Chapter 47: The Layout of the Plastic Greenhouse, Dong Jian

Seed cultivation may seem inconspicuous.

Yet, in truth, this matter concerns the rise and fall of a nation.

Just as Yu Yang once read in a certain report.

The gist was that soybeans originated in the East, with over five thousand wild varieties.

In the 1990s, North America, which had no native soybeans, took one variety and handed it to Monsanto, which developed genetically modified soybeans—higher yield, stronger disease resistance.

Within less than five years, the East went from pure exporter of soybeans and soybean meal to pure importer.

Such a small thing as soybeans may appear unremarkable.

But the protein used in animal feed all comes from soybean products.

Not only do people consume soy milk, dried tofu, and tofu pudding,

but livestock feed—soybean meal—is also derived from it.

Genetically modified soybeans, by virtue of higher yield and disease resistance, mean lower prices, enabling them to sweep the grain market.

Then they take over cooking oil, control pork, beef, lamb...

Once capital dominates the real industry, instruments like stocks, futures, and funds become mere toys.

For example, if I announce that this year’s weather is favorable, soybean yields will soar.

At that moment, stocks and futures would surge.

But if I then announce, “Unexpected disaster strikes—California wildfires burn millions of hectares of soybean fields; yields plummet,”

how could stocks and futures not fall?

With every rise and fall, I profit.

Meanwhile, pork and cooking oil linked to soybeans would fall in price with good harvests and rise with disasters.

Shares and futures of related enterprises would fluctuate accordingly.

Knowing this in advance, I profit again.

This cycle drains a nation’s wealth.

It is an almost unsolvable game; no one can challenge the positions of the Big Four grain traders and the six major seed companies, nor halt their infiltration.

Even war cannot change this.

And all this traces back to a tiny wild soybean variety, turned genetically modified.

Thus, seeds are crucial.

Of course, our own strength is still weak; it’s premature to discuss such things.

What Yu Yang wants now is only to make reasonable use of fake plastic greenhouses and earn a bit of money on the side.

After pondering briefly, he decided to activate seven genuine plastic greenhouses.

Six for growing soybean seedlings, one for cultivating soybean seeds.

He also arranged for farmers to enter the fields...

After finishing these tasks,

Yu Yang squatted on the abandoned earthen wall of the Yu family village, gazing northward.

The snow on the ground had melted, revealing thirty plastic greenhouses spanning over a hundred acres, arranged in three rows of ten each, shining impressively under the bright sun.

Thanks to the busy construction crew, more plastic greenhouses were beginning to take shape.

Previously, to conceal the output of soybean seedlings, the plan was to arrange the greenhouses like a maze.

But with a highway nearby, anyone looking down from above would see a chaotic layout, hardly aesthetic.

So, they designed a Bagua (Eight Trigrams) pattern.

Overall, it resembled the Chinese character "米" (rice).

Greenhouses in the same vertical or horizontal line were connected at the ends.

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This way,

Greenhouse No. 1 in column A was fake,

No. 2 fake,

No. 3 genuine,

No. 4 fake,

No. 5 fake,

No. 6 fake.

When the seedlings in No. 3 matured, the strong roots intertwined like a carpet.

Strong men would cut it into strips measuring one meter by thirty meters, fifty strips in total.

These would be moved sideways to No. 1 greenhouse, where female workers tore them into small pieces and packed them into freshness boxes.

When No. 3 matured again, the seedlings could be moved to No. 4 greenhouse for the same process.

How to move them depended on the promotional claim that the seedlings matured every three days, rotating among certain greenhouses.

For example:

Harvest No. 1 and 4 today.

No. 2 and 6 tomorrow.

No. 3 and 5 the day after.

Then back to No. 1 and 4 on the following day...

This also dispelled outside suspicion.

The "米" layout, with straight rows and columns, was convenient for laying rails, pulling cables, and consolidating soybean seedlings to the central area for transport.

"I must be a genius to come up with this plan," Yu Yang thought.

At that moment,

His younger cousin hurried over.

"Brother Sanyuan, over ten trucks arrived by the provincial road. They say our parking lot and newly built houses seriously affect the highway and must be demolished immediately."

"Which department?"

"The county demolition office."

"They’ve got quite a reach."

Yu Yang took out his phone to contact the county supervisor.

Though the demolition office was a temporary agency, it was still official.

Before reasoning with them, at least a heads-up was necessary.

Before he could dial, the loudspeaker of the small villa blared the township chief’s voice.

"Folks, trucks have arrived—twenty dump trucks. We’re in urgent need of them!"

...

Opposite the small villa, by the provincial road,

Dong Jian sat in his BMW 740, admiring the twenty-plus dump trucks, fully loaded with personnel entering the parking lot.

He had lost interest in the Yu family father and son.

He wasn’t interested in the rumored lucrative soybean seedlings either.

Because no matter how profitable it was, could it compare to profits from toll roads or real estate development?

So now, he only wanted to vent his anger.

Thinking deeply,

Dong Jian took out his phone and called a subordinate.

"Listen up. Some idiot parked a car on the rooftop!"

"Really? Haha, what an idiot!"

"Did you get out?"

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"Yes, boss. What’s the plan?"

"Demolish first, then fight. Let’s see if they dare resist."

"Boss, they have too many people."

"They’re just vegetable vendors. You tell them whoever helps the Yus won’t do business in Taishi City again. Licensed ones get their licenses revoked; unlicensed, fined on sight. They won’t even be allowed into the market!"

"Boss, the vegetable vendors retreated, but there are still many technicians and villagers..."

"No problem, we have numbers; the advantage is ours!"

"Boss, the township chief is here... bad news, the entire Ten Mile Camp has arrived!"

Without the phone, Dong Jian saw the approaching crowd in his rearview mirror.

Some carried shovels, others hoes, others raised sickles—like the opening scene of Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

Then the loudspeaker blared again.

Township Chief: "Folks, trucks have arrived—twenty dump trucks. We’re in urgent need of them!"

"Charge!"

Dong Jian started the car, planning to flee.

But the crowd had already surrounded him.

Someone knocked on the window with a wrench.

Dong Jian knew escape was impossible.

He forced a smile, rolled down the window, and handed over a pack of softbox cigarettes.

"I was just passing by."

"Don’t worry, big boss. Ten Mile Camp’s public security is excellent, and business atmosphere is great. Today’s a welfare day... We’re just worried about your car getting scratched, so we’ll watch over it. You just focus on your calls, don’t mind the outside."

Dong Jian felt a bit relieved.

Moments later, he saw over three hundred of his men being pushed and shoved out of the parking lot by thousands of villagers.

As for the vehicles...

They definitely remained inside.

But Dong Jian was calm.

Ignoring the alarm blaring after being touched by villagers, he turned off the engine and called the county supervisor.

"Uncle Zhao, I have twenty dump trucks passing through Ten Mile Camp, but the township held them... Sorry to trouble you."

Moments later, the call came back.

"Little Dong, Ten Mile Camp township office knows your dump trucks were dismantled, but that’s the doing of Beihe Township—there’s nothing they can do. You know how chaotic it is over there."

"No, Uncle Zhao, they are holding my trucks."

"They’re already poor enough; don’t turn the tables on them."

"???"

Dong Jian stared blankly at his phone until the call ended.

"Damn!"

After cursing, he saw the crowd disperse, quickly restarted the car, ready to leave.

But no matter how much he floored the gas, the car didn’t budge.

The dashboard warning lights for tire pressure and ABS were all on.

Confused, Dong Jian got out to check.

And found all four tires missing.

"Damn!"