Ch 60: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Both of them felt as though they had just run a marathon—heart racing, limbs weak and unsteady.

Lin Chuanbai opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. He vaguely recalled that he hadn’t taken a bath that day to wash away the lingering medicinal scent from his body.

Yu Xiang’an continued, “Sometimes, when I think about it carefully, you come home from work in the evenings, and it’s strange—you often have this freshly-showered scent. Did you go somewhere to bathe? If you’re showering at the hospital, why?”

Her voice was calm, but it struck a chord with him because sometimes, after working in his medicinal space, he would bathe to rid himself of the strong herbal smell—just as she did after handling aromatic food.

Lin Chuanbai quickly improvised. “Well, there’s something I’ve been wondering too. How is it that you always manage to get fresh meat and eggs, even beef, which is so rare? And fruit. Back at home, you always brought back the most delicious northern fruits, but every time I went looking for them, I never found any. Even when I left messages at the markets, I somehow always missed out.”

The two of them locked eyes, and an unspoken suspicion arose between them.

“Do you… have a cheat ability?”

They both blurted out the question in unison, only to fall silent immediately afterward.

It seemed they were both onto something, though the specifics of each other’s “cheat” remained unclear.

Yu Xiang’an’s mind raced. Judging by his habits, the herbal scent, and the traces of fresh leaves, he probably has some sort of planting or storage space. Considering he’s grown and sold ginseng before, it must be a medicinal garden.

Meanwhile, Lin Chuanbai speculated: Could hers be a trade market like those in novels, or perhaps a farming space? But if it were farming, her hands don’t show signs of manual labor, nor does she carry the earthy scent of someone who tends fields. It’s probably more of a lifestyle-oriented trade system. Based on how she handles purchases of rice and flour, there must be limits to its capabilities.

Their gazes lingered, each silently confirming the other’s secret.

Both were relieved. If we both have abilities, there’s no need for fear—mutual understanding means mutual protection. We’ll keep each other’s secrets safe.

Finally, Yu Xiang’an realized Lin Chuanbai’s “cheat” was indeed a medicinal garden space. It allowed him to cultivate specific medicinal plants, including rare ginseng, with an extraordinary time dilation effect: one year outside equaled ten years inside. Currently, he was the proud owner of a small ginseng field with fifty-year-old roots.

Yu Xiang’an: “!!!”

If he lives to eighty, this…

Lin Chuanbai also pieced together Yu Xiang’an’s ability: a farm space where she could primarily grow fruit trees and soybeans, raise ducks and fish, and even tend livestock in a ranch. The ranch housed free-range cattle and sheep, all self-sufficient and requiring minimal oversight. Everything could be harvested or planted with a single thought. Essentially, she carried a massive warehouse of food—grains, fruits, and meat—making her a literal winner in life, especially during this era of scarcity.

Both laughed softly to avoid waking the children. When they’d laughed enough, Yu Xiang’an asked curiously, “Can you take someone into your medicinal garden?”

Lin Chuanbai shook his head. “No, it seems to be bound to me. I can’t bring living creatures in, not even poultry. I even tried bringing Yining and Yihong when they were little, but when I entered, they stayed outside. What about yours?”

Yu Xiang’an replied, “I can bring specific living creatures inside—ones already part of the space—but I can’t bring others. I’ve tried with the twins; it doesn’t work.”

At that moment, one of the “test subjects,” Yining, smacked her lips in her sleep, turned over, and smiled contentedly, as if dreaming of something pleasant.

“We both have spaces. Let’s give it a try,” Yu Xiang’an suggested.

Lin Chuanbai grabbed her hand with a bright smile. “Alright.”

For the first time, he didn’t feel the weight of secrecy—it was no longer his alone to bear. He had a companion, his closest companion, to share the burden. His unease melted away.

With a thought, the two disappeared from the room and reappeared in Lin Chuanbai’s medicinal garden.

Lin Chuanbai stared in amazement. “It actually worked! Could it be because we both have spaces? Or… is it because we’re both ‘transmigrators’?”

Yu Xiang’an nodded. “Some things can’t be figured out,” she said, referring to why they had awakened in this era or why they each had their own space.

Lin Chuanbai smiled. True, some things couldn’t be explained.

Yu Xiang’an looked down at the thriving medicinal plants and the ginseng field occupying half the space. The ginseng was neatly arranged from left to right, with the age of the plants decreasing sequentially.

Every so often, Lin Chuanbai sowed new ginseng seeds.

The garden now boasted several varieties of ginseng, thanks to his access to resources at the pharmacy where he worked.

“In another five years, you’ll be able to mass-produce century-old ginseng,” she commented.

“Yeah. If money ever gets tight, I’ll sell a few average-aged ones. But the really old ones? I don’t plan to sell those—too eye-catching.”

“Agreed,” Yu Xiang’an said.

Lin Chuanbai led her to see his personal collection.

“These are some things I’ve collected,” he said.

Yu Xiang’an’s eyes were immediately drawn to a tall cabinet filled with various medicinal herbs.

The assortment was impressive, with a wide range of species. Next to the cabinet were tools like pots, jars, and other equipment.

It was clear he’d spent considerable time here processing herbs and making medicine. She even spotted an unfinished jar of cream he’d been working on at her request—her skin had been struggling to adapt to the dry northern climate.

She then turned her attention to his other collection: gold, jade, books, porcelain, and paintings. Everything was simply sorted by category, with no attention paid to their age or authenticity.

“I can’t tell what’s real or fake,” Lin Chuanbai admitted. “I’ll sort it out slowly someday. Even if some pieces are replicas, they still have decorative value.”

Yu Xiang’an agreed.

In addition to these, there was nearly a thousand in cash and various ration tickets.

Lin Chuanbai coughed awkwardly. “Ahem, from now on, no more secrets.”

Yu Xiang’an nodded. “I understand. Before, it made sense to keep things private. But now…” She gave him a knowing look.

Lin Chuanbai: Got it.

Then, they went to Yu Xiang’an’s farm space, where Lin Chuanbai was surprised to find he could also enter.

He marveled at the plump grape clusters hanging from the vines. Unable to resist, he plucked a bunch, peeled one, and popped it into his mouth. It was sweet!

“What are you planning to do with these grapes?” he asked.

“Most of them will be made into wine and stored in the warehouse,” she replied. “The taste is excellent—especially with the spiritual spring water. After a few years, it won’t be inferior to any famous vintage.”

Lin Chuanbai walked toward the stream, noticing the fish ponds of various sizes. Fat fish occasionally surfaced, while ducks quacked noisily on the other side. Some were clearly nesting and laying eggs.

He wandered to the ranch and started counting the livestock but lost track midway. “How many cows and sheep do you have here?”

“Forty-three cows and forty-eight sheep. Three cows are pregnant, and five sheep are also expecting. We’ll have new members soon,” Yu Xiang’an said. “The ranch is over three acres and still feels quite spacious. The grass here is lush and grows quickly—I think I could easily raise hundreds.”

Lin Chuanbai eyed a nearby cow with its thick, muscular back, imagining the rich layers of meat.

“How about we have steak for dinner?” he suggested with a grin.

Yu Xiang’an laughed. “No problem, we’ve got steak and lamb chops ready to go.”

She led him to the warehouse.

“I’ve been stocking up for a while. The warehouse has an automatic preservation feature—it’s incredibly effective.”

Lin Chuanbai looked around, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

There was an abundance of delicious food waiting for him!

That night, they stayed up late, discussing their respective spaces and making future plans. Previously, they had kept their secrets hidden, even limiting how they used their advantages for fear of exposure. But now, everything had changed—they had a trusted companion. They could work together, cover for each other, and ensure their secrets stayed safe.

Both agreed that while it was fine for their spouse to know, they could never let anyone else find out—not even their children.

They adored their children, but history was rife with tales of ungrateful offspring. What if, despite their love and careful upbringing, their children turned against them? The potential consequences were chilling.

Even if their children were trustworthy, how might they react as adults with families of their own? Would they covet the space for themselves, or exploit it for personal gain?

Human nature was unpredictable.

The simplest solution was to take the secret of their spaces to the grave. Beyond the two of them, no one else would ever know.

They also decided that once their children were older and moved out, they would set up a separate, secret base in addition to their main home. This would provide added security and safeguard their privacy.

The couple talked about everything, and by the next day, both overslept. They arrived at work looking a little tired, prompting Liu Qing to tease Yu Xiang’an, suggesting they should “take it easy at night.”

It took Yu Xiang’an a moment to understand what Liu Qing meant, and when she did, she couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. Apparently, Liu Qing thought they’d been up all night engaging in “strenuous activities.”

After their candid discussion, the couple quickly began collaborating. They focused on collecting local products that wouldn’t raise suspicion and planning ways to process them for sale. Lin Chuanbai became the muscle of the operation, helping Yu Xiang’an with labor-intensive tasks like preparing food.

Yu Xiang’an’s farm allowed her to harvest raw products with a single click—whether it was livestock, grains, or fruit. The output was automatically sorted and stored by type, but any further processing had to be done manually.

To maximize profits, they decided to process the goods themselves. Lin Chuanbai, though not a skilled cook, excelled at repetitive tasks like drying meat, mincing it, or preparing jerky.

Their household meals improved dramatically. Various meats graced their table daily, and the twins, who were already chubby and cute, became even rounder and more adorable. Their plump little faces begged to be pinched.

Lin Chuanbai, now a regular visitor to Yu Xiang’an’s farm space, enjoyed its extensive kitchen and the endless array of fresh ingredients. He could indulge in fish, duck, or out-of-season fruits whenever he pleased.

He, too, gained weight.

Unwilling to diet—especially in an era where many struggled to eat their fill—he resorted to exercise to manage his growing waistline.

Yu Xiang’an’s farm proved invaluable during these times. While Lin Chuanbai’s medicinal garden was impressive, its main asset—ginseng—was difficult to sell without drawing unwanted attention. Meanwhile, Yu Xiang’an’s farm produced an abundance of food, meeting both their needs and the demands of the local market.

With the approach of the New Year, black market prices skyrocketed. Seizing the opportunity, they sold a significant amount of goods, using the profits to stock up on valuable items for their farm.

Legitimate items like stamps, badges, and vintage books were carefully acquired, while less legitimate goods were purchased on the black market.

Despite the risks, they found the black market indispensable. Where there was demand, there would always be supply, no matter how strictly the authorities cracked down.

Through bartering and purchases, Yu Xiang’an’s warehouse remained well-stocked even after their sales. Their income surged, and by the end of the winter of 1975, they had achieved what many dreamed of in the 1980s: becoming “ten-thousand-yuan households.”

However, it didn’t take long for their ten thousand yuan savings to dwindle by half, as they quickly spent five thousand to connect with a local black market leader.

At this time, five thousand yuan held tremendous purchasing power.

Their house had cost only a few hundred yuan, and a bicycle was around 150 yuan. Without considering ration coupons, five thousand yuan could theoretically buy around 1,000 bicycles. If spent on food and beverages, it could stockpile a small warehouse.

But when it came to high-value items like gold, jade, or gemstones—especially rare finds in the hands of middlemen—five thousand yuan didn’t go as far. These premium items were never cheap, regardless of the era. While not immediately useful, they knew that good quality items would always retain their value.

The couple busied themselves with errands, sometimes working alone, other times as a team. After a hectic period of buying and trading, any weight they had gained during their culinary indulgences was shed.

Their busy streak concluded just in time for Yu Xiang’an’s New Year holiday.

The New Year’s Eve feast was naturally held at Lin Houpin’s house, as it was customary to gather everyone for a lively family reunion meal.

Lin Duzhong suggested they stay over for a few days, to make the celebration even more lively.

Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an readily agreed—it was only for a few days, after all.

The New Year’s Eve dinner was a collaborative effort between Li Yuqiao and Yu Xiang’an.

To prepare for the celebration, Li Yuqiao had purchased a pig’s hindquarter weighing 30-40 pounds, a rack of ribs, a pig’s stomach, half a pig’s head, several frozen fish, and two chickens—a veritable feast.

Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an contributed with a rack of lamb, 5-6 pounds of beef, 2 pounds of honey, and a jar of ginseng wine. The honey and ginseng wine were offerings of respect, while the other ingredients were purely for culinary enjoyment.

After all, New Year’s celebrations were meant to be marked with indulgent meals.

Yu Xiang’an rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

One fish was prepared as nian nian you yu (symbolizing surplus year after year).
Two others were filleted for fish balls.
The lamb rack became crispy, salt-baked lamb chops.
The beef was turned into a hearty stew.

As for the pork, the possibilities were endless:

The pig’s stomach became a rich soup.
The pork belly was transformed into both red-braised pork and mei cai kou rou (braised pork with preserved vegetables).
The ribs became sweet and tangy in a sugar-vinegar glaze.

Li Yuqiao was left speechless.

She found herself reduced to a mere assistant, a machine for minor kitchen tasks.

Meanwhile, the children—who had been eager to show off their new clothes outdoors—abandoned their plans. Instead, they lingered by the kitchen, noses pressed to the doorframe, their eyes filled with hope that Yu Xiang’an might let them sample the dishes.

The fragrant aroma wafted out of the house, particularly from the heavily seasoned meat dishes, and reached the neighboring homes. Soon, Yu Xiang’an heard the familiar sound of children crying.

This was the time of year when kids threw tantrums for meat. Most parents would relent—after all, it was the New Year. But the meat these children received at home often didn’t compare to the tantalizing smells coming from Lin Houpin’s house.

Li Yuqiao dealt with several visits from parents who brought their crying children along. These families couldn’t resist the children’s pleading and had come to investigate.

Ordinarily, people avoided the factory director’s home, fearing his imposing presence. Even children instinctively avoided him. But now, drawn by the irresistible scent of roasted meat, they dared to approach.

When they arrived, they were surprised to find that the factory director’s house wasn’t the den of terror they’d imagined when he wasn’t around.

They didn’t need to be afraid.

Lin Duzhong actually enjoyed having children visit. In the past, his son’s stern demeanor scared most kids away. But now, lured by the smell of food, they mustered the courage to come by. Lin Duzhong generously handed out snacks like roasted beans, sunflower seeds, and candies, which he always kept ready for kids.

As people age, they tend to enjoy having lively children around, jumping and playing, bringing vitality to the home. Especially during the New Year, the more bustling it was, the better the omen for a prosperous year ahead.

Yu Xiang’an, who used to maintain a low profile at the mechanical factory, suddenly gained fame. Word spread that she was an exceptional cook, and the New Year’s Eve feast she prepared left the children mesmerized. Their parents had to put in great effort to coax them back home.

On New Year’s Eve, Lin Houpin was still busy with work. By the time he returned, it was nearly six o’clock.

The children who had been lingering around quickly scattered like birds and fish, leaving the house quiet once more.

After taking a bath, it was finally time for the New Year’s Eve dinner.

Normally, Lin Houpin would give a little speech, but this year, with the table laden with such a feast, everyone was too eager to dig in. Who had the patience to listen to a long-winded speech?

The meal was devoured quickly, with everyone eating to their heart’s content. Afterward, it was time to hand out red envelopes.

Lin Houpin had prepared generous red envelopes for his two grandchildren—10 yuan each. This was a significant sum of money, so Yu Xiang’an unceremoniously confiscated them. After all, what would children know about spending money responsibly?

Yu Xiang’an also gave Lin Tiandong and Zhang Ying their own red envelopes, with 2 yuan each.

Children tire easily, and it wasn’t long before they were nodding off. While the little ones were allowed to sleep, the adults stayed up to keep watch for the New Year.

At midnight, the sound of firecrackers filled the air, marking the end of the old year and the arrival of the new.

The first day of the year was for paying respects. The two little ones tagged along with Lin Tiandong and the others to visit relatives. When they returned, their pockets were stuffed—half with red envelopes and half with various snacks.

Even if they didn’t go out, red envelopes would still make their way to them. After all, Lin Houpin was the factory director, and many people would come to his house to pay their respects. And seeing the children, how could they not hand over a token red envelope?

Of course, the family also handed out quite a few red envelopes in return.

After the New Year’s celebrations, the couple decided to lay low for a while. They had been too active before the holiday, and their actions had aroused some suspicion. It was time to keep a low profile until the heat died down before making any more moves.

By 1976, 1977 was just around the corner. Even if there were some delays, the reinstatement of the college entrance exam wouldn’t be far off. Yu Xiang’an prepared two sets of study materials and sent them back home.

One set was for Yu Xiangqing. Like her, Yu Xiangqing had been writing and submitting articles and had never stopped studying. Yu Xiang’an hoped that, if things went smoothly, her sister could also take the college entrance exam and get admitted to university.

The other set was sent to Yu Qingshan for safekeeping, to be used by anyone who needed it in the future.

Yu Qingshan didn’t think much of it since Yu Xiang’an explained it was for Yu Xiangju and Yu Mingjie’s schooling. Textbooks are always useful, and they wouldn’t go to waste.

Seeing so many books, Yu Xiangju and Yu Mingjie’s eyes lit up with excitement.

Yu Xiangju had been feeling down lately. But looking at the pile of books, he felt the “immense love” his sister had for him. It was as if the weight of expectations was pressing down on his shoulders, and he wasn’t sure he could bear it.

The source of his unhappiness lay within the family.

Faced with Zhao Qiaoniang, he didn’t bring up what his grandmother had discovered. Knowing that she had been giving the things his sister sent back to the Zhou family, he didn’t know how to face her.

His grandmother told him not to get involved—he was still a child and should focus on studying.

But he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it.

She was good to him; he knew that. But sometimes, her kindness carried something else, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

He didn’t know what to do.

The family seemed to have spent a peaceful New Year, but he knew it was an illusion—a calm before the storm.

Yu Qingshan didn’t take any action during the holiday. For one, it was the New Year, and he didn’t want to cause a scene. Secondly, Zhao Qiaoniang didn’t take anything else from the house during the holiday, which may have been because she had already taken enough.

When he discovered that some items from the house had disappeared again, along with a noticeable reduction in the household funds he had left, and yet there was no sign of additional food or necessities in the home, Yu Qingshan stayed up all night. The next morning, he sent Yu Xiangju to stay with Yu Mingjie and decided to have a serious talk with Zhao Qiaoniang.

He had hoped it was an isolated incident before.

But now, it had happened again. And if he found money missing this time, how many times had this happened without his knowledge?

Zhao Qiaoniang panicked.

She hadn’t expected to be found out.

She thought she had been discreet, only taking a little each time.

When had it started?

Probably after Yu Xiang’an moved to Qin City.

She saw Yu Xiangju as her responsibility, and it was natural for him to enjoy these things. But seeing Yu Mingjie and his siblings enjoying the same, while her grandson couldn’t, felt unfair—just as her daughter had said. It broke her heart.

They were all children, yet Yu Xiangju and the others could drink milk powder, eat candies, and even enjoy cake. Her grandson, on the other hand, had his first taste of cake only because she had saved up crumbs for him.

At first, she simply sacrificed her own share, but when Yu Xiang’an moved away, the household supplies were left to her management. She began taking small amounts—just one piece of candy or one biscuit—things she thought no one would notice.

Gradually, her courage grew. It wasn’t just food anymore; money was useful too. It allowed her to make new clothes for her grandson.

Every time she saw her daughter and grandson’s happy faces, she felt deeply satisfied.

After all, they were family.

Ding Minxiu, her daughter, was naturally pleased. As a woman effectively without a natal family, life was hard for her. Without a family to back her, she had no fallback.

Her son was the Zhou family’s only grandchild and was cherished by them, but she, as a mother, had little say. Her mother-in-law and great-grandmother-in-law subtly suppressed her authority.

She also didn’t have a formal job.

She needed someone to support her, to show the Zhou family that she had backing. The rare items her mother brought her—delicacies, treats—gave her a sense of pride in front of her in-laws. Her son also grew closer to her because she could give him what he wanted.

Secretly, Ding Minxiu felt a perverse sense of satisfaction. Even if the Yu family had cut ties with her, she still managed to enjoy the benefits they provided.

The Zhou family knew where the items came from. When encountering Yu family members in town, they acted like strangers, but their eyes held ridicule.

What could the Yu family do about it?

There was no evidence now, and time had erased any proof. Their eldest grandson had grown up, and they were still enjoying the Yu family’s resources.

When Yu Xiang’an received the letter informing her that Zhao Qiaoniang had left their family, moved in with Ding Minxiu, and was now living with the Zhou family, her reaction was:

“???”

What happened?

Reading through the letter quickly, she pieced together the story.

Zhao Qiaoniang had been taking household supplies and the family’s funds to supplement Ding Minxiu and her family. When confronted, the discussion escalated and ended in a fallout. Zhao Qiaoniang left.

To prevent Yu Xiangju from being affected, Yu Qingshan had sent him back to their hometown to study.

As for divorce? They had never even registered their marriage.

In fact, neither had his previous marriage to Qin Fenglan.

Most people at the time didn’t bother with formal registrations.

There had been consequences for separating, of course. But Yu Qingshan didn’t go into detail in the letter. She only knew the outcome.

Yu Xiang’an: “…”

Her feelings were complicated.

Yu Qingshan was nearing fifty.

Zhao Qiaoniang was already in her forties.

Neither of them was young anymore.

And yet they had separated?

Yu Xiang’an set the letter down and decided to write to Yu Xianghai. She wanted to know more details.

When Lin Chuanbai learned about this, he said, “You don’t need to get involved in this. Your father hasn’t asked you to step in, and he’s a sensible person.”

Yu Xiang’an thought about how, after she had shared the papermaking techniques, she had received half a year’s worth of wages from Yu Xiangqing, Yu Xiangyan, and her uncle.

“Yes, he’s likely trying to make it easier on me, so I don’t feel upset.”

Still, knowing that the things she had sent home had ended up in Ding Minxiu’s hands left her feeling uneasy.

But the one most affected by all this was probably Yu Xiangju.

He had essentially been raised by Zhao Qiaoniang.

Lin Chuanbai comforted her, “Xiangju isn’t that young anymore. Being in a different environment, away from gossip, will help him sort things out. He’s just a child and has never had a say in any of this.”

Even though they were far away now, it was easy to imagine that this situation had stirred up plenty of talk again, likely tied back to the earlier drama of “two women fighting over one husband.”

Yu Qingshan was right to send Yu Xiangju away.

Lin Chuanbai noticed her writing the letter and tried to distract her. “Do you remember Uncle Quan, the one who dealt with us before and ate a lot of our meat? I got a signal from him today—he wants to replenish his stock. Does the farm have any fully grown cattle or sheep ready?”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

<<<

TOC

>>>