Chapter 6: Cultivating the Land Is the True Path
Inside the brick kiln.
Yu Yang sifted through the refractory bricks amidst the collapsed kiln caves caused by the flood, casually chatting with his elder brother.
“Say, we both know this brick kiln is risky, yet we blatantly sold it off. Could that be considered contractual fraud?”
“Aren’t you pretty knowledgeable about that kind of stuff?”
“I’m no lawyer.”
“Neither am I!”
“...”
After a moment, his brother reassured him, “Relax, most people wouldn’t notice the problem.”
“What do you mean by ‘most people’?”
“You’re one of them.”
“Me?”
Though Yu Yang wasn’t a lawyer, he had over twenty years of experience in construction. Even with all those years of hands-on work, he never imagined the foundation would collapse just because floodwaters rushed into the brick kiln.
As for the brick kiln in another timeline...
By the time Old Yu came out, the brick kiln had already been forcibly seized by the court.
Later, the two of them went into construction work. At most, they heard from locals that the government had completely banned firing red bricks, and kilns in Shiliyíng had been demolished.
From what he gathered, the brick kiln had never experienced any major accidents—at worst, some cave subsidence or chimney cracks.
Yu Yang quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
This meant they could sell the bricks in good conscience, without worrying about accusations of contract fraud.
Besides, if a large construction project fails, people could die.
If it was just the chimney cracking, there was no need to worry about harming innocent lives.
Of course.
Since the brick kiln posed risks, they couldn’t dismantle too many refractory bricks.
If something happened down the line, someone would surely trace the evidence back to them and make them take the blame.
So Yu Yang transported only five loads of bricks—just enough to build the fire pit.
As for the bricks used for the heated kang bed, those would have to be purchased.
Yu Yang counted the money in his pocket.
On the first day selling vegetables, he earned 300 yuan; after spending 50 yuan on meat-filled buns and another 120 yuan on a carrying pole and a large woven basket...
At six in the evening, Uncle Liu joined in and gave 1,000 yuan as a technical support fee.
On the second day, he earned 900 yuan selling vegetables; spent 50 yuan on steamed buns and 380 yuan on the donkey’s feed...
The iron stove and coal from the briquette factory were owed by the strong men on credit, so they didn’t factor that in yet.
“About sixteen hundred yuan,” Yu Yang estimated.
With a plan in mind, he immediately drove to Han Gai.
There was another brick kiln there.
Though competitors, both had been hit by floods. Old Yu’s kiln was in a low-lying area, the caves had collapsed, and due to lack of funds, they hadn’t resumed production quickly.
This kiln, however, had brought in a master mason found through Old Yu to repair the damage in just a few days.
So there was some camaraderie.
After some small talk, Factory Director Lu offered a break-even price on the spot—0.15 yuan per red brick.
Yu Yang immediately ordered 10,000 red bricks.
Then he added 0.005 yuan per brick for loading, and 0.005 yuan per brick for unloading, totaling an extra 100 yuan, with delivery included.
Having finished all this, he returned the mule to Yu the Lame’s home and took his own little donkey along.
Hooking up the wooden cart, he loaded the accumulated bean sprouts, then, accompanied by his third, fourth, and fifth brothers, headed toward Buddha Temple.
Today’s bean sprouts for sale included six large baskets left from yesterday morning, ten baskets planted yesterday afternoon, and ten planted this morning.
Twenty-six large baskets of bean sprouts stacked high on the wooden cart.
If they sold out, it would bring in at least 2,400 yuan.
“This only covers the kang beds in the east and main rooms—total area about 0.03 mu, roughly 20 square meters.”
“When the giant kang in the courtyard is up and running—50 meters long, 30 meters wide, nearly 1,500 square meters—we could easily make ten thousand a day...”
“Wait, twenty thousand yuan a day?!” Yu Yang thought he had miscalculated, counting on his fingers again, suddenly bursting with motivation.
Forget brick kilns, engineering projects, or speculating in finance and stocks—farming was the real way forward.
Maybe in two years, they could even get subsidies and access green channels.
“This future is beyond imagination!”
Yu Yang stood up abruptly, waving his whip, “Charge!”
The well-fed little donkey lifted its hooves and galloped along the bumpy country road, kicking up a trail of dust.
...
Yu Family Village.
The elderly men and women basking in the sun at the village entrance collectively watched Yu Yang drive away with his donkey cart, then began murmuring among themselves.
“These outsiders are really sturdy-looking.”
“Sure, last night they barreled through with door panels in hand.”
“What’s on the cart?”
“Probably bean sprouts.”
“Where’d Sanyuan get so many bean sprouts from?”
“Didn’t he have a crash on the highway?”
“He’s just bragging. I went to his place; the big courtyard is setting up kang beds. I guess these bean sprouts are grown on those kang beds...”
Living in the same village, no one could hide anything from anyone, especially with Third Grandfather still around.
“I’m telling you, Sanyuan’s going to get rich.”
“What do you mean?”
“Those outsiders are planting bean sprouts in winter. Since their carts were stolen, they don’t dare go home, so they teamed up with Sanyuan, planning to make some money from bean sprouts before returning.”
“Are bean sprouts really that profitable?”
“Of course. Otherwise, why would Sanyuan splurge on food? The day before yesterday he treated me to meat-filled buns, yesterday to meat buns, and this morning he brought back beef soup and beef pancakes from Han Gai.”
Third Grandfather lit a half-pack of General cigarettes Yu Yang had left him after a feast last night, then sipped some wolfberry chrysanthemum tea he’d brought from the village chief’s home.
“I’m feeling a bit overfed, need to cool down.”
He added, “And that stove keeps us nice and warm at night.”
The other elders, seeing Third Grandfather’s sincere expression, felt envious but dared not show it.
After a pause, they collectively spat, “Tui!”
But no matter what, the village’s attitude toward Yu Yang had clearly changed.
No longer was it “Your father was arrested,” “Your family owes money,” “Better stay away from them,” or “Don’t talk to me.”
Instead, it was...
“When will he carry me away? I want to taste those meat-filled buns.”
“That stove’s really cozy. When will Sanyuan get one for me?”
“General cigarettes? Four and a half yuan a pack, one a day is fine.”
Silence settled.
“By the way, where’s Grandpa Sanyuan?”
“He went to the Northeast by train to borrow money from his two sons to get Jianjun out.”
“Been more than half a month, right?”
“Guess he didn’t raise enough, so he headed to Southern Xinjiang—he has two sons over there.”
“It’s good to have many sons.”
“Good? They’re not around...”
“Your family’s lucky; you have seven daughters, no sons, yet you’re not enjoying life. Someday, no one will be there to mourn you properly...”
They were about to start arguing.
Three cars turned off the provincial road into Yu Family Village.
One was the Santana that had lost a wheel a few days ago; the others were unfamiliar.
The village chief got out first.
He looked like a translator from an anti-Japanese war movie, nodding and bowing while offering cigarettes, ushering seven or eight people into the village.
The elders spat collectively again, “Tui!”
Soon after, the village chief arrived at the village entrance and called out, “Have you seen Sanyuan?”
“He went to Buddha Temple market; left just half an hour ago.”
“Call him back and tell him the bank director is here,” the village chief instructed his son.
...
At Buddha Temple.
Yu Yang raced there by car, arriving half an hour ahead of schedule.
This time, he didn’t look for empty stalls but parked by the roadside, lined up large woven baskets, and displayed the lush green bean sprouts.
Just as he finished arranging them and before he could shout out to customers, the village chief’s son came speeding up on a bicycle, skidding to a halt.
“Sanyuan, the bank director’s here. You’d better come back, there’s something to discuss.”
In the past, Yu Yang would have ignored him to show that Old Yu was dispensable, giving himself leverage in negotiations.
But now, knowing the brick kiln had hidden dangers...
He couldn’t change his attitude.
“I’m not going. I’m busy.”
“Busy? That’s the bank director.”
“Bank director or not, can farming grown on fields make money?”
“???“
The village chief’s son looked at Yu Yang’s fierce expression, then at the three burly men with scarred faces.
Suddenly, he recalled the stolen color TV, DVD player, and home theater system.
He understood.
This was no vegetable seller.
This was a bandit!