Ch 103: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

When Ding Minxiu heard her mother say those four words, she stopped in her tracks, looking over in confusion. “What did you say?”

Zhao Qiaoniang slowly forced out the rest. “…If you hadn’t ended up with your husband back then, wouldn’t our lives be different now?”

Maybe they wouldn’t be working themselves to exhaustion—barely getting a few days off each month, and even on those rare rest days, unable to catch their breath.

They had to go out and earn money. The family needed it. There was no other choice.

Ding Minxiu’s face went cold, her voice sharp. “Mom, what are you even saying? If I hadn’t been with Boyang, would I be living like this now?”

She took a breath. “If I hadn’t been with him, I would’ve been sent to the countryside. You know how many educated youth never came back. And those who did, most had families and baggage. Is that what you wanted for me?”

Her voice rose. “Did you forget? Take the Yu family’s Yuxianghe—she went to the countryside and never came back. You only have one daughter—me. How could you have let me go?”

Zhao Qiaoniang’s lips trembled. “How could I have wanted that? But there was nothing I could do…”

Being with Zhou Boyang meant her daughter didn’t have to toil in the fields, but did that mean life was easy now?

She had once thought her grandson was a good, filial boy—but now he had a job and still lazed around, constantly asking them for money to support his own child. And here she was, an old woman, still having to travel far from home to work.

She didn’t know when he would ever grow up, but she knew her own strength was fading. Her body ached constantly, she was getting weaker, more tired by the day.

Ding Minxiu gave a bitter laugh. “‘Nothing you could do’? Ha. If we’re talking about ‘ifs,’ then why didn’t you ‘if’ me into being born a boy? If I’d been a boy, you wouldn’t have been cast aside. Dad wouldn’t have divorced you. I was your only child—if I’d been a boy, I wouldn’t have been sent away to the countryside!”

Her household registration had always been tied to her biological father. After he remarried and had a son, only one child per family could stay in the city. Knowing her father, there was no question—a son would stay; a daughter would go.

The more she spoke, the more resentment seeped into her words. “If I’d been born a boy, our family would’ve stayed together. I wouldn’t have been sent away. You wouldn’t have had to remarry. Everything would’ve been fine.”

Tears rolled down Zhao Qiaoniang’s face. Her voice shook. “You’re cutting my heart open with those words…”

Did she not wish her child had been a son? She’d dreamed of it.

Daughters had to marry out someday; sons were the ones who stayed and cared for their parents. Because she’d given birth to a girl, she’d been treated like a beast of burden in the Ding family—almost worked to death. And when she returned to her own parents’ home, they hadn’t treated her kindly either.

They’d helped when they could, but they weren’t long-lived. Within a few years, they were gone. Desperate, she had nearly taken her daughter and ended it all—until the Yu family came asking if she’d help care for their children. They offered her and her daughter food and a roof, and she’d said yes.

It had been her best option at the time.

At the Yu household, she’d finally enjoyed a few peaceful years.

But Ding Minxiu sneered. “Oh yes, once you got there, you put Yuxiangju on a pedestal. You forgot he wasn’t even related to you by blood! I was your only child, but you treated him better than me. Whenever there was something good to eat, the biggest portion always went to him—the smallest one to me!”

Her resentment hadn’t faded even after all these years.

Zhao Qiaoniang said quietly, “…He was so much younger than you—just a child. I only gave him a little extra food. You didn’t get any less.” She herself had eaten the least.

Ding Minxiu snapped, “You fed him more because he was a boy, not because he was small! Wake up! He wasn’t even your son!”

Zhao Qiaoniang’s heart felt like it had been sliced open. “…I know he wasn’t my son.” If only she really had a son.

She drew a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

But Ding Minxiu wouldn’t stop. “If you’d made me a boy, none of this would’ve happened. If you’d remarried someone rich and powerful, I wouldn’t be living like this. You can’t blame me—you have no right to. You couldn’t help me, so I had to help myself! And look, I made it, didn’t I? Sure, there were setbacks, but my life now isn’t bad.” Her tone softened as she spoke.

Some of her classmates had gone to the countryside.

When they were finally allowed to return, they were weathered and rough-handed.

Few came back alone, and those who did often had messy personal lives—some had abandoned husbands or children. Returning didn’t guarantee happiness. They had no jobs, no income, and marriage prospects were bleak—usually older divorced men.

Whenever Ding Minxiu saw them, she felt a surge of relief and gratitude for her own choices.

Gradually, her emotions calmed. “Why are you bringing all this up now?” she asked.

Zhao Qiaoniang wiped her tears. “I happened to see Yu Xiangan today.”

Ding Minxiu froze. “You saw her? Did she see you? How is she? Where?” The questions came rapid-fire, almost without a pause.

Zhao lowered her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “…She looked well. She didn’t see me. I was off to the side—saw her when I was handing out flyers today.”

Ding Minxiu’s voice turned cool. “Of course she’s doing well. Why wouldn’t she be? She married a good man, has twins—a son and a daughter. Naturally, her life is comfortable.”

Zhao stayed silent. Should she tell her what she’d overheard today? She smiled bitterly. If her daughter found out, she’d only stew in anger—and it might make her sick.

Ding Minxiu pressed on. “Do you know where she lives? Maybe we could find Yuxiangju through her. Even if we don’t contact them now, knowing where to look would help later.”

Zhao shook her head. “I just saw her outside. How would I know?” Even if she did, she wouldn’t tell. The idea of appearing before the Yu family—any of them but Yuxiangju—filled her with shame.

“I see…” Ding Minxiu sounded disappointed. “Then take more flyer jobs near the Food City. Maybe you’ll run into her again—pay attention next time.”

Zhao murmured, “…No. I don’t want to go back there.”

Making money on Yu Xiangan’s turf made her uneasy.

---

After arriving at the Food City, Yu Xiangan first walked a full circle, observing the crowds and gauging the staff’s service. She randomly picked two shops that caught her interest and sampled their food.

Gu Nanfeng, standing beside her, smiled confidently.

Everything here was thriving.

Yu Xiangan was clearly pleased—the operation ran like clockwork.

Gu Nanfeng said, “That’s because of the rules you set, Boss. Everything runs by your system.”

He had deep respect for her.

He’d been one of the earliest to follow her from the capital—back when they had just one Wuwei Restaurant and one hotpot shop. Now, there were hundreds of Wuwei branches.

There had been challenges along the way, but for her, no problem ever seemed unsolvable. The expansion had never stopped.

He himself had benefited, growing alongside the company—from a small restaurant manager to the general manager of the entire chain.

He’d truly made something of himself now. His stepmother and half-brother, who once looked down on him, now had very complicated expressions whenever they saw him. Every time he thought about it, it felt like gulping an ice-cold soda on a sweltering day—refreshing and satisfying.

This life hadn’t come easily, and he cherished it deeply. He double-checked everything meticulously. So when the boss decided to make a surprise inspection, he didn’t panic at all.

Yu Xiangan truly didn’t find anything improper during her inspection. She then went to the office, reviewed financial reports, signed the necessary documents, and by the time she finished everything and left, it was already dark outside.

Checking the time, she immediately called back to Yangcheng. Zhao Shanhe was living with the twins, so even though Lin Chuanbai was out of town, their safety wasn’t a concern.

When the phone connected, Lin Yihong greeted her sweetly, “Mom, have you eaten yet?”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “I have. What about you two?”

“We’ve eaten too.”

Yu got straight to the point. “I got a call from your father today. He said your teacher wants to meet with the parents. What happened?”

Lin Yihong hesitated. He had been in small scuffles before—kids playing around often led to little fights—but nothing serious enough for a teacher to call home. This was the first time.

He hurried to explain, “Mom, I can explain. Ningning was at her Sanda (kickboxing) class, and I was in my martial arts class. When I went to pick her up, I saw a man sneaking behind her. I thought he wanted to hurt her, so I fought him. Later it turned out I misunderstood—he was actually helping chase off some delinquents. I hit the wrong person.” His voice grew smaller near the end.

Yu Xiangan asked, “Who was he? Who were the delinquents? Are you hurt?”

Lin Yining came closer and spoke up, “Mom, let me explain. A high schooler named Huang Hua wanted me to be his girlfriend. I refused, and he kept bothering me. Just then, Zhang Tufei passed by and helped chase him off. They scuffled a bit, and when my brother came to find me, he saw Zhang Tufei close to me and thought he was trying to harass me—so he punched him. They started fighting before realizing the mistake. A teacher saw them and called all three of our parents.”

Yu Xiangan sighed. “…You’re okay? And your brother?”

So her daughter was already at the age where boys started confessing?

Lin Yining said cheerfully, “I’m fine! My brother’s fine too—just a little bruise on his face. But when he showed up, Mom, he looked so cool!”

Lin Yihong snorted, touching his swollen lip. He regretted being so impulsive. Seeing that guy standing so close to his sister had made him remember the kidnapping incident; before he could think, he’d thrown a punch.

Yu Xiangan exhaled. “Alright, wait for me tomorrow. I’ll be there on time.”

---

The next day at the school office, Yu arrived to find two other parents and their sons already there—a man and a woman.

Mr. Chen, the teacher, made introductions. “This is Zhang Tufei’s father, this is Huang Hua’s mother, and this is Lin Yihong’s mother.”

Yu immediately turned to Zhang’s father and apologized. “I’m really sorry. Your son was trying to help my daughter, but my son misunderstood and acted rashly. How is Zhang now?”

Mr. Zhang laughed kindly. “It’s alright, just a misunderstanding. Boys should be responsible—it’s good he stood up for someone.” Zhang Tufei smiled too, though his bruised face twitched in pain.

Huang Hua’s mother, however, was livid. “My son was beaten! You’d better give me an explanation! Clearly, your kids ganged up on him and then tried to smear his name!”

Lin Yining frowned. “Who bullied him? He’s a high schooler; we’re middle schoolers. I barely know him! If he hadn’t kept pestering me, I wouldn’t even recognize his face.” The whole thing disgusted her.

Mrs. Huang spat, “Nonsense! My son isn’t that kind of person! You little fox, flirting around at your age—now my son’s hurt, and you still won’t take responsibility? I won’t let this go!”

Yu Xiangan smiled calmly. “Mrs. Huang, I already spoke with my daughter. She was at her Sanda class. Tell me—why was your son hanging around there after school?”

Mrs. Huang was briefly at a loss, then raised her chin. “Can’t someone take a walk there? It’s a public street! Who are you to question that?”

Yu nodded mildly. “A walk, then. Huang Hua, is that your story too?”

Huang Hua’s face darkened. “Yeah. I was just walking.”

Immediately his mother’s voice rose again. “Exactly! He was just walking and got slandered for no reason! Saying he ‘liked’ this fox—I spit on that! She’s the one who’s shameless! You’ll pay for his medical bills and for his lost study time!”

Hearing “fox” over and over made Yu Xiangan’s patience snap. She pulled out an envelope. “Then how do you explain this letter?”

Lin Yining, angry but grateful she’d retrieved the note earlier, watched as her mother produced the evidence. Without it, she would’ve had no way to clear her name.

Seeing the letter, Huang Hua blurted, “Didn’t you throw that away?!”

His mother shot him a deadly glare and pinched his arm hard. He’d just confessed on the spot!

Yu said evenly, “So, Huang Hua, don’t you think you owe us an apology?”

Mrs. Huang shoved her son roughly. He turned his head away, silent. She smacked him. “You useless brat! I must’ve sinned in my last life to have you!” Then she turned to Yu, her teeth clenched. “I… misunderstood earlier.”

Yu’s eyes narrowed. “That’s your apology? You called my daughter a fox over and over—who exactly were you referring to?”

Lin Yining stared straight at her too. She liked dressing nicely, sure, but she had never done anything improper. She barely knew Huang Hua at all, and now she was being slandered for nothing—she refused to just take it.

Seeing both mother and daughter glaring at her, Mrs. Huang realized her son still had to attend this school and couldn’t afford to make enemies. She swallowed hard and forced the words out: “The ‘fox’ was me—my mistake. I spoke carelessly. I’m sorry. I misunderstood. She isn’t a fox, and you don’t owe us any medical costs.”

The homeroom teacher cleared his throat. “I’ve looked into the matter. Huang Hua, you need to reflect on your actions and focus on your studies. Your grades have dropped since entering high school. Zhang Tufei, you were brave but too impulsive—good intentions can still cause trouble if handled the wrong way. Lin Yihong, you too should learn from this.”

Although he addressed all three students, his tone clearly softened when he spoke to Zhang and Lin.

Mrs. Huang’s face twisted with anger. With a cold “hmph,” she grabbed her son and stormed out of the office.

Yu invited Zhang Tufei and his father out to dinner afterward to thank them for his son’s help.

Lin Yining mentioned that even if Huang Hua had gotten physical, she could’ve defended herself—her Sanda lessons weren’t for nothing. Still, she appreciated Zhang Tufei’s bravery.

It had been a tangle of good intentions gone wrong: one person trying to stop something, another misunderstanding, and fists flying before anyone could explain.

Later, Lin Yihong gave Zhang a formal apology. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve figured things out before acting. Please accept this small gift—I bought it with my own pocket money.”

The box was neatly wrapped. Zhang looked at his father, who nodded, so he accepted it. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

That night, back home, Yu asked Lin Yining, “You’re sure you’re not dating anyone, right?”

Lin Yining sighed. “Of course not.”

Yu smiled. “Good. Like I always say—wait until college.” Then she turned to Lin Yihong, giving him a thumbs-up. “Even if it was a misunderstanding, keep being a good big brother and protect your sister.”

Lin Yihong grew a little embarrassed and muttered softly, “She’s my sister. Isn’t it normal for me to protect her…”

Lin Yining looked at him and started laughing, which only made his face turn redder. “What are you looking at? Never seen me before?”

Lin Yining giggled. “Haha, I just think my brother got more handsome.”

Yu Xiangan, meanwhile, was thinking. With only Zhao Shanhe around to watch the twins, maybe she should add one more person.

Sometimes the twins had classes at different locations—if Lin Yining had Zhao Shanhe with her, there would have been no need for Zhang Tufei to step in at all.

But Lin Yining protested, “It’s just that I had class and couldn’t go buy the materials in time, so I asked Uncle Zhao to help. Next time I’ll coordinate better—Mom, you don’t need to find someone else.”

Yu Xiangan shook her head. “This time, I’ll hire a big sister or an auntie to help.”

It was still better to have an extra pair of eyes.

A sudden boom of thunder cracked through the sky, and the rain began to pour. Yu Xiangan looked toward the window. “It’s raining hard.”

Lin Yining gasped. “Oh no! The laundry!” She ran off to grab the clothes before they got soaked.

As she collected them, she clenched her little fists. If something ever happened again, she wanted to be able to fight back. She’d train even harder at Sanda. The day she could protect herself—surely it wouldn’t be far off.

Yu Xiangan decided to stay in Yangcheng for a while. With the heavy rain outside, she finally allowed herself a moment of peace.

Lin Chuanbai had been kept back in the capital by his mentor and would return later, so Yu Xiangan slowed down her own pace.

She often took the twins out to eat. Many new restaurants had opened in Yangcheng. As Lin Yining put it, “Know yourself and know your enemy—then you’ll never lose.”

And that was exactly how Yu Xiangan approached it—learning from others’ strengths.

Some places were cheap, others expensive, but every well-known one had its signature dishes.

She would occasionally stop by the local Wuwei Restaurants to check on operations, and she also visited department stores, co-ops, and small private shops to see how her factory’s instant noodles, sauces, and snacks were selling.

Sometimes she took walks around the factory housing areas to get a feel for things.

When Yu Xiangan told the twins that she used to make money by trading goods, they were shocked. “Really?”

“Of course,” she said with a grin. “Want to experience it yourselves?”

“Yeah!” they shouted eagerly.

So that weekend, they woke up at dawn to make steamed buns and dumplings.

Before sunrise, they set off with a bamboo basket tied to their bicycle. By the time they reached the housing district, the sky was brightening and people were heading out to buy vegetables and breakfast.

It was the twins’ first time selling anything, and facing the stream of people made them freeze up, unable to speak.

Fortunately, as they lifted the lid off the bamboo basket, the warm aroma of the buns wafted through the air. A few aunties immediately came over. “How much are your buns? What fillings do you have?”

Yu Xiangan gestured for the twins to answer, but Lin Yining opened her mouth and couldn’t get a word out. So Yu Xiangan stepped in, clearing her throat and replying crisply, “Plain mantou are six cents each, two for ten cents. Vegetable buns—mushroom, cabbage, or wood ear—are eight cents each. Meat buns and sugar buns are twelve cents.”

The first customer, an older woman, hesitated. “Do you have soy milk?”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “No soy milk today.”

“Alright then—give me two mantou, one meat bun, one sugar bun, and two cabbage ones. How much?”

A big first order! Lin Yihong did the math quickly. “Forty-eight cents.”

The woman chuckled. “Not bad, young man. How old are you? You still in school?”

Lin Yining wrapped the buns neatly in paper. Another person, drawn by the smell, came over. “How much are your buns? Haven’t seen you before—are you new?”

This time, Lin Yining found her voice and smiled brightly. “Yes, we’re new! First day selling. Try our buns—they’re delicious, you won’t regret it.”

Some customers took one to taste on the spot—and were soon full of praise. “These are great! Better than the ones I usually buy. Are you coming again tomorrow? I’ll buy from you then too.”

“This mushroom filling’s so tasty—give me two more to take home for my granddaughter.”

Lin Yining packed them up while answering, “We’ll be back tomorrow! After that, we’ll see. It’s our first time selling.”

There were several factories in the area, and many workers’ families lived nearby, so business was brisk. The twins could hardly keep up—one handed out buns while the other collected money. When it got crowded, they nearly tripped over themselves.

But the rush didn’t last forever. After the early surge, things quieted down.

They’d made several full trays of buns. Some people went out early, others later—but their prices were fair, and the smell alone drew buyers.

By around eight o’clock, they only had one steamer basket left.

By then, both twins were sweaty—partly from work, partly from nerves.

Wiping his forehead, Lin Yihong grabbed a bun for breakfast. They’d left too early to eat before. Now he was starving.

Lin Yining did the same and peeked into the money pouch. It was stuffed with small bills and coins. Even though it looked full, the total wasn’t much. After all the effort since midnight, this was all they’d made.

Making money really wasn’t easy.

She turned to tell her mother something—but saw that Yu Xiangan was chatting happily with some of the local aunties who’d come back from the market.

One woman asked, “Are you their big sister or sister-in-law? You look too young to be their mother.”

Yu Xiangan smiled warmly. “I’m their mother. Hard to believe, right?”

The auntie gasped. “Oh my, you look so young!”

Yu Xiangan laughed, clearly amused. “They’re just tall for their age—it makes them look older. Auntie, that’s the pharmacy over there, right? Why does it look so empty now? I remember it used to be quite busy.”

The woman sighed. “Used to be, yes. When the factory became independent, everyone said it was a good thing. But after a few good years, now no one wants to buy their medicine. I’ve got a friend working there—she used to get extra allowances, but now it’s just the base salary.”

Yu Xiangan feigned mild surprise. “So everyone there’s just living on base pay?”

The auntie nodded. “That’s right. Two or three hundred workers, all scraping by. Money’s worth less and less, but wages are even lower. It’s tough living.”

Yu Xiangan frowned slightly. “What’s the problem? How did it end up like this?”

The auntie said, “What problem? They can’t sell the medicine they make. It piles up in the warehouse. If the factory keeps producing, the stockpile just grows—and raw materials cost money too. So they cut hours, and pay less. I know plenty of people who’ve started doing side jobs to support their families. If you’ve got kids to feed, you can’t live on dead wages.” She shook her head with a sigh.

At this time, most people still believed that a government job was best. Those who left to start private businesses were often pitied—people assumed their luck wouldn’t last, even if they made money.

Yu Xiangan, ever the good listener, asked many questions about the factory.

She had her reasons. She’d heard the place was struggling and wanted to see just how bad things were.

After all, Lin Chuanbai had been thinking about acquiring a pharmaceutical plant—and here was one that was clearly underperforming.

How convenient.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃