American Farmers: Facing a Cutoff at the Start

After dinner, the two families sat around the coffee table in the living room.

Old Frank didn't mince words; he reached into his work pants pocket, pulled out a wad of crumpled, still-warm banknotes, and slammed them on the table.

"Come on, let's calculate today's harvest!"

There was no distinction between us; some counted twentys, others fiftys, and we smoothed out and folded the pile of loose change.

The inventory was completed in no time.

Old Frank, wearing his reading glasses, squinted and counted the stack of banknotes:

"We sold a total of twelve trees today... for a total of eight hundred and sixty dollars."

He looked up, a smile he couldn't hide on his face:

"Although Christmas is still a while away, this is definitely a great start for us! In previous years, we probably wouldn't have sold a single tree by this time."

He thought for a moment and mentally calculated the cost:

"After deducting the costs of saw blades, nets, saplings... and all those other miscellaneous expenses, we should be able to earn about six hundred this afternoon."

Without hesitation, he counted out three hundred and fifty dollars from the stack of money and pushed it in front of Roy:

"Old buddy, let's round it up, this 350 is yours."

Roy looked at the wad of cash and repeatedly waved his hand in refusal:

"It's only the first day, how can we take so much! We haven't even put in much effort..."

"Take it!"

Old Frank shoved the money into his arms, his tone leaving no room for argument:

"It was agreed beforehand that we would split it 50/50 between our two families."

"We owe everything to your family today."

"And judging by this trend, there will only be more people coming, so we'll have to keep busy then."

"If you don't accept it, then you're disrespecting your older brother."

Fett also smiled and advised:

"Uncle Roy, please accept this. All three of you are here to help, while there are only two of us in my family, and I'm still injured and can't do any heavy work."

"We'll be counting on you and Aunt Rachel for these days leading up to Christmas, so this little bit of money is just a token of our appreciation."

Seeing that he couldn't refuse, Roy reluctantly accepted the money and handed it to Rachel beside him.

"Fine, then I'll shamelessly accept it."

After seeing Roy and his family off, old Frank, exhausted from the day, hummed a little tune as he went back to his room to sleep.

The living room finally quieted down, with only the occasional soft crackling of the embers in the fireplace.

Fett returned to his room and locked the door.

He deliberately didn't mention the mysterious, inexplicable phone call he made that morning to old Frank.

Given the old man's fiery temper, if he knew there might be more to his wife's death than met the eye, he would definitely lose his temper, drop everything he was doing, grab a gun, and go to the police station to demand an explanation.

That would only mess things up.

It's safer to investigate this matter secretly yourself.

Fett sat on the bed and turned on the slightly laggy laptop.

The dim light from the screen illuminated his pensive face.

He typed his mother's name and the date of the car accident into the search box.

Press Enter.

The page loads very slowly.

All that could be found were a few brief news items from the local newspaper at the time, the Chicot County Spectator, with pitifully dry content: "Police are pursuing the hit-and-run suspect" and "The vehicle has been found; it was stolen."

Fett tapped his fingers lightly on the table, the image of freelance journalist Mike Finch flashing through his mind.

This guy has connections; since he managed to uncover his exclusive knowledge about hunting wild boars, he might also know something about this inexplicable car accident.

Looks like I'll have to sound them out another day.

Fett patiently continued flipping through the entries one by one, and finally found the information he was looking for in an inconspicuous corner.

It was a follow-up report to a call for improved rural road safety, which included the sentence: "...just last week, another serious hit-and-run occurred two miles north of the intersection of Highway 65 and County Road 238..."

Two miles north of the intersection of Highway 65 and County Road 238.

Fett entered the coordinates into Google Maps, and a red pin landed on the edge of a desolate woodland.

I need to make time to go to the site, even if it's been several months and the weather has been windy and rainy. Whether I can find any clues is another matter, but it's better than just sitting there doing nothing.

He noted down the coordinates in his phone's notes app, then closed his laptop and crawled into bed.

Fett opened Facebook, and the red "99+" was still stubbornly flashing.

The cheerleader named Tiffany Sterling sent a few more friend requests.

With preconceived notions about cheerleaders, Fett simply ignored it.

He opened his private messages and patiently began replying to each one.

A message came from a young mother whose profile picture was of her holding a child:

"Hello! I'd like to bring my family to show our support! Do you still have Virginia pine trees in your area?"

"I heard that's the best! By the way, my son is really looking forward to this trip. Do you have any special souvenirs? We're willing to buy them!"

Souvenirs? I haven't prepared any.

But Fett's mind worked quickly, his fingers tapping on the screen, his reply perfectly flawless:

"Yes, ma'am! We have a whole grove of the finest Virginia pines here, freshly frosted, when they're at their most fragrant."

"As for souvenirs, of course we have them! But you'll have to come to find out, we guarantee it will be a surprise for your child. We look forward to your visit!"

Just after I sent it, another message popped up.

This time it's a profile picture of a middle-aged man, his tone conveying anxiety:

"Is that Fate Carter? I saw the news. I want to bring my son to see the tough guy who fought a wild boar."

"He's too timid and always gets bullied at school. I want to show him what real manhood is. And could you buy a tree tomorrow?"

Looking at the screen, Fett was somewhat moved and replied in a calm tone:

"No problem, bring him along. Although I don't consider myself a tough guy, I'm currently recovering from an injury and will have time to chat with him anytime."

……

After replying to more than a dozen appointment messages, he gradually began to understand the situation.

The referral program we developed earlier, while differentiating ourselves from large supermarkets like Walmart, is still not enough in retrospect.

This referral strategy targets potential customers in nearby towns.

But for these city families who saw the news and drove dozens of miles to buy trees, buying trees was only one of their purposes.

What they really want to experience is the atmosphere of family team building and stories of courage.

What if the farm were operated as a tourist attraction?

Wilderness Adventure Theme Park?

A base for educating people about the spirit of tough guys?

……

Fett closed his eyes, and the patterns of the theme parks and attractions he had visited in his previous life flashed through his mind.

Photo spots, limited-edition souvenirs, immersive experiences, historical marketing behind the attractions...

What Chinese people like may not be entirely applicable to this land, but human nature is universal.

We need to find a way to sustain this initial surge in traffic and provide customers who come to buy trees with a unique experience.

Even if the news frenzy dies down, they will still bring their families next year, the year after, and the year after that.

Money is really hard to earn!

Thinking about all this gave Fett a headache.

Professional matters should be handled by professionals. He himself is only half-baked; although he has seen and experienced things, he is completely clueless about how to actually implement them.

Since things have come to this, I should just go to sleep!

I'll talk to Leila about it tomorrow.

Fett sighed, put his phone on silent, and prepared to go to sleep.

He had just put his phone down when he hesitated for a moment, then picked it up again.

My finger swiped across the screen and tapped on Lina's profile picture.

Type a line of text in the input box:

"I've been so busy today. A lot of people came to buy trees. I only just had a moment to myself and haven't had a chance to talk to you. Please don't mind."

"I have to get up early tomorrow, so I'm going to rest now. Goodnight."

send.

He then put his phone on the bedside table, turned over, wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, and drifted off to sleep.

What he didn't know was that just a second before the screen went dark, a new message popped up almost instantly below the green bubble:

"It's alright, we need to focus on our business."

Then another one:

"By the way, my foot is almost healed. I'm thinking of going to pick up my car tomorrow and visiting you while I'm at it."

"May I?"