After returning from the county town, Chen Zhiwei felt even more at ease.
Aside from Zhang Meng, Aunt Zhao, and Madam Mei, she had only recruited three men and two women for now. Once the business in the county stabilized, she planned to expand into surrounding counties.
By then, she could simply sit back and collect profits.
At dawn the next day, the new workshop officially began operations.
The hired villagers arrived early, and under the coordination of Aunt Mei and Zhang Meng, each took on their assigned tasks: soaking beans, grinding pulp, boiling, curdling, pressing, braising…
The entire workshop ran in perfect order, the air filled with the rich aroma of soy and braised sauce. Chen Zhiwei made her rounds, offering occasional guidance. Seeing everyone quickly get the hang of it, she finally felt reassured.
As for the stall in town, she had already reached an agreement with Aunt Zhao. Aunt Zhao would run it daily and receive a commission based on sales, an arrangement she gladly accepted.
With everything in place, Chen Zhiwei began accompanying Zhao Dagang to the county every day to deliver goods. She handled deliveries, settled accounts, and developed new customers. The business grew steadily—especially the soybean products. With reasonable prices and unique flavors, they sold well at “Kelaixiang” and several grocery shops, earning positive feedback. Chen Zhiwei knew that reputation took time to build, so she wasn’t in a rush.
As the spring breeze warmed and cuckoos called, the fields grew busy once more. It was finally time for spring plowing. With the workshop running smoothly, this agricultural PhD could finally return to farming.
To Chen Zhiwei, farming—especially high-yield farming—was far more than simply scattering seeds into the soil.
The first issue she tackled was soil fertility. At this time, farmyard manure was the norm, but its effect was slow and uneven.
She had long prepared for this: after last autumn’s harvest, she had asked Uncle Zhang Meng to help collect large amounts of livestock manure, weeds, fallen leaves, stove ash, and even soybean residue from the workshop.
She dug several deep pits by the fields and began composting them.
After spring arrived, she added specially selected crushed plants with beneficial properties, turning the compost daily to accelerate fermentation and decomposition. The result was a more balanced and stable base fertilizer. This process attracted many villagers, and even experienced farmers marveled:
“Zhiwei girl’s composting is more meticulous than my wife cooking!”
Next came seed treatment. She mixed the plump, highly vigorous rice seeds from her “space” with some locally selected varieties as a cover. Before sowing, she carried out “warm water soaking” and “medicated coating.”
She prepared warm water with a very dilute salt solution, soaked the seeds for a while, then drained them. After that, she coated them with powdered plants that had mild antibacterial and pest-repelling properties—such as garlic powder and mugwort ash. To her, the process was orderly and scientific; to the villagers, it seemed almost mystical:
“Bathing seeds? Giving them medicine? Never heard of such a thing!”
For land preparation, she insisted on deep plowing and fine harrowing.
The hired workers followed her instructions, turning the soil over more than a foot deep to break the hardpan, then carefully breaking up and leveling the clods to ensure loose, well-aerated soil.
“Zhiwei girl, plowing this deep wastes oxen and effort—what’s the point?” one worker asked.
She smiled. “Uncle, deep roots make strong plants. If the soil is well-prepared, crops can root deeper, absorb more nutrients and water, grow sturdier stalks, and resist drought and lodging.”
The reasoning was simple, but such meticulous farming was considered extravagant by villagers accustomed to rough methods.
Most eye-catching was her sowing method. She abandoned the common broadcasting technique and adopted a more advanced “row planting with dense spacing.” Using string lines, she marked straight rows in the field. Row and plant spacing were carefully calculated so each seedling would receive enough sunlight and ventilation while maximizing plant density.
She personally demonstrated how to plant seeds in each hole evenly. Even the most experienced farmers gathered around:
“This method is good! The plants won’t crowd, and the land won’t be wasted. Weeding and fertilizing will be easier too! Zhiwei girl, how did your brain grow like this?”
Although time-consuming and labor-intensive, her methods caused quite a stir in the village. Even before her seedlings emerged, her “meticulous to the point of strictness” farming approach was widely discussed—drawing both curiosity and skepticism.
..
While Chen Zhiwei was busy with spring planting, good news also came from her younger brother Chen Zhiyi’s school.
One day after class, Chen Zhiyi came home flushed with excitement, tightly clutching a copybook. Several “excellent” marks were circled in red by the teacher.
“Sis! The teacher praised my handwriting today and said I memorized the Three Character Classic quickly and well!” His eyes sparkled with joy.
Though he had started late, he understood how precious this opportunity was. With his sister’s nightly guidance and the subtle influence of the spirit spring water, his memory and comprehension far surpassed ordinary children. He improved rapidly and soon stood out in the beginner’s class, earning repeated praise from the teacher.
In sharp contrast was Chen Zhiyuan.
His father, Chen Dahe, worked as a carpenter in town and had high hopes for his scholarly son, providing him with a decent monthly allowance. However, Chen Zhiyuan did not devote himself fully to his studies. He often mixed with wealthy youths in town, indulging in food, drink, and развлечments.
Several times, Chen Zhiyi even saw him leaving restaurants, reeking of alcohol, laughing with companions and spending money freely. He quietly remembered this and later told his sister. Chen Zhiwei merely sneered and told him to ignore it and focus on his own studies.
..
After the busy sowing season, clear river water flowed into the fields, nourishing the seeds of hope.
Chen Zhiwei inspected the fields daily.
Besides routine management, she would secretly mix in extremely diluted spirit spring water for irrigation when no one was around—carefully controlling the amount so the results would be noticeable but not shocking.
A few days later, the seedlings broke through the soil, forming a tender green carpet.
At first, their growth was not much different from others—just more uniform and slightly stronger. The villagers, though impressed, found it within reason, praising her diligence at most.
But after ten days to half a month, the difference became striking.
Her rice plants produced abundant tillers, shooting up at a visible speed. Their leaves were dark green and glossy, their growth vigorous, their stems thick and sturdy—far surpassing neighboring fields.
The village buzzed with discussion:
“Look! Zhiwei girl’s seedlings! How are they growing so fast in just days?”
“This is unbelievable! I’ve farmed all my life and never seen plants like this!”
“Her methods… are they really that magical? Composting, soaking seeds…”
“Looks like it’s not just for show—there’s real skill there!”
Those who had doubted her fell silent. Experienced farmers gathered daily by the field ridges, studying her crops in amazement.
When asked, Chen Zhiwei remained modest: “Maybe the soil is fertile, the seeds are good, and I just took extra care. Perhaps I got lucky.”
After all, these seeds were the result of a lifetime of work by Yuan Longping, and continuous improvements built upon his foundation—how could they possibly grow poorly? When harvest time came, there would be even more to astonish them.