Chapter 448 Su Yue Leads Military Wives to Prosperity
Just after crossing that earthen slope, the scene before them stunned Chu Jingya and Yang Yiyi.
Just a few months ago, this place was a barren, yellow land ravaged by drought.
Now, all you can see is intoxicating green.
The vast sea buckthorn forest resembles green waves, covered with small orange berries.
The water mist from the sprinkler system refracts into rainbows under the sunlight.
Inside the greenhouse, the tomatoes are as red as lanterns, and the cucumbers are topped with tender yellow flowers.
That saline-alkali land, once predicted to be a breeding ground for death, has now truly transformed into a land of plenty in the north.
"This...this is that farm?" Chu Jingya pushed open the car door, her feet touching the soft ground, somewhat incredulous.
“It’s the real deal.” Su Yue pointed to the rumbling pump house not far away. “That’s the Red Star Well. It’s all thanks to our Commander Gu for daring to crawl up and down that rocky hill back then.”
Several military wives were picking green beans in the field when they saw Su Yue arrive. From a distance, they called out, "Director Su! These green beans are so tender! Take some back for the guests to try tonight!"
"Alright!" Su Yue waved her hand. "Put it in the books, and we'll deduct it from your profit sharing later!"
"Don't be so stingy! This is a gift from us!" Cuihua ran over carrying a bundle of green beans, her face beaming with joy. "If it weren't for you, we'd still be crying at home right now."
As Chu Jingya watched this scene, the urge to create surged up in her heart once again.
She saw the rough hands of those military wives, their sun-tanned faces, and even more so, the light in their eyes that showed they no longer worried about making a living.
This is vitality. It's a million times more vibrant than the exquisite still lifes in those art exhibitions in Beijing.
"I want to draw it," Chu Jingya murmured to herself.
Gu Beixiao appeared behind her without her noticing and handed her the easel: "Draw. Every inch of this land has a story."
The children had already run wild.
Gu Pingan led Gu Ningjing into the cornfield, saying they were going to play hide-and-seek.
With Gu Beichen holding him on his shoulders, Yun Ting excitedly waved his chubby little hands, trying to grab the leaves on the leaves above his head.
Gu Qing lay in the stroller, staring wide-eyed at the unbelievably blue sky above.
"Come on, everyone, stand up straight!"
Huo Wenxuan suddenly appeared out of nowhere, with a Seagull camera hanging around his neck and a reflector in his hand, directing everyone to their positions.
"It's rare to see everyone so together, let's take a family photo!"
Everyone gathered under a huge banyan tree, laughing and joking.
Zhang Huilan and Chen Yaru sat in the middle of the rattan chairs, each holding a grandson in their arms.
Su Yue and Gu Beichen stood on the left, Gu Beixiao and Chu Jingya stood on the right, and Yang Yi leaned on Yun Mu.
Gu Pingan and Gu Ningjing emerged from the cornfield, their heads covered in grass clippings. They squatted on either side of the front, making the peace sign, which was the most popular hand gesture of that era.
"Look at the camera! Say cheese!" Huo Wenxuan bent over and squinted one eye.
"eggplant--"
The moment the shutter clicked, Gu Pingan suddenly turned his head to grab Gu Ningjing's braid, and Gu Ningjing opened her mouth to bite it.
Gu Qing was startled and burst into tears. Yun Ting, on the other hand, nonchalantly blew a bubble.
The adults burst into laughter.
At this moment, there is no infighting in the capital, no dry data in the laboratory, and no tense combat readiness at the border.
There is only the sea breeze, the sunshine, and this group of people who are striving to live and love in this era.
The photo freezes in time.
In the video, everyone's face radiates a deep-seated confidence in the future.
It was the summer of 1972. The wind on Hainan Island was warm, and the days seemed long.
The moment the shutter clicked, Chu Jingya felt as if the string that had been taut in her mind for half a year had suddenly snapped.
It's not a break, it's a loosening of the restraints.
In the compound of the Beijing Federation of Literary and Art Circles, she listened to model operas and watched standard stage movements.
Every movement must be measured with a ruler, and every smile must be perfectly aligned with the standard arc.
That kind of exquisite, flawless art is like a thick glass dome, making it hard for people to breathe.
But here, on this steaming land of Red Star Farm, she saw something different.
Cuihua was carrying a 100-pound basket of sea buckthorn fruit onto the scale, her arm muscles as firm as stone.
Sweat trickled down her neck and into the patched collar of her shirt. She wiped it away casually, then turned and yelled at Huo Wenxuan, who was keeping accounts, "Deputy Factory Director Huo, if this scale is even a ounce short, I'll take your glasses off!"
Rough and savage, yet it exudes a vitality that is impossible to look away from.
Chu Jingya handed Gu Qing, who was in her arms, to Gu Beixiao, grabbed her sketchbook, and rushed over.
The charcoal pencil made a scratching sound as it rubbed against the paper.
not enough.
Simply drawing it isn't enough.
This power is dynamic; it carries sound and warmth.
A plane cannot hold them in place.
"Su Yue." Chu Jingya stopped writing and turned to look at Su Yue, who was squatting on the ground checking the drip irrigation pipes. "I want to do something big."
Su Yue didn't even look up. She ran her fingers around the pipe joint to make sure there was no leak before standing up and patting the mud off her hands: "How big? Do you want to draw all five hundred acres of land?"
“It’s not a painting.” Chu Jingya pointed to the military wives working in the distance, her eyes shining brightly. “I want them to go on stage. To play themselves.”
Su Yue was stunned for a moment.
Why would you let a group of military wives who only know how to farm and feed pigs perform on stage?
If this idea were put in Beijing, those old scholars would laugh their heads off.
But on Hainan Island, in this place that turns saline land into a treasure trove, it seems that nothing is impossible.
"Money or people?" Su Yue took off her gloves and stuffed them into her pocket, quick and decisive.
"I want them all." Chu Jingya spread her sketchbook in front of Su Yue. "I've already thought of the script. It'll be called 'A Day at the Military Family Farm.' No need for professional singing or fancy movements. Just show how they reclaimed wasteland, fought drought, and turned this barren land into a source of income."
Su Yue stared at the few hastily drawn sketches.
In the picture, several women are bent over, their backs seemingly carrying mountains, yet also appearing to be pushing against the sky.
"Okay." Su Yue snapped her fingers. "The venue is in the farm warehouse, and Lan Hai Factory will handle all the costumes and props. As for the people... you go to the compound and post a notice saying that the Red Star Military Family Art Troupe is recruiting, meals will be provided, and subsidies will be given."
The next morning, the bulletin board in the military compound was crowded with people.
"A performing arts troupe? Isn't that for performing traditional operas? Can we country bumpkins handle that?"
"They say she's Director Su's sister-in-law, personally taught by a famous artist from Beijing. She even gets a stipend!"
"Forget it, my voice is good enough to yell at pigs, but if I sing, I'll probably attract wolves."
Everyone was talking about it, but no one dared to step forward and accept the challenge.
Chu Jingya moved a chair and sat down under the notice board, fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan, not in a hurry. Su Yue had given her some advice: to deal with these sisters-in-law, you can't beg them, you have to provoke them.
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