The autumn sun bathed the branches of the commune's orchard in a golden glow. Ripe apples, like red balls coated in beeswax, hung heavily from the branches, swaying in the breeze and releasing a sweet fragrance. The hawthorn trees, their branches ablaze with tiny fireballs, were a vibrant red, even the leaves exuding a tart aroma. The pears on the trees, their pale green skins gleaming, emitted a refreshing, fruity fragrance. Lin Wanqiu walked through the soft soil of the orchard, followed by Shen Tingzhou, carrying two bamboo baskets—they were there to buy fruit for making preserves. Old Zhou, the orchard manager, was already waiting at the entrance. Seeing them arrive, he greeted them with a smile: "Comrade Wanqiu, we've been waiting for you! This year's harvest is good, and the price is even two cents lower than last year. Pick as much as you want!"
Lin Wanqiu walked to the apple tree and gently touched the peel with her fingertips, feeling the warmth and the plump elasticity of the flesh. "Master Zhou, we need fifty catties of apples, thirty catties of hawthorns, and twenty catties of pears," she said, turning to look at Shen Tingzhou, who was helping Old Zhou carry bamboo baskets. Their eyes were full of understanding. "These fruits must be fully ripe. A few small spots are fine; they'll make the candied fruit sweeter." Old Zhou chuckled, "You know your stuff! Ripe fruits have plenty of sugar, so you don't need to add much sugar to the candied fruit. Sugar coupons are in short supply right now." Lin Wanqiu was secretly delighted—she had plenty of white sugar stored in her space, so she didn't have to worry about sugar. But she couldn't say that outright; Old Zhou's words conveniently covered it up for her.
The two worked all morning to fill the bamboo baskets with fruit. Shen Tingzhou carried the load on a shoulder pole; the baskets swayed, but he walked steadily. Lin Wanqiu followed beside him, carrying a small basket of freshly picked hawthorns. She would pop one into her mouth every now and then, her eyes squinting from the sourness, but she smiled happily. "Back in modern times, we used imported sugar to preserve fruit. Now, using fruit we grow ourselves, it tastes even better," she whispered to Shen Tingzhou. Shen Tingzhou turned to look at her; the sunlight fell on her face, even the fine downy hairs seemed to glow with gold. He couldn't help but reach out and wipe the hawthorn seeds from the corner of her mouth: "Everything you make tastes good. Nian'an will definitely like it."
When she returned to the workshop, the villagers were already waiting at the door. Aunt Wang rubbed her hands together, looking at the fruit in the bamboo basket, and asked curiously, "Comrade Wanqiu, what are you going to do with this fruit? Are you going to make canned fruit?" Aunt Li also came over: "Last year, the county supply and marketing cooperative sold canned fruit, and it was very expensive. If we can make canned fruit, it will definitely sell well." Lin Wanqiu smiled and shook her head: "It's not canned fruit, it's dried fruit. It keeps better than canned fruit, and we can eat it as a snack or use it as a filling in pastries." As she spoke, she poured the fruit into a large wooden basin, picked up an apple, and used a stainless steel knife she took out of her spatial storage to peel it. The blade was sharp, and the apple peel fell into the basin like a complete red ribbon.
The villagers watched with great curiosity, gathering around the wooden basin to see her process the fruit: apples were cut into quarters, cored, and then sliced into evenly thick pieces; hawthorns were pitted with chopsticks, leaving the flesh intact; pears were peeled and cut into chunks, then soaked in water to prevent oxidation. As Lin Wanqiu cut, she taught everyone: "Apple slices need to be soaked in salt water, otherwise they'll turn black; be gentle when pitting hawthorns, don't break the flesh." Aunt Wang learned the fastest; she picked up a hawthorn, shakily poked out the pit with chopsticks, and said with a smile, "This isn't difficult, I'll help you with it from now on!"
After preparing the fruit, Lin Wanqiu placed the large iron pot on the stove, poured in the appropriate amount of white sugar and water, and started the fire to boil the sugar. Flames licked the bottom of the pot as the sugar gradually melted, turning into an amber-colored syrup. A sweet aroma slowly spread, wafting out of the workshop, attracting passing children who peeked through the doorway. "Aunt Wanqiu, what are you making in there? It smells so good!" Little Stone from next door stood on tiptoe, his eyes fixed intently on the iron pot. Lin Wanqiu smiled and waved, "When it's done, you can have a piece." Little Stone jumped up happily and ran home to tell her.
Once the syrup could be pulled into thin threads, Lin Wanqiu poured the apple slices into the pot and stir-fried them over low heat. The syrup coated the apple slices, gradually turning the originally snow-white flesh amber, making them glossy and shiny. Shen Tingzhou sat by the stove adding firewood, watching her focused expression, feeling a sense of peace—before, she was raising Nian'an alone, sometimes struggling to even get a decent meal. Now, she stood in the workshop, directing with composure, her eyes shining; this was the person she should be. "Is the heat right?" he asked softly. Lin Wanqiu turned around and smiled, "Perfect, just two more minutes and they'll be ready."
The dried apples, after being scooped out of the water, were placed on a bamboo sieve to cool. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the sieve, dappling the apples with a slow, glistening sugar coating, like a layer of scattered diamonds. Each bite was sweet but not cloying, with a delicate apple fragrance and a slightly chewy texture. When Nian'an came home from school, he smelled the aroma as soon as he entered the door. He ran to the bamboo sieve, picked up a piece of dried apple, and popped it into his mouth, his eyes instantly lighting up: "Mom, it's so delicious! Sweeter than the hard candy sold at the supply and marketing cooperative!" Lin Wanqiu patted his head and handed him a piece of hawthorn preserve: "Try this; it's sweet and sour, and aids digestion." Nian'an took a bite, his brow furrowing at the sourness, but he couldn't resist taking another bite, making everyone laugh.
For the next few days, the workshop was filled with the sweet aroma of dried fruit. The villagers worked together, some processing the fruit, some boiling syrup, and some drying the fruit, all busy and enthusiastic, yet with smiles on their faces. While drying pears, Aunt Wang said, "We never dared to imagine that we could make such a precious thing! If we took this to the county town to sell, everyone would be fighting over it." Hearing this, Lin Wanqiu had an idea—to send some dried fruit to the supply and marketing cooperative for a trial sale and see the market reaction.
The next morning, Lin Wanqiu carried a load of dried fruit and went to the county supply and marketing cooperative with Shen Tingzhou. When Director Wang saw the dried fruit, he was first surprised. He picked up a piece of apple preserve, smelled it, and then tasted it. His eyes immediately lit up: "Comrade Wanqiu, this dried fruit is well made! It's sweet but not greasy, and it still has the original flavor of the fruit. It's even better than the ones made by the county food factory last time!" He immediately had the dried fruit placed on the most conspicuous shelf and marked with prices: apple preserves eight cents per ounce, hawthorn preserves seven cents per ounce, and pear preserves nine cents per ounce.
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