Ch 97: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

When Lei Ming and his group returned, he immediately placed an order for six thousand heavy cotton coats, plus another one thousand sets of pajamas and one hundred scarves.

Yu Xiangan didn’t even need to ask to know how well their business was doing.

This time, Lei Ming also bought a small batch of canned goods to test the waters, about half of them being cheaper fish cans. The order was small since it was just a trial run.

After several trips back and forth, the quantities kept increasing, and their cooperation became more and more seamless. Yu Xiangan would have the goods sent directly to the train station, where Lei Ming’s people would meet them, load them onto the train, and head north. Upon arrival, they would transfer to another train to deliver to their destination.

Lin Chuanbai felt like he was witnessing history — and living it. Besides the rise of these “international traders,” this was also the year compulsory education was implemented.

Before compulsory education, children had to pay tuition, and it wasn’t cheap — especially for rural families.

A few yuan per year might not seem like much, but once you counted tuition, book fees, and miscellaneous school costs, plus the fact that older children couldn’t help with chores, take care of younger siblings, or do light farm work while at school, it became a heavy burden for struggling households.

After tuition was waived, more people realized the value of higher education. They were willing to send their children to school, believing that if a child could make something of themselves, it would change the family’s fate. As for book and miscellaneous fees, they could reuse old books and find ways to scrape together the rest.

Some parents sent their children simply because they didn’t want to miss out on something free. Even if they didn’t believe in the value of education, they figured there was no harm in taking advantage of it. Whatever the motivation, the impact on the children’s futures was profound.

Suddenly, the number of children sent to school surged. Most were boys; there were girls, but still fewer than boys — though this was already a big improvement.

Chen Xiaoyang was delighted to see this. She insisted that her nieces go to school once they were old enough. She had wanted to study when she was young, but her family was too poor. She didn’t resent it — her own older brothers hadn’t all gone to school either. They learned to read and write later in literacy classes, along with basic numeracy.

Chen had taught herself more after joining the factory, asking for help from coworkers and studying on her own, which was exhausting after a full day of work. She often thought that if she’d been able to attend school as a child, she might have had more opportunities and possibly been promoted by now.

Liu Sanbao was also pleased. She took a day off to return to her hometown with the good news.

She considered herself lucky — she had left home on a whim to find work and was soon hired by Yu Xiangan as an assistant. She had been with her from the very beginning. Though not especially skilled, she was meticulous and remembered everything that needed doing. She anticipated her boss’s needs so she was never caught unprepared.

Her good performance led to steadily rising pay. Now she wanted to tell her brothers that their children could all go to school. Unlike her generation, where girls rarely studied, now tuition was free, so there was no excuse not to send them.

Of course, there were still opponents — especially when it came to sending girls to school.

For eight- or nine-year-old girls, there was “plenty” they could do at home: care for younger siblings, feed chickens, wash clothes, cook, feed pigs, hang laundry, tend vegetable gardens, weed, harvest peanuts — essentially serve as an extra pair of adult hands. Sending them to school meant losing all that help, even if it cost nothing.

Still, compulsory education required all children to attend. If parents resisted, village cadres would be sent to persuade them. Most gave in eventually, though a few insisted they couldn’t manage without the child’s labor.

Some argued that too much education was useless for girls, who would just marry sooner or later. If the girls went to school, there would be no one to do the housework or care for younger siblings. If adults stayed home to do it, the family might not even have rice to cook.

In the end, some reached a compromise: letting girls bring younger siblings to class. As long as they kept the little ones quiet, teachers turned a blind eye. Getting an education wasn’t easy, and if one could overcome these obstacles, it could change a life.

The twins had seen such situations and realized how fortunate they were.

Their parents, though not constantly at home, were working hard to earn money and provide a better life. They had plenty to eat and wear, went to school, and attended many extracurricular classes.

Sometimes, their parents were so affectionate with each other that the twins felt like extras — either being shooed off to their room or sent outside together.

Lin Yihong and Lin Yining: “…”

They were now in sixth grade, old enough to know what “liking someone” meant. Both were good-looking and had received love letters — which they rejected.

Lin Yihong: “I’ll only date after I get into college.”
Lin Yining: “You’re not my type, sorry.” She was adamant that her future partner had to be good-looking.

They kept this to themselves, not telling their parents.

This year, Yu Qingshan used his salary and bonuses from Yu Xiangan to build a three-story house.

It wasn’t fully finished yet, but it was spacious with plenty of rooms. When the whole family gathered, there would be enough space for everyone.

For Yu Xianghai and the others, living in their father’s house felt different from living in their sister’s. In their father’s house, they felt entitled; in their sister’s, they had to be more restrained.

The house was in the special economic zone, not in the busiest area, and close to the factory. Yu Qingshan didn’t plan to live there daily — he would still stay in the factory housing with Yu Xiangan.

When she went to see it after completion, she found it really did have a lot of rooms — and it needed them. Counting it up: Yu Xianghai’s family of five, Yu Xiangyan’s family of five, Yu Xiangqing’s family of three, her own family of four, plus Yu Xiangju, who was still single but would eventually have a family of at least three — that was at least sixteen people. With three floors, they needed about six rooms per floor to fit everyone.

If it were smaller, there’d be no way to arrange it.

Once it was furnished next year, Yu Qingshan planned to invite all the children over for a proper reunion. Even if his sons and daughters were too busy, the grandchildren would have school holidays.

The older generation had grown up together, but if the younger ones didn’t spend time with each other, they’d end up as nothing more than strangers who happened to share blood.

He said this and Yu Xiang’an fully agreed. “Alright then, when winter break comes next year, we’ll have them all come over here and stay there. By then it’ll be fully furnished, and I’ll sign them up for a class together. That way they can gain knowledge and also build their relationships.”

Yu Qingshan nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

And so it was decided.

During the New Year, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai returned to their village in Baishi County to reunite with Grandma Zhang Chahua and her maternal grandparents Qin Qiang and Yao Cuifen.

Seeing the lively gathering, and thinking about how old these elders were, many passersby couldn’t help but remark how blessed they were.

But only a few days after the Lantern Festival, Zhang Chahua stopped breathing during her midday nap.

At her age, and passing peacefully without illness, it was considered a happy death. But still, she was gone.

Yu Qingshan had been mentally prepared, but the sadness was unavoidable. By the end of the funeral, he had lost several pounds. After the funeral, Yu Qingbao even fell ill for a while. His health had never been as good as his younger brother’s, and as the eldest son, he had to personally handle many matters back home. Once the funeral was over and the burden lifted, his body gave out.

The funeral became a topic of conversation for many. Times were different now—people cared more about ceremony, and life’s beginning and end were the most important events. The funeral wasn’t lavish, but it was done with great care, every detail carried out to perfection. Combined with the success of the filial children and grandchildren, many older people began to nag their own children, wishing they could have even one accomplished descendant to see them off when the time came.

Misfortune never comes alone. Not long after the funeral, Qin Qiang fell at home, and before long, he too was gone. His organs had simply aged too much.

When he passed, Yao Cuifen could hardly process it. She had always been the one in poorer health, the one who had been hospitalized for so long—how could he leave before her?

She couldn’t figure it out.

She ate less and less. Even when sent to the hospital, the doctors could do nothing. Birth, aging, sickness, and death—it was the natural course of life.

That year, three elders passed away in succession. Yu Xiang’an felt drained. Watching the children grow each year gave her a sense of accomplishment, but for the elderly, their remaining years were growing shorter, and for these three, the year had brought an end.

It took the Yu family quite a while to recover after the three funerals.

During this period, Yu Mingjie brought his girlfriend over. They had been talking about marriage, and if not for the series of funerals that year, they would have held a wedding. The marriage was now postponed to the following year.

Yu Xianghai and Ye Qijia were quite fond of their future daughter-in-law. She was of medium height, a bit plump—a sign of good fortune in their eyes. She had been a fellow student, though in a different class, and they hadn’t known each other until being assigned to the power plant, where they gradually grew closer.

Her parents were also accomplished—her father an engineer, her mother a nurse.

Yu Xiang’an felt conflicted. Once they had children, she would be upgraded to great-aunt status—suddenly part of the “grandparent” generation. It left her a little unsettled.

That semester was also a critical time for the twins, who were in sixth grade and preparing for their middle school entrance exams. Their affiliated middle school had strong teaching resources and was popular among parents, with grade requirements for admission. Based on their consistently top-ranked scores, there was little to worry about.

Still, Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an spent more time and energy tutoring them. The twins studied obediently. Though the focus on academics gave them a sense of pressure, they were happy their parents were spending more time at home.

When the exams ended, Yu Mansheng and Lu Anran welcomed their second child—a boy, completing the “good” character when paired with their daughter.

Yu Mansheng beamed as he looked at the wrinkly little baby with his daughter Cailan. “Hello, I’m your dad.”

Cailan looked from the baby to her father. “Did Mom really give birth to him?”

Yu Mansheng: “The doctor just carried him out—of course.”

Cailan wrinkled her nose. “Ugly!”

Yu Mansheng laughed. “You looked just like this when you were born.”

Cailan’s eyes went wide. She shook her head quickly. “No, I didn’t!”

Yu Mansheng: “It’s true. I even have photos. When we get home, we’ll check the album. Don’t dislike how your brother looks now—look how pretty you are now. He’ll grow to be just as good-looking.”

Cailan was doubtful. “Really?”

Yu Mansheng: “Of course.”

Cailan turned to Yu Xiang’an. “Aunt, is what my dad says true?” She still didn’t want to believe she had once been so ugly.

Yu Xiang’an held back a laugh and nodded. “All newborns look like this. If you take good care of him, he’ll grow to look more and more like you.”

At that, Cailan nodded seriously. “Alright, I’ll take care of him so he grows handsome quickly. Right now he’s too ugly…”

Yu Mansheng couldn’t stop grinning. “You’re still little. Let Mom and Dad take care of him—you focus on taking care of yourself, alright?”

…

Just like before, Lu Anran was looked after by Yang Huili after giving birth.

Yang Huili’s hands were already full—the older child was only three, the newborn even smaller. Neither could be left unattended.

The family had a nanny, but the children were too young; if they were bullied, they couldn’t speak up. Better to have family keeping an eye on them.

The mother- and daughter-in-law had now reached a good rhythm. Lu Anran avoided showing her luxurious spending habits in front of Yang Huili, and Yang Huili turned a blind eye to household expenses—if her son could earn money, spending a bit more was fine.

Mutual understanding meant fewer conflicts, and with Yu Mansheng and the children as a bond, their relationship stayed harmonious.

After the twins finished their exams, their aunt came with the new baby to visit them. Seeing such a tiny person amazed them—it was incredible that someone so wrinkly would later turn beautiful, like magic.

Lin Yining had been devastated when she first learned she had been that ugly herself. Back then she thought she’d be ugly forever. Now, grown up, she could only laugh at herself for such thoughts.

This was Lu Anran’s second birth, and it had been easier. Smiling at the twins, now that she had both a son and daughter, she was content. “So, what are your plans for this summer vacation?”

Lin Yihong’s eyes lit up. “We’re going to Grandpa’s.”

Their grandfather was no longer in Qin City, but in a coastal city. They would first spend time there with their great-grandfather and grandfather, and later, they might get a chance to visit a navy base and possibly board a huge warship. Since that wasn’t certain yet, she didn’t say it aloud.

Lu Anran smiled. “It’s rare to have time off—make sure you have fun. But don’t neglect your studies, or it’ll be hard to catch up.”

They did have summer homework. At the mention of it, Lin Yining sighed. “We’ve already started. We’re finishing it before we leave so we can play freely without worrying about running out of time.”

Lu Anran said, “Good children. If your younger brothers and sisters in the future can be half as well-behaved as you two, I’ll be satisfied.”

Yang Huili didn’t like hearing that kind of talk, even if it came from the twins’ mother. “They’re siblings. When they start school, they’ll be just the same—like their older brother and sister: excellent grades, polite, and considerate.”

She didn’t know much about interest classes or training programs, but she could see with her own eyes that Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an had raised the twins very well. Their top grades aside, whenever they spoke or were asked to show their talents, they left a deep impression—like refined young ladies and gentlemen. She felt her younger son’s future children should be no different.

It clearly took a lot of money to raise children like that, but her younger son wasn’t short of money, so naturally he should value education. Even if they couldn’t send them to a military camp experience like the twins had, that kind of thing wasn’t strictly necessary anyway.

Since Lin Chuanbai couldn’t get away from work, Yu Xiang’an and Yu Qingshan took the twins to the north together.

Yu Xiang’an could have taken them on her own without trouble, but Yu Qingshan wasn’t at ease. His youngest sister was so well-preserved that, in casual clothes without her usual commanding presence, she could easily pass for a young woman in her twenties. Going there was fine, but coming back alone—he just couldn’t relax, so he went along.

When Li Yujiao saw Yu Xiang’an, she unconsciously touched her own face. She was also the type to maintain herself well, but lately the signs of age had become more obvious. She’d even been using beauty products from Yu Xiang’an’s factory, but the results weren’t as good. Was Yu Xiang’an naturally beautiful, or did she have some other secret?

She asked, and Yu Xiang’an shook her head. “No, I don’t use anything else.”

Li Yujiao persisted. “Then do you eat anything special?”

Yu Xiang’an replied, “I eat all kinds of things. Does that count as special?”

She enjoyed all good food, and occasionally tried foreign cuisine.

If she really had to name something unique, it would be the spiritual spring water she drank. Its effects weren’t obvious in the short term, but over time it quietly improved her health, and her skin reflected her overall condition. In traditional Chinese medicine, observation was one of the key diagnostic methods—just by looking at a patient’s face, you could tell much about their health.

After greeting them, Lin Duzhong accepted the two jars of wine Yu Xiang’an brought, as well as two ginseng roots—one over thirty years old, the other over fifty. The ages weren’t extraordinary, but they were still rare enough to require effort to obtain, though not as precious as century-old ones.

These were what Lin Duzhong had asked for.

“Grandpa, what do you need these ginseng roots for? Don’t you still have ginseng wine?”

“There is some left, but these are for someone else,” he explained. “Not for me. Whatever you paid, I’ll reimburse you.”

If it were for him, she wouldn’t take any money. But since it was for someone else, she’d charge the market price.

“Grandpa, ginseng is getting harder and harder to find these days.”

Lin Duzhong nodded. “Yes, and this quality is good. I saw another one in the market, but it had lost most of its medicinal potency—unusable.”

Yu Qingshan glanced around the house. In the past, the in-laws had lived in a three-bedroom, two-living room apartment in the mechanical factory’s housing district. Now, with their higher rank, they had been given a two-story house with its own small courtyard.

You could see their status from the house alone.

Seeing him looking around, Yu Xiang’an asked, “Where’s Dad?”

She hadn’t seen Lin Houpǔ, but that wasn’t surprising—he was a busy man.

“At work,” Lin Duzhong replied.

“And Tiandong? He’s not here either? Isn’t he coming home for summer vacation?”

“He’s not coming back,” Li Yujiao answered. “No idea what he’s doing.”

“He said he’s visiting a friend,” Lin Duzhong added. “He’s not a child anymore. If he wants to do something, let him. Socializing is necessary.”

Li Yujiao understood the reasoning, but as a mother she missed her son. She had hoped to spend the long summer together, but he wasn’t coming home.

Lin Duzhong turned to Yu Qingshan. “When your kids were in school, you probably didn’t worry so much.”

Yu Qingshan smiled. “It was different for me. By the time they got into college, they were already much older. Not the same situation.”

His children had been old enough to be independent, so there was no constant worrying. But Lin Tiandong wasn’t even twenty, had never worked, and had always been a student. Even though he was legally an adult, they still saw him as a kid. When a kid didn’t come home and went out with friends, naturally they paid more attention.

…

Yu Xiang’an didn’t stay long—just two days—before returning home, leaving the twins there to wait for their cousin Lin Yuejing. Later, they would all go together to train at a coastal military unit.

When the summer was nearly over, Yu Xiang’an returned to pick them up and found both of them tanned several shades darker—Lin Yihong even more so than Lin Yining.

He hadn’t paid much attention to sun protection, but Lin Yining was different. She avoided the sun whenever she could, and if she had to go out, she applied plenty of sunscreen. She’d brought enough to last the whole trip. The difference between using it and not was obvious—she was darker, but nowhere near as tanned as her brother, and she was satisfied with that.

Back at school, she knew she’d be pale again within a few months—that was what she liked most.

This was Lin Yuejing’s first time training with them. Although they were cousins, they hadn’t been close before, barely knowing each other. But after a month of “shared hardship,” she and Lin Yining were chattering non-stop by the end. When it came time to part, Lin Yuejing was reluctant to let her go. “If only we went to the same school—we could see each other every day.”

Lin Yining was also reluctant. “We agreed—every summer from now on, we’ll be together. And when you get back, write me letters and call me. I’ll call you too.”

“Alright,” Lin Yuejing said. “Summers together from now on. I’ll call when I get home to say I’m safe, but for everyday stuff, we’ll write. Calls are expensive and might get in the way of the adults’ work.”

“Mhm, mhm. Unless it’s urgent, we’ll just write to chat…”

The two “sisters” said a heartfelt goodbye, while Lin Duzhong and Lin Houpǔ watched with smiles—that was exactly the kind of harmony they liked to see.

When Yu Xiang’an brought them back, the new school term started in just a couple of days, and they entered middle school.

On the first day, Wang Lipan had also turned several shades darker.

Lin Yining said, “…Want me to recommend a diet for you? I asked my mom—these foods can help whiten your skin.”

She knew he’d darken easily, but she still thought fair skin suited him better.

He refused without hesitation. “Thanks, but no.”

They ended up in the same class, with a familiar homeroom teacher—Chen Yi’s father. He remembered the twins well and treated them warmly, giving helpful advice when needed.

It even seemed like he treated them better than the chubby kid in class. One time, he even brought up the blue-and-white porcelain bowl, which made Lin Yining ask her father that evening, “Dad, did you ever send those bowls for appraisal? Were they fake?”

Lin Chuanbai said, “Why are you suddenly asking this?”

Lin Yining explained, “I just feel like he’s been way too nice to us. So I was wondering… could it be that Chen Yi’s dad thought you deliberately came up with a proper excuse back then, just so you could help their family, and that’s why…?” Otherwise, she couldn’t think of any other reason. Honestly, it made her feel a little uneasy.

Lin Chuanbai had put the bowls away in the cabinet. He had never taken them out again, nor sent them for appraisal.

“Your birthday is coming up. This pair of bowls will be your birthday present this year.”

Lin Yining: “???”

But their birthday was still quite a while away.

“Dad, I don’t get it.”

Lin Chuanbai stood up. “You don’t get it? Then take your time thinking about it when you go back. I’ll give you your birthday present early.”

Lin Yining went to find Lin Yihong. “Brother, what do you think Dad means?”

Lin Yihong said, “…Maybe he wants us to get them appraised ourselves? I think, knowing Dad, once that matter passed back then, he just put it aside. He probably doesn’t know whether they’re real or fake.”

Lin Yining asked, “So if we get them appraised, then what?”

Lin Yihong replied, “First, we get them appraised. If they’re real, then it’s just a normal transaction. If they’re fake… well, then it’s still fine—it means Mr. Chen doesn’t need to feel guilty about anything.”

Lin Yining understood. “We should be able to cover the appraisal fee, right?” Since starting middle school, their allowance had been a bit more generous. Plus, they still had a few unopened red envelopes from New Year. That should… be enough.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃