Chapter 52: Improvement and Trust

Lu Zhanying's military-green motorcycle engine sputtered and died at the entrance of the commune, the army water canteen on the handlebar clinking rhythmically. With two fingers, he clutched the stamped official permit. Sweat poured down his sun-darkened cheeks, gathering into droplets at the tip of his chin before falling onto his threadbare, faded military trousers. This was already his third trip to the commune today—during the first two visits, either the clerk was away or the official seal had been taken to a meeting. It wasn't until late afternoon that he finally managed to get the document.

"Zhanying, isn't this sulfur powder hard to come by?" Old Li from the reception room poked his head out, waving a cattail leaf fan. "Just a moment ago, someone from the Wang family village came by asking, saying their cotton fields are waiting to use it too." Lu Zhanying folded the permit and tucked it deep into his trouser pocket, then raised his voice. "This is specially approved by Professor Zhang, for the space seeds!" A trace of unnoticeable pride tinged his voice, startling the sparrows perched on the courtyard wall into a flurry of wings.

Inside the supply station's warehouse, five bags of sulfur powder were piled in the corner. The bags were stamped with bold black characters reading "Agricultural Use." A corner of one bag had been nibbled by a mouse, leaking a small mound of pale yellow powder onto the floor. Lu Zhanying hired a flatbed cart and loaded the bags onto it one by one. The fine dust irritated his throat, making him cough uncontrollably. "This stuff is precious. Be careful when you spread it," the warehouse keeper said, puffing on a cigarette as he watched the loading. "Last year, someone used this as gunpowder ingredients and got dragged off by the commune to be publicly criticized for three days."

The flatbed cart rattled slowly toward the village entrance, the setting sun stretching Lu Zhanying's shadow long across the dirt path. Passing Erzhuzi’s vegetable plot, Erzhuzi was walking home with a hoe on his shoulder. Seeing the sulfur powder on the cart, his eyes lit up. "Is this the treasure that can save the seedlings? The soil in my plot is also heavily alkaline, can you spare some for me?" Without turning his head, Lu Zhanying replied, "We have to prioritize the space seeds first. Whatever is left over, we can talk about later."

News spread like wildfire. Before the flatbed cart even reached the medicine factory, the villagers already knew the sulfur powder had been bought back.

Early the next morning, over twenty people gathered outside the greenhouse. Old Zhou stood at the very front, leaning heavily on his hoe, the brim of his straw hat pulled down low, revealing ears that were bright red. "Comrade Su, Zhanying," he slammed the hoe into the ground. "It was my old muddled self before; I shouldn't have called those seedlings evil. Today, I'll take the lead. How we spread this powder is entirely up to you."

Su Yao was sifting the sulfur powder, shaking the bamboo sieve rhythmically over a wooden basin. The powder was as fine as flour, making her sneeze repeatedly. "Uncle Zhou, we are more than thrilled that you've come to help." She straightened up, wiping her nose with her sleeve. "Professor Zhang said twenty pounds per acre, and it must be mixed five centimeters deep into the soil—neither too shallow nor too deep."

Lu Xingchen squatted on the ground, drawing grids with lime powder to divide the experimental plot into small sections. "This way, we'll know exactly how much to spread on each patch, so some areas don't get too much while others get too little." The wooden handle of his small trowel had broken yesterday, so he was using a brand-new one today, the handle still retaining rough burrs that hadn't been sanded down.

"I'll do the spreading!" Erzhuzi snatched the scoop from Su Yao's hand, scooped up a measure of sulfur powder, and—following the method Su Yao taught—swung his arm in a wide circle. The powder drifted down like a yellow mist, forming a thin layer across the ground. Aunt Li carried an earthenware pot filled with chilled mung bean soup, handing a bowl to everyone. "It's hot out, take a sip of soup and rest a bit, don't get heatstroke." The back of her hand was smudged with gray dirt from feeding the pigs that morning.

Old Zhou didn't speak; he just silently buried himself in turning the earth. His hoe was heavier than anyone else's, and the clods of soil he turned over were large and even. Once the sulfur powder was scattered, he would gently rake it over with his hoe so the powder mixed evenly into the soil.

Watching his bent back and remembering his fiery temper a few days ago when he threatened to uproot the plants, Su Yao couldn't help a small smile—this old man truly had a stubborn mouth but a soft heart.

Lu Xingchen held a small notebook, recording the numbers beside each plot: "First section on the east side, two scoops; second section, one and a half scoops..." His voice was slightly hoarse from shouting too much yesterday. When Su Yao told him to rest, he shook his part-shaken head. "I need to keep a clear record so we know the exact amount needed later." With that, he pulled a glass tube from his pocket—the pH test strips given by Professor Zhang—and pressed it into the damp soil. After absorbing the moisture, the color slowly shifted to blue.

"Still high alkalinity." He frowned, tucking the test strip carefully between the pages of his notebook. "We can't water it until three days after spreading the powder, and then we'll test it again." Nearby, little Qingmiao was holding a small trowel, digging tiny pits in the open ground to bury the sulfur powder that had spilled. "My brother said this powder shouldn't go to waste; burying it in the soil will turn it into fertilizer."

By the time the sun climbed directly overhead, most of the plots had been treated. The villagers sat on the ridges to rest, pulling their straw hats over their faces as a chorus of snores rose up. Su Yao counted the remaining sulfur powder—there was still enough for two acres, and she let out a sigh of relief. Professor Zhang was right to tell them to prepare extra.

For the next three days, Xingchen came to the fields every day to test the soil pH. On the first day, the pH test strip was still blue; on the second day, the color was slightly lighter; on the third morning, the moment he pushed the test strip into the soil, he saw the color shift to pale green, startling him so much he almost dropped the glass tube. "Mom! It dropped to 7.5! Come quick and look!" His voice echoed inside the greenhouse, frightening the sparrows perched on the canvas into flight.

Su Yao was watering the healthy seedlings, but hearing his cry, she hurried over. Seeing the color on the test strip, her eyes lit up instantly. "Really! We can water it now!" She held the watering can, her hands slightly trembling. Where the water seeped into the soil, the earth darkened in color, looking like a dark patch on fabric.

On the morning of the seventh day, Xingchen went to the greenhouse as usual, and the moment he lifted the canvas, he froze. At the tips of those lagging seedlings, fresh green shoots had emerged—tiny, no bigger than grains of rice. He quickly squatted down, gently pushing the soil aside with his hands to look. The roots had also multiplied, pure white and resembling an old grandfather's white beard.

"Mom! The seedlings are saved!" He turned and bolted toward home, forgetting he was still clutching the pH test strip in his hand. The paper had been soaked with sweat, its colors bleeding together. Just as he reached the courtyard gate, he bumped right into Lu Zhanying, who was returning from the military unit with his rifle slung over his shoulder, almost crashing into him. "What's all this about? Running around all panicked, slow down." Lu Zhanying steadied him, catching the earthy scent clinging to his clothes and instantly knowing it had to do with the seedlings.

"The lagging seedlings are growing new leaves, they're really growing new leaves! That's wonderful!" Xingchen's face was flushed red, whether from running or excitement, and he tugged Lu Zhanying toward the greenhouse. "Come look! They're half a centimeter taller than yesterday!"

A crowd had already gathered inside the greenhouse. Old Zhou was measuring the height of a seedling with his fingertip, muttering to himself, "Taller, they're truly taller, a full half-finger long." Erzhuzi squatted nearby, using a twig to shade the new leaves from the sun. "These new leaves are so tender, we mustn't let them get scorched." Aunt Li beamed from ear to ear. "I told you these seedlings would grow fine, all our hard work wasn't in vain."

Standing at the back of the crowd, Su Yao looked at those tiny green buds sprouting and suddenly felt a prickle of sourness in her nose. All the worry and anxiety of these past few days vanished the moment she laid eyes on those new leaves. She recalled Professor Zhang's words: "Doing agriculture is like crossing a river by feeling the stones," and now, they had finally found a steady stone to step on.

Lu Zhanying pulled a small mirror from his pocket—one he had bought for Suisui—and used it to reflect sunlight onto the new leaves. "This'll keep them cooler." Watching his clumsy gesture, Xingchen suddenly remembered the day of sowing, when his father had watered the sprouts with that exact same meticulous care.

It turned out that whether one was a soldier or a farmer, the tenderness one felt toward these small lives was entirely the same.

Old Zhou walked up to Su Yao carrying a small cloth pouch. Opening it, he revealed a handful of sun-dried sesame seeds. "These are from last year's harvest at my home. Scatter them near the seedlings to repel pests. The fields where I used to grow sesame always had fewer bugs." Su Yao accepted them; the fragrance of sesame mixed with the rich scent of earth smelled wonderful.

"Uncle Zhou, thank you," she said sincerely. Old Zhou waved a hand, his face flushing red again. "You should be thanking me instead; you've taught an old fool like me a lesson in scientific farming." With that, he picked up his hoe. "I'll go loosen up the dirt some more so the soil breathes better."

As the sun set in the west, the villagers gradually dispersed. Erzhuzi promised to bring a few people tomorrow to build a shade canopy, and Aunt Li offered to bring wood ash from her stove to strengthen the seedlings. Xingchen sat on the field ridge, using the last remnants of daylight to write in his notebook: "Seventh day of sulfur powder application, lagging seedlings have sprouted new leaves, height 1.5 cm, pH 7.5, growing condition favorable." Next to it, he drew a large smiley face, much rounder than the previous ones.

Su Yao walked over and handed her son a corn cake. "Hungry? Have something to eat." Xingchen took the cake, took a large bite, and as if remembering something, asked, "Mom, now that the seedlings are doing well, does that mean we don't need to find out who sabotaged them?"

Looking out toward Old Zhou's departing figure in the distance, Su Yao sighed softly. "Some things don't necessarily need to be brought completely to light. Human hearts are made of flesh; as long as they change for the better, that's enough." The evening breeze caught the corner of the canvas, revealing the uneven rows of seedlings swaying gently in the twilight, nodding like heads in agreement.

Xingchen nodded, half-understanding, and stuffed the last bite of the cake into his mouth. He didn't know Su Yao was still worrying about Su Wan, nor did he know that the pH test strip tucked into his notebook would become their most precious memento.

He only knew that these seedlings had survived, and that was more important than anything else.

Night gradually fell, and the light inside the greenhouse flickered on. The warm, dim glow filtered through the canvas, casting swaying shadows on the ground. Su Yao and and Xingchen were still inside—one watering, the other recording notes, occasionally exchanging words in voices so soft they seemed afraid of waking the sleeping seedlings. In the distance came Lu Zhanying's voice calling them for dinner, carrying a hint of impatience yet brimming with the warmth of home.

Xingchen closed his notebook, looking at the newly sprouted green leaves, and suddenly felt that no matter what difficulties lay ahead, as long as the family stayed together and the villagers helped out, there was no hurdle they couldn't clear. This must be what Professor Zhang meant by the power of agriculture—not just growing crops, but bringing people's hearts together as one.