him. He said he’s full and is boiling water to take a bath. After that, he’ll probably bury himself in his books again.”

Lin Duzhong nodded. “In that case, let him be. It’s good that he’s reading. Working in the pharmacy isn’t a lifetime career.”

After a quick bath, Lin Chuanbai indeed retreated to his room with a book in hand, shutting the door tightly.

Every evening after work, he followed this routine. The family was used to it, assuming he was diligently studying.

In reality, while he did study his grandfather’s old medical notes, he also spent this time tending to the medicinal garden. He harvested ripe herbs, processed them, and watered the growing plants.

The garden was a marvel, offering fertile soil and time acceleration. However, it required manual labor—he had to till, plant, and harvest himself. It also restricted him to growing only the herbs listed in the formula for ginseng pill.

Despite the limitations, the garden was immensely valuable. It acted as a personal space he could access anytime, equipped with essentials like a kitchen, a workspace for processing herbs, and tools.

Once inside, Lin Chuanbai prepared rice on the stove and grabbed a hoe to till the soil, reciting medical notes as he worked. He was determined to regain his physique, having grown too thin in this era.

After finishing the labor, he washed his hands at a spring-fed pool and fried a couple of eggs on an iron plate—a makeshift stove substitute. The simple meal filled his stomach, satisfying his seemingly bottomless appetite.

Returning to his notes, Lin Chuanbai studied late into the night. He appreciated the importance of learning. Had he studied engineering or technology in his previous life, he might now have the skills to contribute to national progress and secure a comfortable life for himself.

Though he wasn’t aiming to become a doctor who treated patients, he found joy in mastering the knowledge. His ultimate goal was to become a skilled pharmacist, avoiding daily interactions with patients and enjoying the solitude of his craft.

Eventually, the lights in his room went out, signaling that he had gone to bed. However, not long after, a shadow slipped out of his room, quietly opened the courtyard gate, and disappeared into the night.

Tonight was a prearranged meeting.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃