It's just that they have money.

Old Wu squatted there, staring expectantly at Fang Chen, waiting for him to respond.

Fang Chen took another sip of tea; it was bitter, but he swallowed it. He put the teacup down and spoke slowly.

"Sure, have him send over his resume."

Old Wu's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Really. Send it over and I'll have someone take a look. If it's suitable, we'll make arrangements."

Old Wu nodded repeatedly, stood up, patted the dirt off his knees, muttered "good, good, good," and turned to leave.

After taking a few steps, she turned back, bowed to Fang Chen, and then quickly disappeared into the shadows behind the greenhouse.

Huang Ziang took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth, glanced at it, and put it back in his ear.

"You really want to accept it?"

"What's there to collect? His nephew probably won't even send out a resume."

Fang Chen also moved a stool over and sat down, fanning away the mosquitoes around his ankles.

"If his nephew were truly talented, he wouldn't be so insecure; he would have already revealed everything about his school, major, and awards."

"Besides, even if his nephew did send me his resume and I accepted it, do you think he'd stay long?"

Huang Zi'ang thought for a moment, then shook his head: "It won't last long."

"He's a recent college graduate, we don't even know what he studied, let alone whether he'd like to come to the village. Old Wu is trying to help him, but he might not appreciate it. If I force him to come, and he runs away after two days, Old Wu will lose face, and so will I."

"Then why did you ask Lao Wu to send over his resume? Are you kidding him?"

"Just pass the buck back. If his nephew really wants to come, he'll send it himself. If he doesn't, it means he doesn't want to come. When Old Wu goes back and tells his nephew, and his nephew doesn't say anything, Old Wu will understand. There's no need for me to refuse."

It was completely dark. The light at the entrance of the prefab house was on, casting a dim yellow glow around a small circle, beyond which lay boundless darkness.

Fang Chen leaned against the door frame, while Huang Ziang sat on a small stool, the two chatting casually.

Footsteps came from the darkness.

It was very light, but there was more than one person.

Fang Chen looked up and saw three figures walking over from the greenhouse.

Leading the way was a middle-aged woman, followed by a young man and an older woman.

"Mr. Fang," the middle-aged woman spoke up, "I heard your agritainment business is hiring?"

"Yes," Fang Chen said, his gaze falling on the young man behind him.

The middle-aged woman took a step forward and pulled the young man behind her to the front.

The man was pulled so hard he almost dropped his phone. He quickly put it in his pocket, glanced at Fang Chen, and then looked down again.

"This is my son. He's been staying at home for several months. Do you think it's possible for him to work at your company? He's fine with any kind of work; he's not afraid of hard work."

"What's your major?" Fang Chen asked.

The middle-aged woman eagerly answered, "I studied e-commerce, which is selling things online. That should be a good match for your blueberries."

Fang Chen looked at the young man: "What have you done?"

The young man looked up at him, then looked down again. His voice drifted out from under his downcast face, muffled and unclear, as if he were speaking with a mouthful of water in his mouth.

"I can learn."

Fang Chen remained silent for a moment.

"Go back and send your resume to my assistant. She will contact you after she sees it. Just write down what you have done, what you are good at, and what you want to do."

The middle-aged woman opened her mouth as if to say something, but Fang Chen stood up and put his hands in his pockets.

"It's late. We have work to do tomorrow, let's go home."

Before the middle-aged woman could say anything more, the old woman standing at the very back suddenly spoke up.

"Let's go. They need to rest."

The middle-aged woman glanced back at the old woman, pursed her lips, and then turned and left with the young man.

The young man was being pulled along by her, his steps dragging. After a few steps, he took out his phone, and his head, which had been lowered, was illuminated again by the blue light of the screen.

Huang Zi'ang placed the enamel mug on the ground with a dull thud. "You're not taking this either?"

Fang Chen asked him with a smile, "You applied to several companies the year you graduated. Did you need your aunt's help?"

No, not at all.

Huang Zi'ang picked up the enamel mug and took a sip. The tea had gone completely cold, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"When I graduated, I printed thirty copies of my resume and sent them out to companies one by one. My mom couldn't even explain exactly what I did. She only knew that I learned farming at school."

Fang Chen recalled that the year he graduated, his father used a connection with a distant relative to try and get him a job in a public institution.

My dad treated someone to a meal and gave them cigarettes and alcohol. The other person told him to wait for news.

I waited for three months, but there was still no news.

My dad called again to ask, and they said that the number of spots was limited this year, and we should check again next year.

That night, Fang Yuan sat in the main room and smoked for half the night.

The next morning, she told Fang Chen the truth. Fang Chen covered his face and said that he had already found a job, and nowadays, all enterprises and institutions require an entrance exam, so even if he had connections, it would only be after the exam.

Looking back now, the reason his father couldn't help him wasn't his father's fault, but rather that times had changed.

The old-fashioned logic of "I know so-and-so" is like an earthen wall, collapsing easily in the face of urbanization.

It's not that personal connections are useless.

However, in rural society, interpersonal relationships form a network, and people can help each other.

In modern urbanized society, interpersonal relationships still exist, but they have become a one-way exchange of mutual benefits.

You can't get help from others if you can't offer them benefits.

For ordinary people, following procedures is actually the most convenient way.

Another person arrived. This time it was a middle-aged man, walking over empty-handed.

"Mr. Fang."

"Um."

"I just wanted to tell you that your blueberries are delicious. My wife works at the farm, and she brought a box back yesterday. I ate some, and they were great."

After he finished speaking, he turned and left.

Fang Chen watched his figure disappear into the darkness, paused for a moment, and then smiled.

Huang Zi'ang asked with a smile, "What about this one?"

"No need to accept this," Fang Chen said.

As night deepened, fewer people came, from groups of three or five to two or three, and from two or three to just one person at a time.

After the last person left, the doorway became quiet.

Fang Chen leaned the stool against the doorframe and looked up at the sky. There were no streetlights in the village, so the sky was exceptionally dark, and the stars were exceptionally bright, densely packed, like a handful of silver scattered on a black cloth.

He looked at it for a while, then his neck got sore, so he lowered his head.

"What time is it?"

Huang Zi'ang took out his phone and glanced at it. "9:30."

"So early?"

"It's getting late."

Fang Chen stood up, carrying the mosquito coils into the prefab house.

He took off his shoes and put his feet on the bed, but the cot was too short, and his legs and below calves dangled off the edge.

Fang Chen sat up again, moved the pillow to the foot of the bed, and rested his head on the crossbar at the foot of the bed. This time his feet were no longer dangling in the air, but his neck felt uncomfortable. He tried it, endured it, and lay down.

Buzzing.

The mosquitoes are here.

He fanned away the mosquitoes near his ankle.

He tried to slap her, but missed.

"Zi Ang."

"What's wrong?"

"If I go home now, will my parents still be awake?"