Starting with vegetable greenhouses in 1988

Chapter 264 Harvest
Just after five o'clock, the kitchen became lively again.

Master Yan, with his thick braid coiled behind his head, squatted by the sink, picking vegetables, his fingers flying as he removed the rotten leaves. Beside him, Guo Yongjiu was chopping minced meat, the "thump-thump" sound drifting out the window cracks into the street.

In the lobby, Fang Xiaoli was wiping the table with a rag, her quiet face full of seriousness; Zhang Hongqi was setting out chopsticks, his tall and thin body moving back and forth between the tables and chairs—compared to his clumsy appearance when he first arrived, he was much more efficient now.

The curtain was flung open with a "whoosh," and a woman in a blue Zhongshan suit entered, clutching a thermos cup with "Chongwen Catering Service Company" printed on it. She was not tall, and her hair was neatly combed without a single stray hair.

Fang Xiaoli quickly went up to greet them, smiling and saying, "Welcome! We haven't had dinner yet, would you like to have a seat? Let me pour you a cup of tea."

The woman waved her hand and glanced around the front hall: "Are your boss, Mr. Li, and Manager Tan here? I need to talk to them about something."

Tan Jingya had just come out of the kitchen with a recipe book in her hand. Hearing the voice, she looked up and immediately greeted him with a smile: "Section Chief Wang, what brings you here? Please have a seat! Xiaoli, pour a pot of jasmine tea and bring a plate of freshly cut watermelon."

Section Chief Wang didn't move, his smile faded slightly, and he waved his hand again: "Manager Tan, don't bother, I just want to say a few words."

Tan Jingya's heart skipped a beat, but she still reached out to her, saying, "Please sit down and talk. Standing is tiring."

Section Chief Wang then walked to the table and sat down, placing his thermos on the corner. He rubbed his fingers on the lid for a long time without saying a word. After a while, he slowly asked, "How's business at your shop lately?"

"Thanks to you, it's great!" Tan Jingya quickly replied. "The private rooms were all full at noon, and we're even having to turn over tables in the evening. I've been wanting to invite you and your family to try it. When are you free?"

Section Chief Wang sighed, picked up his thermos and took a sip of tea, his voice lowering slightly: "Manager Tan, to be honest, our company hasn't been doing well lately. The management team has decided in a meeting to sell this shop."

"Huh?" Tan Jingya felt like she'd been doused with cold water, her smile freezing instantly. "You want to sell the shops? But we signed a five-year lease, and we've only been open for three months."

“I know this is sudden, but there’s nothing we can do.” Section Chief Wang’s voice was tinged with helplessness. “Hundreds of workers in the company are waiting for their wages. We haven’t even received the full amount of wages from the month before last. If we don’t sell the shops, we really can’t hold on any longer.”

“But…” Tan Jingya’s fingertips felt a little cold.

She recalled the loud crashes of the walls being demolished during the renovation, the long haggling she endured at the furniture market over the price of tables and chairs, and the phone installation fee and air conditioner deposit she had just paid—all the money she received in the divorce settlement had been invested in this restaurant; it was her only hope.

“We’re not going to break the contract,” Section Chief Wang interrupted her thoughts. “You can negotiate the lease with the new landlord later. As long as the new landlord is willing, you can continue doing business.”

These words felt like a flimsy straw to Tan Jingya—what if the new landlord didn't want to rent? What if he knew she had invested so much money and deliberately raised the rent to control her?
She stared at the phone on the counter, all her earlier excitement gone. A feeling of powerlessness surged up from the soles of her feet, making it hard for her to breathe.

Section Chief Wang was still saying something, but Tan Jingya couldn't hear him anymore. All she could hear was the sound of chopping vegetables coming from the kitchen and the occasional bicycle bell from the street. She sat blankly in her chair, her fingers unconsciously picking at the tablecloth. She didn't know how much time had passed before she came to her senses and realized that the thermos on the corner of the table was gone.

She asked Han Chunyan, who was standing next to her, "Where is Section Chief Wang?"

"Section Chief Wang just left, saying he'd like you to discuss it with Boss Li when he gets back." This was the first time Han Chunyan had seen Tan Jingya like this; she was completely different from the usual calm and collected Manager Tan. She asked softly:
"Manager Tan, if the new landlord doesn't renew the lease, will our restaurant still be able to stay open?"

"Don't overthink it." Tan Jingya glared at her, then softened her tone: "Just focus on your work, don't worry about anything else."

"I understand," Han Chunyan replied, her voice tinged with panic.

As the setting sun streamed into the lobby through the window, customers began to arrive. Tan Jingya roused herself and started attending to the evening's business—no matter what, the evening business had to continue, and the business still had to be done.

……

As dawn broke, the mud-brick walls of Yangma Village in Wan'an Town were still covered in dew, and the shadow of the sycamore tree in the village committee courtyard was scattered on the ground.

Village Party Secretary Tao Dafeng carried an enamel mug with brown tea stains that were difficult to wash off around the rim, and a crumpled newspaper in his other hand. He trudged along the blue brick floor toward the broadcasting room.

His name has been the subject of much gossip, but Tao Dafeng himself has long since stopped caring.

Back then, nobody thought it was strange; everyone said it was an honorable thing. But by the 1980s, the name started to sound a bit off.

As for changing his name, he had thought about it before, but after careful consideration, he felt that everyone in the village was already used to calling him that, so even if he changed his name, no one would call him that.

The wooden desks in the broadcasting room are gleaming with oil, passed down from the older generation.

Tao Dafeng sat down and spread out the newspaper. The headline on the front page, "Off-season Vegetables Break Beijing's Vegetable Shortage for the First Time," was particularly eye-catching. Below it, in smaller print, was the article, "Jizhou Farmer Li Zhe Pioneers Heated Greenhouse Technology, Off-season Cucumbers Sell for Eight Yuan Per Jin, Shaking Up the Vegetable Basket Project." The report was from last winter.

He rubbed the words "eight yuan" with his fingertips and gasped – cucumbers in the summer market were only three cents a pound, but these winter cucumbers were more than two hundred times more expensive.
He had heard that the Li family in Daying Village, a neighboring village, made money growing crops in greenhouses. Last winter, he even saw the Li family's truck passing by outside the village. At the time, he felt that it was quite remarkable, but he never expected that they could make so much money.

Yesterday, I went to a meeting in town. Mayor Chen slammed his fist on the table and said, "We should learn from Daying Village and implement the 'One Belt, One Town Vegetable Greenhouse Expansion Plan'." He also specifically praised Wang Tietou, the Party Secretary of Daying Village. That old guy immediately raised his chin high and his eyes were almost looking up at the ceiling.

Mayor Chen specifically instructed, "When broadcasting, change the price of cucumbers to six yuan per jin."

Tao Dafeng still can't figure it out—the higher the price, the more willing the villagers are to plant, so why is the price being lowered?
But he was too lazy to bother thinking about it; he just did whatever the mayor told him to do.

He reached out and turned on the loudspeaker switch. With a crackling sound, he blew into the microphone twice, cleared his throat, and said, "Attention villagers, I am Tao Dafeng, the Party Secretary of Yangma Village. Today I'm going to tell you about a way to get rich..."

The broadcast message drifted along the power lines to the east end of Yangma Village.

Inside the Ma family's imposing brick house, Ma Changhe sat on a peeling faux leather sofa, clutching a loan slip from the credit union in his hand, his eyes crinkling with smiles.

"Honey, look! The loan of five thousand yuan has been approved!" He handed the paperwork to his wife, Wang Huilan.

Wang Huilan, who was more than nine months pregnant, was sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) tidying up the baby's clothes when she heard this. She slowly raised her head and smiled: "Now your wish has come true, and we can build a vegetable greenhouse."

Ma Changhe had worked with Li Zhe in greenhouse farming for a month before. Although he only learned a rudimentary version of the techniques, he was still tempted after seeing Li Zhe make money from greenhouse farming.

As they were talking, Tao Dafeng mentioned Li Zhe's greenhouse on the radio. Ma Changhe jumped up, his brows furrowing instantly, a sense of urgency creeping in: "Why hasn't your eldest daughter arrived yet? Tell her to come and keep an eye on things earlier, she's just dragging her feet!"

Wang Huilan touched her large belly. Her due date was approaching, and her body was becoming increasingly cumbersome, but she still gently comforted herself, "It's okay, I can manage on my own."

"How can that be? Your due date is only a few days away, you can't be without someone by your side!" Ma Changhe walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), reached out and supported his wife's arm, his tone softening.

"Then why do you keep going out every day?" Wang Huilan couldn't help but complain under her breath.

Ma Changhe chuckled sheepishly and explained, "Honey, I have no choice. There are so many people building greenhouses now, and the price of greenhouse film and steel pipes is going up. I have to get the greenhouse built before the baby is born, otherwise, I won't have time after the baby is born."

"Alright, alright, then hurry up and go. I reckon Zhao Di will be here soon," Wang Huilan urged, afraid he would be anxious.

"Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?" Ma Changhe was still a little worried.

"Don't worry, it's alright," Wang Huilan reassured her with a smile.

Ma Changhe thought for a moment and said, "Okay, I have to go buy greenhouse film today. It's the most crucial thing for building a greenhouse, and I can't delay it." After saying that, he hurriedly got up and walked out, but turned back at the door and picked up the bag on the kang (a heated brick bed).

Wang Huilan got up and saw him to the door, reminding him, "Take care on the way, don't rush."

"I know, you should go back soon too, don't tire yourself out." After saying that, Ma Changhe rode his bicycle out of the house.

The bicycle rolled along the country dirt road, kicking up a trail of dust.

It took Ma Changhe more than an hour to reach the LF City Plastics Factory.

From afar, you could see three or four-story red brick factory buildings, and there was a pungent, acidic smell in the air—the smell of melting plastic.

He didn't go through the main gate, but went around to the street corner north of the factory—when he worked in Li Zhe's greenhouse before, he heard from the workers that Li Zhe bought all the greenhouse film from the plastic supplies store here.

The plastic supplies store is over 100 square meters, and there is a red paper strip on the glass door that reads "Agricultural Supplies Section".

Ma Changhe pushed open the door, and the bell on the door rang once. Behind the counter sat a short, plump saleswoman, holding a needle and thread and sewing shoe soles. Her dark red face was expressionless. She glanced at him and then lowered her head to continue her work.

The store shelves were filled with plastic products, including plastic basins, plastic buckets, and industrial plastic pipes.

There were three rolls of plastic film piled up against the east wall: black, blue, and a transparent one. Ma Changhe walked straight to the transparent film and touched it—the film was thick and smooth, exactly the same as the one Li Zhe used.

A hint of joy involuntarily appeared on his face. He turned around and asked the sales clerk, "Comrade, how much is this transparent plastic film?"

"Seven yuan per square meter." The saleswoman glanced at it, then lowered her head to stitch shoe soles again, as if this was her main job. "What? That expensive!" Ma Changhe exclaimed in surprise, his voice rising, "I heard you sell them for four yuan per square meter, don't you?"

The short, stout saleswoman finally put down her needle and thread, looked up at him, and said, "Nonsense! This one is the best. No cracks, no bubbles, and the thickness is uniform. I've never sold it for four yuan."

"Don't try to fool me! Li Zhe bought his from you last year for four yuan per square meter!" Ma Changhe said confidently. He had specifically asked Li Zhe's greenhouse employees beforehand and knew the truth.

The short, stout saleswoman curled her lip and said, "If he wants to buy it, go find him. This is the price here. Take it or leave it."

She knew Li Zhe and was aware of his abilities. She thought to herself, "If you were really familiar with Li Zhe, you could come to his door to buy it yourself."
Ma Changhe's stubbornness kicked in, and he took two steps forward: "What kind of service is this? I rode my bike for two hours to get here, and this is how you talk to me? Call your manager out here, I need to talk to the manager about this!"

"Look at you, so arrogant, do you think you're Li..." The short, fat saleswoman stopped mid-sentence, swallowed her words, and turned her head away.

At this moment, a man in a Zhongshan suit walked in through the back door. He was balding and had two pens clipped to his left breast pocket—he looked like an official.

The saleswoman quickly stood up, her tone softening: "Director Song... Factory Director Song, you've arrived."

She pointed at Ma Changhe and said aggrievedly, "This fellow villager wanted to buy transparent greenhouse film. I said it was seven yuan per square meter, but he insisted on buying it for four yuan and he's making a fuss about it here."

Last year's Section Chief Song was just promoted to deputy factory director last month and is also in charge of sales—turning to Ma Changhe, he smiled and said, "Fellow villager, this transparent greenhouse film really is seven yuan per square meter, I'm not lying to you."

Ma Changhe quickly took out his cigarette case, pulled out a "Hongtashan" cigarette and handed it over: "Director Song, I'm from Wan'an Town. Last year, Li Zhe from our town built a greenhouse and bought the greenhouse film from you. He said it was four yuan per square meter."

Factory Director Song took the cigarette, but didn't light it. He tucked it behind his ear, his eyes darting around. He thought to himself, "You said it yourself, that's Li Zhe? What business is it of yours how much I sell it to Li Zhe?"

"Fellow villager, prices have risen rapidly in the past two years due to economic reforms." He patted Ma Changhe on the shoulder. "Don't even mention agricultural supplies, everything from food and drink to clothing and housing has gone up in price."
"It's like when you go to the cafeteria to buy steamed buns, last year they were 20 cents each, but this year they're 25 cents each. Last year's price doesn't count."

Ma Changhe knew that prices were rising, but at seven yuan per square meter, he needed to build a 600-square-meter greenhouse. The greenhouse film alone would cost 4,200 yuan. Adding cement pillars, straw mats, and fertilizer, the 5,000 yuan loan was simply not enough.

"Even if prices go up, they shouldn't go up this much..." he sighed.

"Fellow villager, it's not that I raised the price, it's that the raw material price went up. And we don't have any in stock right now. If you want it, you'll have to pay a deposit first, and we'll let you know when it's available again." Factory Manager Song was still smiling, but his tone left no room for negotiation.

Ma Changhe frowned and pressed, "Director Song, you're not lying to me, are you? I heard Li Zhe say that your factory still has a lot of plastic film stockpiled, how could you be out of stock?"

Factory Director Song replied, “Since you know Li Zhe, you should also know that he has built more than 20 mu of vegetable greenhouses since last winter. He has already bought up all the goods in our factory. Where is there any inventory left? This year he has ordered even more greenhouse film. I am worried about where to get the raw materials.”

Ma Changhe sighed and asked, "How much deposit do I need to pay? When can I pick up the goods?"

Factory Manager Song said, "The deposit is 50% of the total price. Just go back and wait for our notification. We will call your village when the goods are ready."

Ma Changhe did the math in his head: a 50% deposit would be 2,100 yuan. He remembered that last year, Li Zhejian built a 600-square-meter greenhouse, and the greenhouse film only cost 2,400 yuan. Now, the deposit was almost as much as the full amount paid last year.

He looked at the smile on Director Song's face and felt that something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"I'll think about it some more." Ma Changhe shook his arm, turned around, and left the store.

As he hopped on his bicycle, he couldn't help but snort, "Damn it, I refuse to believe that I can't buy greenhouse film anywhere else but here!"

The bicycle wheels rolled over the dirt road again, heading towards the next agricultural supply store.

……

Just as dawn was breaking, the dew still clung to the ridges of the fields outside Daying Village, and the lights in the Li family's greenhouse came on, revealing the busy figures of the people working there.

By the time the clock struck eight in the morning, the sun had already spread its warmth, and the work in the greenhouse was over.

Li Zhe led a group of people to the newly rented 3 mu of open-air vegetable fields. The pickled cucumbers were planted on March 25 and were ready for harvest, while the green beans on the other few mu were not yet ready.

The cucumber vines in the field had long since climbed all over the low bamboo trellis. Hanging among the emerald green vines were strings of pickled cucumbers. Some were topped with tender yellow flowers, while others had just shed their calyxes. Each cucumber was 10 to 15 centimeters long, with a round body and a diameter of about 3 or 4 centimeters. The skin was shiny and smooth, and you could smell a faint cucumber fragrance if you got close.

Li Zhe stood on the open ground by the edge of the field, holding a freshly picked cucumber in his hand, his fingertips able to touch the crisp flesh.

He broke the cucumber in two and carefully examined the seeds—they weren't hard yet—before he felt at ease.

Turning my head, I saw my second uncle, Li Zhenguo, standing beside me. He was wearing a faded blue work uniform with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he was bending over, staring at a clump of cucumber vines.

"Second Uncle, what do you think of this cucumber?" Li Zhe handed over the cucumber in his hand, his voice filled with anticipation.

Li Zhenguo took the cucumber, rubbed the skin with his fingertip, gently broke off a small piece and chewed it. A smile immediately appeared on his face: "Not bad, not bad! The crispness and sweetness are just right for harvesting!"

He straightened up and shouted to the workers waiting around him in a loud voice: "Remember this! Take scissors or a knife and cut it 1 or 2 centimeters from the stem. Don't try to break it with your hands! If you break the cucumber, you won't be able to make pickles!"

He paused, then walked to the bamboo basket and lifted the soft cloth lining it: "Handle it gently when packing. Put them all in baskets lined with soft cloth or breathable mesh bags. Each basket should not exceed 15 kilograms, otherwise they will be damaged and cannot be processed!"

Li Zhe glanced around at the workers, some elderly farmers with their trousers rolled up, others young men in their twenties, and raised his voice to ask, "Did you all hear me clearly?"

"Listen carefully!" everyone responded in unison, their voices echoing across the paddy fields.

"Let's get to work!" Li Zhe waved his hand, and the workers immediately sprang into action.

Some people squatted by the trellis, their scissors snipping away as they gently placed the cut cucumbers into baskets; others were responsible for passing baskets to each other and collecting them, walking briskly back and forth along the field ridges. Before long, the empty bamboo baskets were filled with emerald green cucumbers.

Li Zhenguo was also busy. He walked over to his older brother, Lao Li, and said, "Brother, after you finish picking, sift them in the field first. Put the ones that are too old, too young, or have wormholes or broken skin separately. Don't mix them into the raw materials for processing. We have to ensure that the quality is consistent."

Old Li looked up, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and said with a smile, "Don't worry, after so many years of farm work, I know what I'm doing!"

Li Zhe also came over and added, "Dad, don't waste those broken cucumbers. Pack them up separately, and we can sell them to 'Shuxiangju' for cooking later."

Old Li nodded: "Okay, I'll remember. I'll pack a separate basket and have them take it over."

On the other side, Jin Baiwan was leading two workers to clean the tractor.

He was a fat man, wearing a blue vest, his forehead covered in sweat, and he was holding a broom, sweeping the soil and weeds in the tractor bucket clean.

After cleaning, the two tractors stopped at the edge of the field. Jin Baiwan wiped his sweat, walked quickly to Li Zhe, and greeted him with a smile: "Brother, everything is ready, just waiting to load the cucumbers!"

"Thank you for your hard work, Brother Jin." Li Zhe called to the workers to load baskets of cucumbers into the tractor's bed. Each basket was stacked neatly, so as not to crush the ones underneath.

Jin Baiwan watched from the side, occasionally reaching out to steady the basket: "Slow down, put it down gently! This is our precious tool for making canned goods!"

When the cucumbers were almost packed, Li Zhe walked over to Zhao Tiezhu and instructed him, "Zhuzi, be sure to drive slowly on the road. These cucumbers are very crisp, don't let them get damaged by the bumpy ride."

Zhao Tiezhu was sitting in the driver's seat, wiping the steering wheel with a cloth, and nodded in response: "Brother, don't worry, I'll drive slowly and make sure the cucumbers are delivered to the cannery safely."

Before long, the first batch of ripe cucumbers was loaded, and the buckets of both tractors were filled with bright green cucumber baskets, which looked particularly pleasing.

Li Zhenguo patted the dirt off his clothes and said to Li Zhe, "I'll go with the truck to the cannery, and I'll personally oversee the unloading when we get there."

As he spoke, he climbed into the passenger seat of the first tractor—he was now the supervisor of the cannery and had to make sure the cucumbers were unloaded into the factory's raw material storage area, a cool, well-ventilated, and clean place where the cucumbers couldn't be left out to dry for too long.

The tractor started up with a "putt-putt-putt" sound, emitting a little black smoke, and slowly drove away from the field ridge.

Li Zhe stood there, watching the shadows of the two tractors grow farther and farther away until they disappeared around the corner of the village road, a hint of anticipation on his face—imagining his own brand of canned goods coming off the production line.

However, he had an important matter to attend to at the moment.

Li Zhe greeted his father and then turned to walk towards the white Volga sedan by the edge of the field.

He opened the car door, got into the driver's seat, started the engine, turned the steering wheel, and the car headed towards Beijing...

(End of this chapter)