Ch 58: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Lan Wangshan was someone they had met by chance on a train. During their conversation, he shared a lot of news about the areas near Tongcheng. Thanks to him, Lin Duzhong was able to ease his anxiety about Lin Houpin’s unknown condition at the time. They got along well and exchanged addresses.

Later, after Lin Houpin was out of danger, Lin Duzhong wrote a letter to inform Lan Wangshan of the good news, using Lin Houpin’s home address.

Now, they received Lan Wangshan’s reply. Since Lin Duzhong had mentioned in his letter that they were together, Lan addressed the letter to Lin Chuanbai.

Coincidentally, there were also two letters for Yu Xiang’an’s second brother and sister-in-law in the mailroom, so all three were handed to her.

In Lan Wangshan’s letter, it didn’t matter who opened it. The first page expressed his happiness that Lin Houpin had made it through. He mentioned that he would be coming to the area for business soon and, if time allowed, would visit them.

Lin Chuanbai remarked, “Grandpa will be pleased. The two of them get along well.”

Flipping to the second page, Lin Chuanbai scanned the content and found the coincidence remarkable.

Lan mentioned that one of his son’s comrades had visited his home. Though his son was no longer alive, he remained in their hearts. One of the comrades’ names stood out: Qin Shenghua.

Yu Xiang’an’s eldest cousin was also named Qin Shenghua.

Could it be a coincidence?

The same name, the same occupation as a soldier—it felt too coincidental.

As Yu Xiang’an processed the information, she realized it meant her eldest cousin, long absent from home, had returned. Ironically, she had just moved to this area and missed seeing him. She had been looking forward to meeting him again.

Their exchanges of parcels had never stopped. He sent specialties from the Northeast and seafood, while she sent local specialties and homemade treats.

“We’ll ask him about it in detail when he visits,” she said.

The second letter, addressed to Yu Xiang’an, was written in Wen Ruzhen’s handwriting.

The letter began with greetings and updates about family matters. For example, her grandfather had recently fallen ill but recovered quickly after taking medicine. Everyone else was doing well, with no major changes.

Wen Ruzhen’s family circumstances were well known within the Yu family, so the letter naturally touched on her father’s situation. After being sent to a farm for re-education, Wen Ruzhen explained the purpose of her letter.

Wen Ruzhen had always maintained a low presence in the Yu family. Despite her striking appearance, she rarely expressed opinions and often seemed invisible.

Yu Xiang’an understood why.

It was because of her background.

At the time, social class determined people’s status, dividing them into clear hierarchies.

Even in the Hongxing Brigade, there were “wealthy peasants” who lived cautiously, rarely voicing opinions. Despite their discretion, they were often gossiped about, and their children faced challenges in marriage.

Wen Ruzhen and Wen Yizhen’s biological father was undergoing re-education—a secret known only to their immediate family. Wen Ruzhen maintained her silence to prevent others from digging into their history.

Legally, their identities were clean. They had moved with their mother when she remarried, changing their household registration, and later relocated to the Hongxing Brigade. But there was always the risk of exposure.

Blood ties were unbreakable, and they hadn’t publicly severed ties with their biological father. If the truth came out, gossip would be inevitable. Adults might endure it, but the children would undoubtedly face bullying.

This was their way of protecting themselves.

It explained why Wen Ruzhen was not involved in hosting events like the housewarming for Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai’s new home. Officially, it was because she was pregnant and inconveniently unavailable. In reality, her health wasn’t an issue, and she could have participated if necessary.

Yu Xiang’an didn’t know much about Wen Ruzhen’s family. What she did know was this: her father was sent for re-education, and her mother remarried with three children. Aside from Wen Ruzhen and Wen Yizhen, there was a younger sister who had moved with their mother to a distant place after the remarriage and had since lost contact.

Beyond this, there was little else. Yu Xiang’an didn’t know where her father had been sent for re-education or where her mother had remarried.

Wen Ruzhen never mentioned these matters, nor did she ever ask for help.

Now, Yu Xiang’an learned that her father’s re-education site was in this very province, in the far north.

“…Xiao An, your second sister-in-law didn’t want to involve you in these matters, but I haven’t received a single letter of reassurance in over six months. The journey is long, and I must shamelessly ask for your help. If it’s convenient, please try to find out any news nearby. If the worst has already happened… I will find a way to bring him home.”

Yu Xiang’an felt a heavy weight on her chest.

“Bring him home” could only mean bringing his remains back to their hometown.

The latter part of the letter switched to her second brother’s handwriting.

“Xiao An, do what you can. This has been weighing on your sister-in-law’s heart, but she’s told no one.”

“If you can, please help find out what happened. I’ve hidden fifty yuan in the shoe sole to assist with the inquiry. If he’s gone, send a telegram. If not, and he’s unable to write for some reason, see if this money can help in some way.”

The money hidden in the shoe sole was meant to prevent tampering with the letter.

The letter deliberately avoided names, only referring to people as “her,” to prevent causing trouble for Yu Xiang’an.

Yu Xiang’an: “…”

Her mood sank.

She didn’t see these people as monsters—it was simply the pain of the era. Many innocent people were caught in the tide.

Because of this disaster, her family had suffered collateral damage.

Yu Xiang’an opened the shoe sole and found the fifty yuan inside. On three of the bills, the name Wen Yanjun was written. That must be her father’s name.

Lin Chuanbai gently patted her shoulder in comfort.

He understood her sadness.

She had always had a good impression of her second sister-in-law, who, even after suffering such a blow, stayed true to her principles. Her father, too, must have been a remarkable individual with his own grace and character.

His fate wasn’t a result of wrongdoing but because he had studied abroad—a fact that made him a target in this era.

They, coming from the future, could understand his innocence, but such understanding was powerless in the present circumstances.

Many things were simply beyond their control.

Yu Xiang’an memorized the address and burned the letter, resolving to discreetly gather information.

Lin Chuanbai added, “I’ll ask around too.”

Having received regular letters for so long, the sudden silence was hard not to interpret negatively.

Wen Yanjun had been sent to Nanshi Farm for re-education, located in Tongcheng—the same Tongcheng where Lan Wangshan was traveling for business.

Coincidentally, Lan Wangshan’s letter mentioned that he might visit them. If he came, he could be an ideal source of information.

Of course, they wouldn’t place all their hopes on him, nor could they afford to wait too long. With communication already severed for so long, the likelihood of a grim outcome seemed high.

But it would be such a pity. If he were still alive and just unable to write for some reason, their timely help could save his life.

Having endured this long, to fall at the final stretch before dawn would be a terrible tragedy.

Lin Chuanbai supported the decision to investigate. Whether or not they intervened later, simply gathering information wasn’t difficult.

The two chose a day off and explained their plan as wanting to buy local specialties from Tongcheng.

Hearing their excuse, Lin Duzhong responded with a look of disbelief. “…”

Still, he didn’t object. A little trip wasn’t a bad idea. He nodded and said, “Alright, go ahead and take a trip. Leave the children to me.”

Taking care of a child wasn’t a big deal.

Nanshi Farm was originally forest and wasteland, later converted into farmland. People sent there for re-education worked alongside young intellectuals who volunteered to support the effort. Regardless of their background, everyone endured tough conditions.

Clearing land was never easy. As more people arrived, the land remained the same, and food production became insufficient. This meant less food for each person. Those sent for re-education were assigned the dirtiest, hardest jobs and received the poorest rations. They were strictly monitored and not allowed to leave.

These individuals lived under strict regulations, with no opportunity to spend even the money they earned, which evoked both pity and frustration.

Because there were young intellectuals there, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai used them as an entry point to gather information. They learned about the farm’s scale and restrictions, which aligned with what they had already heard.

One day, while chatting with the bookstore manager about her delayed article submissions, Yu Xiang’an casually brought up Nanshi Farm. “Manager, do you know anything about that farm? A friend of mine asked me to look into it. You know I’m new here—I wouldn’t know much about Nanshi Farm.”

Liu Hengbo’s eyes flashed with interest. “Why is your friend asking about it?”

Yu Xiang’an glanced around to ensure they were alone, then lowered her voice. “Manager, it’s not a pleasant situation to talk about. My friend has a relative there for re-education. They used to get regular letters, but it’s been over six months since the last one. She’s worried something might have happened. Knowing I’m closer to the area, she asked me if I knew anything. But I’m at a loss—I can’t exactly go around openly asking questions. It’s been weighing on me.”

Liu Hengbo fell silent for a moment, then lowered his gaze. “You want to know if her relative is still okay?”

“Yes. I just want to confirm he’s safe. If the worst has happened, I need to tell her so she can bring him home,” she replied, her tone heavy with pessimism.

Understanding her concerns, Liu Hengbo nodded slowly. “I get it. Nanshi Farm… I do know a bit about it.”

He sighed. “The farm was built on wasteland and began operations in 1967. Initially, it was staffed by young intellectuals, but later, people sent for re-education joined the labor force. Now it’s been eight years.”

“That matches what I’ve heard,” Yu Xiang’an said.

“Do you know your friend’s relative’s name? I happen to have an old acquaintance working there. I can ask him for information.”

Yu Xiang’an was overjoyed—not only did the manager know about the farm, but he also had a contact there! She immediately wrote the name Wen Yanjun in water on the table, and Liu Hengbo memorized it.

“I’ll ask. Wait for my reply. I can’t promise anything,” he said.

“Thank you so much, Manager. I understand, and no matter the outcome, I’m grateful!”

A few days later, Liu Hengbo approached her with a somber expression. “I have news. His condition isn’t good. He fell ill and hasn’t recovered. The farm is severely lacking in medicine, food, and warmth during the winter.”

Though he was still alive, it seemed he might not survive much longer.

Yu Xiang’an was shocked and then looked at him earnestly. “Manager, I know this is a bold request, but I’m out of options. Could your friend help? I can’t just stand by and do nothing—it would haunt my conscience. I can buy medicine and supplies or even give money to ensure he sees a doctor.”

If he had already passed, there was nothing to be done. But if there was still a chance to save him, she couldn’t ignore it. Failing to act would leave her feeling guilty for the rest of her life, especially when facing her nephew and niece.

She didn’t ask who the acquaintance was or their name, and Liu Hengbo didn’t volunteer that information. However, her plea didn’t surprise him. In fact, he seemed to look at her with newfound warmth.

He had spoken to Wen Yanjun and understood his circumstances. In his heart, he sympathized with him. Seeing Yu Xiang’an’s determination only strengthened his approval of her.

Many people in such situations would have been quick to sever ties to avoid trouble. Yet others, like her, stayed true to their values.

Liu Hengbo nodded. “Arranging for a doctor isn’t easy, but I know his symptoms and can get the necessary medicine. There’s a small pharmacy at the farm. We can send the medicine directly.”

“Great, I’ll get the medicine right away. Can I send anything else—like food or clothing?” she asked eagerly.

“Prepare the items, but don’t include anything unnecessary,” he instructed.

Yu Xiang’an immediately began making arrangements. With Lin Chuanbai’s help, acquiring medicine and essentials was a straightforward task.

“Let’s go over everything together when the time comes, Manager.”

Yu Xiang’an copied the prescription for Lin Chuanbai, who bought the medicine the next day.

Meanwhile, Yu Xiang’an prepared a worn-out cotton jacket, placing inside it a packet of brown sugar, a pound of rice, three pounds of dried sweet potatoes, a small bag of salt, and ten yuan hidden in a corner. She showed everything to the manager. “I’m not sure if these items will be easy to send in, but I tucked the money into the corner. There’s also a character for ‘truth’ cut from a newspaper, to signify that this is from Wen Ruzhen.”

“Alright, just keep this quiet.”

“I know, I know. I wouldn’t dare make this public. Thank you so much for helping, Manager. It’s a matter of life and death for a family elder. If I can do something to help, it’ll ease the heaviness in my heart.”

Liu Hengbo understood completely. Who wouldn’t feel the same?

“I’ll take care of it.”

For several days, there was no news. Then, ten days later, he brought back a note torn from the blank edge of an old newspaper. On it were three characters: thanks and safe.

The handwriting was elegant but faint, likely due to weakness.

“The medicine worked, and with the food and warm clothing you sent, he’s recovering.”

Yu Xiang’an breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful news.”

“Now, stay out of it. These matters are still sensitive.”

Yu Xiang’an nodded, indicating her understanding. “Knowing he’s safe is enough.” She now had something to report back to Yu Xiangyan and Wen Ruzhen.

She included the note with the three characters in her reply letter and sent it back. Around this time, Lan Wangshan arrived.

He had a reason for visiting. His trip to Tongcheng had been to purchase parts for his factory’s machinery. However, the parts turned out to be unsuitable, and when he tried to make them work, they still didn’t fit. The supplier suggested he visit the Qin City Machinery Factory for a solution.

As soon as the idea came up, he thought of the family he had met on the train. They had mentioned moving to Qin City, and their address matched that of the machinery factory. Assuming they were employees there, he decided to seek them out for guidance.

What he didn’t expect was to find out that Lin Duzhong’s son was the factory director!

Lan Wangshan was stunned. He had assumed Lin Houpin was just an ordinary employee.

Lin Duzhong shrugged. “Well, you never asked.”

Lan Wangshan: “…”

He realized how foolish he had been. After all, anyone who could secure five sleeper tickets on a train wasn’t likely to be just a regular worker.

With this revelation, Lin Houpin easily resolved his issue. He had the technicians custom-make the appropriate parts and gave him a note to take back.

His issue was resolved quickly, leaving him with some free time while waiting for the parts to be completed and brought back.

During a casual conversation, Yu Xiang’an mentioned Qin Shenghua.

Only then did Lin Duzhong learn that Lan Wangshan’s late son had been a comrade and close friend of his second grandson’s wife’s cousin. Despite rarely returning home, Qin Shenghua had once made the effort to visit Lan Wangshan, showing great thoughtfulness.

When Lan Wangshan learned about this connection, his attitude toward Yu Xiang’an immediately became much warmer. “So, you’re Shenghua’s cousin!”

Yu Xiang’an replied, “I think it’s such a remarkable coincidence.” Suddenly, they were practically family.

Lan Wangshan sighed. “Your cousin and his comrades were all good kids. They had promised to treat each other’s parents as their own godparents if one of them fell. Over the years, they’ve sent us a lot of things, keeping that promise alive. My grandson has been well taken care of because of them.”

Though his grandson had lost his father, he had several godfathers, ensuring no one dared bully him.

Hearing this, Yu Xiang’an felt a heavy weight in her heart.

Her cousin, Qin Shenghua, was the only soldier in her family, and he lived far away. He never shared bad news in his letters, never mentioned injuries or fallen comrades, leaving her with little understanding of the sacrifices behind the glory. Listening to Lan Wangshan, she felt deeply saddened, as if her heart were being pricked all over.

The admiration many held for soldiers was well-deserved. They used their own flesh and blood to ensure ordinary people could live peaceful lives. They were truly great individuals.

These honors were theirs by right.

Lin Houpin, a former soldier himself, also treated Lan Wangshan with more respect upon learning about this connection.

“If you have time, stay a little longer and explore the area. It’s a rare opportunity.”

---

Later, Yu Xiang’an took the chance to ask Lan Wangshan about Nanshi Farm. It turned out he did know a bit about it.

“The people there don’t live too badly. The newly reclaimed land is relatively fertile, so it can barely meet their food needs. That’s considered fortunate—there haven’t been any large-scale deaths from starvation. Besides farming, they also raise poultry for extra food.”

Curious about how he knew this, Yu Xiang’an asked, “How did you find this out? You’re not local to Tongcheng.”

“Haha, I heard it from a technician at the Tongcheng Machinery Factory. His son is a young intellectual working at that farm. Are you trying to find someone there? I can help you ask.”

“No, I just wanted to understand a bit about it.” Uncertain about the character of the technician’s son, Yu Xiang’an chose not to take any risks.

Knowing that Wen Yanjun was safe and receiving treatment was enough for her. As long as he recovered, the money she had managed to send in should sustain him for a while.

After finishing the first round of medication, Liu Hengbo provided a second prescription.

Traditional Chinese medicine worked by adjusting prescriptions based on the patient’s condition.

While Yu Xiang’an hadn’t paid much attention to the first prescription, she studied the second one more carefully and noticed something odd.

She wasn’t a medical expert, but she had learned about medicinal cooking and was familiar with certain herbs.

For instance, cinnamon bark (rou gui) didn’t grow in the north. Yet the batch Lin Chuanbai brought back looked incredibly fresh.

Did the hospital’s pharmacy really have such high-quality herbs? In the middle of winter, it looked as if it had just been processed.

The second batch of medicine was delivered through Liu Hengbo again. This time, it also included two pairs of thick socks, an old pair of shoes, and some ginger.

At Nanshi Farm, Wen Yanjun received the package. Opening it, he found the socks and shoes, and let out a long sigh.

Looking down at his thin, calloused hands, he muttered to himself, It seems this life of mine can still hang on for a while longer.

If he gave up now, how could he face the expectations of his children?

Soon, Yu Xiang’an wrote a second letter to send back home. However, she still felt a sense of helplessness, weighed down by the futility of struggling against the tides of the times.

Lin Chuanbai noticed her mood and brought out the collection of test questions he had gathered. “Let’s do more practice problems.”

Why study? To solidify their knowledge and improve their chances of achieving high scores. In moments like this, tackling challenges they could control was one way to alleviate the feeling of powerlessness.

Apart from secretly helping where they could, there was little else they could do.

As individuals, their efforts felt minuscule. Without great power or resources, they could only do their best within their means.

Both of them resolved to make full use of university as a stepping stone to expand their networks.

The past two batches of university students had already produced numerous exceptional individuals. This was another reason they were determined to pass the college entrance exam—not just to secure a legitimate path forward, but also to gain access to the invaluable network of connections it offered.

---

Lin Chuanbai’s medicinal garden wasn’t limited by seasons. The herbs inside grew ten times faster than in the outside world: a year outside equated to ten years inside.

Although the variety of herbs was limited to those used in Ginseng pill, it was still an incredible advantage.

Lin Chuanbai was confident that if he ever entered the ginseng market, he could disrupt it so thoroughly that others would doubt their own reality.

In addition to cultivating herbs for the formula, he also stored processed medicinal ingredients in a separate cabinet within the space. These items aged at a normal rate, ensuring they retained their efficacy over time.

Over time, however, he grew careless in managing certain aspects of the space.

He assumed Yu Xiang’an knew little about medicinal herbs, except for common ones like ginseng, codonopsis, goji berries, and prepared rehmannia root. He didn’t realize that Yu Xiang’an also had some knowledge of medicinal cooking.

Though her skills in medicinal cooking were rudimentary and she had rarely practiced since arriving here, she was still familiar with some ingredients and their characteristics.

When she noticed some herbs looked unusually fresh, she began to carefully inspect their home.

There was a large medicine cabinet at home, similar to the ones in traditional Chinese medicine shops, with many small drawers labeled with the names of the herbs they contained.

As she examined the contents, she came across huang qi (astragalus). It was the middle of winter, yet tucked in the corner of the root, she found a leaf that hadn’t fully dried.

Yu Xiang’an: “???”

---

In the northern winter, the outdoors became a natural refrigerator. A jar placed under the eaves, filled with items to be kept cool and weighted down with a lid, functioned as an efficient natural fridge.

Their household stored plenty of frozen items this way. Since they hadn’t brought a refrigerator from their old home, they made full use of the cold weather as a substitute.

Yu Xiang’an had prepared a stockpile of meatballs, frozen tofu, and lamb ribs. Whenever they wanted to eat, they simply had to take out what they needed and defrost it.

While this method didn’t provide fresh ingredients, it saved effort and conveniently solved the issue of why she could access food others couldn’t find.

By stocking up during times of abundance, she ensured the extras blended in as legitimate purchases. She even adjusted their household budget to account for the expenses, keeping everything “proper and legal.”

Lin Chuanbai never suspected anything—until they couldn’t buy fish locally, yet he suddenly found himself eating ling yu (Chinese dace) from the south.

As someone who loved food, he wasn’t sensitive to most ingredients, but he could instantly recognize the ones he adored.

This… was there anywhere in the north where ling yu could grow? It thrived in temperatures above 20°C, and the current temperatures here were well below freezing.

Lin Chuanbai: “…”

He even took time to check local markets and black markets, but he couldn’t find a single second fish.

Yu Xiang’an: Why does he have such fresh southern herbs?

Lin Chuanbai: Why does the house have fish from my hometown? Where did she buy it?

🌱🌿 🫧🍃