Ch 89: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

The little grandaunt’s family was truly “flourishing with branches and leaves” — there were so many of them.

Back then, when they went south, it was her entire extended family. Some members had no plans to return now, but one of her elder sisters’ families had come back with her.

When Yu Xiang’an’s group went back to meet them, they saw at a glance that their little grandaunt shared some facial resemblance with the Yu family. Standing next to Yu Changcun, you could clearly see the similarities.

When she smiled, her eyes curved into narrow slits, giving her a kindly look.

The grandaunt’s husband had limited mobility in one leg and facial scars, but the two clearly had deep affection for each other.
Even though one had been a child bride and the other had physical disabilities, their bond wasn’t just something they claimed — you could see it in the everyday way they interacted, in the unspoken understanding when they looked at each other. That sort of closeness couldn’t be faked if the feelings weren’t real.

They had eight children — the most of any of the siblings — though the first two daughters died young, and it was only the last six who survived.

Of the six, there were four sons and two daughters. The four sons in turn had produced a whole crowd of grandchildren. Coming back now, the entire group, children and grandchildren in tow, was massive. No wonder Zhang Chahua called it “flourishing branches and leaves.”

Yu Changxi asked,
“You’re my eldest brother’s granddaughter?”

Yu Xiang’an smiled.
“Yes, grandaunt. I’m fifth in my father’s line — his youngest daughter.”

Yu Changxi understood immediately.
“So your father is my eldest brother’s youngest son.”

Zhang Chahua cheerfully pulled Lin Chuanbai over for introductions.
“Yes, yes — this is my granddaughter’s husband, and these are their two children.” You could tell she was in very high spirits.

After Yu Xiang’an’s family of four finished introducing themselves, Yu Xiangju stepped forward to greet them one by one.

When they stepped back, Yu Xiang’an looked at the crowd and felt her brain struggling to keep up. Lin Chuanbai also felt a headache coming on. Fortunately, they didn’t interact often — they really only needed to remember the main faces. Otherwise, how could you possibly keep track of who was who?

Yu Qingbao, knowing they’d have trouble, had secretly prepared a slip of paper for them to look at:

Little grandaunt: Yu Changxi
Granduncle: Tian Dazhuang

Eldest son: Tian Yougen — the most solid-looking one. Wife: He Li (curly hair). Four daughters, two sons. Present today are the second and third sons: Tian Yuqian, Tian Yucai.

Second son: Tian Youjia — the tallest. Wife: Li Sanya. Three sons, two daughters. Present today are the second and third sons: Tian Duofu, Tian Duoshou.

Third son: Tian Youle — the heaviest. Wife: He Hua — also the heaviest. Three sons, three daughters. Present today are the second and third sons: Tian Zhangzhi, Tian Zhangkun.

Fourth son: Still in the Philippines managing the shop. But his eldest son, Tian Fujiang, has come.

(No names were listed for the granddaughters-in-law or the great-grandchildren.)

After reading it over, Yu Xiang’an felt she was going to forget how to write the character “Tian.”

Yu Qingshan felt the same.
“Let’s all copy this down. Otherwise, we’re bound to mix people up and embarrass ourselves.”

Yu Ye’gui just kept quiet. When they’d first come back to reconnect with relatives, they’d also struggled, spending quite some effort before they’d gotten most names straight.

It wasn’t just them — the Tian family also found it hard to keep track. On their father’s side there were few relatives, so they’d met everyone quickly. But on their mother’s side? Four brothers!

Four brothers meant sons, and sons meant grandsons — altogether even more than the Yu family.

For the older generation it was easier: Yu Changxi and Tian Dazhuang knew Yu Changyou had four brothers, so matching names to branches was straightforward enough.

Eldest brother: Yu Changyou — two sons, Yu Qingbao and Yu Qingshan.
Second brother: Yu Changcun — two daughters, one son (Yu Shunwen).
Third brother: Yu Changxin — two daughters, two sons.
Fourth brother: Yu Changyi — one son (Yu Niangen).

As for the grandchildren, the two elders could only learn them one by one.

Still — “flourishing branches” was a good thing. More brothers in a family meant outsiders were less likely to push you around.

Overseas, that was even truer. Among fellow Chinese, you had to stick together.
If a family had too few working-age men and was too mild in temperament, they could easily be targeted — maybe even struggle to survive.

Yu Changxi, now back home, couldn’t remember all the younger generation, but knowing they were doing well was enough to make her happy.

She’d never expected her natal family to be doing this well — officials, skilled tradesmen, teachers… Back when her family had been on the verge of starving, her greatest hope before returning to China had been simply that everyone might be safe and sound.

This was a joyful surprise.

After the boisterous greetings, Yu Xiang’an asked,
“Grandaunt, now that you’ve come back, will you go abroad again?”

Yu Changxi chuckled.
“No, not leaving again.” Her face was full of contentment. “I’m not going. At my age, if I left, the next time I came back it would be my ashes. I want to stay in my hometown. As for my children — that’s up to them. They’re grown now. It’s not for me to decide where they live.”

Yu Changcun nodded.
“Exactly. Fallen leaves should return to their roots. Living in a different province is one thing, but abroad? That’s another. Your old house was taken over before — what will you do about it?”

The Tian family’s home had been left empty when they fled, then requisitioned by the local production team. Now they were negotiating with the team to get it back, and in the meantime were renting elsewhere.

“We talked to them when we came back. They’re cleaning it up now, and once it’s ready they’ll give it back to us. We’ll just pay some maintenance fees. If no one had looked after it all these years, it would have fallen apart.”

“That works.”

Over the years, the house had been used as a warehouse. Getting it back had taken some persuasion, but in the end, it was sorted.

Yu Changxi’s family stayed for several days — lively ones.
For the younger generation, it was mostly a matter of showing face — they didn’t have the emotional bonds. But for the older generation, it was different. Yu Changcun and Zhang Chahua’s joy was obvious, and even the next generation, like Yu Qingshan, felt genuine warmth — this was their biological aunt, a close blood tie.

But for Yu Xiang’an’s generation, this was a “grandaunt” they’d never met and had assumed dead. The blood relation was there, but the emotional closeness wasn’t.

Yu Manchang spoke up.
“Why don’t we open that wine you brewed last year, Xiao An, and try it?”

The previous year, Yu Xiang’an had, on a whim, brewed several jars of wine — some from grain, some from wild fruits gathered on the mountain.

In the old days, no one could afford to brew wine, since grain was too precious. But now they farmed their own land, and with no natural disasters or trouble, their granaries had filled up.

Every year, new grain became old grain. Old grain, sold after the new harvest came in, fetched a lower price — but every household kept some, knowing from hard experience the value of food.

Yu Ye’gui tasted the wine and gave a thumbs-up.
“Not bad!”

“Want to go see our fields? We planted a patch of sesame this year.”

“Sure.”

Walking down the road, plenty of people came up to greet them. With Yu Changxi’s return, their family had once again become a topic of conversation.

To the villagers, the whole affair was highly dramatic — and in truth, it really was.

Some who had also lost contact with family members began to feel a spark of hope.
Maybe their loved ones were also out there, living somewhere unknown, unable to return for some reason.

Just like the two from the Yu family — one in Hong Kong, one who went to Southeast Asia — in those years, they couldn’t come back at all. And now? They’d returned one after another.

So it wasn’t impossible.

Laughing and chatting, Yu Yegui said,
“This isn’t the first time, but still, the enthusiasm here is something else.”

Yu Manchang chuckled,
“Our Yu family is one of the big households here. Trace it back far enough, and almost everyone’s a relative.”

Yu Xiang’an’s side of the family was closer in relation and had arrived earlier. A few days later, Yu Manwu returned from Shanghai with his wife and daughter.

He hadn’t been back for several years. Everyone knew why — he’d been too embarrassed. After breaking up with Ruan Chenxi and marrying someone else, it had been awkward to face the past.

Now that he’d returned, it meant he’d gotten over it.

Yang Huili, who’d only spoken to him on the phone before, was overjoyed to finally see him in person — her three sons were all together again.
How could she not be happy?

Even the usually reserved Yu Qingbao had a constant cheerful look on his face.

It was Yu Xiang’an’s first time meeting Yu Manwu’s wife in person. Her name was Ding Xiang, a slightly plump, gentle-looking woman.

She was from the rural outskirts of Shanghai, a completely different type from Ruan Chenxi.
Which was a good thing — if she’d been similar, just knowing it would’ve been uncomfortable.

Yu Mansheng punched his brother’s arm,
“Finally decided to come back, huh? Were you about to forget where the front door of your family home was?”

Yu Manchang followed with another good-natured punch.
“Look forward, not back.”

Yu Manwu smiled awkwardly.
“It won’t happen again.”

Yu Xiang’an and Xu Xiaojun sat with Ding Xiang to chat.

Xu Xiaojun introduced herself confidently. Even with two sisters-in-law who each stood out in their own way, she didn’t shrink back.

She might not have education, a good family background, or a high-paying job, but both of the third generation’s two sons had been born from her own belly — and that was her confidence.

The second brother and his wife weren’t having more children because of work; the third brother might, but by then her children would be grown.

That gave her the spine to stand tall among the sisters-in-law.

She also knew they wouldn’t be staying at home for long. So for these few days, as long as she did well, everyone would be happy.

What started as a reunion with the long-lost grandaunt eventually became a broader family gathering.

Yu Manwu’s daughter, just over a year old, was round-faced and adorable, always smiling, with a good temper. Even if she tripped while walking, she wouldn’t cry — just sat on the ground giggling, making everyone who saw her laugh along.

Lin Yining adored the little girl.
Such a cute, round-faced little sister! When she hugged her and played with her, the child would sweetly call her “big sister.”

It made her want her mother to have another little sister for her.

Yu Xiangyan was too busy to come back. Yu Xiangqing, upon hearing the news, had wanted to return but couldn’t get away from work, and could only express her regret, saying “next time.”

Notably, the whole family’s return even made it into the newspaper — a special feature in the social news section, with photos of Yu Changxi’s entire family.

When the reform first began, few people returned to China. But now, more and more were coming back — some to settle in their homeland, some to find relatives. This family’s return was highly representative.

They’d already decided on a livelihood. Upon returning, they re-registered their household and the village planned to assign them land. They wouldn’t be able to grow much this year, and they hadn’t farmed in a long time, so they might need time to regain the skills. If they had no other jobs, farming could still feed them. But since they had run a Chinese restaurant before, they planned to return to that trade.

There was no rush — they’d just come back and didn’t know the lay of the land yet. Their closest ties were with the Yu family — Yu Changxi had a blood-related second brother, a blood-related eldest sister-in-law, and real nephews. These were the dearest connections.

Yu Changxi and Tian Dazhuang often visited Zhang Chahua and Yu Changyou, who enjoyed hearing about how they’d gone to Southeast Asia, the hardships they’d faced, and how they’d eventually built their life there.

In return, Yu Changxi and her husband listened to their sister-in-law and brother talk about the hometown — stories they’d missed for decades and needed to catch up on. Even if they weren’t in the same commune, they were just a neighboring township away.

Yu Xiang’an didn’t have much interaction with the grandaunt’s children — only chatting a bit more with the grandaunt herself.

Those children — her uncles and cousins — could speak the hometown dialect, but with an accent, and probably couldn’t fully understand everything Yu Xiang’an said.

Language barriers made communication awkward. But if they decided to settle here, they’d likely adapt quickly.

They visited often, and whenever Yu Xiang’an was home, she’d serve them tea promptly.

Zhang Chahua was happy about it, so they were welcome guests.

Yu Xiang’an hadn’t sold her farm’s produce in a long time. At this point, she no longer needed to earn income from selling it, and her time didn’t allow for it. So all the harvests were stored in the warehouse — which seemed endless, never filling up. Some fruits she’d turn directly into fruit wine for later use.

She’d cut down the number of fish and ducks she raised, since unlike crops — which could be harvested and replanted with one click — fish and ducks couldn’t be managed that way.

Her stockpile kept growing.

Right after returning from the reunion, her farm upgraded again.

It was still a half-baked farm — otherwise it wouldn’t have started with only four kinds of fruit and no way to add more varieties. After the first upgrade, there were still no new crops, but a pasture was unlocked.

Now it had upgraded again — still no new crops, but a new processing workshop appeared.

Yu Xiang’an figured it could probably upgrade another one or two times. She wondered if that would unlock a store or something else.

She tried the processing plant — putting in raw ingredients, adjusting the settings, confirming, and then waiting for anywhere from fifteen minutes to twenty-four hours for the finished product.

She put in grapes, selected “grape wine,” set the brewing time, and it needed twelve hours.

Previously, turning grapes into raisins had taken only half an hour. Turning beef into beef jerky took forty minutes.

The taste was good — since the recipe and timing were up to her, it felt like her own cooking: familiar recipe, familiar flavor.

The best part? The workshop didn’t restrict materials — anything she brought in from outside the farm could be used.

Lin Chuanbai loved this feature. Whenever he had free time, he’d be in there happily working away — sometimes brewing medicinal wine, sometimes preparing herbal ingredients, sometimes making food products. Like a big kid with a new toy, he couldn’t put it down.

But they had to sneak in, so the twins wouldn’t find out what they were up to.

Every day, they came up with excuses to send the twins out.

Once Lin Chuanbai had gotten his fill, they slowed down their visits. By then, Yu Xiang’an’s warehouse was already stocked full of processed goods.

One day, when the twins came home, they found the cupboards suddenly full of all kinds of beef jerky — five-spice, spicy, fruit juice-flavored, air-dried, hand-torn…

It dazzled them.

Lin Yining loved beef jerky, and she knew exactly how much was in the house before. When she saw all this, she jumped up on the spot in delight and cheered,
“Mom, you made so much beef jerky!”

Yu Xiang’an said with a straight face,
“Enjoy it.”

In reality, more than half of it was made by Lin Chuanbai — and some of it he’d modified with his own recipes. Certain flavors were likely to be… unusual, the kind that gave you “surprise” tastes.

Aside from beef jerky, the fridge also had fruit juice — grape, pear, and apple.

Lin Yihong took a pack of five-spice beef jerky, pulled out a strip to chew on, then opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of juice — one grape, one apple. He claimed the grape juice; Lin Yining got the apple.

Lin Chuanbai cleared his throat.
“There’s too much beef jerky in the house. Tomorrow, when you go to school, bring some to share with your good friends.”

That way, it would get used up faster.

The two agreed, and the next day each brought a few packs to school. During the break, Lin Yining shared hers with Wang Lipan and his chubby deskmate.

The chubby boy took a piece, popped it in his mouth, and said quickly while chewing,
“This is from your mom again, right? So good. My mom made pork jerky once — totally wasted the meat; we had to choke it down. But your mom’s? You eat one and you want a second, can’t stop.”

Wang Lipan opened a pack, took a strip, chewed twice — and his face froze. That sourness!

He immediately gulped down water.
“Did your mom soak this jerky in vinegar?”

Chubby boy: “Sour? What flavor did you get?”

Lin Yining picked it up to check.
“I didn’t eat from this pack yet, I don’t know what flavor it is.” She bit a small piece — her whole face scrunched up. So sour! And with a bit of heat… sour-and-spicy beef jerky?

She’d never had this flavor before, and it wasn’t good. Could it be a new flavor Mom had tested… and failed?

(Yu Xiang’an: reputation ruined.)

Not wanting to waste food, Lin Yining frowned and swallowed it.
“Maybe it’s a new flavor Mom was experimenting with. Don’t waste it, I already brought it out.” No one at home would want it back.

Wang Lipan: “…”

Could he soak it in water first?

The chubby boy took a bite — he could handle sour — and said,
“It’s a bit… exotic, but actually not bad, not that extreme.”

Lin Yining pushed the whole pack to him.
“Then it’s all yours!”

She wanted normal flavor!

Yu Xiang’an’s farm had upgraded, but Lin Chuanbai’s medicinal garden hadn’t changed much — except for the increased quantity of herbs and stored materials.

Over the years, he’d built himself a private lab there. No fancy, high-end equipment — just practical tools. Still, they’d cost a decent sum.

Some finished products sat on the shelves.

Now, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai planned to turn some of these into cash.

From the start, Lin Chuanbai had used medicinal herbs to make face creams, moisturizers, and sunscreen for Yu Xiang’an.

In the ’70s, such products couldn’t even be bought — the supply store only had simple clam oil or snow cream.

The market now was still largely untapped. The profit potential was huge.

Lin Chuanbai wanted to build a fully equipped high-tech lab. Apart from instruments he wasn’t licensed to buy, the rest would cost a fortune — so the more ways to make money, the faster the lab would be realized.

Yu Xiang’an planned to register the business in Hong Kong and turn the newly founded “Meiyan” company into a foreign-owned enterprise.

Foreign enterprises were highly favored — sometimes they were given free land, free road construction, or tax breaks.

This wasn’t difficult for her; Yu Yegui helped her complete the paperwork.

Once the license was in hand, they sent products for testing, applied for patents, and negotiated for a promising plot of land.

Seeing Yu Xiang’an’s organized moves, Yu Yegui was impressed — property rights weren’t taken seriously in China, and securing them took time, so few bothered.

The testing and property rights approval period was perfect for constructing the factory.

When Keleite learned what she was doing, he came knocking.
“Yu, can I join you? You know the supermarkets also have skincare and cosmetics counters.”

“I trust you. Your products are guaranteed. I won’t manage operations, but I can help with sales. Yu, we’ll have a pleasant cooperation.”

For example, setting up counters in his supermarkets. But whether they could expand abroad would depend on how outstanding the products were — otherwise, it might stay domestic. Yu Xiang’an agreed.

He invested money and offered future sales channels in exchange for a 10% stake.

When Yu Mansheng saw Yu Xiang’an diving headfirst into a new industry, he started wondering if he should branch out too.

Currently, besides contracting construction sites, he only built and sold commercial housing — a bit too narrow. But after thinking it over, he realized entering a new field wasn’t easy — no technology, no formulas, no expertise.

When Yu Xiang’an heard, she asked,
“Interested in doing hotels? Office buildings? Or an integrated leisure and shopping complex?”

Yu Mansheng had one question:
“Would there really be that many customers?”

“Look at the streets — how many bosses are wearing gold chains and fur coats in winter? Have you ever had trouble selling your houses? Couldn’t we ourselves afford to spend there? Maybe not casually, but when doing business and needing to show face — wouldn’t we spend the money?”

“A year changes everything. Remember my place? When I first bought the land, it was so remote. And now? If you’re interested, start planning now. By the time it’s built and ready to open, it’ll be just right.”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

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