Some people only cared about one thing when it came to the test fields using villagers’ land: Were there subsidies from above, and if so, how much?
How much profit could be skimmed off every mu of land?
As for how much the crops would yield or whether there was a market for them? That was none of their concern.
Besides, the soil in Cuizhuxiang had its own inherent problems. The only reason they spoke in roundabout, polite terms was out of respect for Secretary Zhou.
“I’m not saying farming is completely out of the question,” one of them explained. “The main issue is that our land isn’t fertile. On top of that, the plots are scattered all over the place — we can’t form large-scale operations. It’s enough just to lift people out of poverty, but getting truly wealthy? That’s far harder.”
“Why not try something else instead?”
Zhou Chiye shook his head at the suggestion.
One village chief lit a cigarette, looked at him earnestly, and asked, “Like what?”
What kind of business could they possibly start?
Lin Sui didn’t pick up on the sarcasm in his tone.
“Something suited to our local conditions,” she replied.
The three village chiefs all laughed, thinking she was pretending to know things she didn’t.
“Hey, that’s enough,” said Chief Zhang. “Adults are talking — kids should stay out of it.”
At that moment, Second Uncle arrived with three other village leaders, quickly pushing the younger folks to the side. The chiefs gathered around a table with Secretary Zhou to discuss how to plant “four-season rice.”
Old Lin called out to Lin Sui to lend a hand, but she couldn’t be bothered to waste her breath. She figured she might as well go and help prepare the meal instead.
Zhou Chiye watched her walk away, her skirt flaring with every step, and smiled faintly at her obvious irritation. Soon, though, his expression turned thoughtful again.
“Here we come — the dishes are served!”
To properly host Secretary Zhou, Second Uncle had even brought out the wild boar meat his father-in-law had given him. One chief contributed a large reservoir fish weighing more than ten catties; Old Lin added a plump chicken of seven or eight catties and a duck as well. The spread was far more abundant than what they served on Chinese New Year’s Eve.
The wild boar was prepared two ways: braised in soy sauce, and blanched. For the blanched dish, the meat and skin were cooked, plunged into cold water, then sliced thin. It was topped with a thick sauce made of ginger, scallions, soy sauce, and chili, then finished with a drizzle of peanut oil pressed right at home — rich, fragrant, and refreshing.
The duck was slow-cooked with hairy fig roots until tender and infused with a unique, savory aroma.
Zhou Chiye gave Father Lin a thumbs-up. “Excellent — delicious!”
Old Lin beamed from ear to ear. “I don’t mean to brag, but when it comes to cooking, nobody in Cuizhuxiang does it better than me!”
The chiefs all let out a playful huff.
Lin Sui and the other women sat at a separate table. In those days, when guests came over, women were never allowed at the main table. Even during family visits or festivals, if there wasn’t enough seating, women simply stood and ate — even if they were holding babies. The men never noticed or cared, and the women themselves accepted it as normal.
Lin Sui had always resented this custom deeply. That was one reason she rarely came home for holidays in her past life. Of course, once she became wealthy in later years, such outdated rules no longer applied to her.
“Auntie.”
Suddenly, Zhou Chiye spoke up to Liang Fengjiao. “Come sit over here too. You two, and Lin Sui and the little girl — join us.”
Everyone froze in surprise. Zhou Chiye had already stood up, his brow slightly furrowed as he gestured. “Sit here — it’s more comfortable.”
Liang Fengjiao felt overwhelmed by such unexpected kindness. Little did everyone know, she’d been hoping for just that chance. “Oh, well… The rice wine Lin Sui’s grandfather brews tastes far better than anything sold outside.”
Since Secretary Zhou insisted, she didn’t argue and took a seat gracefully.
Lin Sui glanced over at Zhou Chiye, studying him with quiet curiosity. As if sensing her gaze, he looked back. “My niece’s classmate — why should I help you?” he asked lightly.
“No need at all,” Lin Sui replied quickly with a smile, moving her chair closer.
“Niece’s classmate?” Liang Fengjiao asked, confused. “When did you get a niece that big?”
Before Zhou Chiye could answer, Lin Sui cut in: “Mom, age doesn’t decide seniority, right? The granddaughter of Old Man Wang next door is older than Xiaohua, but doesn’t she still call Xiaohua ‘Auntie’?”
“Ah — that’s true enough!” Liang Fengjiao nodded.
With the women joining, the round table grew crowded. Lin Sui ended up right next to Zhou Chiye; even a slight movement made their sleeves brush against each other. He didn’t seem to mind in the least.
“Thank you all for your hospitality,” Zhou Chiye said, raising his cup. “I’ll drink first as a sign of respect.”
Liang Fengjiao beamed with delight. “Come, come — let’s drink!”
The awkwardness from a moment before quickly faded, and the atmosphere turned lively and warm again.
Lin Sui couldn’t help stealing another glance at the man beside her. Seen in profile, his forehead, eyebrows, nose, and jawline rose and fell like the mountain ranges of Cuizhuxiang — far more striking and handsome than any of the “pretty boys” who would later become popular in her time.
“So,” he asked abruptly, catching her off guard. “What do you mean by ‘suited to local conditions’?”
Remembering how dismissive the village chiefs had acted earlier, Lin Sui hesitated. In my past life, I became rich but never came back to help develop our hometown. Why? Because I never liked dealing with people like them.
“I wouldn’t dare try to teach an expert how to do his job,” she said with a laugh. “But since you helped me out earlier, Secretary Zhou, let me toast you three cups!”
Zhou Chiye raised his eyebrows, then downed all three cups in quick succession — each one holding nearly two ounces of strong rice wine.
By the end of the meal, Lin Sui herself wasn’t sure if she was drunk, but she and Zhou Chiye were still standing upright and alert. The others, however, were slumping in their chairs, thoroughly intoxicated.
Liang Fengjiao, barely able to stand, turned to Lin Sui. “Walk Secretary Zhou back, won’t you?”
As they strolled along, Lin Sui sighed softly. “Tell me… what do you think people live for anyway?”
Zhou Chiye let out a quiet laugh. “Are you planning to talk all night?” He paused. “But we won’t settle that question anytime soon. Right now, I’m far more interested in your idea of ‘working with what we have.’”
“Secretary Zhou, look over there.” Lin Sui raised a hand, pointing toward the dark silhouettes of the mountains in the distance, her vision slightly blurred from the wine.
Zhou Chiye looked on, confused. “Perhaps you should just go to bed instead.”
Only a fool would ask a heartbroken girl who’s had too much to drink for advice, he thought. Still, this girl clearly saw things differently from everyone else — it wouldn’t hurt to listen.
“You think I’m drowning my sorrows in alcohol?” Lin Sui asked, amused. “Just because I’m upset over a man? They say it’s hard to find a three-legged frog in this world, but two-legged men are everywhere you look.”
Zhou Chiye fell silent, then turned to walk ahead. “Do you know why this place is called Cuizhuxiang — the Land of Green Bamboo?”
He stopped and glanced back when Lin Sui didn’t answer. “Well?”
“Look at all those mountains,” she said, stepping forward and stomping on a dry bamboo stalk at her feet, making it crackle. “So many trees, so much bamboo — and what do we do with it all? Burn it for firewood!”
“Is it just firewood we’re burning?” she went on, her tone turning sharp. “We’re burning money! It pains me to see all that potential going to waste.”
“So what do you propose we do instead?”
Lin Sui’s eyes — bright and almond-shaped — glinted with a knowing smile. “Are you asking for my advice, Secretary Zhou?”
There was a playful challenge in her voice. Zhou Chiye stared into the distance, then his gaze drifted back to rest on her slightly upturned lips. “Comrade Lin Sui, I am asking earnestly. Does that satisfy you?”
Lin Sui found his deep, steady voice very pleasant to hear. She nodded, putting on an air of approval that made Zhou Chiye’s eye twitch slightly. “I’m only telling you this because you think differently from the others,” she said.
“Cuizhuxiang could develop a bamboo and timber processing industry.”
Zhou Chiye considered it. “Would there even be a market for such products?”
“Of course — domestic sales, and exports too.”
“Exports to earn foreign currency?” Zhou Chiye repeated, his eyes lighting up.
“Exactly.” Lin Sui grew serious now. “Foreigners love this kind of thing. The odder and more rustic it looks, the more they value it. What people here find ugly or plain, people abroad consider exquisite and unique.”
Zhou Chiye laughed softly. “You sound so sure.”
He doesn’t believe me, Lin Sui thought to herself. But in the years ahead, China’s bamboo and wood products will become incredibly popular overseas. If we start now, we’ll be right on time.
“We can build factories here,” she continued. “Design, produce, and export — all in one complete chain!”