Chapter 67: The Letter

“This isn’t urgent. While my body is still strong, I’d like to farm those fields for another couple of years. Otherwise, if I suddenly stop working the land, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Am I supposed to follow your mother and raise silkworms?” Old Liu chuckled; raising silkworms was women’s work, not something a grown man like him would do.

Afraid Liu Yitiao might feel hurt, Old Liu continued, “But don’t worry, Yitiao. Ertiao is destined for officialdom—he won’t need those fields. Sooner or later, they’ll be handed down to you. When that time comes, you can manage them however you see fit; your mother and I won’t interfere.”

“Father,” Liu Yitiao sensed a certain distance in Old Liu’s words, and felt uneasy. Why should there be anything unsaid between father and son? He explained to Old Liu, “I want to consolidate the family’s land so you can enjoy a few years of leisure sooner, without having to toil under the sun every day. It pains me to see you work so hard.”

“I know you’re worried about me taking on such a large responsibility—thirty hectares and over a hundred tenant farmers. You fear something might go wrong and want to leave me a fallback. I understand that. So if you truly don’t wish to do it now, I won’t force you. We can wait until the Liu family’s foundation is more stable in a couple of years before discussing it again.”

Having his thoughts laid bare, Old Liu no longer tried to hide them. He looked at Liu Yitiao and said, “Yitiao, you’ve grown up. Even when I don’t say things, you can see through them. That’s good—it puts my mind at ease.”

“You’re right. I worry that, all of a sudden, you’ll have so much land and so many tenants, and there will inevitably be some mistakes in management. Most of those tenants are of humble origins; few are as refined as Brother Li today. If trouble arises between you and them, the family won’t be able to help you…”

“Also, all your thirty hectares are wasteland. Wasteland is hard to cultivate and needs three to five years of nurturing before it yields good crops. Otherwise, the authorities wouldn’t have exempted a year’s taxes. Take our current fields, for example. When the village chief assigned them to me, half were wasteland. I spent ten years painstakingly improving them before they became the fertile land they are now. You can imagine how difficult that was. So, before you’ve reclaimed your wasteland, I don’t want to give up the productive fields. They may be few, but they’re fertile, and their annual yield isn’t much less than your thirty hectares of wasteland.”

Old Liu’s words made sense. Under normal circumstances, he was neither wrong in what he said nor in what he did. Wasteland is hard to cultivate. In the past, the first year of farming wasteland usually yielded nothing; getting a few dozen kilos per acre was considered lucky. Old Liu’s concerns were entirely reasonable.

But would Liu Yitiao use the ancient methods of reclaiming wasteland? The answer was clearly no.

After all, Yitiao was once an outstanding graduate of a well-known agricultural college. His theoretical knowledge alone was enough to make him a master in the fields. Moreover, he had spent two years interning with experienced farmers and animal husbandry experts. With both theory and practice, how could such a small patch of wasteland possibly pose a challenge?

But these were Liu Yitiao’s own secrets, and he couldn’t bring them up with Old Liu. Even if he did, Old Liu would never believe him. Some things are best proven by results.

Liu Yitiao said to Old Liu, “You’ve thought it all through, Father. I’ve caused you worry. I have my own ways to manage the tenants, and as for reclaiming the wasteland, you needn’t be concerned. I won’t let you down. Words can’t explain it all, but when the autumn harvest comes, you’ll see for yourself. If, at that time, you still insist on keeping the fields separate, I won’t press the matter.”

“Very well! Then I promise you this: if, after the autumn harvest, the yield from your thirty hectares of wasteland is three times that of my one hundred and twenty acres of fertile fields, I’ll exchange them and hand the productive land over to you!” Old Liu made his promise.

Liu Yitiao smiled. Old Liu’s one hundred and twenty acres at best produced just under seven thousand kilos. Even counting it as seven thousand, three times that would only be twenty-one thousand kilos.

Twenty-one thousand kilos—Old Liu’s fields were as good as exchanged.

“Oh, that’s right,” Old Liu suddenly remembered something and hurriedly pulled a bamboo tube from his pocket, handing it to Liu Yitiao. “This is a letter delivered this morning from the Zhang family in Little Xin Village. They said it contains the answer from that Miss Chuchu. Take a look—is it the solution you mentioned?”

“Oh?” An answer so soon? Liu Yitiao took the bamboo tube, recalling how two days ago Zhang Chuchu had looked up at him, seeking his guidance. A little girl who loved arithmetic—such a rarity.

He opened the bamboo lid and found a rolled piece of paper inside. Unrolling it, he saw four delicate characters: Boundless Wind and Moon.

She actually guessed it.

Liu Yitiao rolled the paper up again and put it back into the bamboo tube, then looked up and said to Old Liu, “Father, prepare some gifts this afternoon. Let’s pay another visit to Little Xin Village.”

“Go to Little Xin Village?” Old Liu exclaimed with joy, “Could it be that Miss Chuchu answered correctly?!”

This was a momentous occasion. Seeing Liu Yitiao nod, Old Liu nearly jumped out of his chair. He hurried to the doorway and shouted towards the kitchen, “Wife! Add two dishes to lunch—I’m having drinks with the boys today! Haha…”

“What’s got you so happy?” Mrs. Liu carried two plates out from the kitchen, noticing Old Liu’s grin stretching from ear to ear, and asked.

Old Liu replied, “This afternoon, I’m going with the eldest to propose marriage. This time it should be settled. Haha, we’ll soon have a grandson in our arms! Shouldn’t we celebrate?”

“Really?” Mrs. Liu set the plates on the table and looked at Liu Yitiao. “Is it the girl from the Zhang family? Hmm, she’s a good one—pretty, well-mannered, and healthy. She’ll make a fine wife.”

“Mother, don’t listen to Father’s nonsense. Whether it’s settled or not remains to be seen; we’ll only know when we arrive at the Zhangs’ this afternoon. Father’s just too impatient.” Liu Yitiao was both amused and helpless—his parents were so eager for a daughter-in-law they were nearly frantic.

“What do you mean ‘remains to be seen’?” Old Liu protested. “If the girl was willing to send you the answer, isn’t that consent? Otherwise, she could’ve kept the answer to herself—why go to the trouble of sending it to you?”

This time, Old Liu spoke wisely. Mrs. Liu gave him an approving glance and said to Liu Yitiao, “Yitiao, your father’s right. The girl has taken a liking to you. Haha… you all wait here; I’ll prepare two more dishes. Such a happy event deserves a couple of drinks.”