Author Archives: Thingyan

Ch 90: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Right now, Yu Xiang’an only ate a bit of her farm’s produce herself — the rest felt a bit like chicken ribs, not very essential.

Her farm didn’t follow the seasons, but with modern technology, off-season produce was nothing special anymore.

However, the warehouse and the spiritual spring water were priceless treasures.

The warehouse could store endless goods, and the spring water, though it didn’t seem powerful, had an undeniable effect — she’d hardly gotten sick in all this time.

It might not cure cancer or major illnesses, but it could boost immunity and keep people healthy — and that was already extraordinary.

Lin Chuanbai had run countless tests, but could never figure out the principle.

Maybe he needed more advanced equipment, or maybe this was simply an uncrackable secret.

Now that the farm had a processing workshop, Lin Chuanbai was liberated — processing herbs, brewing medicinal wines, making ginseng tonics — he could all do here.

He could even make moisturizers and lipsticks in it.

If these could be brought into reality, the manpower and resources saved would be enormous.

But even if they couldn’t leave the farm, that was fine.

Because of the time efficiency, Lin Chuanbai developed a new use — bringing in certain control group experiments to run here, getting results in as little as a day.

Lin Chuanbai: “!!!”

This was practically a divine tool!

Yu Xiang’an was stunned too.

She knew enough about experiments to understand — many results came from endless rounds of testing, choosing one possible path among many, some successful, some failing, and even a successful step could still end in a dead end later.

In this line of work, patience and meticulousness were essential.

Now, if you could verify a possibility and then use the workshop to run the corresponding steps, get the results, and then replicate it in a real-world lab — it was basically cheating.

When Lin Chuanbai realized this, he couldn’t sleep from excitement.

Afterwards, Yu Xiang’an decided she needed to buy him a car — registered under the company for his use.

Otherwise, traveling back and forth wasn’t convenient, and she couldn’t stay here all the time.

Lin Chuanbai also thought it was necessary, but…

He considered the impact — if he drove into the school, his colleagues would definitely give him strange looks.

In the 1980s, owning a private car was a big deal.

Lin Yihong and Lin Yining were fraternal twins. As kids they looked somewhat alike, but as they grew older, no one would mistake them.

Lin Yihong was a bit “cool” and seemed hard to approach, but once you got to know him, you’d realize that expression was misleading. His sister was the opposite — meeting people with a ready smile, sweet-tongued, and very popular.

Even after transferring to Yangcheng, Lin Yining kept in touch with her old friends.

Lin Chuanbai regularly bought envelopes and stationery for home, and Lin Yining was the biggest user of them.

She had a lot of people to write to — her grandmother in the northwest, her great-grandfather and grandfather in Qin City, an older sister she’d met during summer training, and her childhood friends in the capital.

Because she was still young, before sending out any letters, Lin Chuanbai would check the addresses and mail them for her. He never read the contents — respecting her privacy — and didn’t need to anyway, since she would often excitedly tell everyone what she’d written.

One day, after finishing a letter to her great-grandfather Lin Duzhong, she ran to him.
“Dad, I have something to tell you.”

Lin Chuanbai put down his book.
“What is it?”

Lin Yining: “I have a classmate whose family ran into trouble. He’s gotten really thin lately. He used to be cheerful, but now he’s listless all the time. I want to help him, Dad, but I don’t know how. My allowance isn’t enough.”

Lin Chuanbai’s expression turned serious.
“What happened in your classmate’s family?”

“His mom got sick and needs surgery — a lot of money. She’s not a formal employee, just a temp, so she can only get a tiny bit reimbursed. Most of it has to be paid by them. His dad teaches junior high at our school, and he’s really worried about the surgery costs. Dad, I want to help him — he’s a good person and has helped me a lot too.”

“How do you know this? Who told you?”

Lin Yining lowered her voice.
“I overheard it. I was handing in homework in the office and heard him asking for leave, and our teacher talked about it.”

“Did you hear what illness it is?”

She frowned.
“Something like a tumor.”

Tumors could be benign or malignant. Malignant ones were much more serious; benign ones were better — and location mattered too.

“What’s your classmate’s name?”

“The one I told you about before — he sits with Wang Lipan. His name’s Chen Yi, but since he’s a bit chubby, we all call him Fatty. He’s not really that fat, just looks it.”

“I remember now. Does he know you know about this?”

She shook her head.
“No, I didn’t say anything — I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Tomorrow, go tell him you overheard it by accident and ask how his mom is. Tell him you want to visit since you’re close friends. I’ll come to school with you tomorrow and talk to your teacher, then we’ll see what to do, okay?”

She lit up.
“Okay, great!”

With Mom away, Dad would surely have a good solution.

The next day, at school, Lin Chuanbai apologized to the twins’ homeroom teacher.
“The child didn’t mean to overhear. I’ve brought her to apologize.”

The teacher’s tone softened toward Lin Yining.
“No need, Yining. You have a kind heart and want to help your classmate — I understand. But you’re still young, so just focus on your studies. Leave other matters to the adults.”

She nodded obediently.
“Thank you, teacher.”

“Class is about to start — head back to your room.”

Once she was gone, the teacher explained the full story.

Chen Yi’s mom hadn’t been feeling well, went to the hospital, and was diagnosed — but the cost of treatment was the stumbling block.

Lin Chuanbai listened, then said,
“Teacher, my child and her classmate have a strong friendship. When she first transferred, it was thanks to them that she integrated so quickly. Now that his family’s in trouble, I want to help too. Would it be possible to organize a voluntary donation drive in the class? Students could tell their parents, and if the parents are willing, they could contribute. That way we could raise at least part of the money.”

The teacher hadn’t considered a donation drive before, but the more he thought about it, the more feasible it seemed — small amounts could add up, and fellow teachers would likely give something too.

Back in class, Lin Yining apologized to Fatty, who looked startled. Wang Lipan, sitting beside him, was also surprised.

Fatty shook his head.
“It’s fine — you didn’t mean to overhear.”

Wang Lipan frowned.
“You didn’t tell us something this big? You’ve been so tired lately — have you been going to the hospital after school to take care of your mom?”

Fatty lowered his head and nodded.
“I didn’t know what to say.”

Wang Lipan was speechless for a moment, then said,
“We’re friends. We can help you too.”

Fatty shook his head. “We’re all still students. If you knew, you’d just end up worrying about me.”

Seeing him like this, Lin Yining frowned. “My dad said he wants to visit your mom. Would that be okay?”

Fatty looked up in surprise. “Huh?”

Lin Yining said, “My mom and dad are both amazing. I’m sure he’ll have a way to help!”

Lin Chuanbai and Lin Yining brought a fruit basket to the hospital to visit Chen Yi’s mother.

She was in a shared ward, with Fatty’s grandmother sitting by her side.

Fatty’s father had to work and raise money, so he didn’t have much time to stay and care for her.

“Mrs. Chen, hello, I’m the father of your son’s classmate, Yining. The kids are good friends and help each other with their studies. When my daughter heard about your situation, she was very worried.”

Mrs. Chen smiled, looking at Lin Yining. “Yining, I’ve heard my son talk about you. He’s been taken care of by your daughter a lot.”
Even though she was sick, her demeanor was still gentle. Looking at Lin Yining, she sincerely said, “Thank you for looking after Chen Yi.”

After all, she often got to eat the snacks Yining shared.

Lin Yining’s eyes turned slightly red. “Auntie, you’re definitely going to get better.”

“Thank you.”

Lin Chuanbai said, “Our child has also been taken care of by Chen Yi…”

After a few polite exchanges, Lin Chuanbai glanced at her pale face, then shifted his gaze to a pair of blue-and-white porcelain bowls on the table.

“What’s this?”

Mrs. Chen said, “These bowls? My husband bought them years ago from a street vendor. Just the pair — they looked nice, but since there were only two, we never used them. Now that I’m in the hospital, we brought them here.”

“May I have a look?”

Fatty’s grandmother looked a little puzzled at why he suddenly wanted to see the bowls, but handed them over.

Lin Chuanbai examined them carefully, then turned them over to check the base markings. His face lit up in surprise. “These are blue-and-white porcelain bowls from an official Qing dynasty kiln! I thought they looked familiar. Sure enough — a friend of mine once bought a similar pair. This must be from the same set!”

Fatty’s grandmother was stunned. “Huh? From the Qing dynasty?”

Lin Chuanbai nodded firmly. “Yes, definitely. The design is intact — they should fetch a decent price.”

At the mention of money, the old lady perked up. “They can sell? How much?”

He thought for a moment. “My friend paid 350 yuan for his. These should be about the same.”

“Three hundred and fifty?!” she gasped.

Mrs. Chen was also shocked — could these bowls really be worth that much?

Lin Chuanbai nodded. “Yes. Would you be willing to part with them? I owe that friend a favor, and if I gave him this pair, he’d be thrilled.”

The old lady was practically impatient. “How much are you offering?” Clearly, she was ready to sell — it was a lot of money.

“I’ll offer the same — 350. How about it?”

She carefully picked up the other bowl, looked at the strange characters on the bottom, then glanced at her daughter. When her daughter nodded, she did too. “Deal!”

Lin Chuanbai took 350 yuan from his pocket and handed it over.

The old lady carefully passed the bowls to him — if they broke now, she’d cry her eyes out.

Mrs. Chen stared at the money in a daze.

She remembered scolding her husband back then — why buy these two bowls? For a few yuan, they could have bought ten!

And now, with a single transaction, they’d sold for 350.

If she’d taken them out and chipped one… the thought made her shudder.

Once they left, the other patients in the ward started chattering.

“Do you remember what your bowls at home look like? I’m going to check mine.”

“I think I have something similar — I’ll look too.”

If they found one, that was 350 yuan — a year’s wages!

Leaving the hospital, Lin Yining asked, “Dad, are these bowls really from the Qing dynasty?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted.

“Ah?” she exclaimed. “Then you’re still giving them to your friend? Who is this friend, anyway?”

“Guess,” Lin Chuanbai replied.

It clicked for her — this “friend” probably didn’t exist.

So Dad had just made up a reason to give her classmate’s family money.

She’d been worrying about how to help Fatty — she had allowance, but would he accept it without feeling awkward? And it wasn’t much anyway — certainly not enough for surgery.

Now Dad had given 350 yuan, which should help a lot.

He didn’t spell it out, letting her figure it out herself.

For them, 350 yuan wasn’t much, but for the Chen family, it was a lifeline.

Whether the bowls were real or not didn’t matter — they served as the perfect excuse.

The donation idea was approved after the homeroom teacher proposed it. The school launched a voluntary campaign — anyone could give, and those struggling financially didn’t have to.

Most of the funds came from teachers. Students who told their parents got mixed results — some donated nothing, some a little, and anything over fifty cents was considered generous.

Lin Yining donated six months’ worth of her allowance, which made Fatty overjoyed.

With all the contributions, they’d nearly covered his mother’s surgery costs.

And with that good news, he perked up again. This was a surgery that, once done, would fix the problem.

Lin Yining liked seeing him cheerful and carefree again — that gloomy, drained look just didn’t suit him.

Wang Lipan’s family was well-off too. He donated over 50 yuan — every bit of pocket money he’d saved, plus some red envelope money his mother advanced him. When she heard why, she even helped him break open his piggy bank and gave him two more red envelopes to donate.

Just like Lin Chuanbai said, the teacher never told Fatty the donation amounts, so he had no idea who gave what and felt no pressure. If he knew how much had been given in total, he might have felt differently.

Lin Yining decided not to tell him — better to keep it a secret.

But now that she had no allowance left, she pestered Lin Yihong. His allowance had mostly gone to donations too, leaving just enough to occasionally buy water at school when it was hot.

Knowing this, Lin Chuanbai didn’t increase their allowances.

The twins never lacked food or supplies — they had everything they needed. If their parents topped up their spending money after every good deed, they might start thinking they could always rely on Mom and Dad to cover for them. That wasn’t good.

The two didn’t ask for more, showing maturity.

But Lin Yining did start taking snacks from home more often to share at school — especially with Fatty, who’d lost some weight from the stress. She brought him more beef jerky to cheer him up.

Lin Chuanbai didn’t interfere — there was plenty of beef jerky in storage, and she wasn’t overdoing it. Plus, the gifts were often reciprocated, even if not with meat products. That was normal social exchange.

The twins also knew their limits — they never boasted to classmates about what their family had or how much money they made.

For one, having money in the 80s wasn’t as striking as it would be later — the culture of blatant materialism hadn’t taken hold yet. Many still looked down on self-made business families as “nouveau riche,” believing it wouldn’t last — a common attitude at the time.

Of course, there really were quite a few people whose wallets had swelled and who went on to display all sorts of nouveau riche behavior, tarnishing their reputations.

Lin Chuanbai, however, was fairly confident about his own children.

These days, Yu Xiang’an was running between two places, though she was mainly based in the Special Economic Zone. Guangzhou was a newly developed market — she just needed to check in occasionally.

She wasn’t as busy as before; even though her business had expanded, she now had people she could delegate to.

With reliable staff, she didn’t have to run around like an iron man anymore. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have had the time to go home for the family reunion or stay for a while.

On a rest day, Yu Xiang’an suddenly got the idea for a family deep-sea fishing trip. The twins were excited, and even Yu Qingshan was looking forward to it — it was something fresh.

At his age, he had fished for freshwater fish and even turtles, but never gone out to sea to fish.

The SEZ was on the coast, naturally with good sea fishing spots, and local fishermen made their living from the sea.

They set up in a spot with some jutting reefs, opened a big sun umbrella, set up folding stools, laid out water and fruit, and started fishing.

Everyone had a rod, spaced apart.

Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai didn’t let the twins wander far — if they got tempted to go into the water, that would be trouble. Being able to swim didn’t mean you were safe — good swimmers could still drown, and the kids were small with limited stamina.

But after half an hour, only Lin Yihong had caught anything — a fish weighing less than a jin. No one else had any luck.

Yu Qingshan found it odd — five people, and only one small fish? The bait was still there. Strange.

Then, suddenly, luck turned.

First, Lin Chuanbai hauled in a two-jin stone drum fish. Then Yu Xiang’an caught a small parrotfish just over a jin. Lin Yining landed a two-jin grouper, and finally Yu Qingshan got a big tarpon.

Everyone had a catch now.

They figured they’d borrow a fisherman’s spot later to cook them on the spot. If there weren’t enough fish, they wouldn’t make a full meal.

After an hour, the kids got restless. Seeing them fidget, Yu Xiang’an stood up, handed her rod to Lin Chuanbai, and said, “Come on, let’s go collect seashells. Want to go?”

Lin Yining took out a little bucket she’d brought. “Yes! I promised my classmates I’d bring them some pretty shells.”

Lin Yihong scoffed. Someone had asked him too, but he wasn’t going to bother — seashells weren’t interesting. If he was going to pick anything, it would be conch shells.

Yu Xiang’an took Lin Yining to gather shells nearby. In later years, these shells would be sold on beaches, with hole-drilling services, to be made into wind chimes or other crafts.

But for now, the beach was empty, with only the odd fisherman. There weren’t many shells.

They walked back and forth several times to gather a small handful of nice ones.

Seeing them pacing about, a passing woman called out, “If you want shells, go over that way.”

Yu Xiang’an thanked her, told Lin Chuanbai and Yu Qingshan, and headed in that direction. That got Lin Yihong moving too — he shoved his rod into his grandfather’s hands and ran off to collect conches.

Sure enough, around the bend there were more shells — white, grey-brown, striped in natural colors. Conch shells were rarer.

Though the family had been to the seaside before and already had some at home, Lin Yihong still wanted more to give to classmates. If Lin Yining gave shells to her close friends, he didn’t want to be empty-handed — that would look bad.

As they were gathering, they unexpectedly ran into some very familiar faces — Yu Mansheng, Lu Anran, and a baby in a stroller.

Yu Xiang’an burst out laughing at the sight of them so dressed up, and turned to walk away. “I won’t disturb you.”

Yu Mansheng was in a white suit and tie, looking like a different man — stylish and elite.

Lu Anran wore a pink gown perfect for an evening party, with someone behind them taking photos.

An art shoot?

Yu Mansheng wasn’t about to let her leave. He hadn’t thought much of it before, but being caught by his sister made him flush. He grabbed her. “Xiao’an-jie, are you here with just the kids? Let’s take a photo together.”

Lu Anran looked a little embarrassed — it had been her idea. She wanted to have these pictures to look back on happily when they were older.

Lin Yining giggled. “No, my dad and grandpa are here too — they’re over there fishing.”

So there were elders present.

Yu Mansheng chuckled awkwardly. Since they were almost done shooting anyway, they might as well invite them. “Xiao’an-jie, look at this backdrop — blue sky and sea. It’ll look amazing printed out. Don’t worry, I brought plenty of film today. Enough for family shots too.”

He explained, “This was actually Anran’s idea — a new photo studio opened, doing wedding portraits and big family reunion photos. We’re the first clients, giving our own shop some business.”

The twins grinned. “Mm-hmm, sure, we believe you.”

Yu Mansheng glared. Hey — these little brats! Was this any way to tease an elder?

When Yu Qingshan and Lin Chuanbai saw the two dressed as if for a gala, they looked them over.

Yu Mansheng, now prepared, repeated his explanation. “This is Anran’s first order for her new shop. Of course the family should support her. Second Uncle, want to join in for your niece-in-law’s business?”

A full set of photos wasn’t cheap, but he knew his second uncle had a healthy stash — Yu Xiang’an paid him a salary and bonuses every month. His plain appearance was just habit; his savings probably beat many small households.

He pitched hard. “Second Uncle, they’ve got all kinds of outfits — general’s uniforms, emperor’s robes. Don’t you want to wear something imposing for a keepsake? These days no one minds that stuff — it’s just for fun.”

“Real emperor’s robes?” Yu Qingshan asked.

“Just similar in style — there’ll be differences,” Yu Mansheng replied.

He wasn’t interested in the emperor outfit, but the general’s uniform was tempting — what man didn’t have a general’s dream?

“How much for a shoot?”

Yu Mansheng grinned. “Come on, you’re my second uncle. You’re helping me build buzz — how could I not show my gratitude? You don’t need to pay.”

“If it’s free, I’m not going,” Yu Qingshan said. “Just give me a discount — no need to waive it entirely.”

Off to the side, Lu Anran watched with a smile. Some of her classmates, knowing she’d married a “country bumpkin” from the mainland, had been blunt — they’d said she’d regret it, that the backwardness and old-fashioned thinking, plus meddlesome relatives, would drive her crazy. But reality…

Her mother-in-law and she didn’t quite see eye to eye — mostly a matter of different viewpoints — but the older woman never took advantage of them to subsidize her other children. She was an astute, self-aware elder, and she liked cleanliness. With a housekeeper in the home, life was hardly stifling.

As for her husband’s relatives, the ones they dealt with all knew their boundaries. If others didn’t, it wouldn’t matter much anyway — they were too distant to have much impact.

Who doesn’t have a few troublesome relatives? Even her own family had some.

Right now, it was just about taking a photo. The other party didn’t even want to take advantage of them — in fact, even if she had to pay for the privilege, she’d be happy.

The idea of an art photo session tempted not only Yu Qingshan, but also Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an.

When they got married, the two of them had never taken wedding photos — there simply weren’t the means back then. Now, with the country opening up, more and more Western customs were flowing in, and Western-style weddings were slowly finding a market on the mainland.

She wanted to make up for that regret.

What girl hasn’t dreamed of wearing a white wedding gown and saying “I do” before witnesses? Maybe they could hold such an event on their anniversary.

Lin Yining’s wishes were simple and pure: “I want to wear a princess dress, Auntie. Do you have princess dresses?”

“Of course we do.”

Lu Anran had modeled the studio after those in Hong Kong, pouring a large investment into it. The premises were spacious, with many different backdrops and a whole wardrobe city of costumes — covering most styles imaginable.

“The photographer here is someone I specially hired — he’s taken pictures of the movie star Miss Lin So-and-So before. He’s very skilled.”

Lin Yining had seen her films and liked her a lot. Hearing this, she was thrilled: “Really? Really?”

Lu Anran laughed. “It’s true… and not. Don’t expect too much — it was just by chance, he was filling in as a substitute for his master.”

Lin Yining was satisfied anyway. “That’s still great. He’s seen her in person, right? I want to see her in person too, but I haven’t had the chance. When I grow up, I’ll definitely go.”

By then, Yu Xiang’an had already picked a spot. “Come on, let’s get one here.”

The four of them stood on the reef, smiling at the camera. The image was captured.

Once a woman starts taking pictures, there’s no stopping — she used up all the rolls of film they’d brought before finally stopping. Then it was time to eat. They’d arranged with a nearby household to borrow their stove and cook the fish fresh.

Lu Anran and Yu Mansheng followed along.

People living by the sea bore the marks of long exposure to sea winds. The area wasn’t wealthy, but fishermen’s hauls seemed good, thanks to the sea’s abundance — one cast of the net could bring in plenty of seafood. But there were risks: typhoons that left them empty-handed, the lack of other income sources, and the fact that arable land near the shore was scarce. They relied on fishing to trade for grain or sell for cash, which was split between food purchases and household expenses. A bad spell with poor catches could leave a family in hardship.

And there was always the danger — accidents where a boat left and never returned happened regularly. Since the men went to sea, losing one meant losing the family’s pillar. If the younger generation hadn’t grown up yet, the rest of the family could only struggle through. Such tragedies had never ceased in fishing villages.

Now, Yu Xiang’an’s group was only borrowing the kitchen — the hosts tidied it beforehand and let them use it for a fee.

In the kitchen, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai got to work. Outside, the twins were fascinated by a fishing net hanging by the house.

It was huge — imagine how many fish it could catch when thrown out!

After circling it for a good look, they went inside.

Lin Yining spotted something on the floor and narrowed her eyes — the child holding it, younger than her, seemed to have… a pearl?

Curious, she walked over, crouched down, and asked, “What are you playing with? Is that a pearl?”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Ch 89: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

The little grandaunt’s family was truly “flourishing with branches and leaves” — there were so many of them.

Back then, when they went south, it was her entire extended family. Some members had no plans to return now, but one of her elder sisters’ families had come back with her.

When Yu Xiang’an’s group went back to meet them, they saw at a glance that their little grandaunt shared some facial resemblance with the Yu family. Standing next to Yu Changcun, you could clearly see the similarities.

When she smiled, her eyes curved into narrow slits, giving her a kindly look.

The grandaunt’s husband had limited mobility in one leg and facial scars, but the two clearly had deep affection for each other.
Even though one had been a child bride and the other had physical disabilities, their bond wasn’t just something they claimed — you could see it in the everyday way they interacted, in the unspoken understanding when they looked at each other. That sort of closeness couldn’t be faked if the feelings weren’t real.

They had eight children — the most of any of the siblings — though the first two daughters died young, and it was only the last six who survived.

Of the six, there were four sons and two daughters. The four sons in turn had produced a whole crowd of grandchildren. Coming back now, the entire group, children and grandchildren in tow, was massive. No wonder Zhang Chahua called it “flourishing branches and leaves.”

Yu Changxi asked,
“You’re my eldest brother’s granddaughter?”

Yu Xiang’an smiled.
“Yes, grandaunt. I’m fifth in my father’s line — his youngest daughter.”

Yu Changxi understood immediately.
“So your father is my eldest brother’s youngest son.”

Zhang Chahua cheerfully pulled Lin Chuanbai over for introductions.
“Yes, yes — this is my granddaughter’s husband, and these are their two children.” You could tell she was in very high spirits.

After Yu Xiang’an’s family of four finished introducing themselves, Yu Xiangju stepped forward to greet them one by one.

When they stepped back, Yu Xiang’an looked at the crowd and felt her brain struggling to keep up. Lin Chuanbai also felt a headache coming on. Fortunately, they didn’t interact often — they really only needed to remember the main faces. Otherwise, how could you possibly keep track of who was who?

Yu Qingbao, knowing they’d have trouble, had secretly prepared a slip of paper for them to look at:

Little grandaunt: Yu Changxi
Granduncle: Tian Dazhuang

Eldest son: Tian Yougen — the most solid-looking one. Wife: He Li (curly hair). Four daughters, two sons. Present today are the second and third sons: Tian Yuqian, Tian Yucai.

Second son: Tian Youjia — the tallest. Wife: Li Sanya. Three sons, two daughters. Present today are the second and third sons: Tian Duofu, Tian Duoshou.

Third son: Tian Youle — the heaviest. Wife: He Hua — also the heaviest. Three sons, three daughters. Present today are the second and third sons: Tian Zhangzhi, Tian Zhangkun.

Fourth son: Still in the Philippines managing the shop. But his eldest son, Tian Fujiang, has come.

(No names were listed for the granddaughters-in-law or the great-grandchildren.)

After reading it over, Yu Xiang’an felt she was going to forget how to write the character “Tian.”

Yu Qingshan felt the same.
“Let’s all copy this down. Otherwise, we’re bound to mix people up and embarrass ourselves.”

Yu Ye’gui just kept quiet. When they’d first come back to reconnect with relatives, they’d also struggled, spending quite some effort before they’d gotten most names straight.

It wasn’t just them — the Tian family also found it hard to keep track. On their father’s side there were few relatives, so they’d met everyone quickly. But on their mother’s side? Four brothers!

Four brothers meant sons, and sons meant grandsons — altogether even more than the Yu family.

For the older generation it was easier: Yu Changxi and Tian Dazhuang knew Yu Changyou had four brothers, so matching names to branches was straightforward enough.

Eldest brother: Yu Changyou — two sons, Yu Qingbao and Yu Qingshan.
Second brother: Yu Changcun — two daughters, one son (Yu Shunwen).
Third brother: Yu Changxin — two daughters, two sons.
Fourth brother: Yu Changyi — one son (Yu Niangen).

As for the grandchildren, the two elders could only learn them one by one.

Still — “flourishing branches” was a good thing. More brothers in a family meant outsiders were less likely to push you around.

Overseas, that was even truer. Among fellow Chinese, you had to stick together.
If a family had too few working-age men and was too mild in temperament, they could easily be targeted — maybe even struggle to survive.

Yu Changxi, now back home, couldn’t remember all the younger generation, but knowing they were doing well was enough to make her happy.

She’d never expected her natal family to be doing this well — officials, skilled tradesmen, teachers… Back when her family had been on the verge of starving, her greatest hope before returning to China had been simply that everyone might be safe and sound.

This was a joyful surprise.

After the boisterous greetings, Yu Xiang’an asked,
“Grandaunt, now that you’ve come back, will you go abroad again?”

Yu Changxi chuckled.
“No, not leaving again.” Her face was full of contentment. “I’m not going. At my age, if I left, the next time I came back it would be my ashes. I want to stay in my hometown. As for my children — that’s up to them. They’re grown now. It’s not for me to decide where they live.”

Yu Changcun nodded.
“Exactly. Fallen leaves should return to their roots. Living in a different province is one thing, but abroad? That’s another. Your old house was taken over before — what will you do about it?”

The Tian family’s home had been left empty when they fled, then requisitioned by the local production team. Now they were negotiating with the team to get it back, and in the meantime were renting elsewhere.

“We talked to them when we came back. They’re cleaning it up now, and once it’s ready they’ll give it back to us. We’ll just pay some maintenance fees. If no one had looked after it all these years, it would have fallen apart.”

“That works.”

Over the years, the house had been used as a warehouse. Getting it back had taken some persuasion, but in the end, it was sorted.

Yu Changxi’s family stayed for several days — lively ones.
For the younger generation, it was mostly a matter of showing face — they didn’t have the emotional bonds. But for the older generation, it was different. Yu Changcun and Zhang Chahua’s joy was obvious, and even the next generation, like Yu Qingshan, felt genuine warmth — this was their biological aunt, a close blood tie.

But for Yu Xiang’an’s generation, this was a “grandaunt” they’d never met and had assumed dead. The blood relation was there, but the emotional closeness wasn’t.

Yu Manchang spoke up.
“Why don’t we open that wine you brewed last year, Xiao An, and try it?”

The previous year, Yu Xiang’an had, on a whim, brewed several jars of wine — some from grain, some from wild fruits gathered on the mountain.

In the old days, no one could afford to brew wine, since grain was too precious. But now they farmed their own land, and with no natural disasters or trouble, their granaries had filled up.

Every year, new grain became old grain. Old grain, sold after the new harvest came in, fetched a lower price — but every household kept some, knowing from hard experience the value of food.

Yu Ye’gui tasted the wine and gave a thumbs-up.
“Not bad!”

“Want to go see our fields? We planted a patch of sesame this year.”

“Sure.”

Walking down the road, plenty of people came up to greet them. With Yu Changxi’s return, their family had once again become a topic of conversation.

To the villagers, the whole affair was highly dramatic — and in truth, it really was.

Some who had also lost contact with family members began to feel a spark of hope.
Maybe their loved ones were also out there, living somewhere unknown, unable to return for some reason.

Just like the two from the Yu family — one in Hong Kong, one who went to Southeast Asia — in those years, they couldn’t come back at all. And now? They’d returned one after another.

So it wasn’t impossible.

Laughing and chatting, Yu Yegui said,
“This isn’t the first time, but still, the enthusiasm here is something else.”

Yu Manchang chuckled,
“Our Yu family is one of the big households here. Trace it back far enough, and almost everyone’s a relative.”

Yu Xiang’an’s side of the family was closer in relation and had arrived earlier. A few days later, Yu Manwu returned from Shanghai with his wife and daughter.

He hadn’t been back for several years. Everyone knew why — he’d been too embarrassed. After breaking up with Ruan Chenxi and marrying someone else, it had been awkward to face the past.

Now that he’d returned, it meant he’d gotten over it.

Yang Huili, who’d only spoken to him on the phone before, was overjoyed to finally see him in person — her three sons were all together again.
How could she not be happy?

Even the usually reserved Yu Qingbao had a constant cheerful look on his face.

It was Yu Xiang’an’s first time meeting Yu Manwu’s wife in person. Her name was Ding Xiang, a slightly plump, gentle-looking woman.

She was from the rural outskirts of Shanghai, a completely different type from Ruan Chenxi.
Which was a good thing — if she’d been similar, just knowing it would’ve been uncomfortable.

Yu Mansheng punched his brother’s arm,
“Finally decided to come back, huh? Were you about to forget where the front door of your family home was?”

Yu Manchang followed with another good-natured punch.
“Look forward, not back.”

Yu Manwu smiled awkwardly.
“It won’t happen again.”

Yu Xiang’an and Xu Xiaojun sat with Ding Xiang to chat.

Xu Xiaojun introduced herself confidently. Even with two sisters-in-law who each stood out in their own way, she didn’t shrink back.

She might not have education, a good family background, or a high-paying job, but both of the third generation’s two sons had been born from her own belly — and that was her confidence.

The second brother and his wife weren’t having more children because of work; the third brother might, but by then her children would be grown.

That gave her the spine to stand tall among the sisters-in-law.

She also knew they wouldn’t be staying at home for long. So for these few days, as long as she did well, everyone would be happy.

What started as a reunion with the long-lost grandaunt eventually became a broader family gathering.

Yu Manwu’s daughter, just over a year old, was round-faced and adorable, always smiling, with a good temper. Even if she tripped while walking, she wouldn’t cry — just sat on the ground giggling, making everyone who saw her laugh along.

Lin Yining adored the little girl.
Such a cute, round-faced little sister! When she hugged her and played with her, the child would sweetly call her “big sister.”

It made her want her mother to have another little sister for her.

Yu Xiangyan was too busy to come back. Yu Xiangqing, upon hearing the news, had wanted to return but couldn’t get away from work, and could only express her regret, saying “next time.”

Notably, the whole family’s return even made it into the newspaper — a special feature in the social news section, with photos of Yu Changxi’s entire family.

When the reform first began, few people returned to China. But now, more and more were coming back — some to settle in their homeland, some to find relatives. This family’s return was highly representative.

They’d already decided on a livelihood. Upon returning, they re-registered their household and the village planned to assign them land. They wouldn’t be able to grow much this year, and they hadn’t farmed in a long time, so they might need time to regain the skills. If they had no other jobs, farming could still feed them. But since they had run a Chinese restaurant before, they planned to return to that trade.

There was no rush — they’d just come back and didn’t know the lay of the land yet. Their closest ties were with the Yu family — Yu Changxi had a blood-related second brother, a blood-related eldest sister-in-law, and real nephews. These were the dearest connections.

Yu Changxi and Tian Dazhuang often visited Zhang Chahua and Yu Changyou, who enjoyed hearing about how they’d gone to Southeast Asia, the hardships they’d faced, and how they’d eventually built their life there.

In return, Yu Changxi and her husband listened to their sister-in-law and brother talk about the hometown — stories they’d missed for decades and needed to catch up on. Even if they weren’t in the same commune, they were just a neighboring township away.

Yu Xiang’an didn’t have much interaction with the grandaunt’s children — only chatting a bit more with the grandaunt herself.

Those children — her uncles and cousins — could speak the hometown dialect, but with an accent, and probably couldn’t fully understand everything Yu Xiang’an said.

Language barriers made communication awkward. But if they decided to settle here, they’d likely adapt quickly.

They visited often, and whenever Yu Xiang’an was home, she’d serve them tea promptly.

Zhang Chahua was happy about it, so they were welcome guests.

Yu Xiang’an hadn’t sold her farm’s produce in a long time. At this point, she no longer needed to earn income from selling it, and her time didn’t allow for it. So all the harvests were stored in the warehouse — which seemed endless, never filling up. Some fruits she’d turn directly into fruit wine for later use.

She’d cut down the number of fish and ducks she raised, since unlike crops — which could be harvested and replanted with one click — fish and ducks couldn’t be managed that way.

Her stockpile kept growing.

Right after returning from the reunion, her farm upgraded again.

It was still a half-baked farm — otherwise it wouldn’t have started with only four kinds of fruit and no way to add more varieties. After the first upgrade, there were still no new crops, but a pasture was unlocked.

Now it had upgraded again — still no new crops, but a new processing workshop appeared.

Yu Xiang’an figured it could probably upgrade another one or two times. She wondered if that would unlock a store or something else.

She tried the processing plant — putting in raw ingredients, adjusting the settings, confirming, and then waiting for anywhere from fifteen minutes to twenty-four hours for the finished product.

She put in grapes, selected “grape wine,” set the brewing time, and it needed twelve hours.

Previously, turning grapes into raisins had taken only half an hour. Turning beef into beef jerky took forty minutes.

The taste was good — since the recipe and timing were up to her, it felt like her own cooking: familiar recipe, familiar flavor.

The best part? The workshop didn’t restrict materials — anything she brought in from outside the farm could be used.

Lin Chuanbai loved this feature. Whenever he had free time, he’d be in there happily working away — sometimes brewing medicinal wine, sometimes preparing herbal ingredients, sometimes making food products. Like a big kid with a new toy, he couldn’t put it down.

But they had to sneak in, so the twins wouldn’t find out what they were up to.

Every day, they came up with excuses to send the twins out.

Once Lin Chuanbai had gotten his fill, they slowed down their visits. By then, Yu Xiang’an’s warehouse was already stocked full of processed goods.

One day, when the twins came home, they found the cupboards suddenly full of all kinds of beef jerky — five-spice, spicy, fruit juice-flavored, air-dried, hand-torn…

It dazzled them.

Lin Yining loved beef jerky, and she knew exactly how much was in the house before. When she saw all this, she jumped up on the spot in delight and cheered,
“Mom, you made so much beef jerky!”

Yu Xiang’an said with a straight face,
“Enjoy it.”

In reality, more than half of it was made by Lin Chuanbai — and some of it he’d modified with his own recipes. Certain flavors were likely to be… unusual, the kind that gave you “surprise” tastes.

Aside from beef jerky, the fridge also had fruit juice — grape, pear, and apple.

Lin Yihong took a pack of five-spice beef jerky, pulled out a strip to chew on, then opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles of juice — one grape, one apple. He claimed the grape juice; Lin Yining got the apple.

Lin Chuanbai cleared his throat.
“There’s too much beef jerky in the house. Tomorrow, when you go to school, bring some to share with your good friends.”

That way, it would get used up faster.

The two agreed, and the next day each brought a few packs to school. During the break, Lin Yining shared hers with Wang Lipan and his chubby deskmate.

The chubby boy took a piece, popped it in his mouth, and said quickly while chewing,
“This is from your mom again, right? So good. My mom made pork jerky once — totally wasted the meat; we had to choke it down. But your mom’s? You eat one and you want a second, can’t stop.”

Wang Lipan opened a pack, took a strip, chewed twice — and his face froze. That sourness!

He immediately gulped down water.
“Did your mom soak this jerky in vinegar?”

Chubby boy: “Sour? What flavor did you get?”

Lin Yining picked it up to check.
“I didn’t eat from this pack yet, I don’t know what flavor it is.” She bit a small piece — her whole face scrunched up. So sour! And with a bit of heat… sour-and-spicy beef jerky?

She’d never had this flavor before, and it wasn’t good. Could it be a new flavor Mom had tested… and failed?

(Yu Xiang’an: reputation ruined.)

Not wanting to waste food, Lin Yining frowned and swallowed it.
“Maybe it’s a new flavor Mom was experimenting with. Don’t waste it, I already brought it out.” No one at home would want it back.

Wang Lipan: “…”

Could he soak it in water first?

The chubby boy took a bite — he could handle sour — and said,
“It’s a bit… exotic, but actually not bad, not that extreme.”

Lin Yining pushed the whole pack to him.
“Then it’s all yours!”

She wanted normal flavor!

Yu Xiang’an’s farm had upgraded, but Lin Chuanbai’s medicinal garden hadn’t changed much — except for the increased quantity of herbs and stored materials.

Over the years, he’d built himself a private lab there. No fancy, high-end equipment — just practical tools. Still, they’d cost a decent sum.

Some finished products sat on the shelves.

Now, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai planned to turn some of these into cash.

From the start, Lin Chuanbai had used medicinal herbs to make face creams, moisturizers, and sunscreen for Yu Xiang’an.

In the ’70s, such products couldn’t even be bought — the supply store only had simple clam oil or snow cream.

The market now was still largely untapped. The profit potential was huge.

Lin Chuanbai wanted to build a fully equipped high-tech lab. Apart from instruments he wasn’t licensed to buy, the rest would cost a fortune — so the more ways to make money, the faster the lab would be realized.

Yu Xiang’an planned to register the business in Hong Kong and turn the newly founded “Meiyan” company into a foreign-owned enterprise.

Foreign enterprises were highly favored — sometimes they were given free land, free road construction, or tax breaks.

This wasn’t difficult for her; Yu Yegui helped her complete the paperwork.

Once the license was in hand, they sent products for testing, applied for patents, and negotiated for a promising plot of land.

Seeing Yu Xiang’an’s organized moves, Yu Yegui was impressed — property rights weren’t taken seriously in China, and securing them took time, so few bothered.

The testing and property rights approval period was perfect for constructing the factory.

When Keleite learned what she was doing, he came knocking.
“Yu, can I join you? You know the supermarkets also have skincare and cosmetics counters.”

“I trust you. Your products are guaranteed. I won’t manage operations, but I can help with sales. Yu, we’ll have a pleasant cooperation.”

For example, setting up counters in his supermarkets. But whether they could expand abroad would depend on how outstanding the products were — otherwise, it might stay domestic. Yu Xiang’an agreed.

He invested money and offered future sales channels in exchange for a 10% stake.

When Yu Mansheng saw Yu Xiang’an diving headfirst into a new industry, he started wondering if he should branch out too.

Currently, besides contracting construction sites, he only built and sold commercial housing — a bit too narrow. But after thinking it over, he realized entering a new field wasn’t easy — no technology, no formulas, no expertise.

When Yu Xiang’an heard, she asked,
“Interested in doing hotels? Office buildings? Or an integrated leisure and shopping complex?”

Yu Mansheng had one question:
“Would there really be that many customers?”

“Look at the streets — how many bosses are wearing gold chains and fur coats in winter? Have you ever had trouble selling your houses? Couldn’t we ourselves afford to spend there? Maybe not casually, but when doing business and needing to show face — wouldn’t we spend the money?”

“A year changes everything. Remember my place? When I first bought the land, it was so remote. And now? If you’re interested, start planning now. By the time it’s built and ready to open, it’ll be just right.”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Ch 88: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Yu Qingshan felt that Ye Qijia’s idea was feasible,
but if she resigned to become self-employed, it wouldn’t be the same as those who only started after retirement.

Once retired, there would be a pension as a fallback, and they’d already be at retirement age with fewer working years ahead.
But in her case, there were still twenty to thirty years before retirement.

What if the country later introduced new restrictions?
Could she go back to work at the supply and marketing cooperative then?

Reform and opening-up had only been going on for a few years — no one could say for sure what the future would bring.

This was exactly where Ye Qijia’s hesitation lay.

If she used her savings to buy some small goods from the South and took them back to sell,
she was confident she could make the business work.
But what if things changed later?

What if private trade was banned again?

She’d be left high and dry.

Yu Mingjie: “Mom, I can help you. You don’t have to resign.
When you need to restock, just tell me what goods you want.
I can either bring them back myself or ship them by train.
Aren’t you pretty free these days?
When you’re not busy, you can watch the shop yourself.
The rest of the time, Grandpa and Grandma can help.
It won’t be tiring, and this way you won’t have to quit.”

That was indeed a solution —
just run both ends for now, see how things went, and decide later.

Ye Qijia hesitated: “Will you have time for that? Won’t it affect your studies?”

Yu Mingjie: “I can do it on weekends.”

Ye Qijia nodded: “Right now, I think clothes sell the best.”
This wasn’t a sudden thought — before coming here, she had observed carefully.
“There are quite a few street stalls selling clothes back home, and business is great.
Like you said before, a piece of clothing costs six to ten yuan here,
but back home they sell for twenty-something, even thirty-something.
That’s double the profit.”
If she could sell just a few pieces, that would be a month’s wages.

Yu Xiang’an: “If you plan to sell clothes, I know a factory owner.
She produces clothing, and maybe you could open an agency store for her in your area.
Whenever there’s a new style, she can send it in bulk to you.
Once you get it, just put it on the shelves and sell.”

Yu Xiang’an had part of her own investment in this clothing factory,
and adding another agent was just a word from her.

“This factory’s positioning is affordable — quality’s neither too good nor too bad,
mid-range.
They have both cheap, durable pieces and slightly better ones,
and the styles are decent.
The clothes I gave you before were made there.”

Ye Qijia was delighted: “That would be great!”

Then she worried: “But being an agent sounds serious… how much capital would I need?”

She had some startup funds, but only enough for small ventures.

Yu Xiang’an waved it off: “No worries — you can take the goods first,
record their costs, sell them,
and send the payment afterward.
If something doesn’t sell, just send it back.”

That meant zero risk —
earn as much as you sold.

Was there really such a good deal?!

Ye Qijia knew this was thanks to her:
“This is definitely me benefiting from your connections. Thank you, Xiao An.
Since this is my first time getting stock, I won’t take much — just a small batch to try.”

Yu Xiang’an: “No need to be polite. Have you decided on your store location?”

Ye Qijia: “No need for a shop at first — I’ll just set up a street stall.
If I put a big investment into a store and can’t earn it back, that’d be a waste.”

Yu Xiang’an didn’t see anything wrong with street stalls —
plenty of people were getting rich that way now,
and profits could be huge.

Yu Mingjie had sometimes noticed people selling clothes at stalls,
and had even bought from them.
He offered advice:
“Mom, when the time comes, dress in one of the pieces you’re selling as a sample.
Better yet, get a rack to hang clothes on so customers can see the shape.
Make sure they’re not wrinkled —
if they are, spray some water and steam them with a hot water bottle so they look crisp.”

He actually knew quite a bit.

Yu Xianghai hadn’t spoken the whole time —
some of this had been discussed before,
and now it seemed like everything was settled.

Yu Qingshan also kept quiet,
content to listen while the others tossed out ideas.

His younger daughter was living well now.
Although she still owed a large debt,
he’d gotten used to it —
and believed she’d eventually pay it back.

His eldest son’s family was also starting to think about change.
That could bring good or bad results,
but with the siblings helping each other,
even if one household struggled later,
it wouldn’t be hard for them to get back on their feet.

That was enough for him.
He was truly satisfied.

Yu Qingshan thought of the farmland back home.

He’d freed himself from endless farmwork,
started eating state-supplied grain,
and settled in the city.
Now, his children —
some on state grain, some in government jobs, some doing business —
none had returned to farming.
He’d made it out,
and brought his children out too.
They were all living good lives.

He squinted,
the corners of his mouth curling upward.

Suddenly, he thought of the Zhou father and son he’d seen at the train station,
and the curve of his smile deepened.

Served them right —
the ones who had broken off the marriage with his daughter to side with Ding Minxiu.
Now look at them.

Their precious only son had once planned to test into a vocational school,
but failed.
From what Yu Qingshan knew, he spent his time playing outside —
could he really pass now?

Vocational school took fewer years than university
and came with a guaranteed job after graduation,
so it was the top choice for many families.
But with poor grades?
No chance.

That boy was going to cause his parents plenty of headaches in the future.

Back then, the Zhou family had accepted the match so readily all for his sake.
He wondered if they regretted it now.

But even if they did,
they wouldn’t admit it —
that would be admitting they were wrong before.

Let them wait and watch —
the Yu family, and especially his daughter,
would only live better and better.
If they compared in secret,
they’d only grow more and more regretful.
But no matter how much they regretted it,
there’d be no turning back.

Yu Xiang’an thought of Yao Cuifen and asked Yu Xianghai:
“How’s Grandma doing?”

Yao Cuifen had recovered from her previous injury,
but seemed weaker than before.

Thankfully, nothing serious —
just needed to be watched carefully.

Yu Xianghai had visited her recently and nodded:
“She’s fine.
She still loves watching TV.
When I went, she was too absorbed to even talk to me.”
He chuckled as he spoke.

Yu Qingshan: “If she likes it, let her watch.
Having a hobby makes things less lonely.”

The conversation turned to the children’s studies.

“Yihong, Yining, are you keeping up in your new school?”

Lin Yihong nodded: “Yes. The teacher even asked us specially.”

Ye Qijia: “Good, keep your grades up.
I remember you said you’d signed up for extracurricular classes.
Still going?”

Lin Yining grinned and pulled out her erhu:
“Auntie, let me perform something for you.”

A child with a natural flair for performance didn’t need to be asked.

Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an just watched with smiles.

In other households, kids often looked like they’d rather die when parents said,
“Come on, show us something.”

Here, she was eager:
“Let me perform something.”

Yu Qingshan laughed: “Alright, let’s hear it.”

Clap clap clap! Ye Qijia applauded enthusiastically:
“Have you ever performed on stage before?”

Lin Yining pressed her lips into a smile.
“Yes — during the holiday gala before, I played a song and got second prize.”

Ye Qijia gave a thumbs-up.
“Well now, that’s something! You might just end up a real musician in the future.”

After the child’s performance, the focus shifted to Yu Mingjie.
Ye Qijia looked at him.
“Got your eye on any girl? If you do, tell me — I’ll give you extra money. Can’t be too stingy when dating.”

Yu Mingjie flushed in embarrassment.
“Mom! What are you talking about? I don’t.”

Ye Qijia laughed.
“Shy, are we? We were all your age once. Just think — how old were your dad and I when we had you? You think you’re still a kid? Men should marry when they’re grown, women when they’re of age.”

Yu Xianghai patted his son’s shoulder.
“If you really do meet someone, don’t hide it. Your mom and I are very open-minded. We don’t have high demands — just a clean background, good character, and most importantly, that you like her.”

Yu Qingshan decided they couldn’t be too open-minded.
“As the saying goes — ‘When buying a pig, check the pen.’ Finding a good person is essential, but if her family is full of troublemakers, you’d better think twice. You don’t know — our shop hired a male waiter not long ago. He lived nearby, just married, came out to earn for the family. But all he did was work as a waiter, and his wife — along with her brothers — barged into the shop, accusing him of having an affair with another waitress. Said he’d committed ‘hooliganism,’ smashed the place up. Her brother broke two of his ribs, and her scratches will probably leave scars on his face. That job was ruined, and he even had to pay damages. The poor woman they accused was also an innocent victim — got slapped a few times. She’s already got two kids, but looks young. Now tell me — if you married into that kind of mess, wouldn’t life be exhausting?”

Yes, exhausting indeed.

Yu Xiangju couldn’t agree more.
Family was a huge factor in marriage.
Often, marriage was really the union of two families.

Yu Qingshan said, “Don’t pressure the boy — he knows what he’s doing.”

Yu Xianghai: “I’m not pressuring him.”

Ye Qijia also felt she wasn’t pressuring him.
“I know it’s about fate. Still, I wouldn’t mind becoming a grandma sooner rather than later.”

Yu Mingjie’s face reddened further.
“Mom, if you’re busy with a grandchild, you won’t have time to sell clothes.”

Ye Qijia switched gears instantly.
“Oh… then maybe hold off for now.”

Yu Mingjie: “…”
Why did that feel so… unpleasant?

After leaving the station, Zhou Changshou and Zhou Boyang asked around until they found where Ding Minxiu and Zhao Qiaoniang were living.
Right now, one of them was working on the factory production line, the other in factory logistics doing cleaning.

They’d rented a small room in a private house nearby, sharing a bed to save money.

When the men arrived, it was still early, so Ding Minxiu took Zhou Changshou to the personnel office to ask if they were hiring.

Zhou Changshou was short, quiet, and given his age, security work was out of the question.
“What we need now is someone to handle cleaning — sweep up trash from the production floor, empty waste bins, that sort of thing. Twenty yuan a month, meals included, but no housing.”

Zhou Changshou thought that was fine.
With his pension added in, it would be about the same as his pre-retirement pay.

“Come in the day after tomorrow then. Get yourself settled first — when you arrive, ask for me.”

Ding Minxiu took them back to the rented house.
“The partition next door is still empty — I’ll go talk to them later so we can rent it too.”
That way Zhou Changshou would have a place to stay.

Zhou Boyang frowned at the cramped space.
Though the two women kept it clean, the place felt oppressive.
But he knew it was all to save money.

Ding Minxiu had to get back to work — she only came back to bring them over.
If she was late, she’d get her wages docked.

When her shift ended, she and Zhao Qiaoniang took the men to eat at a nearby Wuwei Restaurant.

They were eating happily, chatting about family matters, when Zhou Changshou accidentally said,
“Saw Yu Qingshan at the station — maybe he’s here looking for work too. What a coincidence.”

The air froze instantly.

The moment the words left his mouth, Zhou Changshou knew he’d messed up.
This was why he usually kept quiet — he was bad at talking.
Why today of all days had he said more than he should?

Zhao Qiaoniang kept her head down, silently pushing fried rice grain by grain into her mouth.

Ding Minxiu’s face was like ice, the chill rolling off her.

Back home, she lost her temper, asking Zhou Boyang:
“Why didn’t you say anything just now? Are you regretting it?”

“What are you talking about? I’m not regretting anything.”
He denied it flatly.

Ding Minxiu gave a cold snort.
“Regretting? Why don’t you ask yourself honestly — really not regretting? Just because she’s far away now… otherwise, who knows, maybe old flames would rekindle. Oh, wait, no — they wouldn’t. Her man’s a university graduate, even higher than that — a real respectable person. With such a gem in front of her, would she still look twice at a junior high grad like you?”

Back then, Zhou Boyang had quit school after junior high to take over a job.

He shot back:
“Oh, so a woman without even a high school diploma gets to talk? At least I have the self-awareness not to go sit the college entrance exam. Not like some people, whose ambitions are higher than the sky!”

When their affair had been exposed, Ding Minxiu had missed her graduation exams and never got her high school certificate.
Later, when the exams were reinstated, she’d tried twice — both times in secret.
Of course, the Zhou family knew all about it.

The couple traded barbs, parting on bad terms.
What should have been a warm reunion after a long separation ended with both turning their backs in bed, refusing to speak.

Zhou Changshou watched in dismay, slapping himself mentally — why bring up the one thing that shouldn’t be mentioned?

As the Yu family’s fortunes rose, the very name “Yu” became taboo in the Zhou household.
Anyone who mentioned it got an ugly look.

So why had he blurted it out?

He knew they’d quarreled, but what could Zhao Qiaoniang say?
Nothing.

She slept in a makeshift bed in the narrow hallway, frowning.
What to do?

That was all in the past.
Regretting now? In two years, they’d be holding grandchildren.

Did she regret it?
She refused to admit it — even to herself.

If she’d stayed in the Yu family, her life would be better now.
She wouldn’t still be working at her age.
But… she wanted to be with her daughter and grandson.

So no — no regrets.
And even if there were, it was useless.

Her daughter and son-in-law just couldn’t let things go.
Thinking so much about “what ifs” was pointless.

They didn’t even need to be asked — it was obvious what they’d been fighting about.
This wasn’t the first time.

Every fight ended in a cold war, but she figured this one wouldn’t last long.
Zhou Boyang wouldn’t be here long anyway, so after a night of sulking,
the next morning they both just… forgot about it,
and went back to being friendly.

Ding Minxiu chattered on,
“When you go back, make sure you push your son to study harder. He didn’t get into the vocational secondary school, but he can still try for university later. If his clothes get too small, buy him new ones. I bought him a pair of shoes earlier — you take them back with you…”

Zhou Boyang replied,
“Mm, alright, I will. You two take care of your health here too.”

Seeing them getting along, Zhou Changshou and Zhao Qiaoniang both felt relieved.

Zhou Changshou stayed behind to work and earn money, while Zhou Boyang took the train back to Baishi County.

Life returned to his usual routine. His son claimed he was studying hard, but his grades showed no improvement. Was he really putting in the effort?
And if he couldn’t get into university, then what?

Would he just take over his grandmother’s job?
It wasn’t impossible, but if they were talking about a bright future, of course being a university graduate would be better.

Sometimes Zhou Boyang wondered if this was retribution — because of the wrong they’d done in the past, Heaven had given Yu Xiang’an compensation, letting her life get better and better, while theirs was sliding downhill.
When would these days end…?

Ye Qijia and Yu Xianghai returned to Baishi County with big bags of clothes.
A few days after coming back, they found a spot to set up a street stall.

Just as Yu Mingjie had suggested, they made a simple display rack, set it upright, and hung the clothes to show customers.

Clothes with a wholesale price of 6.5 yuan sold for 18 yuan, those bought at 8 yuan sold for 25, 10-yuan pieces went for 35, and those at 12 yuan… well, those could fetch 50 or 60.

The styles were genuinely attractive. Even Ye Qijia, who knew some were clearly unsuitable for her age, couldn’t resist them. Loving beauty was second nature to women.
If she felt that way, then young unmarried girls in their prime had even less self-control.

Especially couples who were dating — once they saw such clothes, they couldn’t walk away.

She didn’t even have to quit her job — just set up after work, pack up before dark, and head home.

Most of the clothes she brought out could sell seven or eight out of ten in one go. Those who missed out on a piece they liked would even come find her afterward to buy it.

She’d taken all these clothes home without spending a penny, and in just two days, she had hundreds of yuan in hand.
Once everything sold, she estimated she could make around a thousand. Even after deducting the wholesale cost, they’d clear several hundred yuan.

When the couple counted the money, they just stared at each other.

It was Yu Xianghai’s first time holding that much cash; his hands trembled.
“No wonder Xiao An went into business — it makes so much money.”

His monthly wage was just over 40 yuan, maybe 400–500 a year.
And in two days, they’d earned what would take him more than two years of not eating or drinking to save.

Ye Qijia was stunned.
“My sister gave us so many clothes to bring back, and I was worried we wouldn’t sell them all. Looking back now, I really underestimated it.”

In a few days, they’d sold out. Counting the money brought joy — followed quickly by worry.

Keeping so much cash at home didn’t feel safe. What if a thief broke in and stole it?

Ye Qijia bought two big locks, but those could be pried open too.
She ended up hiding small portions of the money in all the nooks and crannies of the house. Only then did she feel somewhat secure — even if a thief came, they wouldn’t find it all.

Her ambition blazed up.
“This way, I’ve already earned back all the wages I’d make for the rest of my working years, and my retirement pay too. I could just quit, put this money in the bank, and live off the interest.”

It made sense. Yu Xianghai was also fired up.
“I’ll work hard with you.”

They had three kids, and once the children got married, housing would need to be sorted out.

With their current savings, they could secure a place for their eldest son. The second son’s had been on hold, but now with this income stream, they could do both at once — and even get themselves a bigger home.
Who didn’t want a large house, like his younger sister’s?

So the couple diligently sold clothes in Baishi County.
It didn’t look like much, but the profits were impressive.

Yu Xiang’an could tell how well they were doing just from the amount of stock they ordered — she could roughly calculate how many pieces they’d sold and how much money they’d made.
She felt a quiet satisfaction.

Among all her siblings, her eldest brother’s family had been living the tightest.

Even though both worked and had salaries, they had three kids, cramped housing because they’d never been assigned a bigger place, and elderly parents on both sides to visit — visits that couldn’t be made empty-handed, meaning more expenses.

Next down the line, Yu Xiangyan and his wife were both university graduates, with much higher pay. Though they also had three kids, his side investments meant they were financially comfortable.

Then came Yu Xiangqing, teaching at a middle school in her husband’s hometown while also writing for a newspaper — two incomes, one child, and limited expenses.

As for Yu Xiang’an herself, her position spoke for itself. And the youngest, Yu Xiangju, was still in university; once she started working, her salary wouldn’t be low either.

By comparison, the eldest brother’s family had been the most frugal.
But now things were looking up.

After so many years with no word, everyone assumed there was no hope of hearing from the “little grandaunt” again — even Zhang Chahua and Yu Changcun had stopped expecting news.

But then came a surprise: they had returned to Baishi County.

Back then, they’d sent the little grandaunt as a child bride to a nearby family in the next town over, because they were doing relatively well — what people used to call a “landlord family.”

But the landlord’s son had problems — a broken leg that never healed, leaving him limping, and facial scars that marred his looks. Still, that family could feed her. Being able to fill her stomach meant survival, and only with survival could one talk about anything else.

So the parents of Yu Changyou and his brothers sent their youngest daughter there.

This “landlord” wasn’t anything grand — just a slightly bigger landowner, with a few dozen mu of land instead of a few mu like ordinary folk.
A small-scale landlord, the lowest rung.

Later, during wartime, without powerful connections and with a bit of wealth that drew enemies, they couldn’t survive in their hometown. They fled suddenly, fearing trouble, and were gone for decades.

Only now had they returned, bringing back the ashes of the little grandaunt’s parents-in-law.

Yu Changxi also wanted to see if she had any surviving relatives.
She’d left in such a hurry she hadn’t been able to say goodbye, and she longed to see her brothers again.
She didn’t even know if they were still alive — she herself was nearly seventy.

Yu Qingshan and Yu Xiang’an heard the news directly from Zhang Chahua over the phone.

On the other end, Zhang Chahua’s voice was high with excitement:
“Second son! Come back quick — your little aunt and her husband have come back, brought the whole family, children and grandchildren, thriving and prosperous. Hurry and come see your kin!”

She was so happy.
If she could tell her late husband in the afterlife, she’d surely tease him — if he’d stayed a little longer, he could have seen his little sister himself.

Now she could only deliver the news through her own mouth.
She imagined that if he knew, he’d be pounding his chest in regret.

Serves him right — leaving so early.
Bet he’s regretting it now.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Ch 87: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

When Yang Huili learned about it, her feelings were… complicated.

Although she hadn’t expected her youngest daughter-in-law to be this sort of dazzling, eye-catching woman, she still wondered — were the two of them really a good match?

As for minding the fact she’d been married before — well, of course there was a little something in her heart. In the village, it was usually second marriages with second marriages; if someone in a first marriage married a divorcée, it usually meant something was wrong with the first marriage. And being a stepmother was hard, same as being a stepfather.

But finally getting a match for her youngest son, Yang Huili had no intention of objecting. With his temperament, if she opposed it, he might end up a lifelong bachelor.

So she agreed. Aside from that one detail about the woman having been married, they actually looked quite well-matched, and now she no longer had to worry about her younger son’s finances — both of them could make money.

The man’s side had no objections, and neither did the woman’s. She was a career woman, and her family had long since stopped interfering in her decisions.

The couple moved quickly. Since the families didn’t object, they soon renovated a house and got their marriage license.

The next year, they had a daughter, whom they both doted on endlessly.

Yu Mansheng was a few years younger than Yu Xiang’an — by the time her two kids were already eleven, his child had just been born. How could they possibly care about whether it was a boy or girl?

They hired a maternity nanny and a regular nanny. The new parents didn’t know how to care for a baby, so they brought Yang Huili over. After the confinement period ended, whenever they went out, they weren’t willing to leave the baby entirely in the hands of outsiders — having the child’s own grandmother watch over her was reassuring.

Yang Huili was delighted to come and help take care of the baby — she’d been waiting for this day. She’d already been able to hand off her duties with Yuman-chang’s family. Now she could finally help her “problem case” younger son raise a child, and she couldn’t be happier.

But once she came, there were things she couldn’t help but find fault with.

First was the waste.

If she was here to look after the child, why not let the nanny go? The pricey maternity nanny during confinement she could accept — that period was important, and if they wanted to pay for peace of mind, fine. But once the month was over and the nanny gone, wasn’t she there to take over?

Why keep a regular nanny?

It didn’t sit right with her.

This was the kind of thing only old landlords could afford.

She didn’t have to cook or clean; all she had to do was watch the child. With both her and the nanny, it was easy work — but just thinking about paying that salary every month made her heart ache.

Couldn’t she manage on her own? Wouldn’t it be better to save that money for meat, instead of handing it out?

Then there was the waste with food. The mother needed to eat well for breastfeeding, of course, but instead she was off doing postpartum recovery workouts, barely touching all the chicken, fish, and pork trotters. It was her son doing most of the eating — he was getting plumper, while the daughter-in-law was actually getting thinner. The scale told the truth about where all those supplements were going.

If the mother wasn’t eating well, where would the milk come from? Now the baby wasn’t getting full and they had to buy formula — tiny cans that were shockingly expensive.

And the clothes. Her daughter-in-law had a whole walk-in closet full of clothes, shoes, and handbags, and was still buying new ones from time to time. The cupboards at home could barely hold them.

Why buy so many? A few nice outfits were enough; everyday clothes didn’t need to be so fancy. And her figure was still changing — wouldn’t it be better to buy more once it stabilized?

She didn’t want to say this directly to her daughter-in-law, so she told Yu Mansheng instead.

Yu Mansheng: “Mom, that’s just the way she’s always lived. When she married me, we agreed our life would be at least as good as before — not worse. Otherwise, why would she marry me?”

Yang Huili: “It’s different now — before she didn’t have a child! Back then, she could spend whatever she earned, but now she should be saving for the baby. You think raising a child is easy? Look at this imported formula you’re drinking every day — how much does a can cost? Later there’s school fees, a dowry if it’s a girl, and what if you have two more kids? Have you thought about how much that’ll cost?”

Yu Mansheng: “Mom, we’re both working hard to earn money. Don’t worry — money’s not just saved, it’s made. You have to open new sources of income, not just cut back.”

It was simply a difference in spending philosophy. He’d grown up poor too, but after years in the Special Zone, he’d learned to be more accepting — live the way that makes you comfortable. And his wife didn’t just buy for herself; she bought for him and for his mother, too. But his mother, though pleased to receive them, would tuck them away unused, still wearing her old clothes and saying the nice ones were “too good to wear unless there’s an occasion.”

On that point, Yu Qingshan could sympathize — he too often thought Yu Xiang’an spent too freely, but after enough “heart attacks” over it, he’d gotten used to the fact that as long as the money was in her hands and she kept earning, there was nothing he could do.

As for the nanny, Lu Anran was never going to fire her. Aside from giving them someone to swap off with so neither got too tired, the other reason was simple: Yang Huili’s cooking just wasn’t good. She was too frugal — her dishes were low oil and low salt, and really not tasty. Even Yu Mansheng, after years of eating well outside, found it bland. A few meals like that was “home cooking,” but long-term, it was just dull.

For the clothes, Lu Anran understood her mother-in-law’s frugal mindset and didn’t want to upset her, so she simply sent the bulk of her new purchases to another residence she kept. Out of sight, out of mind — and out of nagging range.

Seeing how well things were going for them, Yu Xiang’an found herself missing Lin Chuanbai and the children.

Before, both of them had been alone here; now she was still by herself, but he was part of a family of three.

Yu Mansheng just laughed: “Sister Xiao’an, isn’t your brother-in-law coming soon? Then you won’t have to envy me anymore.”

He was thoroughly pleased with his life — mother, wife, and daughter all together. Perfect.

Yu Xiang’an: “Before, when it wasn’t certain he could come, I didn’t feel much. But now that it’s close, I’m restless and looking forward to it.”

Yu Mansheng: “Normal. Won’t be long now.”

Lin Chuanbai had accepted an invitation from Yangcheng University and joined a university lab there. He really liked the environment of an academic laboratory.

Yu Xiangju and Yu Mingjie were delighted. Even though they weren’t at the same university, it wasn’t far — much easier to visit. And while their schools weren’t top-tier, they were still a very good start for ordinary students.

With Lin Chuanbai in the city, the children could also transfer to the affiliated elementary and middle schools — no more worries about schooling.

Now, every weekend, Lin Chuanbai could drive or take the train to see Yu Xiang’an. And although the twins were reluctant to leave their old classmates, they wanted even more to be with their parents. If their mom couldn’t come home on weekends, they could still go spend it with her and their grandfather.

If the mountain won’t come to me, then I’ll go to the mountain.

If Dad isn’t too busy, the whole family could reunite every week — how great would that be.

Lin Chuanbai was assigned housing, but it was too small.

The whole family staying there would be cramped.

But Yu Xiang’an had already bought a place ahead of time — three bedrooms. The exterior was a bit old, but the interior could be renovated, and it would be fine.

That way, even if Yu Qingshan came, there’d still be space for him.

The twins could share a bunk bed and be set.

Normally, they’d each have their own room.

After transferring schools, the twins discovered a coincidence — in their class, they met an acquaintance: Wang Lijun’s younger brother, Wang Lipan.

Lin Yining had seen a photo of the three siblings at Wang Lijun’s place before. Since the three of them resembled each other and were all strikingly good-looking, Lin Yining had remembered them at a glance. So when she saw him now, she recognized him immediately.

Transfer students weren’t common. The teacher brought them up front to introduce themselves, and as soon as they said their names, he recognized them too — his sister had mentioned them before. It was quite the coincidence.

During the break, Lin Yining enthusiastically went up to Wang Lipan to chat, and Lin Yihong silently facepalmed.

That habit of hers — incurable.

Lin Yining asked, “We’re going again this summer vacation. Will you come too? We could keep each other company.”

Wang Lipan shook his head. “My sister’s place is too far. I’m not going.”

Lin Yining blinked, then understood — “too far” meant he wasn’t going, not that he wouldn’t go to training. Judging from his build, he clearly had a military background.

There seemed to be a garrison here as well. And where there’s a garrison, there are inevitably military dependents.

So yes, no need to travel all the way north.

Wang Lipan asked, “You guys just moved here?”

Lin Yining: “Yeah. My dad got transferred here, so we came along.”

Wang Lipan got it.

He himself had transferred here before for the same reason — following a parent’s work relocation.

Wang Lipan’s deskmate, a chubby boy, looked the two of them over as they chatted. “Hey, you two knew each other before?”

Lin Yining giggled. “Nope, this is our first time meeting, but I know his sister.”

The chubby boy “oh-oh’d” a couple of times. “Hey, since you guys are from the capital, can you tell us what it’s like there? When I grow up, I want to go see it too.”

Over at Lin Yihong’s side, he was surrounded as well.

From north to south — the capital’s status was undeniable. Almost everyone longed to see it. Two good-looking twins from the capital showing up was rare, and since they weren’t aloof or cliquish, classmates happily crowded around to talk and laugh with them.

They quickly blended into their new environment and made friends.

When Lin Chuanbai heard about this coincidence, he nodded, then took out some nougat Yu Xiang’an had made. “This box is for you to share with your classmates. This one’s for your teachers. Tell them your mom made it herself and would like them to try.”

Homemade treats wouldn’t cause any awkwardness and could be given freely.

Perfect.

When Lin Chuanbai arrived here, Yu Xiang’an stayed over for a week.

The twins had also been observing to see whether they’d have trouble adjusting to their new environment. The nougat had been made in advance with the plan of letting them bring a little to school each day to share — making friends through snacks.

But clearly, they didn’t need it — they were making friends just fine without.

Other things still needed attention, though — like extracurricular activities.

Neither Lin Chuanbai nor Yu Xiang’an forced them to learn anything in particular. They could try whatever they wanted, and quit if they lost interest, but the hope was that they’d each find at least one hobby they truly liked and would stick with long-term.

Lin Yihong had chosen painting, abacus, and soccer, and had tried learning an instrument. Now, influenced by movies and TV, he was obsessed with kung fu and wanted to be a martial arts hero. They’d have to see if there was a martial arts school nearby.

Lin Yining had chosen dance, singing, and playing the erhu and flute. She’d tried many hobbies, some abandoned after just three lessons when she lost interest. The only ones she’d stuck with were erhu and dance.

Those would be easy enough to find classes for.

Yu Xiang’an asked, “Want to try something else?”

Kids weren’t fully formed yet — there was still time to redefine their interests.

Lin Yining thought for a moment. “The actresses in movies are so pretty. What can I learn to make myself prettier — besides dance?”

Dance could shape the body and improve poise, but was there something else?

She liked good-looking people, and of course wanted to become even better-looking herself.

Since she’d been dancing for a long time and would likely keep at it, Yu Xiang’an suggested, “Want to switch instruments? Not that erhu is bad, but…”

Lin Yining shook her head. “Nah, I’ll see later. I’m busy now.” She wanted to bond with new friends first; hobbies could wait.

Since they’d made their choices — martial arts for one, erhu and dance for the other — Yu Xiang’an didn’t push further.

Seeing her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren reunited made Yu Qingshan deeply content.

Finally, they were together again — long-term separation was too risky. Now he could stop worrying.

Another benefit of Lin Chuanbai being here was that Yu Xiangju and Yu Mingjie often hitched rides to visit. As students, they had weekends free, no real financial pressures, and support from both school subsidies and family.

Still with a bit of childishness, they often took the twins out. They knew the area well, but usually stuck to safe places like zoos and amusement parks — never to newer spots like video halls or karaoke bars, worried the kids might pick up bad habits.

After a while here, the twins were practically reluctant to leave — playing with friends at school during the week, going out with uncles and cousins on weekends.

Everything was fresh and exciting.

While Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an didn’t go on business calls together, having him around meant they could discuss things and make more well-rounded decisions.

Now, Wu Wei Restaurant had expanded into Yangcheng, training staff in the Special Zone before sending them to new branches and recruiting locally.

The Special Zone was the headquarters, slowly expanding outward to other cities.

Several years into Reform and Opening, especially here near the Special Zone, the changes were dramatic compared to inland areas — living standards had generally improved.

With more disposable income, people naturally wanted to upgrade their clothing, food, housing, and transportation.

Right now, housing still wasn’t something most thought of buying — people were used to relying on work-unit allocation, and housing stock was limited. Even if there was something for sale, it wasn’t cheap relative to workers’ wages.

As for travel, introduction letters were still needed — you couldn’t just wander at will.

Food and clothing were the basics. With better conditions, it was only natural to dress and eat better, especially with the one-child policy — every family’s child was a little treasure, and few parents could resist when their kid wanted something tasty.

Yu Xiang’an was now gradually shifting her focus back to the domestic market. With such a huge population and market, it would be foolish to ignore it.

The production line now had plenty of capacity, and there was space too — so why not expand into this market?

Once the production line was enlarged, many of the more capable old-timers were promoted.

Chen Xiaoyang became a team leader, now managing several people. Her base salary went up a grade, and her monthly bonus increased too. Altogether, she could make fifty to sixty yuan a month.

As she brought more and more money home, her say in the household grew.

Before, her mother had the final word on everything — her father was silent and reserved, never offering opinions, just burying himself in work. Big or small, all decisions were her mother’s to make.

Now, whatever it was, her mother would first ask her opinion.

The family’s savings were all thanks to her.

Even her sister-in-law, who used to look down on her as the “little sister-in-law,” now greeted her with nothing but smiles.

The change was stark.

When she went back to the village on break and met her old childhood playmates, they all felt like they were from different worlds.

They looked several years older than her, often with children in tow.

They were married, living with their in-laws, doing farm work, raising children, and managing the household — everything.

So much worry aged them quickly.

Sometimes, seeing them made Chen Xiaoyang shiver. If she hadn’t gone for that factory recruitment and been chosen, she would be just like them now. The thought alone was chilling.

That kind of life — you could see the end of it at a glance.

Sometimes she would try to persuade these old friends to look for jobs outside. There were more and more opportunities now — no matter the work, you could make a few dozen yuan a month.

Wasn’t that better than scraping in the fields?

But they had many reasons to refuse.

“The kids are still young — I can’t leave.”
“If I go, my man and the kids will starve.”
“What if I get scammed?”
“If I leave, who will take care of the land?”

Every time, she was left speechless. If they truly wanted to go out, they could find solutions — but they seemed resistant.

They didn’t want to break out of their comfortable routines.

How could she persuade them?

If she tried to convince them to learn to read and do arithmetic, she’d get an even bigger pushback.

“At our age, you expect us to go to school?”

Chen Xiaoyang: “…”

When she didn’t have to work overtime in the evenings, she would go to the cafeteria to chat. Sometimes people would be writing or reading newspapers, and she’d go over, shamelessly asking questions. Now she knew quite a few characters — without this, she wouldn’t have been promoted to team leader.

She had tasted the benefits of education.

With knowledge, you could earn more money.

If her own children grew up illiterate, who would hire them?

Schooling wasn’t free — tuition, books, miscellaneous fees, twice a year.

If you wanted to send a child to university, the costs were crushing.

She wasn’t in a hurry to find a husband yet, but she had already decided: no matter who she married, she would never let him stop her from working outside. She had to earn money to put her kids through school — even university.

How valuable was education?

Their deputy factory director was a university graduate. Before college, he’d already worked and gained experience. When he came, the factory director allocated him a three-bedroom, two-living-room apartment, with the agreement that after five years of good work, the deed would be in his name.

Such a big place could be remodeled into four or even five bedrooms — enough for three generations to live in!

What a tempting deal.

When she learned of it, her heart pounded — she wished she could take that spot herself, but she didn’t have the qualifications.

Still, she had a chance at her own house thanks to a new rule this year:

If you worked continuously in the factory or stores for fifteen years, with two “Excellent” performance ratings and no mistakes, you could be allocated your own home — the smallest a one-bedroom, one-living-room, the largest three bedrooms and two living rooms!

Another path was to earn “Excellent” for three consecutive years and sign a ten-year no-resignation contract — then you’d also get a home, at least two bedrooms and one living room.

When she heard about it, she decided: she would keep studying, earn two “Excellents,” and get a house!

Gu Nanfeng was just as motivated — he’d already earned one “Excellent,” which came with a generous bonus.

He needed two more, and in the next two years, his chances were high. Then he could sign the contract and get the house.

He was now the general manager of Wu Wei Restaurant in the Special Zone, overseeing all related operations there.

He knew exactly where the factory housing would be built — right behind the plant. It looked a bit remote now, but once the buildings were up and people moved in, it wouldn’t be. He’d seen the plans — everything was well laid out.

He was confident he’d be one of the first residents.

When Yu Qingshan heard about this decision, it felt like another heart attack.

“You’re so wasteful! Do you know how much it costs to build a house? If you just rented it out later, even if your kids turned out useless, you’d never worry about food!”

Wasteful indeed!

Yu Xiang’an explained patiently:

“Dad, don’t get worked up. This is about giving people a sense of belonging. With that, they’ll work harder. You know how some people keep hopping between jobs for better pay? Do we have that problem?”

Yu Qingshan had to admit — no, they didn’t.

Their base pay was average, but the bonuses were high. Total income beat many outside jobs, and the benefits were good. Now there was even the possibility of getting a home — not just to live in, but deeded to their name and inheritable.

If it were him, he wouldn’t want to leave either.

Yu Xiang’an crunched the numbers for him:

“And the ‘Excellent’ awards are limited. The contributions those people make more than cover the property’s value. The more they get, the more money they make for me — I’m not losing out.”

As business boomed, people inevitably tried to learn her recipes.

Her domestically sold instant packaged braised snacks were hot sellers — just open, plate, steam, and serve. Convenient, tasty, and the orders never stopped.

In stark contrast, some collective enterprises were now struggling.

Before, they controlled production materials — there was never unsold stock, only shortages.

Take the meat processing plants, for example. In the past, working there gave you bragging rights, with plenty begging for offal or pig’s blood and bones.

Now, with private pig farming allowed, many rural households raised pigs, selling directly at markets — no ration coupons, no connections needed, first come, first served.

That hit their business hard.

Worse still was the supply and marketing cooperative.

Ye Qijia now had little to do — customers no longer liked buying there.

They preferred private shops — more variety, lower prices, better service. Who liked being treated poorly?

Even Ye Qijia herself preferred shopping in those places.

But if things kept on like this, what would happen?

Yes, it was an iron rice bowl — but even iron rice bowls could be reassigned. And once reassigned, would her pay and benefits drop?

Ye Qijia thought of her uncle, Qin Fengmao.
He used to work in a state-owned restaurant, but later retired and set up his own food stall.

Life couldn’t be better for him now — the new house he built might not be the best, but it was certainly among the top ones in the area.

She began wondering whether she and her husband should also think about another path.

Once that idea took hold, she couldn’t push it away.

She decided to go to her son’s father-in-law and sister-in-law for advice — they lived in a big city and had seen the world.

Yu Xianghai: “…Are you sure about this? That job of yours is steady no matter what happens.”

Ye Qijia: “I’m not sure, that’s why I’m going to ask. You know how idle we are now — right across from our supply and marketing cooperative, a shop opened, and business there is incredible. Their styles are much better too. Even I buy things there. Tell me, if this keeps going, can we really say our job will always be secure?”

Yu Xianghai’s situation at the hardware factory was still decent. After thinking for a moment, he said, “Then wait for me. I’ll ask for some time off and we’ll go together.”

Meanwhile, the Zhou family was under a cloud of worry.

Both Zhou Boyang and his father, Zhou Duosun, worked at the meat processing plant. They had just been notified that Zhou Duosun would have to retire early.

There would still be income after retirement, but it certainly wouldn’t be as much as now.

Their only son, Zhou Tianyou, didn’t care: “Grandpa was going to retire in a few years anyway. If it’s now, then so be it.”

Fang Rong lightly patted him: “With less income, what about when you’re still repeating school this year, and then going to university, and getting married later? All of that costs money. Once he retires, there’ll be less money!”

Zhou Tianyou’s eyes darted: “If we need money, we can find other work. Isn’t that what Mom and Grandma did — go earn money elsewhere?” He grinned and snuggled up: “If I repeat one more year, I’m sure I can get into university! Once I’m in, Grandpa, Grandma, you should come live with me. I know you’ve suffered a lot for me. Later, you won’t have to do anything — just enjoy life.”

Fang Rong couldn’t stop smiling: “You’re such a thoughtful child. Grandma knows. Don’t worry — just study hard, and leave the money worries to us!”

Not long after, Zhou Duosun and Zhou Boyang boarded a southbound train to the Special Economic Zone to look for Ding Minxiu and Zhao Qiaoniang.

When they exited the station, they ran straight into Yu Qingshan, who was about to enter the station to take a train to Yangcheng.

Yu Qingshan’s clothes didn’t have a single patch. Nothing was expensive, but it was obvious from his appearance that life was treating him well.

Zhou Duosun, on the other hand, had deliberately chosen old, shabby clothes. Zhou Boyang’s weren’t much better. They squeezed through the crowd looking disheveled.

Zhou Duosun reacted quickly — his neck shrank, his head lowered, and he hurriedly pulled Zhou Boyang away.

Standing behind Yu Qingshan, Yu Xiang’an saw him stop and asked, “Dad, what’s wrong?”

Yu Qingshan, in high spirits, said, “Nothing. I just saw someone I’d had a falling out with. Looked like he wasn’t doing too well. Made me feel good.”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Ch 86: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Kids that badly behaved have to be taught a lesson — and the reason such kids exist is because they’re spoiled by their equally irresponsible parents. If they’d been disciplined before, would they dare to act like this now?

Of course not. It’s only because the parents didn’t care that the children became more and more unruly.

And when something serious happens, they just try to play the rogue — as if throwing a tantrum could erase their responsibility?

What if no one had passed by in time?

What would have happened to the elderly lady then? Just the thought was frightening.

Once Yu Xiang’an knew what Qin Fengmao planned to do, she felt at ease.

They had to be punished properly — make the compensation they owed, apologize as they should, and bear the responsibility that was theirs.

If a casual “sorry” could settle everything, then what use would the police be?

When Yu Qingshan heard about it, he was furious too, and thought the same way.

“At that age, we were already working just to fill our stomachs. Now that life’s better, parents don’t teach their kids — they just let them turn rotten.”

Yu Xiang’an went to see Lin Yunling, who worked here.

She asked in detail about Yao Cuifen’s condition.

Lin Yunling said, “Grandma’s bones are still in decent shape, but at her age, she needs to rest well. I’ve given your uncle a recipe for soup — follow the proportions, it’ll be good for her recovery.”

Yu Xiang’an said, “Thanks, Sis! With you here, I can rest easy.”

Having someone on the inside always made things easier.

Lin Yunling waved her hand. “What are you thanking me for? We’re family.”

Then she changed the subject to her child. “Yuan Yuan’s taking the college entrance exam next year, right? Have you thought about what university or major?”

Fu Yuan’s grades were decent thanks to the strict discipline at home, but a top-tier university was out of reach.

When it came to this, Lin Yunling was torn. “His grandparents want him to go to a normal university and become a teacher, but I think we could consider other majors — medicine, for example.”

“What about the kid himself? Does he have any ideas?” Yu Xiang’an asked.

Lin Yunling shook her head. “He hasn’t decided. I suggested the capital or Shanghai — his uncles are there — but his grandparents think it’s too far. They want him nearby, ideally in the city. But what good universities do we have here? Staying would be such a waste.”

Yu Xiang’an suggested, “He could try for Yangcheng. It’s close enough to get home easily, and there are plenty of schools to choose from.”

Lin Yunling nodded. “His dad said the same thing.”

Yu Xiang’an didn’t know all the universities in Yangcheng, but said, “My younger brother and nephew are studying there. I can ask them to put together a booklet of information for him to use as reference.”

“That would be perfect,” Lin Yunling said with some delight.

Yu Xiang’an added, “Grandma still needs to stay in the hospital here, so I’ll have to trouble you to keep an eye on her. I can’t stay long.”

“No problem!” Lin Yunling promised, patting her chest.

…

Back in the Special Zone, Yu Xiang’an kept a closer eye on Yu Qingshan — making sure he drank spring water regularly, warning him to be careful when traveling farther afield.

Yu Qingshan was half-amused, half-exasperated. He wasn’t at that age yet, and he was still in good health.

These days his life was very regular. He’d get up in the morning, wash up, have breakfast with his daughter in the canteen, then start work. Yu Xiang’an had her factory director’s office; his was right next door, but he rarely stayed there. Most of the time, he wandered around.

Sometimes he’d check the warehouse inventory, sometimes observe production on the line, and sometimes visit the finance office.

There was no set routine, and he never announced his visits in advance. If he caught someone slacking, the first and second times might pass, but the third time, it went in his little notebook — and money got docked.

With an “unpredictable bomb” like that around, few dared to be blatantly lazy. But no matter how sharp your ears, you couldn’t always see him coming.

It was like a tension cord Yu Xiang’an had strung across the place — too loose and people relaxed; but if they saw Yu Qingshan, they’d straighten up.

Sometimes Yu Xiang’an herself would do a walk-around, checking if there were any problems.

…

Chen Xiaoyang was the youngest daughter in her family. Her older siblings had all been married off as soon as they reached the age, but things were different for her.

Since this place became a Special Zone, many outside bosses had come in, and there were more options than just farming.

She’d been lucky enough to be hired by a boss, earning 33 yuan a month — over 40 with overtime.

Her mother, who had once been eager to marry her off, now wanted her to stay home a few more years, earn more money, and help fund her nephews’ schooling.

At sixteen, not yet seventeen, she was happy with this arrangement — she didn’t want to marry so soon.

She was willing to contribute to the household, but she also hid a little bonus money for herself. The rest she handed to her mother — she couldn’t have no money at all.

After working here for a while, she no longer wanted to go home. At home she had to share a bed with her mother, eat watery coarse-grain porridge that left her hungry, with the solid food going to her nephews. And once home, she never rested — she had to share housework, watch the kids, and tend the garden, poultry, and pigs. Compared to that, even overtime at the factory was easier — and it paid.

Her family preferred her not to come home too — she could bring back more money that way.

She worked in quality control. Their products were for export, so it would be shameful if foreign customers bit into a defective item.

Most people worked carefully, but there were occasional issues, and that’s where her team came in. She envied the machine operators the most — they were so skilled. Sadly, she hadn’t dared to try when she joined, since she could barely write her own name.

Now she could recognize more characters, because every morning the foreman had them recite the posted rules until they memorized them. She’d also learned to count better — before, she could only go from one to thirty, and anything over a hundred confused her. Now she could handle addition and subtraction within a hundred without mistakes.

Life here was good — wages, uniforms, full meals, dormitory housing, and the chance to learn to read.

Putting a checked product back, she looked up and saw the boss on an inspection round. She was excited, but seeing how quietly the boss came, clearly not wanting to disturb the work, she only blushed, nodded respectfully, and threw herself back into the job.

She wanted to show her best side — to be seen.

Remembering yesterday’s posted menu — half a fried egg per person for lunch today — she worked even harder. Since her nephews were born, she’d never had that again; eggs were either sold or given to them for nourishment.

Where did such good days come from?

From the boss, who gave them this job and these benefits.

Yu Xiang’an noticed the girl — thin and small, but with especially bright eyes, working with a joyful expression.

Yu Xiang’an smiled. She remembered her — she’d personally interviewed every hire. Back then, the girl had been scrawny, with dry, yellowed hair. Now she’d grown taller and had some flesh on her face.

Behind Chen Xiaoyang stood Sun Pandì, who noticed the boss only because of Chen’s nod.

She smiled briefly, then bent her head and went back to work.

Just a few days earlier, she had received her very first paycheck — 41.82 yuan. Before that, all the money she had in the world was 3.24 yuan — not just her personal savings, but her entire household’s savings.

Her husband had died from illness, leaving her to raise two children alone. Having even that 3 yuan proved how capable she was.

It wasn’t easy for a widow to survive the gossip and hardships at her door. Now she had entered the factory, and her daughter had joined too, working in the production line’s packaging team. With overtime, the girl could earn eighty or ninety yuan a month.

Her son was farming back home. Sun Pandì figured that in a few months, when she had three or four hundred yuan saved, she could repair the family house and start arranging her son’s marriage. Once he was married, she would spend another two years saving for her daughter’s dowry — and her biggest worries would be solved.

With her daughter holding such a job, there would be no trouble finding her a good husband. The girl was still young, so working two more years wouldn’t delay anything.

Before this job, Sun Pandì had fretted daily about her children’s marriages. Her son was getting older, and his peers were already wed, but their family was so poor it was hard just to survive, let alone afford a wife. These days, brides’ families expected much more than before, and she couldn’t scrape the money together no matter how many relatives she begged.

She used to wake each day with a headache over it. Now, the future looked full of hope.

Their story wasn’t unique. Many in the factory felt deep gratitude toward the boss — the job had transformed their lives.

The only regret was that this wasn’t a state-owned enterprise, so they couldn’t count on working here forever. Still, they could earn as much as possible while they could. Judging by the endless stream of orders and the growing staff, there was no sign of the factory closing.

Some outsiders were starting to feel envy. When Yu Xiang’an had first bought the land, the location had been fairly remote. But now, both neighboring plots had been sold — one to a cannery making meat and fruit products, the other to a pastry factory making seasonal treats like mooncakes for Mid-Autumn Festival and gift boxes for New Year, plus biscuits and candies year-round.

Both neighbors sold domestically, whereas Yu Xiang’an exported, earning foreign exchange — something the country sorely needed to buy goods from abroad.

They, too, wanted to try exporting and get in on that channel. But in Yu Xiang’an’s eyes, their products didn’t taste great. Business was still possible only because supplies were scarce and nothing went to waste. Without improvement, they’d be eliminated within a decade or two.

They all faced the same crossroads.

During a holiday period, when Yu Xiang’an saw their high shipment volumes, she thought she could also branch out into gift products — especially mooncakes, which were hugely profitable. With fancy packaging, cheap mooncakes could skyrocket in price. Add a few more pastry types, pack them into a gift set, and the profit margin would be impressive. Once the brand was established, it would be even better.

This was a business worth doing.

Meanwhile, the Special Zone was in a construction boom. The building Yu Xiang’an and Yu Mansheng developed together wasn’t unique.

The layout was simple, with no more than eight floors — there was no concept of elevators yet. Four units per floor, with shops on the first floor and apartments above.

They weren’t selling bare shells, but units with basic decoration, so a buyer could move in after furnishing.

Yu Mansheng kept one unit for his parents, as his current home wasn’t suitable. Yu Xiang’an kept one as “bait” — she still needed talent, and most skilled workers were on state payrolls or about to graduate as state-assigned workers. Few wanted to join a private factory — unless the pay and perks were tempting enough.

This apartment was that temptation. It was much larger than the cramped state-allocated ones, perfect for a family. If someone urgently needed housing, offering this as part of the job package could work.

Housing was always attractive.

After decorating his unit and buying furniture, Yu Mansheng called his family. Yang Huili stormed over.

“I’m not moving in. We already have a place. You fix this up as your wedding home!” She no longer cared where he married or lived — she just wanted him married.

Did he still think he was young? If he delayed any longer, his elder brother’s son might be married before he even had children.

Yang Huili took Yu Xiang’an’s hand and sighed. “You work with him, see him often. Have you noticed him getting close to any girl? I don’t care about anything else — just two conditions: she’s female, and she can bear children. That’s it! Not too much to ask, right?”

Yu Xiang’an shook her head, half amused. “Not too much. If I see any signs, I’ll tell you.”

Yang Huili nodded, then glared at Yu Mansheng, who turned away to avoid her gaze.

She shifted targets. “Second Uncle,” she said to Yu Qingshan, “you’re here too. Help me keep an eye on him. His wings are getting stiff — he doesn’t listen anymore. Look at his peers — most already have older kids, and he’s still single. How can I be at ease?”

Yu Qingshan agreed completely. “A man should marry when he’s grown, and a woman should wed when she’s of age.” He eyed his nephew. “Tell us what kind of girl you’re looking for — your mother and I will keep watch for you.”

There were plenty of unmarried women around — older, younger, pretty, gentle, fiery — all types.

In his view, his nephew had height, decent looks, was energetic, and had no worries about livelihood. Any girl would be marrying into comfort. If he put his mind to it, pursuing any of them wouldn’t be hard.

Yu Mansheng bared his teeth in a grin, playing dumb. “Mom, don’t worry. I promise I’ll bring you a daughter-in-law this year, okay?”

Yang Huili gave him a side-eye, full of disbelief. “You said that last year. Who did you bring home?”

“That was an accident last year, really! But this year — definitely — I’ll bring you a wife!”

She snorted. “So you’ve already got someone in mind? Don’t just say ‘this year’ — that’s too vague. If you like someone now, tell me and I’ll smooth things over. You know how important the mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship is. If I show goodwill, the girl might just agree. So, whose daughter do you have your eye on?”

Pressed over and over, Yu Mansheng could only give an awkward laugh.

Seeing his reaction, Yang Huili understood perfectly — he didn’t have anyone at all.

Yang Huili let out a long sigh.
“Son, it’s not that your mother is forcing you, but how long do you plan to drag this out? Your eldest brother’s kids are already grown, your second brother’s children are in Shanghai with their grandmother helping out — only you are left. If you don’t let me help raise your child while I’m still young and strong, do you really think you young folks can manage on your own? Wait until I’m older, and I might not even be able to take care of myself, let alone a baby.”

Yu Mansheng didn’t want to hear this.
“Mom! What are you saying? You’re still young!”
Don’t make it sound like she didn’t have much time left.

Yang Huili glared.
“What am I saying? Which part of it isn’t true? Do you think I can be eighteen every year?!”

Yu Mansheng tried to deflect.
“Your son isn’t married yet, so of course I’m still young. Look at Little Ju from Second Uncle’s family — he’s not married either.”

Yu Qingshan was speechless.
“How old is he? He was born late, and he’s still in university. A student is still a child — how could you expect him to get married now?”

Yang Huili smacked her son’s shoulder hard — the loud slap, slap, slap made Yu Xiang’an’s own muscles ache just watching.
Even with his size and build, Yu Mansheng winced and bared his teeth.
“Mom! Ow! Stop, stop, I get it, I get it!”

It wasn’t that he’d never thought about marriage. But once a man had money, there was never a shortage of women coming to him — all good-looking, some his age, some younger. The more he saw, the less he wanted to commit; who knew what they were really after?

Yang Huili still wasn’t satisfied.
“Your second brother’s kid is already born. I wouldn’t mind if you gave me a granddaughter — she’d still be my grandchild. But you have to at least get me a daughter-in-law. Where will the grandchildren come from otherwise?”

This year, Yu Manwu’s daughter was born.
To be honest, Yang Huili felt a single daughter was too “thin” a legacy — most people still believed you needed a son to carry on the family name, or else others might bully you. But with the one-child policy in place, if you had a secure job and tried for a second child, you could lose that job.

Which was more important — a son or a job?
Opinions differed. Some would give up work to try for a boy; others stuck with just one girl.

Yu Manwu and his wife decided not to have more — just the one daughter.
Even if Yang Huili had her thoughts, she couldn’t say much more and accepted it.

She had three sons: the eldest had four children (two boys, two girls); the second had one daughter.
Her youngest still had equal chances of having a boy or girl — if he had a son, she’d have three grandsons and three granddaughters, which was fine. If Manwu’s side was weaker, the kids could keep close ties with their cousins here — united, no one would dare bully them.

And if her youngest also had only girls? That was fine too — he wasn’t in a secure state job, so having more kids would just mean paying fines. He had nothing else, but plenty of money.
As long as he didn’t marry someone with a state job, two kids wouldn’t be a problem.

Her plan was solid — except Yu Mansheng kept refusing to find a wife. Every blind date she set up, he didn’t even bother talking to the girl, leaving her the only one enthusiastic.

No wife meant no grandchildren.

Whenever the topic came up, Yang Huili could go on endlessly. This time, Yu Mansheng escaped under the excuse of needing the toilet, leaving Yu Xiang’an to comfort her.

“Auntie, he just hasn’t met the right one yet. Once he likes someone, you won’t need to push — he’ll rush to please her himself.”

Yu Qingshan added,
“Don’t worry. He’s focused on his career now, and he’s capable. What good woman wouldn’t be attracted? It’s just that the right match hasn’t come along yet. If you stress yourself into bad health, who will take care of those future grandkids?”

Yang Huili could only nod along.

As for Yu Mansheng’s thinking, Yu Xiang’an could guess a bit.
Since she’d built her business here, how many men had approached her? Plenty.
But she’d always made her attitude clear. She and Lin Chuanbai were different — they had a sense of belonging to each other, shared experiences, came from the same place, and thought alike.
Their loyalty to each other was far above average.

Normally, long-distance marriages were risky. With money, temptation was everywhere, and everyone liked attractive people.
Was the world lacking in beautiful faces? Never.
In such times, if your will wasn’t strong, it was easy to stray.

If he wasn’t ready, it was better not to marry — otherwise it was unfair to both sides.
At his age now, staying single stood out. In twenty or thirty years, it would be the norm.

When Yang Huili went home, she carried several big bags — most bought by her youngest son, some given by her niece. As soon as she arrived, neighbors gathered.

Many just wanted to watch the fun:
“You went to your son’s place? He’s a big boss now — how is he?”
“Your son’s so impressive outside, huh?”
“My son’s working for your son — did you see him? Is he thinner? Did you give him my letter?”
“What’s all that you brought back? Looks fancy…”

It took ages to shoo them away, leaving her mouth dry.

Zhang Chahua asked,
“Well? Has he got a girlfriend?”

Yang Huili shook her head.
“No. That useless boy!”

Zhang frowned.
“What kind of woman does he even want? If he told us, we could find someone close enough.”

Yang Huili’s temper flared.
“He hasn’t said! What can I do? Forget it — if he won’t agree before New Year, I’ll drag him to meet someone. No more delays. Come on, look at these shoes he bought you. They’re so soft — I have a pair too. Each costs dozens of yuan…”

Unexpectedly, this matched something Yu Mansheng had casually said.

It started when Yu Xiang’an, through a contact from her cousin Yu Wanxin, closed a big order with a Hong Kong client named Lu Anran.
Yu Wanxin, a teacher, knew Lu through her husband’s old friend. Lu had wide connections and wanted to invest in home goods in this region.

Lu Anran was about Yu Xiang’an’s age and they got along well. Unlike Yu Xiang’an’s neat, understated style, Lu dressed fashionably — crimson lips, permed waves, a tailored women’s suit — like a movie star. She turned heads wherever she went.
Up close, she carried a subtle perfume — barely noticeable until you caught it, and then you couldn’t forget it.

She was refined, stylish, and on the cutting edge of fashion.

Since she wanted to build a factory here, Yu Xiang’an introduced her to Yu Mansheng.
His company’s construction quality was solid — no corner-cutting. It wasn’t his first time taking such referrals, and after the introduction, they could negotiate on their own. If it worked, they could cooperate happily; if not, they could try again another time.

After that, Yu Xiang’an didn’t pay any more attention to it — until a few months later, when the two of them appeared in front of her hand in hand and told her they were together.

Yu Xiang’an: “……”

She really hadn’t seen that coming.

Blinking, she offered just two words: “Congratulations.”

The two were about the same age and both single. In terms of wealth, the woman was clearly ahead, but the man had one advantage — he had never been married before. The woman was a widow, but though she had been married, she had no children.

And standing together, they looked harmonious. It was mutual affection, so as an outsider, she had nothing to criticize.

When Yu Qingshan heard about it: “……”
…Well, fine. If this dragged on any longer, who knew when he’d finally be willing to settle down?

His sister-in-law had said before that she only had two requirements for her youngest daughter-in-law — one, she must be female; two, she must be able to have children. Both boxes were ticked, so she probably wouldn’t object.

Far away in the village, Yang Huili suddenly sneezed hard.

Who?
Who was talking about her behind her back?!

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Ch 85: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

The twins had stayed at their second uncle’s place before, so following their grandpa there now didn’t feel strange at all — but they didn’t get to relax for long.

School was starting, and they had to go back to class.

When they got to school, their skin several shades darker, plenty of classmates asked about it.

They told the whole story of their time in the army camp, feeling prouder the more they talked.

They were determined to go again the next year, and the friends who didn’t know the hardships they’d endured — only imagining the glory — were full of envy.

Because of the tank and wooden pistol in his hands, many were jealous too. They went home and told their parents they wanted one as well. Bullet casing models were hard to get, but wooden ones were possible — the carpenters made a tidy profit.

For a carpenter, carving something like that wasn’t hard; it didn’t need to be exquisitely detailed, just have the right shape.

Not long after their school term began, the universities started up too, and Lin Tiandong came to register. Li Yujiao made a point of coming with him.

Lin Tiandong actually didn’t want her to — he was a university student now, an adult, and didn’t need his mom to tag along. He could handle things himself.

But Li Yujiao wasn’t reassured.

After registration, they went to the dorm, made the bed, and then followed the address to look for Lin Chuanbai.

It was Li Yujiao’s first time going to find him. Normally she wouldn’t go calling, but now that her son would be studying here, having a second brother nearby meant that if any trouble came up, help wouldn’t be too far away.

For her son’s sake, she was willing to take the initiative, say some nice words.

They gave the bustling hot pot restaurant a careful once-over. No wonder Yu Xiang’an had been so confident at New Year — you could tell from a glance it was making serious money.

The gate was locked. Two unfamiliar people loitering outside got the dog barking.

Lin Tiandong called out, “Second Brother! Second Brother! Are you home? Is anyone home?”

No reply, only louder barking.

“Mom, the door’s locked, no one’s answering. I guess they’re not home — let’s come back another day,” Lin Tiandong said.

“Another day? What another day? I have to go back to work,” said Li Yujiao.

“I can just come on my own. I told you I could handle it. I’m grown now.”

“You’re still just a kid,” she scolded. “Traveling alone at your age, carrying all these things — bedding, clothes, shoes — if I hadn’t come, how could you have brought it all? You think I wanted to bring so much?”

“Enough would’ve been fine,” he muttered. “It’s not far from home — I can go back on the weekend and get whatever I need. Worst case, I’ve got money, I can just buy things. Heavy winter stuff doesn’t need to be brought all at once.”

Hearing the constant barking, Wei Funi came over. “Who are you looking for?”

“This is Lin Chuanbai’s home, right?”

“Yes. And you are?” Wei Funi knew the boss wasn’t in. She looked them up and down — unfamiliar faces.

Li Yujiao pointed at Lin Tiandong. “This is his younger brother, just got into university. First time here.”

“Oh! Got into university — that’s a big deal!”

Li Yujiao smiled. “Yes, it is.”

“Which one?”

“Qingmu University.”

“That’s where our boss went — it’s a good school.”

“Yes.”

“Well, come sit for a bit. They’ve gone out — I don’t know where — but they’ll definitely be back this afternoon. Do you want to wait?”

Li Yujiao chose to wait.

They hadn’t eaten yet, so they could eat while waiting.

It wasn’t long till the afternoon anyway, so Wei Funi led them to a private room and served them food and drink.

Why weren’t Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai home?

They were at Yu Xiangyan’s place. One of his colleagues had connections at a farm and brought over more than twenty jin of venison to sell. Yu Xiangyan bought a few jin — venison was rare and worth savoring — and invited Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai over.

While eating, Yu Xiangyan asked Yu Xiang’an if the food court was still hiring.

She had hired quite a few under the company name — cleaning staff, and two gatekeepers. Both were retired soldiers, one missing a few fingers, the other with a limp, both injured in service and introduced by Zhao Li.

Despite appearances, they were more than capable of catching petty thieves.

Even the one with a limp could move faster than most — it wasn’t too serious.

They had turned down the state-assigned jobs offered after leaving the army, not wanting to burden the country. But as the years passed, idling away would ruin a person.

At their age, with elderly parents and young children to care for, farming back home wouldn’t bring in much. Life was hard.

Yu Xiang’an hired them, providing dorms, three meals a day, and a decent salary. With those benefits, their households were visibly better off.

One watched the entrance for theft, the other patrolled inside.

Since opening, the food court had been packed, thanks in large part to the raffle event. Many people were fascinated by the chance of winning big for little.

If someone spent fifty cents in a shop, they got a stamped slip as proof, which they could use at the raffle box by the entrance.

All the prizes were displayed on a rack beside it, behind a simple fence. Whatever you won, you took straight from there.

In just a few days, the two guards had already caught several petty thieves.

Yu Xiang’an asked, “So? Do you have someone to recommend?”

Yu Xiangyan nodded. “A coworker’s brother-in-law passed away — no one to support the family — and she wants to find work for his widow. She’s only finished third grade, knows the common characters. I’ve met her — she’s diligent and looks clean.” Cleanliness was a must in food service.

“Then give me her address and have her come try. But you know this work is tiring,” Yu Xiang’an said.

“I know. But it’s not like jobs are easy to find now. She’s always farmed, never worked in a business. My coworker swears if she’s not suitable, you don’t need to do me any favors.”

Yu Xiang’an understood — just an ordinary coworker.

Yu Xiangyan had another concern: “Sis, how much are you losing on that raffle? It’s still going?”

At that, Yu Qingshan’s heart skipped a beat.

For someone frugal his whole life, it felt like watching blood drain away.

All those things just given away?

“Most people win vouchers,” Yu Xiang’an explained. “Like one mao off a fifty-cent hot pot bill, or five fen off thirty cents at Five Flavors. The more you eat, the more you save. Some win little knickknacks, not worth much. The grand prize is just one item — once it’s drawn, it’s gone. The watch is still here, and business is booming…”

Yu Xiang’an had things to do that afternoon, so after lunch she and Lin Chuanbai headed back. Finding out they had been waiting for quite a while, she felt a bit helpless.

“Why didn’t you call before coming? Then we wouldn’t have gone out.”

Li Yujiao said, “We were planning to come tomorrow, but something came up at work, so I came today instead.”

Lin Chuanbai took them back while Yu Xiang’an went to help at the food court.

Qi Xiaohui was swamped running the raffle, busy enough to wish she had eight arms.

Only then did Lin Tiandong learn that the food court they had just passed was also her project — and he was impressed.

Li Yujiao also found it rather impressive. Before, when she heard Yu Xiang’an talk about this and that, she didn’t have a concrete idea. But now, seeing the building and the crowds — this was what “money flowing in from all directions” really looked like.

Lin Chuanbai took them back home, and Li Yujiao had brought a gift.

“When does school start?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Then before school starts, are you planning to stay here with me or go to the dorm?”

Lin Tiandong didn’t want to go to the dorm. The other dormmates hadn’t arrived yet, so the place was empty.

Lin Chuanbai nodded. “Then stay here.”

Li Yujiao thanked him directly. “Then I’ll trouble you.”

Of course staying here was more convenient. And it was a good start — if her son ever ran into trouble in the future, it would be easier to ask for help here.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t gone to school herself. She knew what university cafeterias were like — just passable. If you wanted to eat well, you needed a little special treatment.

If her son came by occasionally, she didn’t think her in-laws would be stingy enough to turn him away.

And since they ran a restaurant, there was no way the food would be bad.

She might have only a distant relationship with her stepson because of the age gap, but her own son was their real younger brother. With a brother here, coming over for a meal every now and then was perfectly natural.

Lin Chuanbai understood what Li Yujiao meant, but he didn’t think Lin Tiandong would come often. At most, he might drop in for a meal once in a while — and that was no problem.

Satisfied, Li Yujiao left.

Lin Tiandong stayed on.

The guest room was fully equipped — just put out the bedding and it was ready to live in.

Yan Jin arrived much later, coming alone with bags of luggage.

He had come on the very last registration day. When he arrived at Lin Chuanbai’s place, Lin Tiandong still hadn’t gone to school. He planned to go after dinner. The two teenagers were fine with each other at first, but once Lin Chuanbai introduced them, their expressions froze.

Yan Jin silently put down his things. “This is from my mom for Yining. This is for Yihong.”

Lin Yining took hers — a package twice as big as her brother’s. “What did Grandma give me? Why’s it so much?”

Yan Jin said, “Open it and you’ll see. There’s also a letter for you inside. Remember to write back. I still need to organize my things for school, so I’ll come play with you another day.”

The awkwardness wasn’t just on him.

After he left, Lin Tiandong gave a dry laugh. “Guess I should get to school too. What school did he get into?”

Lin Chuanbai said meaningfully, “Capital University.”

Lin Tiandong: “…”

Oh, that’s… really close.

He bared his teeth, feeling a bit of a toothache. If his mom came in the future and ran into his own mom… what a scene that would be.

After the two older boys went back to school, Lin Yining happily opened her grandma’s package. First, she took out the letter and read it carefully.

She got along well with Wu Zheng — they were kindred spirits and often wrote letters. Wu Zheng was more indifferent toward Lin Yihong.

After reading the letter, she gave it to her dad and then went to unwrap her gifts.

Perhaps because she’d written earlier about going to the army camp, many of the gifts were army-themed — clothes, a canteen, and even a medal.

Lin Chuanbai examined it carefully, then handed it to Lin Yining. “This is your grandma’s military merit medal — proof of honor. You must keep it safe.”

Such a thing being given away was no small matter.

Once she knew what it meant, Lin Yining treasured it dearly. She put it in a box, placed it at the very bottom of her little trunk, and locked it.

Lin Yihong was a bit unhappy — Grandma had only given something to his sister, not to him. That wasn’t fair.

Lin Chuanbai told him to think about it. “Your mom and dad didn’t get anything either. You still got a gift — I only got two lines in a letter.” The letter mentioned that she had cut up a century-old ginseng to save someone’s life.

He explained to Lin Yihong that most of the things Wu Zheng sent were for Yining. The favoritism was obvious, and such behavior could easily stir up conflict among children. This showed her personality.

If you were the one she favored, it was great. If you were ignored, it didn’t feel so good.

Yu Xiang’an said, “Son, think about it — don’t your grandpa and great-grandpa like you more? Now your grandma likes your sister more. So what?”

Lin Yihong had no response but still felt it was a little unfair — his sister had one person’s favor, while he had two.

As for their grandpa, he treated them both the same.

…

Because they’d run into each other at Lin Chuanbai’s, Yan Jin and Lin Tiandong didn’t come over to stay or even to eat, for fear of meeting again and feeling awkward.

Their absence didn’t bother Lin Chuanbai — it was less trouble for him. But occasionally, he had the twins take some meat and vegetables to them to improve their meals, sending to one meant sending to the other. With two children, it worked out just right.

Aside from that, the two boys thrived at university. Once Yu Xiang’an had settled matters here, she went south with Yu Qingshan.

Not long after, Liu Mingyue also set out — she was going to the Special Zone on business. During her trip, she naturally spent time with Yu Xiang’an, going out, shopping, and buying things. With her making introductions, Yu Xiang’an expanded her network even more.

Yu Xiang’an knew the value of this — Liu Mingyue didn’t have to do it, but she did, simply because they were friends.

When Liu Mingyue left, Yu Xiang’an gave her a bottle of perfume. It wasn’t expensive — too much and it would change the nature of the gift. This was just right.

They agreed that when Yu Xiang’an returned to the capital, she’d bring out some good wine she’d been saving and give Liu Mingyue two jars.

When Yu Xiang’an did return two months later, it was partly to keep that promise, and partly because Lin Guangbai had arrived.

He had come from the development zone to the capital.

Yu Xiang’an had some guesses about his purpose — it was the development zone, after all.

Lin Guangbai was indeed here to seek advice. He’d even gone to the Special Zone himself, tagging along with other leaders on a business trip. Seeing what it looked like now compared to before it was designated as a Special Zone — who wouldn’t be struck?

He wanted to accomplish something real.

The newly designated development zone in Yancheng wasn’t coastal, but it had a good location. This was a pilot project — if successful, the zone’s future would be secure.

He brought out a map, explained the geography, and talked about the local specialties.

He wanted to know more about the Special Zone, and Yu Xiang’an told him everything she knew. But if he was here to recruit investment, she was hesitant — her own business hadn’t fully expanded yet, and she wouldn’t be ready to branch out for a few more years.

Fortunately, Lin Guangbai had no such expectations.

In his eyes, his sister-in-law’s ventures were still small-scale. His main target was overseas Chinese.

Yu Xiangyan could speak on that — he worked in the foreign trade department.

Lin Guangbai also sought out Yu Xiang’an’s university class adviser, Wu Zhusheng.

Besides business, Lin Guangbai and Lin Chuanbai had a private talk, catching up after a long time.

He met Lin Tiandong and Yan Jin — just a quick meeting, exchanging a few words so that if they met again later, they wouldn’t be strangers.

His smooth career wasn’t just thanks to his own abilities. Lin Houp’u might not be in Shanghai, but he had many comrades there who looked out for Lin Guangbai, ensuring he avoided pointless conflicts. On top of that, his wife’s family had some influence locally. With these supports, his path had been much easier.

When it came to Lin Houp’u’s political connections, Lin Guangbai would never turn them down. And now that Lin Houp’u was about to be promoted, it was impossible for him to remain a factory director — that would make it a one-man show. He would be transferred, and with the achievements he’d made there, a promotion was a sure thing.

Right now, government and enterprise weren’t separate, especially since he was in a machinery plant, and he wasn’t all that old. There was even a chance he could get another promotion before retirement.

Even if he wouldn’t open a back door for Lin Guangbai, just as things stood now, he could still make his path a lot smoother.

Lin Houp’u’s resources, however, were limited.

And he didn’t have just one son.

Judging from the situation, his younger son would likely enter the system in the future too. When that happened, who would he put his main support behind?

Lin Chuanbai said, “Big Brother, even if he wants to favor the younger one, there’s the age gap to think about. By the time he retires, how old will the younger one be? What rank could he even reach? And you’re the eldest son — Grandfather values the eldest legitimate grandson highly. As long as you keep your footing and don’t go astray, you don’t need to worry too much.”

Lin Guangbai understood that logic, but the influence of a wife’s pillow talk was something else entirely, so he still intended to be cautious.

He nodded, skipped over the topic, and looked at Lin Chuanbai. “What about you? What’s your plan for the future? You’re not that young anymore — do you plan to stay in academia and research forever?”

Lin Chuanbai told him frankly, “I’m thinking of heading south this year or next. Not to the Special Zone, but to Yangcheng. There are universities there too, so my wife and I wouldn’t have to live so far apart. They have labs as well, and after building up a bit more, I could set up my own and work independently.”

He already had some results that could be put into production, but at a time like this, it wasn’t convenient to bring them out. There would be ownership disputes — even if the initial idea was his, it had been signed under a borrowing agreement, and in the future, it might be contested. So for now, he was holding back.

Lin Guangbai hadn’t expected that. “You’re going to Yangcheng? But this is the capital.”

“It’s not like I’ll never come back,” Lin Chuanbai said.

Lin Guangbai felt a bit helpless. He’d finally gotten closer to his younger brother and could see him more often, and now he was planning to move even farther away to the south.

…

Yu Xiang’an had only been back in the south a few days when, returning from an outing, Yu Qingshan pulled her aside. “Your grandma’s sick — she’s in the hospital. We need to go back to Baishi County.”

Yu Xiang’an was alarmed. “Is it serious? What happened?” Normally, a minor illness wouldn’t mean going to the hospital.

“She was going downhill when some kids ran into her. She fell and hurt her leg — she’s in the city hospital now.”

Lin Chuanbai’s eldest sister, Lin Yunling, worked at that city hospital.

They went to the front desk to ask which ward she was in, and when they got there, they saw Yao Cuifen in a hospital gown, lying in bed with an IV drip in her hand and her left leg in a cast. The surgery had already been done.

Looking at her white hair, age spots, and wrinkled face lying pale against the pillow, Yu Xiang’an felt her nose sting. “Grandma, how are you feeling? Anywhere hurting?”

Yao Cuifen forced a small smile. “Xiao An, you came. I’m fine.”

Qin Qiang, standing nearby, said, “She was taken to the hospital in time, and they handled it well. The surgery’s done, and it was successful. The doctor says she just needs to rest.”

Hearing that, Yu Xiang’an and Yu Qingshan both relaxed.

Aside from Qin Qiang, second uncle Qin Fengmao and cousin Qin Shengsong were also there — it had been the cousin who called them.

Yu Qingshan asked, “Someone needs to stay with her. How’s that being arranged? Has Xianghai come?”

Qin Qiang said, “I’m here every day. I rented a place. Today your second brother is here, tomorrow your second sister-in-law will be here. Xianghai came the day before yesterday and said he’d come today too — should be on the way now.”

Yao Cuifen was in a double room, the other bed occupied by another elderly lady, looking younger than her. Seeing so many people gathered at Yao Cuifen’s side — all children and grandchildren, and even more on the way — the woman couldn’t help but feel envious.

“Big Sister, you’re lucky. Your children are so filial. If my life were even half as good as yours, I could die with a smile.”

Yao Cuifen knew the woman’s situation — she’d been admitted a couple of days before, but apart from her husband bringing dinner at night and the occasional visit from one daughter with some nourishing food, no one else came. The rest of her meals, she had to ask the nurses and doctors to help fetch.

The woman complained, “I had two sons and two daughters. I gave everything I had to get those boys married. As for the girls, I didn’t treat them badly — married them off properly. But I gave my job to my son, and now here I am in a hospital bed, and neither of my sons shows up. My daughters-in-law even less so. Only my eldest daughter still has a conscience — she comes every day to see me and bring food. If it weren’t for my pension, I might not even get a hot meal. Big Sister, how did my life end up like this?”

There wasn’t much to say to that. If her children were truly unfilial, she could report them to her work unit. But would she?

And as for which son she’d given her job to — she had two, and giving to one over the other could only breed resentment.

Just then, the ward door was flung open. Her younger daughter and daughter-in-law had arrived, and having overheard her words, immediately began to argue.

“There you go again, spouting nonsense! You just want to drag our names through the mud to make yourself happy!”

“You old bag, even now you can’t keep that mouth shut. Well, I’ll have it out with you today…”

Yu Xiang’an frowned at the scene and went to ask if there were any single rooms available.

There were, of course — just more expensive. Yu Xiang’an paid right away.

With all that noise from the other bed so close, there was no way to rest properly.

Qin Fengmao followed her out, clearly not wanting her to spend the money.

“Uncle,” Yu Xiang’an said, “you’re the one who’ll be coming here regularly to check on Grandma. I’m far away and busy, so I can’t be here often. She’s my grandmother too — let me help with some of the expenses. You’re covering the big costs. If you don’t let me show my filial piety, you’ll make it hard for me.”

Qin Fengmao, stumped, could only smile helplessly. “Alright, alright. I know you’re filial.”

“Uncle, what about those kids who knocked Grandma over?” She hadn’t asked earlier in the chaos.

Qin Fengmao’s face hardened. “Three of them — playing football right on that slope. They saw an old woman coming down and didn’t stop. When she fell, they ran. If someone hadn’t happened by, who knows what would have happened. They’re repeat offenders — just a while ago, a pregnant woman fell there too. Luckily she was fine. Now that your grandma’s hurt, their parents refuse to admit fault. I called the police, and we came here partly because the doctors are better, and partly so those shameless people wouldn’t cause trouble in the ward and keep your grandma from resting.”

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Ch 84: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Yu Xiangyan learned that Yu Qingshan had arrived and immediately brought the children over.

He invited Yu Qingshan to stay and eat at his place. Originally, he had been assigned a two-bedroom apartment, but last year he negotiated with the family next door, bought their place, and knocked down the wall, turning it into a four-bedroom.

He had three children, planning for each to have their own room in the future. Now that Yu Qingshan had come, he could have one room, and the two daughters could share a room — just right.

Yu Xiang’an wasn’t pleased.
“Second Brother, that’s not fair. Dad just got here, hasn’t even spent a day at my place, and you already want to take him away? That’s not happening — there’s such a thing as first come, first served.”

Yu Xiangyan said, “I’m older than you. You understand the order of seniority, don’t you?”

“I don’t. Ever heard of ‘ladies first’?”

The siblings refused to back down, both wanting Yu Qingshan to stay with them.

Yu Qingshan chuckled happily.

His children cared about him — of course he was pleased. In the end, they agreed that he would stay with Yu Xiang’an for two days first, then spend a few days at Yu Xiangyan’s.

The twins joined in the fun.
“Grandpa, we’ll go with you.”

Yu Xiangyan waved grandly.
“No problem, come along! Don’t worry about not having beds.”

Kids could squeeze in together — enough room for three.

Yu Xiyi looked at her parents.
“Then we’ll stay at Auntie’s for these two days too.”

At Yu Xiang’an’s, three more guests weren’t a problem.

Yu Xiangyan was now especially glad he had bought the next-door apartment — otherwise, with his father visiting so rarely, there would have been no room for him to stay.

As for the money for the apartment, part came from savings and part from investments. But buying it had pretty much drained him; most of what he and his wife earned was fixed salaries.

So it was settled — Yu Xiyi and her siblings would stay there.

With both his grandchildren and great-grandchildren around, Yu Qingshan was delighted.

The second son’s family hadn’t come back for New Year’s, so they’d rarely seen each other. Now he could see them, and looking at his second son’s appearance, he couldn’t help but feel proud.

His son had made something of himself, matching his beautiful, still-elegant wife. In the past, Yu Qingshan had worried that once her family’s reputation was restored, she might leave his son. His son must have feared the same — that was why he studied, took the college entrance exam, and, luckily, passed.

Now one worked in government, the other taught at a university — what a good life.

Their three children were all born before the one-child policy, a mix of boys and girls, all raised well. In time, they would marry and have children, and life would go on like this.

Wen Ruzhen asked about her father, Wen Yanjun. He was now working in the neighboring county to Baishi County, living alone, eating and staying at the canteen and dorm. She sometimes sent things to him, wrote letters, and called, but it had been quite a while since they’d met.

Yu Qingshan said, “Your father-in-law came back for New Year’s. We had a drink together — he’s doing well, so don’t worry.”

“We even talked about your younger brother. Your dad’s worried he still isn’t married.”

At this, Wen Ruzhen smiled.
“It should be soon.”

Yu Qingshan’s face lit up.
“What kind of good girl? How old is she?”

“A few years younger than him, also a university graduate, from the capital, works in the health system.”

Yu Qingshan nodded in approval.
“That’s a perfect match — like-minded, with plenty to talk about in the future. Once they marry and have children, your dad probably won’t want to work anymore and will just want to come back to look after the grandkids.”

Wen Ruzhen’s smile deepened.
“Whatever the case, it’s good he’s finally ready to start a family.”

She only had this one younger brother, and her father had been longing for a grandchild for years. Once the baby was born, it was hard to say whether he’d retire to help raise the child.

Her thoughts drifted to her youngest sister, taken away by their mother. She sighed inwardly. By now, her sister would be grown, perhaps even married — she didn’t know how she was doing. Their father had tried to find out, but the people involved had long since been transferred, leaving no way to track her down.

They had wanted to find the sisters, to know if they were living well.

If they weren’t, they could help. Their mother had divorced out of necessity — to protect herself and the children. That had been the best choice at the time. Her younger sister had been too young to understand, and the thought of her still left a knot in the heart.

Lin Chuanbai said, “I remember your brother got a promotion — he’s a county magistrate now.”

“Yes, he’s been promoted.” Wen Ruzhen’s smile widened.

Yu Qingshan hadn’t known.
“He’s a county magistrate now? That’s impressive, really impressive.”

“It’s nothing — just serving the people as usual,” Wen Ruzhen said modestly.

Yu Qingshan shook his head.
“At his age, to already hold that position — and you say it’s nothing? That’s humility. He must have real ability. The people’s eyes are sharp — if he weren’t outstanding, why would the higher-ups trust him with such a post? And how would those under him accept his leadership?”

Looking at his daughter-in-law’s radiant face, Yu Qingshan thought of the days before their political rehabilitation. The contrast made him sigh.

Back then, to avoid being recognized, the siblings stayed inside all day, afraid of being shunned for their family background. Now there was no such issue, and they all had jobs — it felt like another lifetime.

Both his second son and second nephew had fallen for women considered “out of their league,” but their outcomes were different.

His son had been with his wife even in their hardest days; they’d had children, and in the end, he’d caught up to her, and their life was harmonious.

The nephew’s story was different. For the sake of a sent-down educated youth, a man with only a primary school education had swallowed his pride, picked up his books, and shamelessly sought help from others — all to be worthy of her. He studied with the desperation of someone preparing for the college entrance exam.

When the exam came, she flew back home, and he didn’t pass. After a few days of depression, he kept going, spending a year studying, leaving all farm work to his older brother. If his brother hadn’t been able to support the family, how could he have been so willful?

He eventually got into a college in Shanghai — the same city as the educated youth. Being in the same place should have led to something, but whenever asked if they were together, he would mumble and avoid giving a clear answer.

It didn’t take much to guess she hadn’t agreed.

Perhaps she’d found someone else in that year before she left. But no — even after he graduated, there was still no answer. That was clearly stringing him along.

It wasn’t until last year that he finally married — to a fellow teacher. This year, their child would be born.

There had been twists and turns, but if not for that woman, the nephew might never have worked so hard to get into college. Now he was a teacher.

“My older brother called with good news too,” Lin Chuanbai said. Lin Guangbai, his eldest brother, was also in Shanghai.

Lin Guangbai had dealings with Yu Manwu; in Shanghai, Yu Manwu was his only relative worth mentioning — his sister-in-law’s maternal cousin, a fairly close connection.

Yu Xiang’an didn’t know about this yet.
“What good news?”

Lin Chuanbai said, “My brother’s been promoted too — he’s now the Party Secretary of a development zone in Yancheng. From there to here is much closer.”

Yu Xiang’an recognized the name. By train, it was about four hours from there to here.

With the distance shortened, visits would be much easier.

Yu Qingshan burst out laughing. “That’s another piece of good news!”

“It is.”

Yu Qingshan asked, “And your sister-in-law?”

“She’s still in Shanghai. She has her own job, and the two kids have school.” His sister-in-law also worked in the public sector. It would be better for the whole family to be together, but transferring a job wasn’t something that could be done at will.

Yu Qingshan said meaningfully, “Being separated like that for the long term really isn’t ideal.”

Yu Xiang’an nodded seriously. “It’s just temporary.” She meant more than one thing by that.

Yu Qingshan gave her a sidelong glance.

Yu Xiang’an turned her head away.

Yu Qingshan then shifted his gaze back to Lin Chuanbai. “How old are your eldest brother’s children?”

“Two years older than mine, I think. My eldest sister’s child is the oldest.”

“You mean your sister who’s a doctor in the city?”

“That’s right.”

“I remember your sister only has one child.”

“Yes. He’s going to take the college entrance exam next year. My sister’s debating whether he should study medicine or become a teacher.”

Yu Qingshan waved a hand. “Either is fine. Both are good choices. Just ask the child what he wants to do, see where his interests lie…”

While the adults talked, the children gathered on the other side. Lin Yihong brought out a tank made from bullet casings and a wooden carved pistol, and Lin Yining showed off a set of military clothes tailored to fit her.

Seeing this, Yu Xiyi and her siblings were excited. “Can I borrow your pistol to play with?”

Lin Yihong was generous. “Sure, but be careful not to break it.”

“Here, you take the gun, I’ll take the tank, let’s play war.”

The twins treasured these things, and only because they played with them often would they be willing to let others touch them. Normally they wouldn’t.

Lin Yining also brought out photos taken at the army base.

Nothing inappropriate was in the pictures, but the olive-green background alone gave them a special feel.

The twins’ energy and spirit in the photos were completely different from before.

The adults heard the commotion too. Yu Xiangyan came over for a look, then glanced at Yu Xiang’an. “You’re really willing, letting the kids get this tanned. Look, they even have scrapes on their hands in the photo — they’ve suffered plenty.”

Yu Xiang’an looked at the twins. “Do they look miserable to you? They seem pretty happy.”

Lin Chuanbai sighed. “I’m actually surprised they managed to stick it out.”

Yu Xiang’an said, “Whether they want to go again in the future is up to them.”

Lin Chuanbai didn’t reply. The children’s grandfather still hoped they’d keep going for more of that kind of training, and from the looks of it, the kids themselves seemed willing. In that case, they’d probably go again next summer.

Lin Chuanbai: “…”

He felt a twinge of heartache.

He knew it was for the kids’ own good, to toughen them up, and he shouldn’t object — but he just couldn’t feel at ease.

Their mother wanted them to keep at it too. Given how things were developing, their family’s business would only keep growing, meaning the children’s chances of enduring hardship in the future would only shrink. While they were still young and not yet set in their ways, a bit of hardship now was no bad thing. Lin Chuanbai understood that perfectly well.

But in the two months the kids were away, he couldn’t even focus on his experiments.

It was different from when they were with their mother. Back then, even if they weren’t with him, he knew they were safe with her, so he didn’t worry. But in a military camp, no one would go out of their way to indulge them. He simply couldn’t set his mind at ease.

Maybe it was because he’d grown up alone, with only the old Taoist who raised him as family. Now that he was here, with a wife and children, there were more family ties, and more things to worry about.

With Yu Xiang’an, he didn’t worry as much — unless some disaster struck, she had her space ability, so if there was danger, she could hide inside and be safe. But the two children were different — still small, not yet adults. If they were bullied, they might not even realize it.

How could he not worry?

Even so, while his emotions wouldn’t settle, his rational mind knew the camp was safe. So he kept those feelings bottled up.

Yu Xiang’an went over and patted his hand.

She understood.

But the kids weren’t that little anymore.

So sooner or later, they’d have to grow up and live somewhere else.

…

Yu Xiang’an wasn’t going back to the Special Zone anytime soon, because she needed to handle matters with the food court here.

The food court had over 600 square meters of floor space. For housing, that would be big, but for a mall, it wasn’t huge. Still, for now, it was enough. With shop units ranging from a bit over 10 square meters to over 20, the first floor alone had 38 shops.

Counting the second floor, there were 76 in total.

Before renovations were even finished, Yu Xiang’an had people hang up “For Lease” signs outside, easy for passersby to spot.

Zhong Jianqiang was the first to inquire about rent.

Yu Xiang’an’s rent was mid-range — slightly higher than nearby rates, but with good reason.

The shops were brand new. Plus, having different types of merchants together would create a clustering effect. And she had staff responsible for public-area cleaning, so tenants didn’t need to worry about hygiene in shared spaces.

The first floor was easy to rent. The second floor’s rent was lower, but it was further inside, and no one had taken any yet.

Yu Xiang’an wasn’t in a rush — things had to be taken step by step.

Once she returned, she inspected the place, paid the final bill, and officially opened for leasing.

Plenty of people came to ask, though not all were serious about renting. Still, with enough traffic, she rented out more than half of the first floor quickly.

This was a university area, so foot traffic was guaranteed. College students generally had some disposable income, and food was a necessity — even those who ate at the cafeteria daily might splurge on an occasional better meal.

In the whole group, the number who ate out wasn’t small.

Zhong Jianqiang rented two units — one to sell skewers, and another to sell food ingredients.

The vegetables, eggs, and pork they sourced from the countryside were displayed there, mainly serving nearby restaurants.

A restaurant used a lot of ingredients, so with a storefront here, they could let people know these things were available. Some, wanting convenience, would come by.

Zhong Jianqiang planned to try it for a few months. If it didn’t work, he’d pull out — covering a few months’ rent wasn’t hard. If it did work, they were already buying supplies, so increasing the quantity would be easy, and they could earn some quick cash.

Yu Xiang’an also opened a shop here, transferring Qi Xiaohui to manage it. She moved the original Five Flavors Restaurant to the prime corner location here, merging the old site with the hot pot place to make it part of that business.

Qi Xiaohui had already been running Five Flavors, so now, besides managing it here, she would also handle issues for other tenants when Yu Xiang’an wasn’t around. She was promoted, with a 50% pay raise.

Qi Xiaohui felt secure and motivated, agreeing eagerly and diving into work.

Besides that, there were shops selling cold dishes, dumplings and flatbreads, breakfasts, noodles…

If there was a type of food the court didn’t yet have, Yu Xiang’an preferred to bring it in, so every category would be covered.

Once rented, shops still needed renovations and furniture.

Tenants moved fast — the sooner they got set up, the sooner they could open and earn money.

Yu Xiang’an had already painted the interior white, so for those not picky, adding some tables and chairs, fixing up the kitchen and utensils, was enough to get started.

Chen Long also rented a shop here, about a dozen square meters.

He had gotten into this business fairly early. Not long after the restaurants here first opened, he came to buy wholesale, then took the goods back to the factory’s family compound to sell door-to-door. It was embarrassing, yes, but he still made money.

The family could afford grain again.

After that, he came here early every morning to buy wholesale. His capital was limited at first, so he could only buy some vegetables and leftover cuts of meat.

These scraps were the favorite of the men in the compound — buy a plate, pair it with a small glass of liquor, and life felt like heaven.

Running back and forth every day, he gradually saved more money. His parents began to smile again — as long as they could make a living, things were fine.

When you can barely survive, fussing over dignity means nothing.

People would talk about what he did, but their gossip didn’t cause real harm. If he didn’t work, going hungry would be a very real harm.

He earned more and more.

Although he couldn’t stand straight before others, only his family knew exactly how much he made. They might have lost some face, but they gained practical benefit.

As his savings grew, he bought more and more wholesale goods, even roping in an old childhood friend to do the same. When you’re struggling to get by, there’s no room for being picky.

They each carved out their own territory, earning what they could from it.

Chen Long worked hard to expand his reach. As his earnings grew, his home gradually had everything it needed.

His grandmother’s illness was cured, and the family was reunited.

It was the Five Flavors Restaurant that had helped him.

When he saw the shop-for-rent notice, he was tempted.

His grandmother’s braised rice wasn’t anything special, but she had one true specialty — the steamed buns she made were the best in the factory.

She wasn’t that old yet, and she couldn’t stand being idle. After her illness, she also understood that money was a good thing. When Chen Long suggested it, she readily agreed, quickly picking a shop to rent.

Since it was just starting out, they even got half a month’s rent free.

Half a month was enough time to get the shop up and running.

After that, he could keep wholesaling as usual to bring home for his mother to retail, while helping his grandmother at the shop.

…

Things at Qi Xiaohui’s place were in full swing, and the excitement there made others restless. Amid this restlessness, Wei Funi and Lu Xiao were promoted.

They were veterans, among the first to follow Yu Xiang’an. As the boss’s business grew, their positions naturally rose as well.

Wei Funi became the manager of the hot pot restaurant, and Lu Xiao became the manager of another Five Flavors Restaurant.

Managers’ monthly bonuses were tied to profits.

When business was good, bonuses could far exceed the fixed monthly salary.

With that kind of carrot dangling ahead — and being young and newly promoted — he worked with even greater dedication.

Elsewhere, he could never get treatment like this.

…

Yu Xiang’an handled all the leasing matters here. There were countless small details that needed her decision, and since it was nearby, whenever Qi Xiaohui had a problem she could come to her, so Yu Xiang’an didn’t have to be on-site constantly.

Wen Ruzhen watched the steady stream of people coming to find her and felt a little envious.

What a lively life — and she glanced at Lin Chuanbai. For her to be this busy and not at home, yet her husband had no complaints and fully supported her — that was rare.

Even though people say “women hold up half the sky” and everyone has their own career, in reality, even with dual-income households, it’s usually the woman who makes more concessions to the man.

Long separations not only risk fading feelings but also create chances for others to take advantage.

Her brother-in-law was popular with female students at the university; her sister, on the other hand, met all kinds of people in her work, still youthful and well-maintained, looking like she was in her twenties. Were there men who’d want to take a shortcut to her money?

Definitely.

But the two of them trusted each other completely, showing no hint of suspicion.

That kind of relationship was truly enviable.

Yu Qingshan was already used to Yu Xiang’an’s busy life. Seeing how familiar he was with it, Yu Xiangyan knew their father must have helped her plenty when he visited the Special Zone.

He was used to it by now.

Yu Xiang’an had to manage things here while also keeping up with the business in the Special Zone, and she still maintained her relationships.

Liu Mingyue and Wang Haiwen came after getting her call. When they saw her, Liu Mingyue clapped her on the shoulder. “You’ve been living it up — half a year away! Did you put down roots over there?”

Yu Xiang’an gave a wry smile. “Once you get busy, there’s no helping it.”

Liu Mingyue shook her head. “More and more people are going into business now. Before, you could count them on one hand — now, especially those leaving state-owned enterprises, the number has doubled.”

Yu Xiang’an laughed. “Doubling isn’t that many, considering the base was small.”

The peak of people leaving their “iron rice bowls” was still a few years away. Once those who seized the early opportunities became wealthy and others saw the profits, more would decide to take the leap.

Yu Xiang’an looked at her. “What, are you tempted?”

Liu Mingyue waved her hand. “I just think about it. In reality, it’s impossible — if I quit, the apartment gets taken back. Where would the kids live? In that tiny dorm their dad’s assigned? No way. I can’t send them back to my hometown either — I have to keep them with me. The schooling there isn’t as good as here. In the countryside, having a primary school teacher who’s even graduated middle school is considered good. Middle school’s a bit better, but there are still middle school graduates teaching middle school. How much can they really teach?”

As for Wang Haiwen, “I’m not considering it. Just don’t forget us when you make it big.”

Yu Xiang’an didn’t agree. “Don’t be so polite — I’ll have plenty of times when I need your help.”

They joked, and Yu Xiang’an took out the gifts she’d brought them.

It was much easier to buy electronics in the Special Zone than here, and you didn’t need ration coupons there. Big-ticket items here still mostly required them.

She’d brought them two Hong Kong-made watches.

Liu Mingyue took the ladies’ watch meant for her, playing with it fondly. “Yes — just like in the movies. I love it. You can’t find these in the capital.” Then she looked up at Yu Xiang’an. “I’m scheduled to go on a business trip to the Special Zone next month. When I go, I’m going to bring back a color TV.”

Yu Xiang’an asked Wang Haiwen, “What about you? Are you going too?”

“I’m not.”

Liu Mingyue said, “When I get there, you’ll be like half a host. Don’t you have some special plans for me?”

Yu Xiang’an patted her chest. “Of course I do. How about I take you out to sea?”

Never having been to the seaside, Liu Mingyue’s eyes lit up. “Deal!”

“By the way, did you know? Lots of people have been contacting our class teacher, wanting to hire him as a consultant.”

Yu Xiang’an nodded.

This kind of thing would only become more common in this era.

Outside the Special Zone, if you wanted to do business, you still needed to fly a banner of some kind — only then would the road be smooth.

“If you go to the Special Zone and have time, I’ll take you to the clothing wholesale market. Clothes there are six yuan a piece, but here they go for ten to twenty. Buy a bunch and you won’t need to shop for years.”

“Radios are good there too.”

…

After being apart so long, they had plenty to talk about. Yu Xiang’an told them about the situation in the Special Zone; they told her the latest news here, changes among teachers and classmates. Everyone got something out of it.

Then, the shops in the food court opened. Yu Xiang’an had flyers printed and delivered to nearby schools.

The opening line was attention-grabbing:

“Spend fifty cents and get three raffle entries — top prize is a watch worth 156 yuan!”

Same formula, same flavor.

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Ch 83: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

Update – 15 Aug 2025: Since I couldn’t find a proofreader, all chapters from this point onward will be unedited. Some names or terms may be inconsistent. Please read at your own discretion.

xxx

When the twins entered the army, Yu Xiang’an couldn’t help feeling worried. The two of them had never really suffered any hardships before.

Seeing how anxious she was, Yu Qingshan comforted her:
“That’s their biological grandfather — he wouldn’t harm them. A little hardship when they’re young isn’t a bad thing.”

Yu Xiang’an gave a wry smile.
“I know you’re right, I understand that in my head… but I just can’t stop worrying.”

Well, that was true.
Parents can’t be that carefree.

On the third day, Xiao An got a call from Yining. On the other end, she was sobbing:
“Mom, I want to come back. They’re so mean. I’m so tired, I want to rest, but they won’t let me rest. Uncle is here too, but when I told him, he wouldn’t help me. Mommy, please tell Grandpa I want to go home…”

Was Yu Xiang’an distressed?
Yes.

But at times like this, all she could do was listen carefully and ask what had happened.

It turned out they were doing things like running laps, holding horse stances, frog jumps — basic training. The intensity, from what Yu Xiang’an heard, was no joke. For a child, had it pushed her past her limits? Maybe not, but such monotonous, grueling drills — how many people could enjoy them?

For a girl who had never suffered before, crying to go home wasn’t surprising.

Lin Houp’u had warned her about this earlier. Yu Xiang’an didn’t give in:
“Do you remember what you said before? You told me you’d stick it out till the end. Mommy remembers your words. Baby, just hang on for a few more days, okay? Climbing mountains is hard, isn’t it? But once you get used to it, it won’t be so tiring.”

Lin Yining’s tears dripped down the phone:
“But Mommy, I’m so tired. I want to go home. I want Daddy. I want you.”

Yu Xiang’an clenched her fist, her voice softening despite herself:
“Mommy misses you too. Mommy’s heart aches for you. I’ll talk to Grandpa and ask if they can adjust the training a bit, okay?”

She hadn’t agreed to take her home, but her words gave Yining hope.
“Mommy, hurry and ask,” she hiccuped loudly.

She was too embarrassed to call Grandpa herself.

She’d spoken so confidently before, and now, just a few days in, she was already backing down.

“Where’s your brother?”
“Someone in his group fell behind, so he’s still running.”
“Alright. Go get some rest. Mommy will call you later.”

After hanging up, Yu Xiang’an called Lin Houp’u, getting straight to the point:
“Is the training too much? Are the kids unable to handle it?”

Lin Houp’u reassured her:
“Don’t worry. Someone’s watching them closely — nothing like that will happen. They cried to you, didn’t they?” He guessed right. “It’s always like this at the start. The hardest part is the beginning. Give it a few more days, and they’ll adjust.”

Hearing that, Yu Xiang’an relaxed.
“As long as the intensity isn’t excessive. I just don’t want them hurt.”
“It won’t be. I’ve checked.”

“It was Yining who called you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Yining’s a girl — Yihong can endure more.”

…

Yu Xiang’an gently encouraged Lin Yining to hang in there. Yining swallowed her grievance and agreed. Every couple of days, she would call to complain — until suddenly, she called again saying she wanted to go home. The shift was abrupt.

Then, a few days passed with no calls from her. Yu Xiang’an phoned instead, and it was Lin Yihong who answered.

“Why hasn’t your sister called me?”
“She doesn’t want to go home anymore. The person training us changed — she really likes her now and won’t leave.”

Yu Xiang’an: “…Is she good-looking? Male or female?”

Lin Yihong sighed, rubbing his forehead:
“Yeah, she’s very good-looking. She’s a female military doctor, very skilled and agile.”

He found the training tough too, but he’d never once said he wanted to leave early. He didn’t want to go back on his word. If he said now that he couldn’t take it, it would be humiliating. His pride wouldn’t let him run away.

His sister, on the other hand, had no such pride. She cried with a few other girls after just three days, telling him she wanted to go home.

Now she’d stopped saying that — his ears were finally at peace. But the reason for that peace… well, that was frustrating.

Looking long term, he thought gloomily, just how handsome would his future brother-in-law have to be to keep her interested?

Yu Xiang’an: “…How good-looking?”
“Like a movie star.”

Lin Yining was a textbook “face fan” — she liked attractive people, regardless of gender. Yu Xiang’an had warned her about this. Liking beautiful people wasn’t wrong; in fact, everyone did it to some extent. Was judging by appearances really so rare?

Even in ancient times, officials were judged partly on looks — if you weren’t good-looking, you might never get the chance to serve.

Yining’s desire to get close to good-looking people was innocent enough — she just wanted to talk to them, be friends, and steal a few extra glances. That was fine, but she still needed to keep her guard up. What if she ran into a good-looking con artist?

Caution was still necessary.

In this case, the female military doctor clearly wasn’t a con artist. If getting close to her made Yining willing to stay, then everyone was happy.

Lin Yihong: “Mom, Uncle’s here training too. I think he came just to laugh at us.”

He’d endured the pain, only crying quietly at night when his feet hurt — no one knew.
“He’s watching us from the side. He’s older, so he’s not training with us.”

Speaking of which, Lin Yihong’s voice took on a note of excitement. He’d even gone to ask someone about it. Sure enough, from a gossip-lover’s mouth, he learned about his uncle’s embarrassing past.

He laughed himself silly, then felt a rush of relief — thank goodness he’d held out and not cried in public. Otherwise, that would’ve become his embarrassing history.

After that, no matter how hard or exhausting it got, he gritted his teeth. Let Uncle watch?
No way!

When Wang Lijun came out of the shower, towel in hand, she saw someone walking toward her — sure enough, it was Lin Yining.

She couldn’t help but laugh, then asked:
“Finished your training?”
Lin Yining lifted her still-trembling arms:
“Sister Wang, I finished. I didn’t slack off.”
“That’s good.”

Wang Lijun had been away on other matters, so someone else had been supervising. She’d just gotten back and hadn’t yet gone to the training grounds.

This was the army’s family area — lots of families here, even a school and hospital. Many parents were willing to let their children join in training. The instructors were often people who had some free time from regular duties.

Wang Lijun had been assigned the group of kids after she’d been slightly injured during a mission.

And then, Lin Yining had started sticking to her like glue. It was the first time Wang Lijun realized she was this popular.

“Tired? Come, I’ll give you a massage.”
Lin Yining beamed.
“Thanks, Sister Wang! You work so hard. My mom sent these chocolates for you — here.”

Part of the reason Yining liked sticking to her — besides her looks — was that she gave massages. Just a few presses made her body feel much better.

As for the chocolates, well, it didn’t feel right to take without giving something back.

When Lin Yihong also got a massage, he started hovering around Wang Lijun too.

Lin Tiandong: “…”

Now both kids were sticking to someone else. And him? He hadn’t even been noticed.

Worse, he felt a bit bitter — he’d only gotten to witness his niece’s embarrassing moments, not his nephew’s. A niece’s tears were understandable; she was a girl, after all. But his nephew? The boy refused to shed a single tear, so there was no blackmail material — and now his own embarrassing history had been dug up instead.

But this also made him look at his nephew in a new light.

A pretty tough kid, not willing to admit defeat.

Lin Tiandong’s admission notice was sent to the family compound of the machinery factory. He only found out it had arrived when Li Yujiao called him.

When he got the call, he literally jumped up: “That’s great!”

People nearby who overheard also joined in: “That’s wonderful news — you’re going to be a college student now.”

“This kid’s going places.”

“The Lin family is really something — four kids, and three of them are in college!”

Aside from the daughter, Lin Yunling, they were all college students.

Even that daughter was an intellectual — becoming a doctor isn’t something just anyone can do.

How could people not be impressed?

Lin Houp’u had lived here for many years, with plenty of relatives and old friends. As soon as they heard the news, they gathered together.

Lin Tiandong went to his dorm and brought out a jar of candy to share the joy — he’d prepared it especially.

Any household with children got two pieces, hoping their own kids might absorb a little luck and become college students too.

Lin Yihong and Lin Yining also helped hand out the candy.

Even in the army, not everyone was nice — there were always a few jealous eyes.

Another prestigious university student.

What kind of dumb luck had the Lin family stumbled into?

Back when the couple had their falling out, everyone said their home would be full of trouble afterward. And yet, here they were, perfectly fine.

Heaven must be blind.

Seeing the twins laughing, someone came over to stir the pot: “How can you two be so naïve? If he does well, won’t your grandpa’s heart favor him? You don’t even have the same grandmother!”

“You’d better be careful — that step-grandma of yours isn’t simple. She’s a fox spirit!”

“There are some things you should go tell your dad. If he plays favorites with the other woman’s children, that’s not fair.”

Lin Yihong and Lin Yining kept their composure.

Since they were little, people had whispered such things to them. Back then, they didn’t understand, but their parents taught them never to express an opinion in front of outsiders. They were still young — just pretend not to understand.

Speaking out would do no good.

If there were internal family conflicts, they would resolve them themselves. Talking about it outside only gave others more gossip.

These people didn’t have good intentions, and they couldn’t be allowed to succeed.

As for whether their grandfather was biased — nothing was as reliable as what you had for yourself.

If you only kept your eyes on what the elders had, you wouldn’t get far in life.

Heart answers to heart — they knew for themselves how their grandfather treated them. As for whether he’d wronged their grandmother, even their parents didn’t know.

But in her letters, Grandma never mentioned it.

One year, before New Year’s, Lin Yining had quietly asked if Grandpa had made a mistake.

Grandma was silent for a long time, then shook her head and said no.

She wouldn’t say more.

That alone was enough to put her at ease.

When Yining heard these provocative remarks, she pretended not to understand, while Yihong — as the boy — became the main target of the instigation.

He’d heard it too many times and was fed up, so he “innocently” asked:
“Auntie, I don’t get what you mean. Is my grandpa biased? I’ll call him and ask.”

“Auntie, who are you calling a fox spirit? I’ll go ask Uncle.”

If those words were repeated, it would cause real trouble.

The crowd quickly dispersed.

Only then did Yihong get some peace and quiet.

…

Lin Tiandong got his admission notice, and Yan Jin received hers too. Funny enough, he was headed to Qingmu University and she to Capital University.

They were close in distance, and if fate played along, there might be other connections in the future.

While the twins were training over summer break, Yu Mingjie and Yu Xiangju came from Yangcheng to the Special Zone.

After arriving, they ate and drank well, but they didn’t just laze around — Yu Xiang’an hired them as temporary workers, paying them monthly wages, which they happily earned.

They were both grown young men now, tall and lean, and good-looking.

When the restaurant was short-staffed, a female customer even slipped a note with her name and contact info into Mingjie’s pants pocket.

When he found the note, his face flushed red, and Xiangju laughed so hard he nearly fell over.

It embarrassed him to death.

When Yu Qingshan found out, he was pleased — if they weren’t in school, this would be the right age to be thinking about life partners. Now, of course, studies came first. Once they graduated and were assigned jobs, then they could think about that.

But if a good girl appeared now, don’t drag your feet — strike while the iron’s hot. That made both young men blush furiously.

Yu Xiang’an told them to think early about the paths they wanted to take. Knowing their goal meant they could start preparing.

These days, college students weren’t as rare as before, but they were still valuable.

If they already had career interests, they could start learning more about those areas. Jobs might be assigned, but it wasn’t entirely inflexible. Whether you got work you liked would determine how comfortable your future life would be.

Sometimes Yu Xiang’an would take them along when she went out, to broaden their horizons. Having Yu Qingshan nearby to keep them grounded ensured they didn’t get too full of themselves.

They soon realized their sister/aunt wasn’t just someone who could wield a spatula in the kitchen or bury her head in books — she could also command a room at the negotiation table with confidence and authority.

It was a side of her they hadn’t known before.

Yu Mansheng also took time to show them around. His world was different — 99% men, many of them young guys who’d been working since their teens.

Here, Yu Mansheng was a boss everyone greeted with respect — nothing like his old self in the village. Now he had over a hundred men working under him.

More than a hundred people depended on him for their livelihood, and his business kept growing.

He was currently building a multi-story building to sell. It wasn’t even finished yet, and people were already inquiring.

Yu Xiang’an had invested in it too. Aside from spending on her factory and equipment, she had a steady income. Most large expenses were covered by bank loans, so she still had cash flow.

Construction was different — the other party often withheld part of the wages until completion, sometimes delaying payment intentionally. Partnering up helped share the risk.

This building project was mostly Yu Mansheng’s, but alongside Yu Xiang’an, there were two other partners — four people in total.

Besides that, Yu Xiang’an had other investments, with varying shares. Her main moneymaker now was the Five Flavors Restaurant. Business was booming, and in another two years, she aimed to have branches all over the Special Zone.

With more capital in hand, her first step when opening a restaurant was to buy the property, then renovate and expand it. A large enough space in a bustling area would become a valuable asset in itself.

She offered both dine-in and takeout for customers who didn’t want to wait — quick and convenient.

Her goal was to replace the future KFC and McDonald’s — with such a huge market, why shouldn’t she take it herself?

Fried chicken? Of course she knew how to make it.

She wanted to make her brand famous, dominate the Special Zone market, and then expand outward.

As for who would handle expansion, her current employees — motivated by the promise of promotions and raises — would surely have plenty willing to pioneer new markets.

This summer, Yu Xiang’an’s car arrived.

Yu Yegui helped with it.

She had already gotten her driver’s license before, so she could get on the road right away.

Yu Xiangju and the others watched with envy. In their spare time, Yu Xiang’an taught them how to drive, and Yu Qingshan joined in as well. He was still in good health and not yet sixty.

Yu Qingshan declined twice at first, but then stopped refusing. When it came time to get in the car, he was just as excited.

How many men don’t love cars? He certainly wasn’t one of them.

Because of that enthusiasm, they picked it up quickly. On empty roads, they dared to drive, but to get on the road officially, they would still need to get a license.

Yu Xiang’an signed Yu Qingshan up for the test there. Yu Xiangju and Yu Mingjie decided not to take it yet — there wasn’t enough time, and they wouldn’t have the chance to drive. They’d wait until next summer.

…

Many of those investing in the Special Zone were overseas Chinese returning home, contributing their efforts. Among them, some were here for the market, but more returned out of a deep love for this land.

This was their homeland, their roots.

They had left in the past out of necessity. Now that the land needed them, they came back.

Fu Ziyu’s family had been one of those forced to leave. They were a family of national capitalists, with scholarly roots.

With such a background, staying in the country back then would have been hard.

Now, after so many years, she thought she’d mostly forgotten, but upon returning, memories flooded back.

Fu Ziyu was such an overseas Chinese. Her English name was Jenny, but after returning, she used her original Chinese name again.

Back then, her whole extended family went abroad together. Over the years, they built up a business overseas.

When reform and opening began, they weren’t sure if coming back would lead to “settling accounts later,” so they observed for a few years and made preparations. Later, after discussions, they decided Fu Ziyu would take the lead.

Although she was a woman, her abilities were outstanding, no less than a man’s. She had helped build part of their overseas business herself.

In the end, returning went smoothly.

Government staff were friendly, and tried to meet their needs as much as possible.

Their hotel was now almost finished. She wanted to build a five-star hotel, and was constructing and hiring to that standard.

In this, she and Yu Xiang’an had a lot to talk about. Yu Xiang’an was always recruiting too, due to her restaurant expansion.

Because of that, they interacted often. As they had more contact, their friendship grew. When they later became joint investors in Kelaite’s garment factory, they also became business partners.

Kelaite had bought a production line for clothing, bed sheets, and so on, supplying their supermarkets.

Seeing how hot the clothing market was, Yu Xiang’an and Fu Ziyu both thought it was a good idea, so they invested together.

With shared interests, they worked together more and helped make connections.

For example, if someone wanted to build something, Yu Xiang’an would tell Yu Mansheng. If he was too busy, he knew other foremen.

If someone needed contacts in packaging, Yu Xiang’an had her own network. They exchanged resources for mutual benefit.

She was busy, but when summer break ended, she took time to pick up the two kids and bring them back to the capital.

It had been so long — she didn’t know how they’d been over there.

Hearing their voices wasn’t enough to set her mind at ease.

Yu Qingshan went with her. He didn’t say it aloud, but he must have been worried too. Anyway, once Yu Xiang’an mentioned it, he agreed to go.

When they saw the kids, their once fair skin had turned a deep bronze. From that change alone, you could tell how much sun they’d gotten.

The darker skin made their teeth look especially white.

But their spirits were high, and their skinny arms and legs had grown stronger.

Yu Qingshan looked at their height with satisfaction — the kids were growing up. In the blink of an eye, it would be their turn to take the college entrance exam.

The two of them were delighted to see their mom and grandpa.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell us ahead of time? I thought Dad would come pick us up.”

“Your dad’s busy now and can’t get away.”

“What about you, Mom? You’re not busy anymore?”

“I can be away for a while — I’ve got everything arranged. Don’t worry.”

On the way to switch cars back to the capital, Yu Qingshan was holding back his excitement.

It was his first time going to the capital, and the closer they got, the more nervous he became.

This was the capital, after all.

He was going to pay his respects at Tiananmen!

Knowing their grandpa was curious about the capital, the twins started chattering nonstop all the way.

They’d grown up there and had been to many places. Back when Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai were in university, they’d take the twins out on weekends and holidays. When Yu Xiang’an was working — back before she was allowed to run a business — she’d still take the family to new places whenever she had time off.

Now, they described all the fun spots and delicious foods in detail.

Yu Qingshan listened with great interest, occasionally praising them, which made the twins even more eager to talk.

After arriving in the capital, Yu Xiang’an didn’t just sit idle. Two or three hundred meters from their home, a three-story food court had just finished renovations and was in its final stage. She went to take a look.

Seeing the building, and knowing it belonged entirely to his daughter and son-in-law, Yu Qingshan was speechless.

He really had an extraordinary daughter. When her mother was pregnant, she surely hadn’t dreamed of the God of Wealth — so how had she grown up to be this capable?

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Ch 19: When the Wild Goose Returns

Qing Yan tucked the little note into her sleeve, lifted her skirt slightly, and stepped onto the stone stairs.

As she looked up at the maid holding open the curtain at the doorway, she suddenly felt a twinge of nervousness.

The awkward parting conversation from the day before still echoed in her ears, the breeze brushing her cheeks seemed to replay it, causing her face to flush involuntarily.

Her fingertips clutched the hem of her veil of pale green gauze, giving it a little tug.

Then, holding her head high with a proud air, she ascended another step and entered the study.

Duan Wuyu tactfully excused himself first. Duan Wucuo was still seated by the window, calmly copying scripture.

Qing Yan moved to his side and cast a glance at the scripture he was copying, speaking in a soft, delicate voice, “Yan’er is unfamiliar with everything in Yi. Being stuck in another palace is dreadfully boring.
I wonder if Your Highness might spare some time to walk the bustling capital with me?”

Her voice was sweet and lilting, the ending soft and coquettish.

Even through the veil, one could almost imagine her downcast eyes and pouting lips in mock grievance.

The maid grinding ink curled her lips, thinking Princess Huachao had none of the elegance of a noblewoman—completely disdainful.

Duan Wucuo paused his brush, turned his face, and looked at her.

Qing Yan lifted her veil and gave him a smile so exaggerated and tragic it was practically criminal.

Duan Wucuo blinked.

In the corner, the maid tending incense gave a start, nearly dropping the lid of the censer.

The ink-grinding maid, who stood closer, fought hard not to burst out laughing.

Qing Yan squinted her eyes into slits, voice saccharine:
“To see Jiu Lang, Yan’er dressed up specially. Am I pretty?”

As she spoke, she hooked her fingers over the veil resting on her hat brim and fully revealed her face. She slowly blinked at Duan Wucuo.

With that motion, the purple eye shadow on her lids became painfully obvious.

Between her thick, straight brows was a green horse-hoof-shaped huadian—a rarely seen decorative motif.

Her rouge was thick, two round blotches smeared on her cheekbones.

Her lips were painted dark red, nearly purple.

To top it off, on the left corner of her mouth was a large “matchmaker’s mole” drawn with brow pencil.

Duan Wucuo smiled.

He saw right through her little ploy—trying everything she could to make herself repulsive so that he would reject the marriage.

Ever since he’d taken monastic vows, he had too much time on his hands. Teasing her had become a harmless diversion.

But after a few rounds of this game, he was starting to lose interest and had planned to return to Yongzhou Temple.

He hadn’t expected this silly girl to come knocking again. Still, her antics did add some color to his otherwise dull days.

He said leisurely, “The Princess’s makeup is… quite unique.”

Qing Yan covered her face with her hands in mock shyness.

Duan Wucuo’s eyes fell to those hands—slender, fair, delicate. Truly the hands of a beauty.

Except… the edges of her nails were black, packed with grime.

Even the lowest-ranked scullery maid wouldn’t be this filthy.

Qing Yan grinned at him and stuck her filthy thumb in her mouth, sucking on it.

The ink-maid turned away and made a gagging face at the incense maid, then composed herself and turned back as if nothing had happened.

Duan Wucuo’s smile deepened.

He set down his brush, and a maid immediately stepped forward with a copper basin for handwashing.

Unhurried, Duan Wucuo rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and picked up the cloth beside the basin, soaked it, then wrung it out.

Qing Yan’s heart leapt. Surely now he would finally wave her away!

She stared at Duan Wucuo, full of hope—only to see him step toward her.

Before she could react, Duan Wucuo’s palm rested gently on her lower back, guiding her forward.

Qing Yan froze. Her apricot eyes widened in shock as she stared up at him.

Then the wet cloth came down over her face, and everything went dark.

Through the warm dampness, she felt his hand move in circles on her cheek.

The cloth slowly moved down, revealing her eyes.

She tilted her head back, dazed, looking up at him.

Duan Wucuo lowered his head, expression neutral—focused as he wiped her face.

He glanced up at her briefly, then rinsed the dirty cloth in the basin and wiped her face again.

Her face was a chaotic mess of garish colors, but her eyes remained bright, as clear as morning dew in a forest, shimmering in the soft light of dawn.

Duan Wucuo lingered for a moment on her gaze before continuing to clean away the heavy makeup.

“You’re not suited for thick makeup,” he said.

His tone was casual. His movements, wiping her face, were natural.

The maids in the room stared wide-eyed—was this truly their Prince Zhan?

With the makeup gone, her cheeks were flushed—whether from the heat or her racing heart, she didn’t know.

“D-Do I… not look good?”

She stammered, unsure what she was even saying.

Duan Wucuo gave the faintest of smiles, put down the cloth, and reached for her hand.

Qing Yan instinctively drew back, hiding both hands behind her back. Her veil fell again, hiding her blushing face and granting her a brief sense of safety.

But Duan Wucuo bent forward, arms looping around her slim waist, gently capturing her wrists.

The subtle scent of sandalwood on him filled her senses.

He placed her hands into the copper basin and began washing them.

Her small hands were wrapped in his, the warm water enveloping them both.

The heat she felt came not from the water—but from his hands.

“I—I can do it myself!”

Qing Yan tried frantically to pull away, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

Clang!

The copper basin tipped from the pearwood stand and crashed to the floor, splashing water everywhere.

Both their robes were soaked.

Qing Yan staggered back, chest rising and falling.

Surely it was because the windows were shut—that must be why she felt so short of breath.

Duan Wucuo bent down and picked up a little note that had fallen from Qing Yan’s sleeve.

Unfolding it, he let out a soft “Oh?” and said with a half-smile,
“Seems the Princess had today’s outing well-planned—every shop listed quite neatly.”

“N-No, it’s not…” Qing Yan was on the verge of tears.

That note had come from a palace guard—it listed all the most famous food spots in the capital.

She had originally thought that if she dressed like this to invite Duan Wucuo, he would surely look disgusted and send her away.

Then she could gleefully take Wen Xi’s arm and go taste all those delicious treats one by one…

But Duan Wucuo acted as though he hadn’t heard a word she said. He slipped the note into his sleeve and said with a completely serious face, “The Princess’s kind intentions—I, though a man of the cloth, dare not disappoint. I shall go change clothes. Please wait a moment.”

He also instructed a maid to bring Qing Yan to Consort Kang to change into a clean outfit.

Duan Wucuo passed her with a calm expression and left the study.

Once outside, the corner of his lips tugged upward into a faint, not-so-benevolent smile.

He headed toward his private quarters. Before he even got close, he caught a strong scent of alcohol in the air.

His gaze darkened slightly, with a hint of unreadable chill.

He stepped inside and, just as expected, found Xuan Bai kneeling on the carpet before the bed, nearly naked.

Xuan Bai was a maid in Prince Kang’s residence. Ever since Duan Wucuo moved in, her longing had been written all over her face.

She had seen everything yesterday at the Qiangli Garden.

So last night, she had soaked herself in a wine vat.

She waited until Duan Wucuo left for the Yunxiao Pool this morning, then snuck into his room and knelt here to wait for him to return.

She’d already been waiting for an hour. When she finally saw him enter, she suppressed her joy and nervousness, lifted her face, and gazed up at him with affection.

Duan Wucuo slowly walked up to her, crouched down in front of her, and curled his lips into a faint smile.

Xuan Bai sank into that smile, the room spinning around her. All her senses scattered—she could see no one but him.

In that moment, she was so entranced that she felt dying for this smile would be worth it…

Meanwhile, Princess Consort Kang had chosen a pale apricot ruqun for Qing Yan. The smoky gauze fabric draped her like clouds and mist, giving her a softer appearance.

The outfit belonged to Princess Consort Kang’s younger cousin, who often visited. When she had new clothes made last time, she had some tailored for her cousin as well. This was one of them, though it hadn’t yet been picked up.

“Your veil is wet too. Just use this draped hat for now.”

Qing Yan thanked her and turned to leave.

But the moment she was out of Princess Consort Kang’s sight, her expression collapsed.

Thankfully, the red veil covered her sulky face.

As she walked along the covered walkway, she caught a strong scent of wine.

She looked over curiously and saw two servants from the manor carrying a rolled-up straw mat, walking quickly toward the back gate.

Qing Yan glanced again—and caught sight of a pale foot sticking out from one end of the mat.

Her eyes widened in shock.

“Princess.”

Duan Wucuo leaned casually against a corridor pillar, arms folded, smiling at her.

Qing Yan froze. With no time to think about the corpse, she stiffened and walked toward Duan Wucuo.

Once she reached him, she spoke with dying reluctance, “Your Highness is a Buddhist and must observe precepts. But the places I want to visit are all famous for their meat dishes. Am I making things too difficult for you?”

Duan Wucuo remained leaning against the pillar, unfolded the note, and ignored her words as he asked, “Where do we go first?”

Qing Yan deflated.

In the carriage, she puffed out her cheeks behind the red gauze, clearly sulking.

She felt wronged—not being able to link arms with Sister Wen Xi and enjoy all the good food.

And now she had to eat with Duan Wucuo? Even the most mouthwatering delicacies would lose their flavor.

Duan Wucuo sat across from her, watching her with interest, as if he could see through the gauze and into her grumpy little face.

The carriage stopped at Shuiyun Pavilion.

It was located away from the busy market street. From the outside, it was unimpressive. Inside, it wasn’t luxurious either—in fact, rather plain.

But its food was excellent, earning it the favor of many, including high officials and nobles.

The second floor had private booths separated by folding screens. Though they provided visual privacy, they didn’t block sound.

Qing Yan and Duan Wucuo had just sat down. As soon as she removed her veil, she heard familiar voices coming from the next room.

Not only were the voices familiar—they were talking about her.

“…This Princess Huachao is honestly laughable. Who knows if she was raised in the countryside and only recently recognized back into the royal family. She doesn’t act like a princess at all.”

The speaker was Tao Ningxin.

Another unfamiliar voice asked in surprise, “Really?”

Cheng Mujin sipped her tea and said lightly, “She’s at Prince Kang’s residence almost every day. You’re Princess Consort Kang’s cousin—go take a look yourself and you’ll see.”

So the earlier speaker was Dan Qianyue, Princess Consort Kang’s cousin.

Dan Qianyue asked, “Is she really going to marry Prince Zhan?”

“Who knows? It’s all up to him. But if you ask me, she’d be better off marrying Prince Min.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No matter how improper she is, she’s still a princess from Tao. How could she be made a side consort to a blind fool like Prince Min?”

“You don’t know? Prince Min’s consort died from illness! He’s coming to the capital soon for the Empress Dowager’s birthday.”

“I think that dumb princess and blind fool are a perfect match! Hahaha…”

The girls all burst into laughter.

Qing Yan hadn’t cared much at first about them badmouthing her.

But the more she listened, the more her eyes began to sparkle—brighter than the stars in the night sky.

Prince Min?

He lost an eye to illness as a child and was slower than others.

His fief was far from Zhan Yuan Prefecture.

He was a fool. He wouldn’t recognize she was an imposter.

And his territory was distant—she wouldn’t run into anyone from her past.

Wouldn’t that make him the perfect person for a political marriage?

Duan Wucuo glanced at Qing Yan’s starry eyes with a cold stare.

At last, his expression darkened.

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