Shuangling: Braving the Rapids

In late autumn, Shuangling Mountain is ablaze with vibrant colors, a scene as beautiful as a poem or a painting.

The eastern and western ridges, and even the mountain peaks, are covered by dense forests of red and yellow, while the valleys, which never see the sun, seem to have ignored the call of autumn and stubbornly maintain their dark green base color, thus creating a color landscape of "autumn yellow on both sides and a touch of green in the middle".

Color variations create depth, and depth weaves together a mood. However, the mood of Shuangling Mountain is not only reflected in its colors; its connotations are far more profound than a few monotonous colors.

The temples with upturned eaves on the ridge, the dense clusters of green pines and cypresses, the chrysanthemum terraces halfway up the mountain, and the loess gully at the foot of the mountain that has been washed away countless times by mountain torrents—when these images appear together with the distant sky and the villages with wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys at the foot of the mountain, the true character of Shuangling Mountain is revealed.

For most people in Qinjiazhuang, they would never deliberately try to summarize the spiritual connotation of Shuangling Mountain. They have little education and a lot of farm work, so where would they find the time to be pretentious?

Given the chance, they would rather venture out of the mountains. Perhaps only by escaping this isolated mountain village can they escape a life of poverty, illness, and obscurity.

But the paradox is: if we leave here and leave the mountains, can we really live a prosperous life?

No one can guarantee anything. So, if someone asks them to return farmland to forest and live a carefree life in big cities, the vast majority of people will jump out to oppose it. They have lived here for generations and have a natural reverence for the land and its produce.

This obsession doesn't entirely stem from oral instruction; it's likely related to the tragic memories of hunger in his early years. Many in the village had experienced the hardship of "gnawing on tree bark on the mountain and stealing grain from rat burrows." Grains were the only means of survival, enough to fill their stomachs.

No one understood the importance of food better than them. So they stayed in the fields, working hard under the scorching sun, even if it exhausted them and their skin was scratched by wheat awns. For a bite to eat, they were still willing to work in the fields and stay up all night watching the hulling machines in the threshing ground, waiting for the grain to be harvested and stored. Whether they ate it, sold it, or handed it over to the state, they could still make a living.

The older generation did this, and so do their children and grandchildren. From a young age, children are taught to love the land and cherish food. Many children, led by adults, will repeatedly go to the fields to pick up fallen ears of wheat and ears of corn. These experiences are recorded in diaries or written in essays, becoming shared memories of children from farming families…

Among these second-generation farmers, Qin Aimin is definitely an outstanding representative. As early as his middle school years, he liked to express his love for the land through poetry.

"At dawn I rise to tend the overgrown fields, and return home with my hoe under the moon." He admired Tao Qian and the rural South Mountain.

"White clouds drift idly, the wind rustles through the fields, wheat awns gleam like comets, millet like sorghum." Like Liu Hedong, seeing a bountiful harvest in sight brings him joy.

"There was a poor woman beside him, holding her child, her right hand holding gleaning ears of grain, her left arm carrying a tattered basket." Whenever he recited this line, Aimin would recall his mother's blurry figure. He deeply understood Bai Juyi's compassionate feelings and sympathized with the poor woman in the poem, whose clothes were in tatters.

"A single bamboo bowl of rice, a bowl of soup—if you have them, you live; if you don't, you die." It was these verses that made Aimin understand the significance of land and food...

These feelings are simple and genuine, and they won't easily change because of his studies. He is the son of a farmer, and he is already used to thinking from a farmer's perspective. Like countless other students from impoverished families, he lives frugally and studies diligently, hoping to achieve academic success, change his own life, and at the same time contribute to his hometown.

But one day, when Aimin actually stepped into a key university in the provincial capital, witnessed the real gap between urban and rural areas, and came into contact with the "scalpers" group spawned by the dual-track pricing system, he began to feel anxious and uneasy.

It's not that he harbors resentment towards the rich, but rather that Aimin was deeply shocked to see those who became rich through connections squandering their wealth so recklessly.

Aimin couldn't understand: We're all two people with one head on two shoulders, yet ordinary people bear the heavy burden of life, while those others live in luxury?

After failing to secure a place, Aimin became resentful. Finally, one day, his emotions completely erupted, the trigger being a seemingly unrelated rumor that his non-government-sponsored spot had been taken—on the eve of graduation, he heard that a certain logistics leader at the school had embezzled public funds…

That night, Aimin stormed the bulletin board and posted a "Declaration of Condemnation." The declaration detailed the leader's corrupt practices and revealed his deep concern for the school's future.

Less than a day after the incident, Aimin received a public reprimand. If it weren't for Professor Meng, who had returned from studying in the Soviet Union, protecting him, he would not only have lost his degree but would likely have been expelled from the university.

After the incident, Aimin lost his eligibility for job assignment. He then had a big fight with his girlfriend, and they eventually broke up.

Just when he was feeling utterly hopeless, Professor Meng once again extended a helping hand—writing a letter to his prized student in the education system to secure a teaching position for Aimin at a rural middle school.

This is the real reason why a top university graduate "condescended" to attend a rural school. The past is too painful to recall, and Aimin has never mentioned this shameful experience to anyone. Now, he only wants to be a good teacher, and if possible, put his passion for chrysanthemum breeding into practice, hoping to achieve entrepreneurial success.

Having suffered many setbacks, Aimin became even more resilient. He was not intimidated by the "Five Tiger Brothers" at all. Instead, he regrouped and miraculously revived the two acres of chrysanthemum fields that Qin Xiaohu had previously ruined.

With the people still alive and the accumulated cultivation techniques intact, in less than six months, the fields of Shuangxi were once again covered with lush chamomile foliage. At the height of their blooming season, the lovely white petals and yellow stamens adorned the branches, bursting into vibrant color!

At this moment, Aimin stood in the chrysanthemum field. The chrysanthemums surrounding him seemed to sense their master's mood, transforming into thousands of spirits that danced joyfully.

Immersed in the rich fragrance of the flowers, he could clearly feel the vibrant life force of the plants. At this moment, all the effort was worthwhile; at this moment, he longed to gently caress each flower bud—these were all his "children," the result of countless hours of hard work finally blossoming.

The hardships he endured along the way, the ridicule and slander he encountered, all vanished like smoke. Those unhappy memories dissipated with the fragrance of flowers. He tasted the joy of success and saw light again in his insignificant life.

Yes, we are just one step away from large-scale planting to create economic value!