Ch 90: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Right now, Yu Xiang’an only ate a bit of her farm’s produce herself — the rest felt a bit like chicken ribs, not very essential.

Her farm didn’t follow the seasons, but with modern technology, off-season produce was nothing special anymore.

However, the warehouse and the spiritual spring water were priceless treasures.

The warehouse could store endless goods, and the spring water, though it didn’t seem powerful, had an undeniable effect — she’d hardly gotten sick in all this time.

It might not cure cancer or major illnesses, but it could boost immunity and keep people healthy — and that was already extraordinary.

Lin Chuanbai had run countless tests, but could never figure out the principle.

Maybe he needed more advanced equipment, or maybe this was simply an uncrackable secret.

Now that the farm had a processing workshop, Lin Chuanbai was liberated — processing herbs, brewing medicinal wines, making ginseng tonics — he could all do here.

He could even make moisturizers and lipsticks in it.

If these could be brought into reality, the manpower and resources saved would be enormous.

But even if they couldn’t leave the farm, that was fine.

Because of the time efficiency, Lin Chuanbai developed a new use — bringing in certain control group experiments to run here, getting results in as little as a day.

Lin Chuanbai: “!!!”

This was practically a divine tool!

Yu Xiang’an was stunned too.

She knew enough about experiments to understand — many results came from endless rounds of testing, choosing one possible path among many, some successful, some failing, and even a successful step could still end in a dead end later.

In this line of work, patience and meticulousness were essential.

Now, if you could verify a possibility and then use the workshop to run the corresponding steps, get the results, and then replicate it in a real-world lab — it was basically cheating.

When Lin Chuanbai realized this, he couldn’t sleep from excitement.

Afterwards, Yu Xiang’an decided she needed to buy him a car — registered under the company for his use.

Otherwise, traveling back and forth wasn’t convenient, and she couldn’t stay here all the time.

Lin Chuanbai also thought it was necessary, but…

He considered the impact — if he drove into the school, his colleagues would definitely give him strange looks.

In the 1980s, owning a private car was a big deal.

---

Lin Yihong and Lin Yining were fraternal twins. As kids they looked somewhat alike, but as they grew older, no one would mistake them.

Lin Yihong was a bit “cool” and seemed hard to approach, but once you got to know him, you’d realize that expression was misleading. His sister was the opposite — meeting people with a ready smile, sweet-tongued, and very popular.

Even after transferring to Yangcheng, Lin Yining kept in touch with her old friends.

Lin Chuanbai regularly bought envelopes and stationery for home, and Lin Yining was the biggest user of them.

She had a lot of people to write to — her grandmother in the northwest, her great-grandfather and grandfather in Qin City, an older sister she’d met during summer training, and her childhood friends in the capital.

Because she was still young, before sending out any letters, Lin Chuanbai would check the addresses and mail them for her. He never read the contents — respecting her privacy — and didn’t need to anyway, since she would often excitedly tell everyone what she’d written.

One day, after finishing a letter to her great-grandfather Lin Duzhong, she ran to him.
“Dad, I have something to tell you.”

Lin Chuanbai put down his book.
“What is it?”

Lin Yining: “I have a classmate whose family ran into trouble. He’s gotten really thin lately. He used to be cheerful, but now he’s listless all the time. I want to help him, Dad, but I don’t know how. My allowance isn’t enough.”

Lin Chuanbai’s expression turned serious.
“What happened in your classmate’s family?”

“His mom got sick and needs surgery — a lot of money. She’s not a formal employee, just a temp, so she can only get a tiny bit reimbursed. Most of it has to be paid by them. His dad teaches junior high at our school, and he’s really worried about the surgery costs. Dad, I want to help him — he’s a good person and has helped me a lot too.”

“How do you know this? Who told you?”

Lin Yining lowered her voice.
“I overheard it. I was handing in homework in the office and heard him asking for leave, and our teacher talked about it.”

“Did you hear what illness it is?”

She frowned.
“Something like a tumor.”

Tumors could be benign or malignant. Malignant ones were much more serious; benign ones were better — and location mattered too.

“What’s your classmate’s name?”

“The one I told you about before — he sits with Wang Lipan. His name’s Chen Yi, but since he’s a bit chubby, we all call him Fatty. He’s not really that fat, just looks it.”

“I remember now. Does he know you know about this?”

She shook her head.
“No, I didn’t say anything — I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Tomorrow, go tell him you overheard it by accident and ask how his mom is. Tell him you want to visit since you’re close friends. I’ll come to school with you tomorrow and talk to your teacher, then we’ll see what to do, okay?”

She lit up.
“Okay, great!”

With Mom away, Dad would surely have a good solution.

The next day, at school, Lin Chuanbai apologized to the twins’ homeroom teacher.
“The child didn’t mean to overhear. I’ve brought her to apologize.”

The teacher’s tone softened toward Lin Yining.
“No need, Yining. You have a kind heart and want to help your classmate — I understand. But you’re still young, so just focus on your studies. Leave other matters to the adults.”

She nodded obediently.
“Thank you, teacher.”

“Class is about to start — head back to your room.”

Once she was gone, the teacher explained the full story.

Chen Yi’s mom hadn’t been feeling well, went to the hospital, and was diagnosed — but the cost of treatment was the stumbling block.

Lin Chuanbai listened, then said,
“Teacher, my child and her classmate have a strong friendship. When she first transferred, it was thanks to them that she integrated so quickly. Now that his family’s in trouble, I want to help too. Would it be possible to organize a voluntary donation drive in the class? Students could tell their parents, and if the parents are willing, they could contribute. That way we could raise at least part of the money.”

The teacher hadn’t considered a donation drive before, but the more he thought about it, the more feasible it seemed — small amounts could add up, and fellow teachers would likely give something too.

Back in class, Lin Yining apologized to Fatty, who looked startled. Wang Lipan, sitting beside him, was also surprised.

Fatty shook his head.
“It’s fine — you didn’t mean to overhear.”

Wang Lipan frowned.
“You didn’t tell us something this big? You’ve been so tired lately — have you been going to the hospital after school to take care of your mom?”

Fatty lowered his head and nodded.
“I didn’t know what to say.”

Wang Lipan was speechless for a moment, then said,
“We’re friends. We can help you too.”

Fatty shook his head. “We’re all still students. If you knew, you’d just end up worrying about me.”

Seeing him like this, Lin Yining frowned. “My dad said he wants to visit your mom. Would that be okay?”

Fatty looked up in surprise. “Huh?”

Lin Yining said, “My mom and dad are both amazing. I’m sure he’ll have a way to help!”

---

Lin Chuanbai and Lin Yining brought a fruit basket to the hospital to visit Chen Yi’s mother.

She was in a shared ward, with Fatty’s grandmother sitting by her side.

Fatty’s father had to work and raise money, so he didn’t have much time to stay and care for her.

“Mrs. Chen, hello, I’m the father of your son’s classmate, Yining. The kids are good friends and help each other with their studies. When my daughter heard about your situation, she was very worried.”

Mrs. Chen smiled, looking at Lin Yining. “Yining, I’ve heard my son talk about you. He’s been taken care of by your daughter a lot.”
Even though she was sick, her demeanor was still gentle. Looking at Lin Yining, she sincerely said, “Thank you for looking after Chen Yi.”

After all, she often got to eat the snacks Yining shared.

Lin Yining’s eyes turned slightly red. “Auntie, you’re definitely going to get better.”

“Thank you.”

Lin Chuanbai said, “Our child has also been taken care of by Chen Yi…”

After a few polite exchanges, Lin Chuanbai glanced at her pale face, then shifted his gaze to a pair of blue-and-white porcelain bowls on the table.

“What’s this?”

Mrs. Chen said, “These bowls? My husband bought them years ago from a street vendor. Just the pair — they looked nice, but since there were only two, we never used them. Now that I’m in the hospital, we brought them here.”

“May I have a look?”

Fatty’s grandmother looked a little puzzled at why he suddenly wanted to see the bowls, but handed them over.

Lin Chuanbai examined them carefully, then turned them over to check the base markings. His face lit up in surprise. “These are blue-and-white porcelain bowls from an official Qing dynasty kiln! I thought they looked familiar. Sure enough — a friend of mine once bought a similar pair. This must be from the same set!”

Fatty’s grandmother was stunned. “Huh? From the Qing dynasty?”

Lin Chuanbai nodded firmly. “Yes, definitely. The design is intact — they should fetch a decent price.”

At the mention of money, the old lady perked up. “They can sell? How much?”

He thought for a moment. “My friend paid 350 yuan for his. These should be about the same.”

“Three hundred and fifty?!” she gasped.

Mrs. Chen was also shocked — could these bowls really be worth that much?

Lin Chuanbai nodded. “Yes. Would you be willing to part with them? I owe that friend a favor, and if I gave him this pair, he’d be thrilled.”

The old lady was practically impatient. “How much are you offering?” Clearly, she was ready to sell — it was a lot of money.

“I’ll offer the same — 350. How about it?”

She carefully picked up the other bowl, looked at the strange characters on the bottom, then glanced at her daughter. When her daughter nodded, she did too. “Deal!”

Lin Chuanbai took 350 yuan from his pocket and handed it over.

The old lady carefully passed the bowls to him — if they broke now, she’d cry her eyes out.

Mrs. Chen stared at the money in a daze.

She remembered scolding her husband back then — why buy these two bowls? For a few yuan, they could have bought ten!

And now, with a single transaction, they’d sold for 350.

If she’d taken them out and chipped one… the thought made her shudder.

Once they left, the other patients in the ward started chattering.

“Do you remember what your bowls at home look like? I’m going to check mine.”

“I think I have something similar — I’ll look too.”

If they found one, that was 350 yuan — a year’s wages!

---

Leaving the hospital, Lin Yining asked, “Dad, are these bowls really from the Qing dynasty?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted.

“Ah?” she exclaimed. “Then you’re still giving them to your friend? Who is this friend, anyway?”

“Guess,” Lin Chuanbai replied.

It clicked for her — this “friend” probably didn’t exist.

So Dad had just made up a reason to give her classmate’s family money.

She’d been worrying about how to help Fatty — she had allowance, but would he accept it without feeling awkward? And it wasn’t much anyway — certainly not enough for surgery.

Now Dad had given 350 yuan, which should help a lot.

He didn’t spell it out, letting her figure it out herself.

For them, 350 yuan wasn’t much, but for the Chen family, it was a lifeline.

Whether the bowls were real or not didn’t matter — they served as the perfect excuse.

---

The donation idea was approved after the homeroom teacher proposed it. The school launched a voluntary campaign — anyone could give, and those struggling financially didn’t have to.

Most of the funds came from teachers. Students who told their parents got mixed results — some donated nothing, some a little, and anything over fifty cents was considered generous.

Lin Yining donated six months’ worth of her allowance, which made Fatty overjoyed.

With all the contributions, they’d nearly covered his mother’s surgery costs.

And with that good news, he perked up again. This was a surgery that, once done, would fix the problem.

Lin Yining liked seeing him cheerful and carefree again — that gloomy, drained look just didn’t suit him.

Wang Lipan’s family was well-off too. He donated over 50 yuan — every bit of pocket money he’d saved, plus some red envelope money his mother advanced him. When she heard why, she even helped him break open his piggy bank and gave him two more red envelopes to donate.

Just like Lin Chuanbai said, the teacher never told Fatty the donation amounts, so he had no idea who gave what and felt no pressure. If he knew how much had been given in total, he might have felt differently.

Lin Yining decided not to tell him — better to keep it a secret.

But now that she had no allowance left, she pestered Lin Yihong. His allowance had mostly gone to donations too, leaving just enough to occasionally buy water at school when it was hot.

Knowing this, Lin Chuanbai didn’t increase their allowances.

The twins never lacked food or supplies — they had everything they needed. If their parents topped up their spending money after every good deed, they might start thinking they could always rely on Mom and Dad to cover for them. That wasn’t good.

The two didn’t ask for more, showing maturity.

But Lin Yining did start taking snacks from home more often to share at school — especially with Fatty, who’d lost some weight from the stress. She brought him more beef jerky to cheer him up.

Lin Chuanbai didn’t interfere — there was plenty of beef jerky in storage, and she wasn’t overdoing it. Plus, the gifts were often reciprocated, even if not with meat products. That was normal social exchange.

The twins also knew their limits — they never boasted to classmates about what their family had or how much money they made.

For one, having money in the 80s wasn’t as striking as it would be later — the culture of blatant materialism hadn’t taken hold yet. Many still looked down on self-made business families as “nouveau riche,” believing it wouldn’t last — a common attitude at the time.

Of course, there really were quite a few people whose wallets had swelled and who went on to display all sorts of nouveau riche behavior, tarnishing their reputations.

Lin Chuanbai, however, was fairly confident about his own children.

---

These days, Yu Xiang’an was running between two places, though she was mainly based in the Special Economic Zone. Guangzhou was a newly developed market — she just needed to check in occasionally.

She wasn’t as busy as before; even though her business had expanded, she now had people she could delegate to.

With reliable staff, she didn’t have to run around like an iron man anymore. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have had the time to go home for the family reunion or stay for a while.

On a rest day, Yu Xiang’an suddenly got the idea for a family deep-sea fishing trip. The twins were excited, and even Yu Qingshan was looking forward to it — it was something fresh.

At his age, he had fished for freshwater fish and even turtles, but never gone out to sea to fish.

The SEZ was on the coast, naturally with good sea fishing spots, and local fishermen made their living from the sea.

They set up in a spot with some jutting reefs, opened a big sun umbrella, set up folding stools, laid out water and fruit, and started fishing.

Everyone had a rod, spaced apart.

Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai didn’t let the twins wander far — if they got tempted to go into the water, that would be trouble. Being able to swim didn’t mean you were safe — good swimmers could still drown, and the kids were small with limited stamina.

But after half an hour, only Lin Yihong had caught anything — a fish weighing less than a jin. No one else had any luck.

Yu Qingshan found it odd — five people, and only one small fish? The bait was still there. Strange.

Then, suddenly, luck turned.

First, Lin Chuanbai hauled in a two-jin stone drum fish. Then Yu Xiang’an caught a small parrotfish just over a jin. Lin Yining landed a two-jin grouper, and finally Yu Qingshan got a big tarpon.

Everyone had a catch now.

They figured they’d borrow a fisherman’s spot later to cook them on the spot. If there weren’t enough fish, they wouldn’t make a full meal.

After an hour, the kids got restless. Seeing them fidget, Yu Xiang’an stood up, handed her rod to Lin Chuanbai, and said, “Come on, let’s go collect seashells. Want to go?”

Lin Yining took out a little bucket she’d brought. “Yes! I promised my classmates I’d bring them some pretty shells.”

Lin Yihong scoffed. Someone had asked him too, but he wasn’t going to bother — seashells weren’t interesting. If he was going to pick anything, it would be conch shells.

Yu Xiang’an took Lin Yining to gather shells nearby. In later years, these shells would be sold on beaches, with hole-drilling services, to be made into wind chimes or other crafts.

But for now, the beach was empty, with only the odd fisherman. There weren’t many shells.

They walked back and forth several times to gather a small handful of nice ones.

Seeing them pacing about, a passing woman called out, “If you want shells, go over that way.”

Yu Xiang’an thanked her, told Lin Chuanbai and Yu Qingshan, and headed in that direction. That got Lin Yihong moving too — he shoved his rod into his grandfather’s hands and ran off to collect conches.

Sure enough, around the bend there were more shells — white, grey-brown, striped in natural colors. Conch shells were rarer.

Though the family had been to the seaside before and already had some at home, Lin Yihong still wanted more to give to classmates. If Lin Yining gave shells to her close friends, he didn’t want to be empty-handed — that would look bad.

As they were gathering, they unexpectedly ran into some very familiar faces — Yu Mansheng, Lu Anran, and a baby in a stroller.

Yu Xiang’an burst out laughing at the sight of them so dressed up, and turned to walk away. “I won’t disturb you.”

Yu Mansheng was in a white suit and tie, looking like a different man — stylish and elite.

Lu Anran wore a pink gown perfect for an evening party, with someone behind them taking photos.

An art shoot?

Yu Mansheng wasn’t about to let her leave. He hadn’t thought much of it before, but being caught by his sister made him flush. He grabbed her. “Xiao’an-jie, are you here with just the kids? Let’s take a photo together.”

Lu Anran looked a little embarrassed — it had been her idea. She wanted to have these pictures to look back on happily when they were older.

Lin Yining giggled. “No, my dad and grandpa are here too — they’re over there fishing.”

So there were elders present.

Yu Mansheng chuckled awkwardly. Since they were almost done shooting anyway, they might as well invite them. “Xiao’an-jie, look at this backdrop — blue sky and sea. It’ll look amazing printed out. Don’t worry, I brought plenty of film today. Enough for family shots too.”

He explained, “This was actually Anran’s idea — a new photo studio opened, doing wedding portraits and big family reunion photos. We’re the first clients, giving our own shop some business.”

The twins grinned. “Mm-hmm, sure, we believe you.”

Yu Mansheng glared. Hey — these little brats! Was this any way to tease an elder?

When Yu Qingshan and Lin Chuanbai saw the two dressed as if for a gala, they looked them over.

Yu Mansheng, now prepared, repeated his explanation. “This is Anran’s first order for her new shop. Of course the family should support her. Second Uncle, want to join in for your niece-in-law’s business?”

A full set of photos wasn’t cheap, but he knew his second uncle had a healthy stash — Yu Xiang’an paid him a salary and bonuses every month. His plain appearance was just habit; his savings probably beat many small households.

He pitched hard. “Second Uncle, they’ve got all kinds of outfits — general’s uniforms, emperor’s robes. Don’t you want to wear something imposing for a keepsake? These days no one minds that stuff — it’s just for fun.”

“Real emperor’s robes?” Yu Qingshan asked.

“Just similar in style — there’ll be differences,” Yu Mansheng replied.

He wasn’t interested in the emperor outfit, but the general’s uniform was tempting — what man didn’t have a general’s dream?

“How much for a shoot?”

Yu Mansheng grinned. “Come on, you’re my second uncle. You’re helping me build buzz — how could I not show my gratitude? You don’t need to pay.”

“If it’s free, I’m not going,” Yu Qingshan said. “Just give me a discount — no need to waive it entirely.”

Off to the side, Lu Anran watched with a smile. Some of her classmates, knowing she’d married a “country bumpkin” from the mainland, had been blunt — they’d said she’d regret it, that the backwardness and old-fashioned thinking, plus meddlesome relatives, would drive her crazy. But reality…

Her mother-in-law and she didn’t quite see eye to eye — mostly a matter of different viewpoints — but the older woman never took advantage of them to subsidize her other children. She was an astute, self-aware elder, and she liked cleanliness. With a housekeeper in the home, life was hardly stifling.

As for her husband’s relatives, the ones they dealt with all knew their boundaries. If others didn’t, it wouldn’t matter much anyway — they were too distant to have much impact.

Who doesn’t have a few troublesome relatives? Even her own family had some.

Right now, it was just about taking a photo. The other party didn’t even want to take advantage of them — in fact, even if she had to pay for the privilege, she’d be happy.

The idea of an art photo session tempted not only Yu Qingshan, but also Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an.

When they got married, the two of them had never taken wedding photos — there simply weren’t the means back then. Now, with the country opening up, more and more Western customs were flowing in, and Western-style weddings were slowly finding a market on the mainland.

She wanted to make up for that regret.

What girl hasn’t dreamed of wearing a white wedding gown and saying “I do” before witnesses? Maybe they could hold such an event on their anniversary.

Lin Yining’s wishes were simple and pure: “I want to wear a princess dress, Auntie. Do you have princess dresses?”

“Of course we do.”

Lu Anran had modeled the studio after those in Hong Kong, pouring a large investment into it. The premises were spacious, with many different backdrops and a whole wardrobe city of costumes — covering most styles imaginable.

“The photographer here is someone I specially hired — he’s taken pictures of the movie star Miss Lin So-and-So before. He’s very skilled.”

Lin Yining had seen her films and liked her a lot. Hearing this, she was thrilled: “Really? Really?”

Lu Anran laughed. “It’s true… and not. Don’t expect too much — it was just by chance, he was filling in as a substitute for his master.”

Lin Yining was satisfied anyway. “That’s still great. He’s seen her in person, right? I want to see her in person too, but I haven’t had the chance. When I grow up, I’ll definitely go.”

By then, Yu Xiang’an had already picked a spot. “Come on, let’s get one here.”

The four of them stood on the reef, smiling at the camera. The image was captured.

Once a woman starts taking pictures, there’s no stopping — she used up all the rolls of film they’d brought before finally stopping. Then it was time to eat. They’d arranged with a nearby household to borrow their stove and cook the fish fresh.

Lu Anran and Yu Mansheng followed along.

People living by the sea bore the marks of long exposure to sea winds. The area wasn’t wealthy, but fishermen’s hauls seemed good, thanks to the sea’s abundance — one cast of the net could bring in plenty of seafood. But there were risks: typhoons that left them empty-handed, the lack of other income sources, and the fact that arable land near the shore was scarce. They relied on fishing to trade for grain or sell for cash, which was split between food purchases and household expenses. A bad spell with poor catches could leave a family in hardship.

And there was always the danger — accidents where a boat left and never returned happened regularly. Since the men went to sea, losing one meant losing the family’s pillar. If the younger generation hadn’t grown up yet, the rest of the family could only struggle through. Such tragedies had never ceased in fishing villages.

Now, Yu Xiang’an’s group was only borrowing the kitchen — the hosts tidied it beforehand and let them use it for a fee.

In the kitchen, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai got to work. Outside, the twins were fascinated by a fishing net hanging by the house.

It was huge — imagine how many fish it could catch when thrown out!

After circling it for a good look, they went inside.

Lin Yining spotted something on the floor and narrowed her eyes — the child holding it, younger than her, seemed to have… a pearl?

Curious, she walked over, crouched down, and asked, “What are you playing with? Is that a pearl?”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃