Ch 112: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

After they returned home, Ding Minxiu fell silent. Zhao Qiaoniang watched her daughter sitting motionless on a stool, staring blankly into space, her fists clenched tight. The vacant look in her eyes terrified her mother.

Zhao’s heart twisted with anxiety—her daughter’s stillness frightened her more than shouting ever could.

Zhou Changshou’s mood was also grim. Seeing Ding like this, he had no words of comfort; his own bitterness left no room for sympathy. He didn’t have the strength or patience to console anyone—he needed consoling himself.

Lying down in their cramped little home, he stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. If only… if only his son had married Yu Xiangan back then, he thought, he’d be strolling through that grand office building just now, being respectfully called “sir” by everyone. He wouldn’t need to do anything—just sit there, smiling, living easy.

A big house, fine food—everything would’ve been theirs.

Now his daughter-in-law wasn’t as capable, not as educated, not as fertile. Yes, she’d borne a son—but Yu Xiangan had twins, a boy and a girl. The Yu family had a tradition of twins; that could have broken the Zhou family’s curse of one-son generations.

…What a pity.

How had his son ever fallen for this woman?

Meanwhile, Zhao Qiaoniang poured a glass of warm water and gently coaxed her daughter to drink. Ding Minxiu sipped mechanically. Once the water reached her stomach, she exhaled a long breath, her eyes slowly coming back to focus.

Then she turned on her mother. “Mom, how are you not shocked at all? You knew, didn’t you? You knew all along! Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve been hiding it for her—why?”

Every word was an accusation.

Zhao’s mouth filled with the taste of bitterness. “I didn’t know that building was hers. If I had, I’d never have gone to watch.” Just thinking of it made her feel sick inside, like her heart was being eaten by ants.

Ding didn’t believe her. “Then why were you so calm when others mentioned her?”

Zhao was silent for a few seconds. “I did see her before—at the food court. I knew that place belonged to her, but not the office building.”

The words triggered Ding’s memory. “That time you went out to hand out flyers and came home late, forgot to cook—was it then?”

They’d had a big argument that day.

Zhao nodded.

Ding took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Zhao gave a weary, bitter smile. “What good would it have done? Telling you would’ve only made you upset.”

“Of course it would’ve helped!” Ding suddenly stood, a sharp, bitter laugh escaping her. “If she’s made her business that big, it’s obviously through connections! Didn’t they say the man she married had a father who was a factory director? He must have pulled strings for her—that’s how she built such an empire!”

The more she spoke, the more convinced she became, as if saying it could make it true.

She had no idea that Lin Houping had long since been promoted and transferred. In her mind, he was the only one with enough rank to “open doors” for Yu Xiangan. So she clung to her theory with unshakable conviction.

Her tone grew indignant. “People like her—who knows how much state money they’ve stolen! How can we just sit and watch?”

Clenching her fists, she glared at her own hands. She would make people see the truth, expose how Yu Xiangan had gotten her ‘dirty’ fortune.

She began asking around, but the more she heard, the more hopeless she felt. They truly were worlds apart now—one in the heavens, one in the dust.

Why? Why was life so unfair?

Sometimes she’d stop strangers on the street. “Do you know how Yu Xiangan got rich?” she’d ask. Everyone gave the same answer: she started with a restaurant, then expanded step by step.

Ding refused to believe it.

She was certain there had been corruption somewhere.

She even went back to Baishi County to dig for gossip. But the neighbors there knew little—just that Yu Xiangan was doing business in the Special Zone. They had no idea she ran factories, or how much money she’d made.

To Ding, that only proved guilt. “She’s hiding it,” she thought. “She knows her money’s dirty.”

Zhou Changshou had gone back with her, so naturally Zhou Boyang heard everything too. His face was dark with frustration. His current job was easy, but that also meant low pay—he’d rather be busy than idle.

But it was useless. Everyone was idle now, and hearing about Yu Xiangan’s success made the emptiness unbearable.

Ding, always volatile, sensed his restlessness immediately and exploded. “You regret it, don’t you?!” she screamed. “I knew you regret marrying me! If you regret it so much, go find her! Go find her and see if she’ll even look at you!”

She shoved him hard. Zhou Boyang staggered back, face twisting. “Enough! Have you said enough? It’s all in your head! Can you stop acting insane for once?”

Had he ever thought about it? Yes—briefly. But standing beside Lin Chuanbai, what was he in comparison? One glance in the mirror was enough to crush that thought. Now her words brought it boiling back, and he bit his tongue. If he said what he really felt, their home would never know peace again. They were grandparents now—what was the point?

So he closed his eyes, turned away, and said coldly, “If you want to act crazy, do it outside. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”

Ding glared at him, trembling with rage. He rolled over, back to her, pretending to sleep.

She let out a bitter laugh, then actually went out—and began spreading rumors.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” she told people. “I heard she’s a factory director in the Special Zone, hundreds of people under her! You’re looking for work, right? Maybe she could help you.”

And to others: “They say she’s doing great down there—made the papers even! She hides it from us poor relatives because she’s afraid we’ll ask for help.”

And to still others: “She’s risen too fast. Who knows if it’s all legitimate.”

“Oh, come on,” some would reply. “She’s got powerful connections behind her.”

Yu Xiangan herself wasn’t there—but Yu Xianghai and Ye Qijia were, and their own success was thanks to her.

That made them targets.

Yu Xianghai worked at the hardware factory—where their father, Yu Qingshan, had worked and retired with a pension. He knew many old colleagues and friends, and soon people began showing up, asking whether the rumors were true.

He didn’t deny it.

Their intentions were transparent: they wanted jobs for themselves or their children.

Their words all sounded the same. “We’re all hometown folk, not strangers. She should hire people she knows, not outsiders.”

Yu Xianghai asked mildly, “Would you be willing to carry trays and serve food?”

That silenced a few. “…Wait, doesn’t she have a factory?”

“The factory’s already staffed,” Yu Xianghai said flatly. “And getting in requires testing. Skilled workers are always preferred. The restaurants test too—no standards, no job.”

Most who came were old acquaintances, older now, many already retired—not suited to return to work. As for their children, those truly struggling, Yu Xianghai had helped before. But for others whose troubles were self-inflicted, there was nothing he could do.

Being “familiar” didn’t mean being useful. It was enough if they didn’t cause trouble.

When Yu Xianghai mentioned that the only openings were for waiters and servers, many people instantly lost interest—too embarrassed to take such work.

For those who were truly hardworking and sincerely wanted a job, though, he didn’t turn them away; he passed their names along to Yu Xiangan.

Yu Xiangan shared the same attitude.

When her business first opened, she had avoided hiring too many acquaintances from her hometown to keep things professional. But now that everything was established—management stable, operations smooth—bringing in a few hometown folks wasn’t a problem. Still, she was strict and impartial. Anyone hoping to just coast and collect a paycheck need not apply.

Her business didn’t feed pampered young masters or idle princesses.

Yu Xianghai served as the first filter. Those clearly seeking easy money or a place to idle away time never even reached her.

Money didn’t blow in with the wind; if she wanted to do charity, she’d rather sponsor a few poor students than hand out wages to able-bodied adults unwilling to work.

Among the locals, Aunt Chen made the biggest scene. Her third son, well into middle age, was still sponging off his elder brother and sister-in-law. He’d never held a steady job and didn’t want one now. When this opportunity came up, Yu Xianghai immediately refused him.

Aunt Chen threw a tantrum—crying, cursing, rolling on the ground—accusing him of being coldhearted and unneighborly. But Yu Xianghai didn’t budge.

What “neighborly feelings”? He still remembered how, years ago, when the scandal about his younger sister and Zhou Boyang broke out, Aunt Chen had been one of the loudest gossips in the neighborhood.

Did she think time had erased that? He remembered everything.

To outsiders who didn’t know the story, his refusal seemed cruel. But plenty of people still recalled what had happened back then—and if it had been their sister, they wouldn’t forgive or forget either.

Realizing her big mouth had cost her son a job, Aunt Chen regretted it bitterly. Of all the things she could’ve said back then, why had she chosen to slander Yu Xiangan?

Now look—her son had lost a good opportunity. If she could turn back time, she’d stand by Yu Xiangan’s side and shout down the gossipers herself. Maybe then she’d have had a favor to call in—a small supervisory position for her boy, perhaps.

Others came forward, too—those with inflated self-esteem who wanted to start as managers. They bragged about how reliable they were, how they could “keep the workers in line.”

Yu Xiangan could only shake her head. Thank goodness the business was already running smoothly; if she’d met such people during her startup phase, they would’ve dragged her down completely.

Most of these matters, though, were handled by Yu Qingshan. With his seniority and age, he was better suited to deal with hometown folks trying to play the “we’re all family” card.

And so, the wave of gossip and resentment stirred up by Ding Minxiu died down. Only those whose family members had been rejected still ranted—but everyone knew their reputations already. No one took them seriously.

Ding Minxiu was furious—nearly sick with rage.

Zhou Boyang, on the other hand, accepted reality much faster. Seeing how depressed she looked, he sighed and told her, “Let it go. People like her—she’s on a completely different level from us now. What’s the point of stirring all this up?”

If anyone had the right to feel resentful, shouldn’t it be him?

He didn’t say that last part aloud.

But even unspoken, Ding Minxiu heard it clearly. Her face darkened. Even her adorable grandson reaching for her arms couldn’t lift her mood.

Zhao Qiaoniang tugged her back to work. If they kept missing shifts, they’d lose their jobs entirely. “Stop overthinking everything,” she said. “Better to just live your life properly.”

Seeing that no one supported her, Ding Minxiu hardened her resolve.

She waited for the right moment—then slipped an anonymous report letter into the mailbox.

…

When word of the rumors reached her, Yu Xiangan was puzzled. “Why did everything suddenly spread all at once?”

Lin Chuanbai said, “It was bound to happen sooner or later. When you made the papers, I figured some of the old villagers would notice. Looks like not many read the news, but now that a few have, jealousy’s spreading fast. Probably someone who’s still sore about the past added fuel to the fire after they got back home.”

Yu Xiangan paused. “That’s… very possible.”

Yu Mansheng had dealt with such things before.

He’d left the village early, leading a few local young men out to make a living. With that many mouths involved, word was bound to get around.

Most of the young men he helped hire came from their own village—people who didn’t want to farm anymore. Some used the job as a temporary stepping-stone before finding something else.

Back home, Yu Mansheng was considered a “big shot.” People came to him constantly, most often to borrow money.

If they truly had a reason—building a house, paying for a wedding—he’d lend it. But always with an IOU, and a repayment deadline.

For those genuinely poor or struggling, he wouldn’t chase repayment. The IOU was just a safeguard against those who assumed that because he was rich, they could borrow endlessly and never pay back.

Most folks still had pride. Those able but unwilling to repay—and even asking for more—quickly shut up when he pulled out the signed note.

…

One day, on impulse, Yu Xiangan decided to visit the twins at school.

She didn’t expect to walk right into a scene straight out of youth drama—Lin Yihong being confessed to under the trees. A pink envelope in the girl’s hand, her son standing tall and calm before her.

Yu Xiangan thought, Oh my!

Seeing her son’s composed face, she immediately knew—he wasn’t interested. He was way too calm. And probably not for the first time.

She instinctively stepped back to avoid interrupting.

Lin Yihong sighed inwardly at his mother’s behavior. Most parents would rush in to stop something like this. Didn’t mothers usually worry about “early romance”? Why was his mother just quietly watching?

“I’m sorry,” he told the girl politely. “I’m not thinking about dating right now. I just want to focus on my studies.”

The girl didn’t seem surprised; apparently, she’d heard that line before. “I know,” she said softly. “But I like you, and I wanted to tell you. Will you at least take the letter?”

He shook his head. Her expression faltered, disappointment flickering as she slowly withdrew the envelope. “Okay then. Sorry to bother you. I hope you get into a university you love.”

Then she turned and ran off.

Yu Xiangan blinked. “…”

That was… oddly calm. Shouldn’t she have cried or something?

When Lin Yihong walked over, she smiled faintly. “So, what brings Mom here?” he asked.

“I just wanted to check on you two,” she said.

They always said everything was fine at school—but some things, you had to see yourself. Like this, for instance.

“Does this kind of thing happen often?” she asked.

Lin Yihong looked at her innocently. “Mom, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alright, she thought, clearly he didn’t want to discuss it.

“In any case,” she said lightly, “Mom doesn’t support early relationships. Energy spent there is energy lost from studying.”

“I know,” he nodded seriously.

He already felt like he didn’t have enough time—besides regular classes, he’d enrolled in several extra courses that filled nearly all his free hours.

Yu Xiangan knew his schedule—he’d signed up for them himself. “If it’s too much pressure,” she said, “cut a few out.”

Lin Yihong thought it sounded fine—and in fact, he wanted to go with his mother to the national finals of the architectural design competition.

His grades were excellent, so even if he took a short leave from school, he could easily catch up afterward.

“I just want to see it for myself, experience it,” he said. The Capital University was one of the top schools in the country.

He had visited often when he was younger, but since moving south, he hadn’t been back once.

Yu Xiangan hesitated. “I’ll have to ask your teacher. If he agrees, you can go. If not, then it’s off.”

Chen Yi’s father, their homeroom teacher, quickly gave permission—and even asked if Lin Yining would be going too.

The twins were almost inseparable, and given their consistent top grades, the teacher didn’t hesitate. If it were any other student, he wouldn’t have been so accommodating.

When Lin Yihong told his sister, she cheered aloud. “Together! I’m going too! I’m not missing this!”

This time, they could fly, which would save plenty of time, and they could easily make up any missed lessons after returning.

Seeing how excited they were, Yu Xiangan asked, “Do you two want to go abroad sometime?”

If they did, she could take them overseas during the winter break for travel and exposure.

Of course the twins were thrilled—but amid the excitement, Lin Yining paused to ask, “Mom, are you going abroad for work or for fun?”

Yu Xiangan grinned. “Both.”

She had to go to Germany for business—to discuss a production line.

As expected, Lin Yining wasn’t surprised at all. “I knew it,” she said. “You wouldn’t bring it up otherwise. Definitely work.”

Lin Yihong asked, “What should we prepare for it?”

“Practice your English conversation,” Yu Xiangan said. “It’s the universal language. And if you’re interested, learn a bit of German or Italian too. The more skills you have, the better.”

…

Capital University planned to use the competition to boost its reputation, and with a large cash prize on the line, the event drew tremendous attention. If it weren’t explicitly restricted to students, even some of the professors might have been tempted to compete.

The audience was packed—not only university students but also many outsiders who came to watch.

Yu Xiangan sat among the panel of judges alongside the architecture professors, observing as the eight finalists took the stage one by one to present their designs and explain their creative concepts.

The twins sat quietly in the audience.

The first row was filled with faculty and school administrators, so they were seated in the second row, off to one side.

A few students nearby mistook them for new freshmen. Their faces were so youthful, it was hard to tell otherwise.

Behind them sat a second-year architecture student with a mushroom haircut and thick glasses. He watched the presentations with open envy, mumbling to himself, “If only I’d started college a year earlier! Then I’d be a junior now, and I could’ve entered the competition. But no—here I am stuck watching.”

Lin Yining saw his look of pure frustration and couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t worry, there’ll be another chance.”

The mushroom-head student sighed. “No way. Sure, there are internal competitions, but those prizes are nothing compared to this one. Ten thousand yuan! Just for first place! Even if I worked full-time after graduation—say two hundred a month—it’d take me five years to save that much!”

He was so straightforward it was almost funny—perfectly honest about what truly motivated him: the money.

A girl sitting behind them leaned forward. “Exactly! I came for the prize too. The sponsor is here today, right? I’m a business management major. I wonder if she hires people from outside architecture. I really want to ask what the salary’s like—someone that rich must pay well.”

That was exactly Yu Xiangan’s intention.

Spend money to attract talent—show the country how much she valued capable people.

The twins exchanged glances. Mission accomplished, their eyes said.

The mushroom-head student turned to them. “Have you decided where you want to work yet? I haven’t.”

“Not yet,” Lin Yining said. “Depends on the pay. Wherever the conditions are good, that’s where I’ll go.”

…

The competition reached its climax. The host announced the final results:

“First place—Gu Sheng.
Second place—Ouyang Hai.
Third place—Wang Ziwen…”

As the names were read out, Yu Xiangan stepped up to award the first-place winner his certificate—and a large check.

When the audience saw the amount, the hall erupted in applause.

The mushroom-head student groaned in envy. “Ahhh! My skills aren’t that bad! What a pity, what a pity, what a pity!”

A third-year senior sitting behind him rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so cocky. I’m a junior. I entered—and got knocked out in the second round. Do you have any idea how many geniuses joined? Don’t overestimate yourself. And you two freshmen,” he added, nodding at the twins, “you’ve barely learned the basics—focus on that first. You’ll have your chance eventually.”

The twins looked at each other, speechless. Revealing their real identities right now probably wasn’t wise.

When the ceremony ended, some people began leaving. The mushroom-head and his friends stayed seated—only to gape as the twins suddenly walked up onto the stage.

“Wait—aren’t they freshmen?” he blurted out.

They pricked up their ears, listening—and soon realized the two were none other than Professor Yu Xiangan’s children.

The mushroom-head’s mouth fell open in astonishment.

And the business student behind him slapped her thigh in regret. “Ah! I forgot to ask what the salary was!”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃