Ch 106: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

The people at Changyao Pharmaceutical refused the proposal, though the negotiation team had expected that outcome.

Who would willingly give up their current positions to start over elsewhere? It wasn’t that they couldn’t—but they had no better prospects if they left, so of course, they were unwilling to move.

But the investors weren’t willing to take over the factory wholesale either. The decline of Changyao’s operations was, at least in half, due to its management.

If not for their complacency, corruption, and self-serving greed—stuffing their own pockets while ignoring the factory’s troubles—the place wouldn’t have fallen to the point of selling off machines just to survive the New Year. Even that so-called accidental fire that destroyed raw materials was suspicious. Someone had probably used it to wipe debts off the books.

As for the honest, hardworking employees—there was no problem keeping them. But those at the top? A small temple couldn’t afford such large Buddhas.

Besides, the managers still had other paths available. They could be reassigned to other posts or, with luck, even promoted elsewhere.

It became a long tug-of-war.

The negotiation team wasn’t in a hurry. Their employer had given them six months to close the deal. They could always scout other factories in the meantime—to add pressure.

Yu Xiangan, however, had no patience for drawn-out back-and-forths. This sort of thing involved endless bureaucracy and politicking. If she took on the task personally, she’d have no time or energy left for her other businesses.

Better to leave it to professionals.

The negotiation team even leveraged public opinion by releasing portions of their progress to the media.

The management represented a small group; the new demands didn’t directly affect most workers. But one thing did—under the new structure, there would no longer be “iron rice bowl” guarantees. If Changyao became a joint foreign venture, underperforming employees could be dismissed. And once fired—what then?

The entire factory erupted in debate.

Some supported the idea: as long as they worked hard, they wouldn’t be fired easily. Wages would increase, and their lives could finally stabilize.

Others opposed it: “Why should we risk losing our jobs just for making small mistakes or slacking a bit? That’s too harsh. Better to just muddle through as before—things always find a way to work out.”

And besides, if one foreign investor was interested, others might come too. Competing bidders could mean more favorable terms later.

Qian San supported the deal. After all, the factory was already selling off its own machinery to stay afloat—what else could they possibly sell next?

The company was deep in debt, behind on wages, and stuck with unsold inventory. Having any buyer at all was a stroke of luck.

If the factory really became a foreign joint venture, the workers would at least receive a severance payout. With that money, they could survive even if the factory eventually closed. Some could even use it as startup capital for small businesses.

From time to time, Yu Xiangan received updates from the negotiation team.

She wasn’t worried.

If this deal fell through, there were others. But based on her research, Changyao was the most vulnerable of the struggling factories—and therefore the one most likely to sell.

The odds of acquiring it were good.

Lin Chuanbai’s mood rose and fell with each update. If they secured the factory, his private research institute could finally be established.

He had already identified several colleagues who might be willing to join him.

Yu Xiangan made a fist, holding it like a microphone in front of him and playfully “interviewed” him: “It won’t be long now. Your research lab is about to open. I just placed an order—your equipment should arrive within six months. How do you feel?”

Lin Chuanbai’s grin spread wide. “Great. Really great. I can hardly wait.”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “It won’t be long.”

Crack, crack, crack!

The lively sound of firecrackers filled the air—it was a housewarming celebration. Gu Nanfeng’s new home was ready.

As a reward for his years of work, he had been allocated a three-bedroom apartment. His salary was high enough to buy one on his own, but this unit was given free of charge. He spent generously on renovations, and the finished home was bright and comfortable. His wife and daughter were thrilled—south-facing, well-lit, with good ventilation and fully furnished. Everything nearby was convenient.

They were delighted.

With only one daughter, Gu Nanfeng had already decorated the spare room in anticipation of a second child.

He had no intention of keeping the room for his father. After his father remarried, that man had effectively become a stranger. They seemed happy enough together—he didn’t want to interfere.

Several others received housing allocations at the same time, though Gu’s was the largest—his contributions had been greater.

Hearing the cheerful noises from the ceremony, factory workers nearby couldn’t help but feel envious.

They had seen the housing complex under construction—it was beautiful. Even the smallest one-bedroom units were wonderful.

And the best part? These homes were free.

If only they could earn “Outstanding Employee” ratings every year—maybe they’d be next in line.

With examples like Gu’s before them, everyone was suddenly fired up, brimming with energy. Whenever someone felt lazy, they thought of those new homes; whenever they wanted to cut corners, they thought of them again.

Morale rose across the board.

Not just in that factory—employees transferred elsewhere were inspired too.

Take Sun Dongsheng, for instance. He’d been in Shanghai for over half a year now, managing Wuwei’s three thriving restaurant branches there.

As regional general manager, he oversaw operations and tallied profits. Business was booming—remarkably so.

He was now striving for his own “Outstanding” rating. He wanted a house too. He’d missed out before, but now the opportunity was in reach—it all depended on his performance.

Yu Qingshan, seeing how motivated everyone had become, finally felt reassured.

After all—this was housing. Not just any reward, but a real home.

…

Meanwhile, Lei Ming’s purchasing volumes were climbing higher than ever. His latest transaction totaled several million yuan. Uneasy about the scale, he came in person to confirm the details.

Yu Xiangan reassured him. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the goods are shipped on time. Just have your people ready to receive them.”

Lei Ming nodded. “Everything’s set. It’s not that I don’t trust you—it’s just that I’ve signed contracts. There’s no room for error. If we miss the window, we might not find another buyer like this.”

Most of Lei Ming’s men were ex-soldiers. He had already been planning to retire from this line of work. This would be his final big deal, which was why he was being so careful.

“We all want a steadier life,” he said. “Fast money comes with high risk.”

Yu Xiangan agreed. A fresh scar ran across his face—there were likely more hidden under his clothes. His presence carried a tougher, sharper edge than before.

She nodded. “Better to quit while ahead. You’ve earned enough. Settle down, do something stable.”

Lei Ming smiled. “Yeah. I’m thinking of opening a large marketplace later. I’ll still be buying from you, though—just smaller orders. You’ll take them, right?”

Yu Xiangan laughed. “Congratulations in advance on hanging up your boots. I hope you enjoy your peace and quiet. And don’t be so modest—somehow I doubt your orders will ever be that small.”

Lei Ming had made a fortune. Yu Xiangan didn’t care what he resold her goods for—whether he bought from her at ten yuan and sold for a hundred, it was all the same to her.

Payment settled was payment done.

Lei Ming’s group operated under a shell company, buying clothes, accessories, and food products from her in bulk—each deal worth hundreds of thousands. This latest order was ten times larger. Yu Xiangan had mobilized all her resources to fulfill it.

She’d been planning to remind him to stop soon anyway. The Soviet Union’s collapse was just around the corner—it was already about 1992.

This kind of line of work was dangerous—far too risky.

Yu Xiangan knew a few other traders who also operated along “Brother Su’s” international route. Their scale wasn’t as large as Lei Ming’s, and their orders weren’t as massive, but they shipped from the same region. Sometimes when she met them, it was common to see injuries—cuts, bruises, bandages. Some who were supposed to come pick up goods never showed up again, and it wasn’t the first or second time that happened.

She tried to think optimistically about those who vanished—perhaps they had simply quit the business, not that they’d met something worse.

Lei Ming, at least, was smart enough to pull out while still ahead. To have that kind of discipline and foresight was rare, and Yu Xiangan hoped to maintain a long-term business relationship with him in whatever new venture he took up.

“I picked up some gemstones this trip,” Lei Ming said. “Want to take a look?”

They never returned empty-handed from those runs. Furs, gems, gold and silver jewelry, uncut stones, fine carpets—all were in high demand.

Yu Xiangan smiled. “What kind of gemstones? Show me.”

If something good turned up, she was always interested.

Lei Ming opened a small box. “Take a look at this sapphire.”

Yu Xiangan’s eyes widened the moment she saw it—it was exquisite. But she didn’t have that kind of money to spare right now. This single gemstone was easily worth several million yuan. Made into jewelry, it could fetch tens of millions, and in another ten or twenty years, it might be worth hundreds of millions.

She sighed regretfully. “I’ll have to pass for now. Cash flow’s tight. Are you planning to sell it soon? If so, I have a friend who mentioned wanting a sapphire.”

Acquiring the pharmaceutical factory and establishing a research institute had already burned through enormous funds.

Lei Ming chuckled, the scar across his face twisting with his grin. “Yes, I’m looking to sell it soon.”

Yu Xiangan teased, “By the way, that scar—did you never use the scar cream I gave you?”

Lei Ming grinned wider. “I’ll use it when I’m retired.”

Right now, the rougher he looked, the more intimidating his presence—and that was useful in his line of work.

Yu Xiangan relaxed. “Good. So it’s not that my cream doesn’t work, then.”

The cream had been newly developed by Lin Chuanbai, containing spiritual spring water. It had shown excellent results in testing.

Yu Xiangan called Liang Yuan, who arrived soon after—with Lu Anran tagging along out of curiosity.

Liang Yuan had previously mentioned wanting a sapphire, and the moment she saw the large gem, her mind began sketching jewelry designs.

Liang Yuan was wealthy—and unhesitant about spending.

Lu Anran watched the stone pass into Liang Yuan’s hands and couldn’t help touching her chest, half in admiration, half in pain. She was fairly well-off herself, but spending millions on a single gemstone was beyond her reach.

She’d just have to work harder and make more money.

Meanwhile, in Guangzhou, Yu Mingfeng and Yu Mingyao were attending college. Their grades hadn’t been the best, and they’d only made it into technical schools, but that was still considered a great achievement. Yu Xianghai and Ye Qijia were proud enough.

They might not have matched Yu Mingjie’s bachelor’s degree, but a junior college education was still something to be proud of.

With all three children studying in the city, Yu Xianghai and Ye Qijia often visited when they had time. Ye Qijia had more than once urged her husband to retire, but no matter what she said, he refused.

Though their clothing business was doing well, he didn’t know if it would last. Having a stable job gave him peace of mind—no matter what happened, they’d always have security.

Ye Qijia eventually gave up trying to persuade him.

At least she was glad they had bought two apartments in Guangzhou years ago—one under the eldest son’s name, one under the younger’s. Now when they visited, they could stay anywhere they liked.

They lived in the same neighborhood, just a hundred or two meters from Lin Chuanbai’s family, making visits convenient and frequent.

Yu Mingjie and his wife, Meng Yuhong, usually lived in their apartment near the power plant for convenience.

Yu Mingfeng and Yu Mingyao stayed in dorms during the week but came home on weekends.

Whenever the older cousins came back, Lin Yihong and Lin Yining loved to play with them.

Now that Yu Mingfeng and Yu Mingyao were in college, they had more free time and wider social circles. Yu Mingfeng often tinkered with computers and models alongside Lin Yihong, while Lin Yining and Yu Mingyao had gotten into makeup.

Yu Mingyao didn’t dare wear makeup in public yet—and truthfully, she wasn’t good at it. She and Lin Yining were both beginners, and the results… well, the boys could barely look.

The difference between their attempts and the movie stars they tried to imitate was tragic.

Did they use their feet to apply it?

Whenever Yu Mingfeng or Lin Yihong said that aloud, Yu Mingyao would start swinging.

This time was no different—Yu Mingfeng dodged her punch but couldn’t resist continuing, “I’m not trying to be mean, but look at that mouth! Are you going to eat children with it? And your eyebrows—one thick, one thin—just like Crayon Shin-chan. Good thing you don’t wear that outside; you’d scare the kids.”

Yu Mingyao kicked him squarely in the shin. “Shut up!”

Then she quickly wiped her face clean.

Lin Yining sighed as she stared at her own reflection—her cheeks bright red and uneven.

So makeup was this hard?

She’d only wanted a soft flush, some balance between the two sides—but she couldn’t even manage that.

She had only ever used skincare products before—at most, a light sunscreen. Real makeup was completely new territory.

Yu Mingyao, now bare-faced again, turned to Lin Yining. “Doesn’t your aunt wear makeup? Have you seen how she does it?”

Lin Yining shook her head. “My mom’s skin is really good—she hardly wears makeup. Usually she just does skincare, applies a bit of base or sunscreen, shapes her brows, and uses lipstick to look fresh. That’s it.”

Lin Yining touched her own brows. “Mine aren’t as nice as hers—I need to learn how to shape them.”

Yu Mingyao’s brows were worse—she had over-plucked one side and tried to fix it with brow powder, ending up looking exactly like a cartoon character.

She had also gotten tanned recently and tried to lighten her face too much, so the foundation looked ghostly white. To “balance it,” she piled on blush—until her cheeks looked like a monkey’s backside.

While Yu Xianghai didn’t mind the boys building computers, he couldn’t stand the girls playing with makeup. “It’s fine to fool around at home,” he said, “but don’t you dare go out looking like that! Especially you, Yining—you’re too young. Wait until college to start learning. There’s no rush.”

Lin Yining stuck out her tongue. “Uncle, I only practice at home. I’d never wear it outside—our school doesn’t even allow it.”

Yu Mingyao shrugged. “Dad, you’re so old-fashioned. Makeup’s nice! Everyone wants to look good—what’s wrong with that?”

Lin Yining added seriously, “Some jobs actually require it. Hotel receptionists, sales reps—they all wear makeup. It makes them look more professional and polished.”

Yu Xianghai thought about it and admitted that was true. Still, he waved them off. “Fine, fine—practice at home if you want. Just don’t go out looking like that mess earlier. If someone saw you at night, they’d think they’d seen a ghost.”

Yu Mingyao laughed sweetly. “That’s my dad—always cuts deep.”

Later, when Yu Xiangan heard the story, she couldn’t stop laughing.

Yu Mingyao gave her a pitiful look. “Auntie, how can you laugh too? Auntie, teach me! There’s a girl in my dorm who knows makeup, but she looks down on me. I want to learn properly.”

Yu Xiangan coughed twice, trying to suppress her amusement, though her eyes still sparkled. She nodded. “Alright. You’re in college now—you can start learning. Hold on a second.”

She went into her room and came back with two new cosmetic sets. “These are backups I never opened. You don’t need to do anything complicated—just start with something simple.”

“Come here, your brows have grown a bit—I’ll trim them so they look neater. Your brow heads are too light, don’t use too much powder, just a soft brush stroke will do.”

“Did you remove your makeup last time? Not removing it really damages your skin.”

“And don’t forget to use facial masks. Skip the whitening or anti-wrinkle ones for now—just use hydrating masks every few days.”

After shaping the brows, Yu Xiangan gently touched her face. “You’ve done your skincare, so let’s start with the base primer.”

Lin Yining stood beside them watching closely, and Ye Qijia also watched with interest.

A light makeup didn’t take long—primer, concealer, a touch of eyeliner to accentuate the eyes, a sweep of blush, setting powder, and a soft, natural lipstick. That was it.

If her looks were a six before, now she was easily an eight.

Looking at her daughter’s fresh face, Ye Qijia touched her own and smiled, “Can you do me next? I want to see what I look like with makeup on.”

Yu Xiangan laughed. “Sure—go wash your face first.”

Yu Xianghai glanced at his wife’s eager expression and wisely kept silent.

This time, Yu Xiangan gave Ye Qijia a full makeover—brows, primer, foundation, concealer, eyeliner, eyeshadow, highlighter, blush, setting powder… By the end, she looked several years younger.

Yu Xianghai couldn’t hold back his astonishment. “What kind of sorcery is this?!”

She looked ten years younger—so much more radiant! The fine lines, blemishes, and spots from childbirth were all hidden. The deeper eyeliner and rosy lips made her glow. Yu Xianghai stared, blinking several times, unable to believe it was his wife. “Incredible,” he muttered.

For younger women, makeup made a subtle difference—but on Ye Qijia, the transformation was striking.

Ye Qijia looked in the mirror, stunned. Was that really her? It felt different from the time she had professional makeup at a photo studio—this time, it still looked like her, just refreshed, graceful, alive.

Her sister-in-law had done it casually at home—if she practiced, she might be able to do it too.

Lin Chuanbai smiled silently. He’d seen such things before—in the future, people would joke that East Asia had “the four great magic arts”: none of which were makeup, but face-changing. With makeup alone, men could look like women, women like men.

Yu Mingfeng rubbed his eyes, staring at his mother. “Is that really my mom? Not her younger sister?”

It was unbelievable.

Yu Mingyao giggled at her father’s shocked face. “Dad, isn’t Mom beautiful?”

Yu Xianghai coughed twice. “What nonsense are you talking about?”

He couldn’t bring himself to give direct compliments, but he nodded vaguely. “Yes… remarkable.”

A roundabout admission.

Ye Qijia blushed, feeling shy. “At my age, if I go out like this, people will laugh at me, won’t they?”

Yu Xiangan shook her head. “Sister-in-law, don’t say that—we’re the same generation, aren’t we? Most of the women I know wear makeup. Look around the streets—plenty of people do, and not just young girls. Makeup isn’t the privilege of those in their twenties—you’ll even see men wearing it nowadays.”

Ye Qijia blinked. “Men wear makeup too?”

“Of course. Once you tidy up a bit, put on something that suits you, you’ll look full of spirit—it’s lovely. Sister-in-law, take a set of these with you. They’re from my stock and will expire soon anyway.”

Lin Yining couldn’t hold back anymore. “Mom, don’t forget about me! I want makeup too—it looks so nice!”

Yu Xiangan smiled at her. “Alright, but you’re still young. Just use sunscreen or primer—that’s plenty. You already look good without anything else.”

She applied a light, natural look for Lin Yining—barely visible, just bright and fresh.

Ye Qijia still held onto her mirror, reluctant to look away. Suddenly, she understood why Yu Xiangan’s skincare and cosmetics business was doing so well. She had bought one of her sets before but never used it—except for the lipstick. Now she realized how much she’d missed out on.

If she’d known how flattering it was, she would have learned to use it long ago.

She hurried over to watch Yu Xiangan do Lin Yining’s makeup, trying to memorize the steps.

This was just a small reflection of a bigger trend.

More and more women were learning how to express themselves—not just through colorful clothing but through makeup as well.

Yu Xianghai, embarrassed to keep staring at his wife, turned toward Lin Chuanbai. “You made all these products, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly, realizing the connection.

Lin Chuanbai understood and admitted calmly, “Yes, I did. Xiangan could use them, so I developed a few formulas for her.”

Yu Xianghai fell silent, sensing his wife’s “why can’t you be like him” stare burning beside him. He rubbed his nose awkwardly.

This brother-in-law of his was really something. He treated his wife well, which made Yu Xianghai genuinely happy—except it also made him look terrible in comparison.

Yu Xiangan and Lin Chuanbai exchanged a smile. Their gazes met naturally, and the children instinctively looked away in practiced synchronization.

Yu Mingfeng and Yu Mingyao just sat there speechless.

Would they ever find partners who loved each other like that?

Yu Xianghai cleared his throat. “Aren’t you supposed to be researching pharmaceuticals? How do you have time to work on this stuff?”

Lin Chuanbai replied, “Time is something you make.”

Yu Xianghai could practically feel Ye Qijia’s approving gaze boring into him. He just sighed.

That night, when the couple lay in bed with the lights off, it looked like they were asleep—but in reality, they had entered their farm space.

Lin Chuanbai went to wash a bunch of grapes first, then headed into the workshop. He was considering what products to manufacture once the pharmaceutical factory acquisition went through.

Yu Xiangan popped a few grapes into her mouth, then glanced at the clear stream where fish swam freely. She caught one and began roasting it.

A midnight snack.

She made an extra portion for Lin Chuanbai, though once he got busy, he lost all sense of time—it would be a while before he stopped.

Yu Xiangan didn’t stay idle either.

She went to the pasture to collect milk and tend to the cattle and sheep.

Though the farm’s produce was still mostly for their own use, they had to keep raising livestock to continue upgrading.

Yu Xiangan couldn’t help feeling excited, wondering what new features the next upgrade might bring.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃