Chapter 22: The True Witness of the Land
# Chapter 22: The True Witness of the Land
Raindrops drifted slantingly as Chen Wang held Lin Xiaoman's hand as they headed toward town. The warmth of his palm, filtered through the damp, cold air, helped calm her flustered heart. Wangfu ran ahead, holding an old straw hat in his mouth. It was the one Grandpa Lin had always worn, its brim still stained with dirt. He'd picked it up from under a pear tree while tidying the orchard that morning, as if carrying his grandfather's memory.
"Walk slowly, the road is slippery." Chen Wang helped Lin Xiaoman straighten her collar, which had been messed up by the wind. When his fingertips touched her neck, she flinched slightly but didn't let go of his hand. The villagers' voices came from behind: "Xiaowang, Xiaoman, don't worry! We'll help take care of the orchard and wait for you to come back!"
Lin Xiaoman looked back. The outline of Qingxi Village was blurred in the rain and fog, with only the shadow of the old pear tree still clear. She remembered the cloth bag Grandma Zhang had stuffed into her before she left that morning. Inside was her grandfather's old account book and a yellowed "Orchard Care Notebook." "Take these. Your grandfather wrote down everything he did to help outsiders manage the orchard. You'll always be able to convince your great-uncle."
The old courtyard where my uncle lived was at the east end of town. The copper ring on the wooden door was rusty and creaked when pushed open. In the main hall, my uncle sat on a chair, stroking an old pear wood pipe. He didn't light the tobacco, just rubbing it repeatedly. Seeing them, his brow furrowed even more, and his tone was as heavy as rain: "I told you not to come, why did you come here?"
"Uncle, we're not here to argue. We just want to make things clear with you." Lin Xiaoman placed the cloth bag on the table, opened the account book, and pointed at a page. "Look, in 1936, Grandpa helped Uncle Wang, a stranger, prune the branches of a pear tree. That year's pear production increased by 30% compared to previous years. And there's this note, 'To care for an orchard, dedication is the most important thing, regardless of blood relationship.' It was written by Grandpa himself."
Chen Wang also stepped forward, pulled out the "Orchard Diary" on his phone, and flipped to the page with the soil test records. "Uncle, I've been in Qingxi Village for two years. I've measured the soil acidity and alkalinity over thirty times and improved irrigation methods four times. Now the soil fertility in the orchard is 15% higher than before. I've already submitted an application for household registration transfer. I want to settle down here and guard the orchard with Xiaoman. I'm not just saying this casually."
The uncle's eyes fell on the account book, his fingertips gently touching the yellowed pages. He said nothing, but he didn't chase them away again. Lin Xiaoman noticed his hesitation and flipped through the photo in the notebook - it was a photo of Grandpa and several fruit farmers from other places. On the back was written "Fellow gardeners". The handwriting was faded, but the sincerity was clear.
"I also asked Grandma Zhang about my great aunt back then," Chen Wang said, slowing down his tone. "It wasn't because she married a foreigner. It was the locust plague that year, and the lack of timely replanting, that caused the orchard's production to decline. Later, my great aunt's husband helped build an irrigation canal, otherwise the orchard's recovery would have been even slower."
My uncle paused, then finally raised his head. His eyes were less stubborn and more complex. "I follow these rules because I'm afraid you're young and don't understand the difficulty of protecting the garden. When your grandfather passed away, he told me, 'Don't let the rules bind your heart.' I'm always afraid... afraid that you won't be able to abide by them."
Just then, footsteps were heard outside the courtyard gate—Grandma Zhang and Uncle Li had arrived, clutching the village annals and a stack of old photos. "Brother, just listen to what the kids are saying!" Grandma Zhang handed him the village annals. "It says here that the Lin family has protected the garden for generations, and anyone who genuinely supports it is considered half a family member. Xiao Wang is helping our village develop cultural and creative industries, making our traditional varieties famous. Isn't that protecting the garden?"
Uncle Li also pulled out his phone and clicked on a video. "Look, this was taken by a tourist a few days ago. Xiao Wang is teaching children in the fields to identify tomato varieties. What a thoughtful kid! How could a kid like that ruin an orchard?"
My uncle flipped through the village annals, watching the video of Chen Wang squatting in the field, then looking at the expectation in Lin Xiaoman's eyes. He finally sighed, "Forget it, I'm too stubborn. You young people should make your own decisions. Just take good care of the orchard and don't let your grandfather's hard work go to waste."
Lin Xiaoman's tears immediately welled up, but it wasn't sadness, it was relief. She rushed over and hugged her uncle: "Thank you, uncle! We will definitely take good care of you!"
Chen Wang also bowed deeply to his uncle: "Don't worry, I won't let you down."
As we left, the rain had stopped, and the sun shone through the clouds, landing on the pear tree at the gate—the one my uncle had planted. A few raindrops still clung to the branches, glistening. Wangfu ran ahead, his straw hat in his mouth, his tail wagging like a flower.
On the way to Qingxi Village, Lin Xiaoman's phone rang. It was a message from Grandma Zhang: "The tomatoes in the orchard are recovering. I had the children water them and loosen the soil. The leaves are no longer yellowing! New buds have even sprouted under the old pear tree. It's a good sign!"
The two quickened their pace. From afar, they spotted villagers gathered at the village entrance, clutching freshly picked strawberries and waving at them with smiles. The tomato vines in the shared field were vibrant again, the water droplets on the leaves gleaming in the sunlight. And sure enough, beneath the old pear tree, a tender green bud, crowned with two small leaves, seemed to welcome them back.
Chen Wang took Lin Xiaoman to the old pear tree, touched the newly sprouted buds with his fingertips, and looked at the pear wood ring on her ring finger, feeling reassured. "Look," Lin Xiaoman said with a smile, "Grandpa is right. The land recognizes sincerity, not anything else."
The villagers were still busy working in the fields. Some were watering the pear saplings, some were helping to sort out the newly arrived packaging boxes, and the sounds of chatting and laughing drifted away on the wind.
Chen Wang smiled and nodded, looked down at the pear wood ring on Lin Xiaoman's ring finger, and then looked at the new buds under the old pear tree.
The so-called "guardianship" is never a rigid rule. It is like this: there is sweet fragrance in the wind, lover by your side, crops in the fields, and fireworks in the village.
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