It's just that they have money.

Huang Zi'ang's blueberries are finally ready for harvest.

Fang Chen brought Xu Wen, who had rested for two days, to the planting base.

Huang Zi'ang is already here.

He squatted at the entrance of the greenhouse, holding a pair of scissors in his hand, with a plastic basket at his feet containing a few freshly picked blueberries.

The dew hadn't dried yet, and the fruit was covered with a layer of white powder, shimmering with a bluish-purple luster in the morning light, as if it were glowing.

Fang Chen parked the car, walked over, and squatted down.

"When did it start?"

"Five o'clock." Huang Zi'ang didn't even look up, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the rows of blueberry bushes on the ground. "We need to pick a thousand catties today. The first batch can't be sloppy."

Fang Chen didn't reply, but squatted down next to him, picked up a blueberry and looked at it.

The fruit has a taut skin, and when you gently pinch it with your fingers, you can feel the elasticity of the flesh. It's not a soft, overripe fruit, nor is it hard and unripe.

He held it under his nose and smelled it; it had a faint berry scent, not strong, but very pure.

"This one is good."

"Give it a try."

Fang Chen took it and took a bite.

The skin is thin and crisp, cracking open between your teeth with a satisfying snap. The flesh is firm and chewy, and the juice bursts in your mouth, delivering a clean and refreshing sweetness, unlike the purely sweet blueberries sold in supermarkets.

After eating, a refreshing sour taste lingers in your mouth, like biting into a small water bomb coated in honey. After swallowing, a faint fruity aroma remains on the back of your tongue.

Huang Ziang led Fang Chen forward, and Fang Chen picked and ate as they walked.

After walking half a ridge, his teeth had been stained blue.

The workers picking the fruit were already busy. They were all farmers from nearby villages, ranging in age from their fifties and sixties to their early twenties. There were both men and women, wearing long-sleeved clothes of various colors, straw hats, and carrying plastic buckets of different sizes.

Fang Chen followed behind, watching how they picked them.

Some people were quick and cut the fruit bunch by bunch, but the fruit was badly bumped and knocked in the basket, and a lot of the bloom fell off.

Some people work slowly, cutting the eggs one by one, and gently placing them into the basket, like putting eggs in a basket.

Fang Chen watched for a while, then walked over to Huang Zi'ang's side.

Since there wasn't much else to do, Xu Wen also took a small basket and stood shoulder to shoulder with the picking workers.

Xu Wen squatted among the blueberry bushes, his hands moving slowly but carefully.

She picked a fruit, held it up to the light to examine it, then gently placed it in the basket before reaching for the next one.

She remained quiet and still, creating a strange contrast with the quick and efficient harvesting workers around her.

The workers were working, but she seemed to be enjoying something.

"Your assistant is picking them pretty slowly." Huang Ziang stood next to Fang Chen, holding an enamel mug in his hand, the steam from the strong tea rising from the rim of the cup.

"She's not here to work," Fang Chen said. "She's here to have fun."

Huang Zi'ang glanced at him but didn't reply.

As Fang Chen watched Xu Wen bend down to part the leaves, he suddenly remembered something.

Last month, when I was having dinner with Zhao Xiaole in Fengtian, he mentioned that a friend of his father's had started a fruit-picking garden in the suburbs. Business was booming on weekends, with city people driving in with their families to pick strawberries and cherries. After they finished picking, they found out that it was three times more expensive than in the supermarket, but they still paid happily.

Fang Chen didn't take it too seriously at the time, thinking that it was something only a spoiled brat like Zhao Xiaole would care about.

Watching Xu Wen squatting in the field picking blueberries, he suddenly realized that what Zhao Xiaole said might not be nonsense.

He stood up and walked to Huang Zi'ang's side.

"Zi'ang, I have a question for you."

"explain."

"What do you plan to do with the remaining fruit in the greenhouse after this batch is harvested?"

Huang Zi'ang paused for a moment, holding the enamel mug, and frowned slightly, as if he didn't quite understand why the question had been asked.

"Not quite feasible? Make jam, frozen fruit, or sell wholesale at low prices."

"What if I don't let you make jam or go wholesale?"

Huang Ziang turned around, looked at him, his expression becoming more serious, and waited for him to continue.

Fang Chen squatted down and picked up a small, fallen fruit from the ground. The fruit was small and pale in color, far from being of high quality.

He twirled it between his fingers.

"These fruits don't fetch a good price because of their appearance, not because they taste bad."

"right."

"If customers were to pick their own fruit, paying for whatever they picked, regardless of quality, and priced according to the number of people or the weight of their baskets, do you think anyone would come?"

Fang Chen tossed the small fruit into the basket, patted the dirt off his hands, stood up, and looked at the greenhouse.

Forty acres of land, more than twenty greenhouses, and a vast expanse of white plastic film shimmering in the sunlight.

"Look over there." Fang Chen raised his chin, gesturing for Huang Zi'ang to look in Xu Wen's direction.

Xu Wen had already moved from one row to another, and the basket was already about half full.

She picked the fruit slowly, but in a methodical way.

She wasn't greedy, nor was she in a hurry; she carefully examined each one to make sure it was ripe before picking it.

I'd occasionally take a picture, tilting my head to find the right angle, taking and deleting, taking and deleting again, repeating this process several times until I was satisfied. Then I'd put my phone back in my pocket and continue picking things up.

Fang Chen said, "Think about it, how many people like Xu Wen are there in Jiangcheng? They don't know what to do on weekends, they don't want to go to crowded shopping malls, they don't want to lie at home scrolling through their phones, they want to find a place to relax, but they don't want to be too tired. If you let them come and pick fruit, they'll be very happy."

Huang Ziang squatted there, his gaze lingering on Xu Wen for a moment before shifting to the busy workers deep inside the greenhouse.

After a long while, he finally spoke.

"You mean picking fruits and vegetables?"

"Yes." Fang Chen nodded, squatted down, picked up a twig from the ground, and drew a rough sketch in the soil.

"Look, this area is close to the entrance, with convenient transportation and easy access, so it can be developed into a premium fruit-picking area. We can pave walkways, build a few pergolas, and set up some tables and chairs. When guests come, they can try some fruit first, and then pick their own. We'll provide scissors and baskets, and teach them how to pick the fruit without damaging it."

Fang Chen continued speaking, his hand still holding the branch, drawing another circle in the soil.

"That area that hasn't been developed much yet could be turned into a family-friendly area. Use dwarf varieties, so the kids can reach them. Parents can bring their children on weekends to pick fruit, learn about plants, and have a farm-style meal when they're tired. And that empty space next door, didn't you keep saying you didn't know what to do with it?"

Huang Zi'ang held the enamel mug in mid-air, staring at the crooked lines on the ground for several seconds.

"What you're talking about isn't agriculture," he stood up, patted his trousers, "it's tourism."

"Agriculture and tourism integration." Fang Chen also stood up, tossing the branch in his hand aside. "The fruit is still the same fruit, but the way it's sold is different. Those sold through premium channels are for consumers who pursue quality. Those sold through picking channels are for consumers who pursue experiences. The two don't conflict."

Huang Zi'ang held the enamel mug without saying a word.

Fang Chen could tell from his expression that he had something to say but didn't say it.

"You don't think it will work?"