Chapter 27: New Year's Ring of Old Variety Farmland
# Chapter 27: New Year's Wheel of the Old Variety Farmland
Spring arrives early in Qingxi Village. Just after March, the strawberry beds in the old-variety crop base are already dotted with red. Three-year-old Lin Chen, wearing tiny rubber shoes, squatted on the edge of a field. His chubby hands carefully held a plump strawberry—its skin, bright red and drenched in morning dew. He brought it up to his nose and sniffed, his giggles startling the sparrows perched on the branches. "Mom, the strawberries are so sweet!"
"Xiaochen, go slow! Don't crush the strawberries." Lin Xiaoman came over and bent down to wipe the mud off her son's nose. A pale purple lavender flower was pinned in her hair—one Chen Wang had picked from the edge of the field this morning. Every year when lavender bloomed, he'd always remember to pin one on her, just like on their wedding day. As she straightened up, she saw Chen Wang approaching from the other end of the base, carrying a new bamboo frame. His blue shirt was stained with grass scraps, and his smile was warm as the sun.
"These tomato vines are growing fast. We need to put up a new rack quickly, otherwise they'll tilt." Chen Wang put down the bamboo rack and ruffled Lin Chen's hair. "I just saw that your tomato seedling has grown new leaves. The veins look like little airplanes. Is it because you talk to it every day?"
Lin Chen immediately puffed out his chest and pulled Chen Wang to the center of the base: "Dad, look! The seedlings I planted are taller than last year!" The tomato plant was the old variety "Star Pattern" that the couple planted together when Lin Chen was born. It has now grown to half a person's height, with stretched branches and leaves, and even the newly sprouted leaves are full of energy. Lin Chen always says, "This is my seedling," and he goes to water it every day.
Over the past three years, Qingxi Village's traditional crop varieties have evolved beyond the small workshops they once were. Chen Wang spearheaded the expansion of the base to 100 mu (approximately 1,000 acres), creating dedicated areas for family cultivation, cultural and creative experiences, and a traditional variety cultivation room dedicated to trialing improved local varieties. Lin Xiaoman, in turn, led the villagers in establishing a planting cooperative, compiling his grandfather's old planting notes into teaching materials on how to cultivate traditional varieties. Over 20 young people in the village have become "farming experts." Last year, the "Qingxi Traditional Tomato Variety" received national geographical indication certification, attracting orders from across the country. Even organic food companies in the south have made special trips to inspect the produce, seeking long-term partnerships.
"Sister Xiaoman, the city's study tour group has arrived at the village entrance!" A village girl, Xiao Zhou, ran over, holding a small flag that read, "Qingxi Traditional Varieties Study Tour." This was a new program this year, and every week, students from the city came to experience planting. Lin Chen had long since appointed himself "little guide," and in his childish voice, he would explain to his older siblings, "How to build a tomato trellis" and "Pick strawberries when they're fully red for sweetness."
Just as Lin Xiaoman was about to go meet him, Grandma Zhang arrived carrying a bamboo basket filled with freshly steamed mugwort cakes with small tomato designs printed on the top. "Hurry up and share some with the children; they're still warm." She smiled and patted Chen Wang's arm. "Who could have imagined that our village's old fruit would become so successful? Uncle Li said a few days ago that his son wasn't happy with his job in the city and wanted to come back to help you manage your e-commerce business, saying he'd find it more satisfying to work in the fields."
Chen Wang took the bamboo basket, his heart warming. He remembered how, three years ago, when he first started planting the old varieties, the villagers were skeptical, fearing losses. Now, Aunt Wang's strawberry jam has become an internet sensation, with a simple drawing of an old pear tree printed on the jar. Uncle Li's bamboo packaging is in high demand, and his small bamboo baskets have become popular souvenirs for study tours. Even the formerly quiet accountant has become the cooperative's master accountant, keeping a clear record of income and expenditure every day.
In the evening, after the study tour group left, Chen Wang and Lin Xiaoman sat down to rest under an old pear tree. Lin Chen, perched on Wangfu's back, chased butterflies along the ridge of a field. The setting sun cast long shadows on the three of them and their dog. The old pear tree had grown thicker than it had three years ago, its branches festooned with red ribbons—given by young villagers at their weddings. Attached to each ribbon were old-fashioned tomato seeds, supposedly for "good luck in establishing roots." In recent years, more young people have stayed in the village, and three couples who met at the base have followed Chen Wang and Lin Xiaoman's lead and married under the old pear tree.
"I still remember the first time I saw you in the orchard. You couldn't even control the strength to loosen the soil, and you loosened the roots of the tomato seedlings." Lin Xiaoman leaned on Chen Wang's shoulder, playing with a pear wood ring in her hand. It was given by Chen Wang on their third wedding anniversary last year. "Three Years of Togetherness" was engraved on the inside.
Chen Wang smiled and took her hand. The silver ring on his finger (the ring he had carved from an old pear tree branch was later replaced with a silver ring for its durability) gently touched her pear wood ring. "Back then, you laughed at me, saying, 'City college students don't even know how to grow crops.' Now I think about it, it's not that crops are difficult to grow, it's that you have to be careful—look at our fields. We tend them year after year, and they're growing so well." He pointed to the tomato patch not far away. The tomato leaves shimmered in the setting sun, and the fruits hanging from the branches were a delightful red. "This is all the sweetness we've worked together to achieve."
At this time, Lin Chen suddenly ran over holding a tomato leaf: "Mom! The ants have moved, it's going to rain!" As soon as the words fell, drizzle began to fall from the sky. The fine raindrops fell on the leaves of the crops, making a rustling sound, like a soft song.
Chen Wang quickly picked up Lin Chen, while Lin Xiaoman carried the bamboo basket, and the three of them ran home. Wangfu followed behind, wagging his tail merrily, occasionally stopping to sniff the grass by the roadside. The rain soaked their clothes, but it couldn't hide the smiles on their faces. Passing by the cultural and creative workshop, Chen Wang caught a glimpse of old items in the window—packaging from the first batch of dried tomatoes, Lin Chen's "My Miao Miao" comic strip, and a group photo taken when the cooperative was founded, everyone in the photo smiling.
After returning home and just hanging up the wet clothes, Lin Xiaoman heard Lin Chen shouting, "Mom! Miaomiao is bearing fruit!" In the small flowerpot on the windowsill, the "Star Pattern" tomato that was planted first has produced a small fruit, green with red, showing vitality - it was specially transplanted into the house last winter, just to let it grow up with Lin Chen.
Lin Chen lay on the windowsill, touched the fruit gently with his little hand, and whispered: "Miao Miao, grow quickly."
Chen Wang hugged Lin Xiaoman from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head, and smelled the faint fragrance of lavender in her hair: "From now on, let's plant a tomato here every year. When Xiaochen grows up, we will let him see how our lives grow along with the crops."
Lin Xiaoman turned around, stood on tiptoe, and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. "We must also pass on the old method of growing crops, so that the fields of Qingxi Village can have a good harvest every year, and the sweetness of the village can be passed down from generation to generation."
The rain outside the window is getting softer and softer. The crops on the ridges of the fields are stretching their leaves in the rain, as if enjoying the moisture.
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