Ch 113: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Yu Xiangan was fully prepared to take the twins abroad.
Besides Song Dong and Wang Yongle, another man named Zhou Si would accompany them. All three were capable and sharp, which made Yu Xiangan more at ease—overseas security was never as predictable as at home.

As for language, both she and the twins could communicate freely.
Liu Sanbao, however, was so nervous she couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t going this time—she didn’t know English. Watching a newcomer get promoted to assistant in her place filled her with anxiety, but there was nothing she could do. She had signed up for a language course, but she simply couldn’t grasp it, and so she could only watch the opportunity slip away.

The twins, on the other hand, had prepared thoroughly for the trip. In addition to practicing their spoken English diligently, they also found tutors to teach them German and Italian.
They didn’t have much time, but their language aptitude helped; by the time they boarded the plane, they could already hold basic conversations in German.

After landing, they were driven straight to a nearby hotel to rest and adjust to the time difference.

Sitting in the car, watching the streets filled with cars and pedestrians, the twins couldn’t take their eyes off the window—but they carried themselves calmly, faces composed and poised.

In China, seeing the occasional blond, blue-eyed foreigner was nothing unusual. But here, it was the opposite—now they were the rare black-haired, yellow-skinned faces in a sea of Westerners.

Looking at all the fair-skinned, light-haired people, the twins finally felt it sink in: they were truly abroad, in another land.

They saw well-dressed professionals in tailored suits, ties, and polished shoes carrying briefcases—and women in tight, low-cut dresses that showed far more skin than they’d ever seen in person.

Lin Yining’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of one woman’s plunging neckline. Back home, women dressed far more conservatively. Even the more daring ones only showed a hint of skin. This level of open, sultry style—where you half worried the skirt might slip any second—was something she was seeing for the first time in real life.

Among the pale Europeans, they also noticed people with darker, bronze skin—Africans, tall and muscular, even the women. Compared to them, the twins felt rather slim and small-framed.

The hotel gleamed with gold and marble; one look was enough to tell it was expensive. And indeed, the service matched the luxury—graceful and polite, though beneath that polished veneer, the twins could sense a hint of disdain.

It was subtle, but unmistakable: the servers looked down on them for being Asian.

Only when Yu Xiangan spoke fluent, confident English did the staff’s attitude shift—they straightened up, their politeness suddenly sincere.

After checking in and paying the hefty deposit, the twins did the math. Even after conversion, one night here cost several thousand yuan.

“So expensive!” they whispered.

The waiter asked, “Would you like anything to eat?”

Yu Xiangan replied, “Please send up some plain congee, bread, and milk. Thank you.”

She had already known about the high prices, but for her, it was worth it—this place projected status, which was useful for the business meetings ahead. They would only stay one or two nights anyway. To save money, she didn’t book individual rooms for everyone.

She shared a twin room with the children; Wang Yongle and her assistant, Hong Chun, shared the suite next door. Song Dong and Zhou Si stayed in another room together.

The twins soaked in the bathtub, drank a few sips of congee, and quickly fell asleep.
Yu Xiangan, exhausted herself, soon followed.

The next morning, they went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast. The twins compared the buffet spread with what their mother’s own hotels offered—it was indeed more varied, though not by much.

The food was excellent, but that was to be expected. The hotels they owned specialized in Chinese cuisine, while this was Western-style. It made sense that the local fare here would be better; otherwise, it wouldn’t justify the price tag.

While eating, they noticed something interesting—Yu Xiangan filled her plate with many items, but took only one bite of each.

She was sampling everything deliberately, studying the flavors and presentation. The twins followed suit, mimicking her approach.

Many guests did the same; it was, after all, a buffet—freedom to taste was the point.

After breakfast, they split into two groups.

Yu Xiangan left with Song Dong and her assistant, Hong Chun, for meetings.
The twins went sightseeing with Wang Yongle and Zhou Si.

They had planned everything in advance—an itinerary full of famous landmarks. In Berlin, their first stop was the Brandenburg Gate in the city center.

Lin Yining’s language skills shone; her German was fluent enough for casual conversation. Both wore cameras around their necks, snapping pictures of anything that caught their eye, full of excitement.

They took buses, walked streets, explored plazas—by noon, they were tired but glowing with energy. Lin Yihong called his mother.

“Mom, are we meeting you for lunch?”

“No,” Yu Xiangan answered. “Eat on your own. I can’t make it back. Just stay safe, and don’t wander into quiet areas.”

So the twins found a lively café in the city center, bustling with couples and professionals.

The waitress was a young woman with golden hair tied up and freckles across her nose—adorably bright. Seeing the group, she greeted them cheerfully, “Welcome! You’re visiting, right?”

When they confirmed it, she smiled. “I hope you enjoy your stay! What can I get you?”

Lin Yining grinned, matching her tone. “Pretty sister, what’s your top recommendation? And what fun places are nearby?”

…

Meanwhile, back home, Ye Jingjing was eating alone in the cafeteria—and feeling strange. Too quiet.

She’d always eaten by herself, but ever since meeting Yining, that had changed. During the holidays, they often had meals together. During winter break, Yining had come to the factory almost every day, and they’d always eaten side by side.

But now, Yining was abroad.

She had promised to send postcards and bring back souvenirs. Jingjing couldn’t help wondering what she’d bring.

Her mood was tangled—happy that her friend was traveling, yet wishing she’d come home soon so they could study, do homework, and eat together again.

Her gloomy expression caught the eye of her father, Ye Chen, who, for once, got off work on time.

Seeing him, Jingjing’s eyes lit up—her father was home early!

At that moment, she also spotted Yining’s father, Lin Chuanbai, entering the cafeteria with several other men.

They all looked relaxed, smiling. Clearly, there was good news.

Jingjing lowered her head, smiling quietly too.

She heard Lin Chuanbai ordering food from the chef, listing dish after dish.

Soon, she was called over to join their table.

Faced with so many unfamiliar uncles, Jingjing wanted to refuse but couldn’t. She sat quietly beside her father, barely speaking, just listening.

Most of what they discussed was beyond her understanding. She gripped her chopsticks tighter, vowing to study harder—one day she’d understand conversations like these.

Lin Chuanbai noticed how quietly the girl sat—barely moving, eating only from the two dishes in front of her. Her father, oblivious, didn’t even notice. Lin shook his head.

Some fathers really don’t notice a thing, he thought.

Then, without a word, he reached over and placed a honey-glazed chicken wing and a slice of pan-seared fish into her bowl—both dishes she had glanced at several times.

Seeing the food in her bowl, Jingjing’s cheeks flushed red. She murmured softly, “Thank you.”

Lin Chuanbai didn’t quite hear her—the girl’s voice was too soft—but he caught the shape of her lips and knew what she said.

Still, this couldn’t go on. He looked over at Ye Chen. The man’s daughter was quiet and well-behaved now, which was fine while she was young, but if she stayed like this into adulthood, she’d be too easy to bully in society.

He’d have to find time to talk to Ye Chen about it.

Soon the topic at the table shifted. Someone mentioned Yu Xiangan and her group traveling abroad and asked Lin Chuanbai, “Don’t you want to go too?”

Lin Chuanbai replied calmly, “What’s the rush? There’ll be plenty of chances.”

He wasn’t particularly drawn to foreign scenery or culture.
He’d seen photos and videos—he knew what it looked like. And traveling far was tiring and inconvenient. If it were a family trip, that would be different, but this time the timing just didn’t work. Maybe next time, the whole family could take a relaxing island vacation together.

Meanwhile, every day abroad, Lin Yining found time to calculate the time difference and call home.

International calls were expensive, so she didn’t speak long—just enough to let everyone know she was safe. She phoned Yu Qingshan and Lin Chuanbai, and also Du Zhonglin and Lin Houpu.

Before they left, Lin Houpu had lectured them carefully, reminding them not to be dazzled by the temptations of the outside world. If anyone had thoughts of emigrating or staying abroad, he told them to abandon them immediately.

But that was unnecessary—none of them had such ideas.

Though the foreign world looked glamorous, it wasn’t their home, and it wasn’t all luxury and prosperity either.
There were homeless people, illegal immigrants, robbers—every society had its shadows.

Back home, Ding Minxiu’s temper was worsening.
At work, she couldn’t show her irritability, so she bottled it up—only to vent everything onto Zhao Qiaoniang when she got home.

She knew Zhao Qiaoniang would tolerate her—after all, she was her only daughter.

But why was she so angry?

Because she still hadn’t received any response. She’d written a report letter accusing Yu Xiangan, but there was no result.

Had it been ignored because it wasn’t signed with her real name?

Anonymous reports should still count!

She started returning frequently to her old neighborhood, hanging around near Lin Jiqing’s home, trying to overhear any news about his older brother, Lin Houpu.

But there was nothing—completely calm, no movement at all.

What was going on?

It had to be official collusion. That was the only explanation!

How outrageous—weren’t they supposed to be public servants? But once they got power, all they cared about was their own interests.

She swore she’d expose their corruption for everyone to see.

So she wrote a second letter—this time harsher, full of accusations. Soon after, she sent a third.

The officials who received the letters were exasperated. They reviewed the claims, but investigation showed they were entirely baseless.

Setting aside distance, even the supposed “favoritism” made no sense. One man was the director of a heavy machinery factory, the other a businesswoman who built her company from the food and restaurant industry. How could one have possibly “pulled strings” for the other?

Did he sell her steel at a lower price?
Impossible—different sectors, no overlap, no shared chain of command.

A report required evidence. You couldn’t just accuse people based on imagination. This wasn’t the old era of big-character posters where rumors could ruin lives. Now things required proof—facts, not fantasies.

Judging from the wording and the focus, it was obvious the reporter either bore a grudge against Lin Houpu or was envious of his successful daughter-in-law.

When Lin Houpu eventually learned about it, he discreetly investigated. No one knew who the writer was—it was an anonymous submission. The handwriting, however, had been deliberately disguised, written with the left hand.

The paper and envelope were the most common type, sold everywhere. The only clue was the postmark—it had been mailed from the special economic zone.

That alone was enough to guess the rest. Clearly, someone was jealous of his daughter-in-law’s success—sick with envy—and, after learning who her father-in-law was, imagined some hidden connection and acted out of spite.

Without evidence, no matter how many letters she sent, it was useless.

…

Zhao Qiaoniang became her constant target for venting. The stress pressed on her like a stone; her health, already fragile, began to decline. She went to an old Chinese doctor and got medicine that filled the house with a bitter herbal smell.

Fortunately, her current job mostly involved light cleaning—manageable work she could still handle. Anything heavier, she wouldn’t last.

Her supervisor gently warned her that if her health continued to decline, she should consider resigning.
If something were to happen to her on the job, it would bring bad publicity and misfortune to the factory.

Zhao Qiaoniang understood. No one wanted to hire an elderly, sickly worker. She was lucky they’d kept her this long; otherwise, younger people would’ve replaced her easily.

Her husband, Zhou Changshou, helped share the chores. He knew if she quit, the family would lose income—and what she earned went straight to helping their daughter and grandson.

If she could endure, she would.

…

Meanwhile, abroad, Yu Xiangan’s group had an unexpected encounter.

After wrapping up business, they toured several neighboring countries. During one of these trips, they were ambushed by robbers—tall, muscular black men who surrounded them. Judging by their appearance, they were the kind of people living at the city’s lowest rung, surviving through petty theft.

When they spotted this group of “wealthy tourists,” they couldn’t resist.

They thought the group would be easy prey—women, children, and only a few men.

They couldn’t have been more wrong.

Song Dong, Wang Yongle, and Zhou Si were all trained fighters. The muggers relied solely on brute strength—no real fighting skills at all. Within moments, the tables turned.

They weren’t in a deserted area, so a small crowd gathered. Seeing the Chinese group fight off the robbers with such skill, people cheered. Some even asked excitedly, “Is that Chinese Kung Fu?!”

The twins joined in the action too, eyes shining with excitement—it was their first time putting their martial arts training to real use.

Aside from that incident, though, they also experienced discrimination.

White locals looked down on people with yellow skin—regardless of which country they came from. Some mocked them outright, calling their homeland backward, feudal, and ignorant.

Even with all her life experience, Yu Xiangan felt angry.
How absurd that these same countries would one day rely on Chinese tourists for income, taking their money, yet still treat them with contempt.

All she could do was calm herself and hope the motherland would grow stronger—fast. Otherwise, there was no point in staying angry.

For the twins, it was their first taste of such open prejudice. In China, they had never been looked at that way.

So this was how foreigners viewed them.

Their expressions turned grim, enthusiasm gone. They told Yu Xiangan they wanted to go home.

But she didn’t rush to leave. Instead, she took them to visit a few local universities.

Some campuses were closed to outsiders, but others were open.

They noticed how different the academic systems were—back home, admission was strict but graduation was lenient; abroad, it was the opposite.

At foreign universities, if your grades are poor, you might not graduate at all. In China, on the other hand, unless you completely give up on yourself, failing to graduate is almost unheard of.

While visiting, the twins met a Chinese expatriate teacher who, upon hearing their accent, kindly took them into the campus library. “Education back home really can’t compare with abroad,” he told them. “When you take your college entrance exams, you should apply to foreign universities—you’ll learn so much more.”

Yu Xiangan didn’t argue. It was the truth.
Their country still had a long way to go to catch up.

But for the twins, hearing it made their hearts ache.

Was their country really that inferior?

If they criticized their homeland, that was one thing. But hearing foreigners say it stung deeply.

After going abroad and hearing others look down on China, both siblings carried a quiet, smoldering anger.

“Mom,” Lin Yining said, “we’ll catch up soon, right?”

Yu Xiangan stroked her daughter’s ponytail. “I believe it. We won’t have to wait long.”

“Definitely,” Lin Yihong added, clenching his fists. He couldn’t shake the image of that person’s knowing, condescending look the moment they learned where he was from. His fists tightened even more.

…

Back home, Lin Guangbai didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth several times but no words came out.

Yun Jing was equally at a loss. She glanced at Lin Guangbai, then at Lin Chuanbai, not knowing how to respond.

Her brother-in-law had come to visit, and she thought it was just a casual call—until he brought up the old loan they’d taken from him to buy their house. Then, surprisingly, he said he’d also lent their eldest brother tens of thousands of yuan to buy stocks.

When Yun Jing heard this, her mind went blank with confusion.

How did I not know about any of this?

But as she listened further, she began to realize what it meant. She did know how dramatically those stocks had risen.

She’d heard stories—on the trains to the Special Economic Zone, people carried huge bundles, each one full of ID cards.

Why?

Because everyone was buying stocks. Because that’s where the money was.

And now her brother-in-law was saying he’d lent their family tens of thousands to buy in. At first, when prices dipped, he hadn’t dared to mention it, afraid of worrying them. But now that the market had soared, he’d come forward—saying he’d already deducted the original loan, and the remaining balance was pure profit.

He even produced a dated IOU, asking his elder brother to sign it for record-keeping—to show that the money transfer had a legitimate origin.

Sudden wealth could raise suspicion, after all. If anyone questioned it, they’d need proof that the money wasn’t from bribes or shady dealings.

Just like that—overnight—they had become rich.

Yun Jing’s hands twisted tightly in her lap. She looked at her husband, afraid he’d refuse the gift.

If he did, she could understand—clearly, this was his younger brother trying to help him out.

Lin Chuanbai spoke first. “Big brother, don’t stand on ceremony with me. I already told big sister; she bought some too. You couldn’t invest back then because you were buying a house, so I took the liberty of doing it for you. Now, with Qianjing settled, maybe use this money for Yuejing—get her a place too. You’ll have rental income from the two shops. When you’re older, you can use it to help the grandkids. And if you’re lucky, maybe one day the area will be redeveloped and you’ll make even more.

“If our roles were reversed, you’d have done the same for me. I still remember the watch you bought me years ago—I’ve kept it safe all this time. It still works.”

It was true. When he had first returned home years ago, he’d received that watch in the mail—a gift that had cost Lin Guangbai several months’ salary.

Now he was returning the favor.

Lin Guangbai’s voice was slightly hoarse. “Brother owes you one.”

Lin Chuanbai smiled. “Come on, big brother. I did it for a reason. You’re an honest official—so let me handle the money side of things. Don’t ever risk your career over it. It’s not worth it.”

Lin Guangbai chuckled. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

That answer was as good as a yes. Yun Jing smiled too, full of relief and joy.

In life, a person’s happiness came down to career, family, children, and money.

And now—they had all four.

They could pay off their mortgage and even buy a third home. One for each child, and one for themselves to retire in.

The state might provide for retirees, but owning your own home was another kind of security.

When Lin Houpu learned of this, he could only sigh.

His second son had called earlier, urging him to buy more stocks too. He had indeed invested a portion of his savings—an entire year’s salary, which wasn’t a small amount.

At the time, hardly anyone was buying, even though the shares were distributed among certain work units. His position allowed him to get a larger allocation.

Now, comparing his modest profit to what his sons had made, his own gain was minor.

Li Yujiao’s heart ached with regret. She had known about the opportunity too, but hadn’t believed in it. She’d only invested two months’ wages, thinking even that was too much. If not for saving face, she wouldn’t have bought any at all. Now she felt she had missed a gold mine.

She even started resenting Lin Chuanbai. Though she wasn’t his birth mother, her younger brother Tiandong shared the same father with him—yet Lin Chuanbai had only looked after his eldest brother’s family.

Lin Duzhong spoke up fairly. “His big brother didn’t have the money, and he’d helped Chuanbai a lot in the past. Big sister didn’t lend her anything either.”

Lin Yunling and her husband, on the other hand, already had savings. Lin Chuanbai had only reminded them to invest; he hadn’t needed to lend them money directly.

Li Yujiao stayed silent, though inside she sneered.

Yunling had married into the wealthy Fu family—no shortage of money there. They even had relatives abroad. So yes, the poorest of them all was her own household.

She and her husband lived on fixed salaries. She couldn’t take bribes, and aside from enjoying some good food and small luxuries, there was little else.

How could she not feel bitter?

That wave of investment had made many people rich. Yu Xiangan had also notified her own relatives, and since she had a reputation for success, many trusted her and followed her lead.

Yu Xiangyan and Yu Xiangqing both invested nearly all their savings—and now they were nearly overnight millionaires.

Tasting such success, Yu Xiangyan wanted to invest again. When he called his sister for advice, she told him, “Second brother, I’ve stepped away. The stock market is unpredictable. We just got lucky this time. Better to invest in real assets—shops, land, housing. Or buy shares in businesses that pay dividends.”

He had wanted to take another gamble, but her tone made him reconsider. In the end, he put only a small portion back into stocks and used the rest to invest in property and businesses instead.

It turned out to be the best decision he ever made. A decade later, when real estate prices skyrocketed overnight, he thanked his sister from the bottom of his heart.

Stocks rose and fell like waves—one bad crash and everything could vanish. But houses and shops were tangible.

You could live in them, rent them out for steady income, or sell one when you needed cash.

…

Time passed—winter into spring—and in the blink of an eye, the twins were seniors in high school.

Both had chosen their paths.

Lin Yihong wanted to apply to the National Defense University and later serve in the military. Lin Houpu was overjoyed.

He himself had taken a political route, but he’d started out in the army. For years, he’d hoped one of his descendants would follow that path. Yet none of his three sons or his daughter had gone into the service—it was actually Wu Zheng’s son who’d enlisted instead.

Now, finally, he had a grandson preparing to join the army too.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃