Song Tan’s Chronicle - Chapter 27

“Dad, when will the people delivering the nets arrive?”

“They’ll be here soon.”

Song Tan looked around at the chestnut trees sprouting on the hillside. She planned to enclose the entire grove and grow black fungus and silver ear mushrooms within it.

As for the chestnut grove, it had been neglected for years, and its annual yield was left to nature.

Chestnuts needed grafting, pruning, and fertilizing, which wasn’t easy to manage.

Yunqiao Village was too remote, and chestnuts weren’t a prized commodity. The purchase price was just one or two yuan per jin, slightly more than the 0.8 yuan she remembered from childhood.

But the young people who could earn this money had already left for the cities.

Older folks like Song Sancheng couldn’t handle heavy farm work anymore.

Time waits for no one!

In the middle of the slope stood a towering wild chestnut tree, as tall as a three-story building. It cast a large shadow and was right in the center of the slope.

This was a wild old tree that the family had never tended to. Its chestnuts were barely bigger than ping-pong balls, and the nuts inside were thumb-sized, but they were incredibly fragrant.

Her grandfather, Song Youde, had deliberately left it standing.

Song Tan gazed up at it, salivating at the thought of winter nights by the stove, listening to chestnuts pop…

The rich, roasted aroma, the soft and sweet texture.

Without hesitation, she infused a small amount of spiritual energy into the tree, gently patting the trunk and feeling its roots stretch joyfully underground before reluctantly looking away—

“Grow well! We’ll rely on you for the New Year!”

Song Sancheng called out to her from up ahead: “Come here and see if this spot is good for setting up the posts for the net.”

Using wire mesh was too expensive here, so they opted for regular rope nets. Most of the time, it was just a deterrent to those who might casually take things—

It’s marked as private, so don’t touch.

The idea was to guard against the honest, not the dishonest. Most rural facilities were like this.

After estimating in her mind, Song Tan nodded: “Yes, this spot is fine.”

Seeing her serious demeanor, Song Sancheng couldn’t help but laugh: “You look so serious—like you actually know what you’re doing.”

Song Tan played along: “What if your daughter really has a talent, right? It’s thanks to my dad, giving me the space to show my skills!”

Sancheng was indeed flattered: “Of course, I used to carry you on my shoulders all the time when you were little—”

After saying that, he looked around to make sure no one was nearby and whispered: “Tan Tan, you’ve made quite a bit recently, right?”

It was mid-March, and Song Tan had sold wild vegetables six times—indeed making a tidy sum, totaling 15,000 yuan, half the cost of the pickup truck.

Song Tan smiled at her father: “I do have some money now. What do you need, Dad?”

Sancheng was delighted but shy: “Well… You love fish, right? I want to go fishing when it rains and there’s no work. Remember Uncle Wu from our village? He bought a new fishing rod for over 500 yuan!”

“How about… you buy me one too? If your mom asks, just say it cost 80 yuan.”

Fishing was his only hobby now!

Song Tan felt a pang of sorrow—her family scrimped and saved for her and her brother.

But when it came to a fishing rod…

Song Tan negotiated: “Dad, if you quit smoking, you’ll save 1,000 or 2,000 yuan a year. I can add 2,000 more, and we can get a 4,000 yuan rod!”

Sancheng: …

He paused: “You don’t understand, real anglers don’t care about expensive rods. A few thousand yuan isn’t necessary; this current one feels just right.”

Indeed, between a fishing rod and tobacco, tobacco wins!

Getting him to quit smoking was unrealistic.

Song Tan thought for a moment and pulled out her phone: “But you’ve worked hard recently, Dad. It’s just a fishing rod! A few bundles of wild vegetables will cover it! Choose the one you want, I’ll buy it!”

The sound of an approaching vehicle grew louder—the people delivering the nets had arrived.

…

Back home, Wu Lan was still at Song Youde’s place planting mushroom spores—it was supposed to be done earlier, but the logs had been too wet from recent tree cutting, so they had to dry out before drilling.

They had only just started planting.

Sancheng smiled: “Most of the folks helping are your grandparents’ age. Spending time with them has lifted their spirits.”

“All the elderly in the village are here, except for two—those two are too difficult for anyone to handle.”

Song Tan knew who they were.

One was famously unreasonable, even her own children couldn’t deal with her.

The other was someone who once tried to poison livestock over a stolen pumpkin (though unsuccessful) …

Some people are best avoided.

Sancheng, recalling them, shook his head and changed the subject:

“But Tan Tan, we didn’t mention money at first—since they’re elderly, if we offer payment and they get hurt or sick, their families might demand compensation. We wouldn’t be able to explain it.”

Though everyone was from the same village, unreasonable people were not rare.

It was better this way—Wang Lifen’s call for volunteers ensured those who came did so willingly, and with free food and companionship, it was a pleasant experience for the lonely elderly.

Not to mention, Sancheng promised each would receive two cuts of meat after the work was done, making everyone more enthusiastic.

But Sancheng, ever thoughtful, discussed another point with Song Tan:

“But I’ve been thinking, we’ll grow a lot of stuff, and you won’t let us use pesticides, making it organic and likely expensive, right?”

Absolutely.

Song Tan’s wild vegetables were steadfastly priced at 20 yuan per jin to establish this high-value standard.

Sancheng, living in the village, thought ahead:

“I was thinking, if these things are only grown by us, and someone takes some, we can’t really object, right?”

Life in the village had its pros and cons.

“Even if they don’t take, if villagers want to buy and find it expensive, they might say we’re being unreasonable. If it’s cheap, it’s not fair either—how about this, when the work is done, we give each person a log of black fungus and a log of silver ear mushrooms.”

“What do you think, Tan Tan?”

Song Tan hadn’t considered this—cultivators used formation plates or barriers, so no one worried about others taking their stuff!

Now she nodded repeatedly, giving Sancheng a thumbs-up:

“Dad, it’s gotta be you!”

Sancheng laughed proudly: “Of course! I’ve lived longer and learned more than you!”