Rebirth in 1972: Redemption in Changbai Mountain

"You want our village to grow ginseng in the mountains?"

Zhang Aimin lightly traced a couple of lines on the table with his fingertips, his tone devoid of any eager anticipation, clearly indicating that he didn't take the matter to heart.

"Yes. Years ago, the whole village couldn't even fill their stomachs. They risked their lives to clear land and grow grain, fearing that they would run out of food one day." Zhou Rui leaned back in his chair.

"Now that we've endured so many years of hardship, we have enough food to eat. Shouldn't we start thinking about adding some side businesses to the village and giving the villagers some of our savings?"

"Fish farming? There's no more wasteland around the village to dig fish ponds, except for the forest behind the village, which is perfect for growing ginseng."

Upon hearing this, Zhao Youzhi's cloudy eyes suddenly lit up for a moment, but before that light could spread, it was quickly suppressed again.

He is an old Party Secretary who has come through years of famine. The rule that is engraved in his bones is that food must come first, and everything else must give way to grain production.

"So what are the plans for next year's land reclamation? How many people will be needed to manage the ginseng fields?"

Zhao Youzhi didn't rush to make a decision. He was stubborn, but he was very clear-headed. Zhou Rui was a man with real skills, and it wouldn't hurt to listen to his ideas.

"Reclaim wasteland? There's hardly any land left in the west. If we expand a few more steps, the land will connect with the field ridges of the Mule Field Production Brigade. Where will we find land to reclaim then? That's why we need to plan ahead."

Zhou Rui waved his hand: "As for how many people are needed to grow ginseng, how can I say for sure? You'll have to go to the commune and ask the technicians at the agricultural bureau for details."

"Cultivating ginseng in the forest requires the most technical skill. Without someone knowledgeable to supervise and guide you, all your hard work will just end up rotting in the mountains."

He was only responsible for throwing out his ideas, and had no intention of taking any responsibility for them. Besides, he only had a superficial understanding of ginseng cultivation, so there was no need for him to show off his limited knowledge in front of experts.

Zhao Youzhi didn't press Zhou Rui further, and instead turned his gaze to Zhang Aimin.

He was wondering why Zhang, the brigade leader, was so unusually tight-lipped today. He usually held the reins of the village's production more tightly than anyone else, personally overseeing everything from spring planting to fertilization and land reclamation, hoping to achieve some outstanding results.

"Comrade Aimin, what are your thoughts on Zhou Rui's proposal?"

When Zhang Aimin's name was called, a hint of difficulty instantly appeared on his face.

To be honest, he didn't want to take on this project at all. He came to the village to gain experience and prestige; reclaiming wasteland, expanding planting areas, and increasing grain production were all tangible achievements that could be presented to the public.

But what about ginseng grown under the forest canopy? It takes at least five or six years to see any benefits, and by then he will have already been transferred away, so he won't get any of the benefits.

"Well... um... I think Zhou Rui's suggestion is in the right direction, but we still need to think about it carefully," Zhang Aimin stammered.

"This year, we have reclaimed an additional 100 acres of land. Although there won't be much wasteland left next year, we can still squeeze out a little more."

"When the harvest season comes, we'll need more people to harvest the crops, and we'll also need to send people into the mountains to plant ginseng. If we put both of these together, we're afraid we won't have enough manpower to keep up with demand."

He dared not openly oppose it, because the higher-ups were encouraging diversified operations at the moment, and to openly go against the grain would be to go against the policy, and he couldn't bear the blame for that.

Zhou Rui saw through their expressions. Zhao Youzhi's concerns were clearly written on his face, but Zhang Aimin's thoughts were tightly concealed.

He suddenly lost interest. When he first stumbled upon the vast fields of ginseng seeds in the mountains, he genuinely wanted to find a way to increase the village's income.

If this project succeeds, the village's collective income will jump significantly, and the amount that goes to his family won't even amount to a fraction of his savings.

He couldn't be bothered to guess what Zhang Aimin was up to, and he had no interest in taking the initiative to lead the effort.

"Alright, I was just mentioning an idea casually. As for the specifics, your brigade leadership can discuss it amongst yourselves."

Zhou Rui stood up, patted his pants, and said, "I have to go home and take care of the kids. I'm leaving now."

"You rascal, stop talking about taking care of the kid all the time. Let your wife take care of the child; you go help out in the fields..."

Zhou Rui strode quickly out of the brigade headquarters, bent down to pick up An'an and Xiao Niangao, and disappeared in a flash, leaving Zhao Youzhi with the rest of his words behind.

He returned to the village to live a comfortable life and enjoy family happiness, not to be conscripted and used as labor by the old Party Secretary.

The village road was lined with villagers busy with farm work. With so many people talking, he didn't want to go near them, lest he be dragged into the fields to work after just a few steps.

He deliberately chose a deserted path, bypassing the bridge and wading directly across the shallow stream, shortening the journey by more than half, and no one could stop him.

"Second brother, I'm all sweaty. Put me down, I can walk by myself." An'an squirmed in his arms, her little face flushed red and covered in sweat.

The little rice cake next to him also started to make a fuss, clinging to his shoulders with its little hands, insisting on getting down and becoming An'an's little tail.

"Uncle... go down, go down and walk..."

The two little girls, who had just stepped onto the ridge of the field, couldn't take it all in at once.

Butterflies fluttering through the grass with their colorful wings, and little frogs leaping out of the cracks in the soil at their feet, could amuse the two girls, who would shout and run after them for a long distance with their short legs.

Zhou Rui followed slowly behind, watching An'an and Xiao Niangao frolic and splash around. Even when the two children stumbled and sat in a mud puddle, he didn't bother to help them up.

Children from the countryside are born with a tenacity, a quality honed through years of playing and struggling in the mud. Children who grow up with their feet on the ground can take root firmly in any complex world and carve out their own niche.

"Uncle, uncle, toad, I want it."

Little Rice Cake was still too small. An'an could easily catch the little frog, but Little Rice Cake couldn't catch it even when her shoes flew off. So she had to ask Zhou Rui for help.

Zhou Rui had no interest in frolicking in the field with her. He scooped up a small rice cake with his big hand and hoisted it onto his shoulder. His giggles were louder than the sparrows in the treetops.

"An'an! An'an! Are you building a house here? Come and build one together!"

A hoarse, raspy voice, typical of someone going through puberty, came from ahead. The boy's voice still had a childish quality, but the words he spoke were as pure as those of a five or six-year-old child.

"Brother Gensheng, what kind of house is this? Here, have some candy."

Zhou Rui led Xiao Niangao forward a couple of steps and spotted a handsome young boy standing by the riverbank, squatting there playing with mud. His eyes were clear and pure, and the mud house he sculpted was perfectly angular and perfectly straight.

An'an squatted down next to him and handed him a White Rabbit milk candy, showing no disgust at the boy's muddy hands.

Not far away, a plump figure was squatting, clutching the clothes in her hands and scrubbing them vigorously in the river.

Is that Widow Zhao? And her mentally challenged son who got a fever and damaged his brain?

Aunt Zeng.