Qu Mingli hadn’t expected it to be this little. After the other party placed a stack of money on the table, he waited a moment longer, anticipating another stack.
But Secretary Zhao just stood there, unmoving, no matter how pointedly Qu Mingli looked at him.
Had he forgotten, or what?
Qu Mingli had no choice but to remind him, "And the rest?"
At that, Secretary Zhao’s face visibly darkened. "There isn’t any more."
"None?" Qu Mingli was genuinely taken aback and couldn’t help glancing at the table again.
The other forestry farms that had come to settle accounts earlier had brought at least two stacks, even if their goods hadn’t sold out.
His stunned reaction was so genuine that Secretary Zhao’s expression turned even uglier. "That’s all. Just this much."
Qu Mingli was at a loss for words. Even if the Hongshi Forestry Farm had faced some setbacks and reduced production, the difference shouldn’t be this drastic, right?
He picked up the ledger and flipped through it, noticing not only the low sales volume but also the rock-bottom prices. Frowning, he asked, "Why were they sold so cheap?"
That question hit the nail on the head. Secretary Zhao hesitated before replying, "There were some disasters this year. The goods didn’t grow well."
What exactly those "disasters" were, Secretary Zhao didn’t specify, but Qu Mingli already knew.
He had later asked Yan Xue about it. While reduced yields were unavoidable, with proper care, the quality of the wood ear mushrooms shouldn’t have been affected.
Yet here was Secretary Zhao claiming the goods hadn’t grown well, with the wholesale price per jin in the ledger even dropping to 2.7 yuan.
Qu Mingli was truly speechless now. After a long look at Secretary Zhao, he called the accountant to record the amount.
When the accountant saw the meager stack of cash—less than a full bundle—he didn’t say a word, but his eyes betrayed his shock.
No wonder Secretary Zhao had been so reluctant to come to the bureau to settle the accounts. It was humiliating, like a public shaming.
He could already imagine the news spreading through the bureau the moment he left: Hongshi Forestry Farm had only earned a little over 3,000 yuan this year, becoming the laughingstock of the office.
Sure enough, as soon as the accountant returned, someone immediately asked, "How much did they hand in?"—voice brimming with curiosity.
Hongshi was the last forestry farm to settle up, so everyone turned to look. The accountant wordlessly held up six fingers.
"Over 6,000?" The questioner was stunned. "How much did they even plant? That’s more than Jinchuan Forestry Farm!"
Jinchuan Forestry Farm had only handed in a little over 5,000 yuan—and that was combining two years’ worth. Was Hongshi really that bold?
But after a moment, the accountant gave him a strange look and corrected, "No."
"No?" The man froze, and the mood in the office shifted between hope and disappointment.
After a long pause, someone finally asked in disbelief, "If it’s not 6,000… they didn’t only hand in 600, did they?"
"686 yuan and 91 cents," the accountant stated the exact figure. But was that really any different from 600?
"Wait, they worked for a whole year and only made 3,000 yuan? How did they even manage that?"
"Right? The other forestry farms made at least 1,700 or 1,800. How did they end up with just 600?"
A difference of 300 or 500 yuan would’ve been understandable, but this gap was absurd. If the accountant weren’t known for his seriousness, they’d have thought he was joking.
But the figure was precise down to the fen, so it clearly wasn’t a joke. After a collective moment of stunned silence, someone muttered, "With sales this low, did they even break even?"
Of course, Hongshi Forestry Farm hadn’t broken even. The 3,000 yuan wasn’t even enough to cover the cost of the fungal strains they’d bought from Jinchuan Forestry Farm, let alone the base construction.
Even if the farm didn’t reclaim any funds this year, the meager earnings wouldn’t cover the temporary workers’ wages, let alone provide a decent share for the base workers—each would only get half their usual pay.
This was a massive disappointment. They’d fought tooth and nail to join the base precisely for the profit-sharing.
Lately, the base had been in chaos, with everyone blaming each other—some accused others of poor technique, while others pointed fingers at laziness. Everyone was convinced it was someone else’s fault.
A few even went to the farm’s administration to protest, complaining that after a year of work, they were only getting 200 yuan in wages. "How are we supposed to live like this?"
Unlike rural villages, forestry farm workers didn’t have their own land. If wages weren’t paid, their families would starve.
When the farm failed to provide a solution, one worker even brought his children—a whole line of them—to the office, making such a racket that Secretary Zhao was left with a splitting headache.
After some discussion, the farm reluctantly scraped together some extra funds to supplement the workers’ wages, covering up to ten months’ pay.
They had no choice. Desperate people would do anything, and if things escalated, they’d have to pay anyway.
But even then, the farm could only cover ten months, and this wasn’t charity—the advance would be deducted from next year’s earnings.
Just when they thought the matter was settled, people started pulling strings to transfer back to their original positions.
Unlike Jinchuan Forestry Farm, Hongshi’s key roles were mostly filled by permanent staff. The farm didn’t trust the family teams with such important work.
But permanent staff meant these workers had stable jobs to fall back on. If the base couldn’t feed them, of course they’d return to where they could eat.
When the requests reached Secretary Zhao, he was furious. They complained about low earnings? He was the one fed up with their incompetence!
Look at the other forestry farms—how much had they handed in? Even if they couldn’t match Jinchuan, Wangshan, or Xiaojinchuan, how could they compare to the other three? Handing in just over 600 yuan was downright shameful.
In the end, two workers left the base, and Secretary Zhao didn’t bother replacing them, opting to staff the entire operation with family workers instead.
Only after all this did Hongshi Forestry Farm finally have time to hold a meeting and discuss plans for next year—how to run the base and how many fungal strains to buy.
"I’ve looked into it. Jinchuan handed in over 5,000 yuan this year, Wangshan over 3,000, and the lowest among the others was 1,700. The wood ear farming project is still viable."
The project was viable—the problem was the people running it. Two idiots had come up with reckless ideas and even introduced mold to the base.
"Besides, the second year is the peak harvest period for wood ears. If we do better next year and plant more, we can make up for this year’s losses."
They had no choice but to press on. The farm had already invested heavily and even advanced wages—were they just going to let it all go to waste?
After reviewing their mistakes and envisioning a brighter future, the meeting finally settled on next year’s plan.
They would keep growing wood ears—more of them. Losing face and money this year didn’t matter; they’d make it back next year.
But when they called Jinchuan Forestry Farm to place their order, they were told the fungal strains were already sold out. Several other farms, pleased with their profits, had placed larger orders.
Secretary Zhao nearly spat blood. Just because he’d been delayed cleaning up this mess, was this really necessary?
After much pleading and pulling strings through the bureau, Jinchuan finally agreed to use Yan Xue’s family’s old cultivation room to prepare 1,000 bottles for them.
It was far less than what Hongshi had originally wanted, but something was better than nothing—otherwise, they’d be facing another loss next year.
One headache after another. Secretary Zhao probably wouldn’t be enjoying his New Year.
At the Jinchuan Forestry Center, Guo Chang'an frowned as he looked over the final order statistics from various centers. "We built too few cultivation rooms—just five. It's barely enough to supply these centers."
"We didn’t expect to supply so many centers at first," Lang Yue'e replied while sterilizing test tubes, her tone resigned.
But then she paused, remembering that they had initially planned to build even fewer. It was Yan Xue who insisted on constructing this many.
This made her glance at Yan Xue. "Did you plan to sell fungal strains to other centers from the very beginning?"
"Not that early," Yan Xue said with a smile. "It was just preparation—better safe than sorry."
Yan Xue always preferred planning ahead, though the exact steps depended on circumstances.
Still, her words proved she had considered it—she had always intended to expand the mushroom cultivation business.
Lang Yue'e couldn’t help but recall Secretary Lang’s words: Yan Xue and Qi Fang were destined for great things. A small place like Jinchuan Forestry Center wouldn’t hold them forever.
But even so, the center had already improved tremendously. The storekeepers said this year’s New Year goods sold better than ever.
After all, an additional industry meant more job opportunities. With extra income, people naturally spent more freely.
A smile touched Lang Yue'e’s eyes before she turned back to Guo Chang'an. "You’ve been here half the day. Aren’t you going?"
As the year-end approached, more people had started introducing potential partners to Guo Chang'an. This time, even Aunt Guo couldn’t resist urging him to meet someone.
After all, it had been nearly three years since Guo Chang'an’s injury, and he wasn’t getting any younger. For the elderly, seeing him settle down and start a family was their only lingering concern.
Today, Guo Chang'an had been set up on a blind date. He had dressed neatly, looking quite sharp, but still couldn’t resist stopping by the pilot site first.
Over the years, he had poured all his energy into the project, watching it thrive while he himself stood taller and walked steadier.
At Lang Yue'e’s question, he checked his watch. "I’m going now." He grabbed his coat from the rack and picked up his cane by the wall.
Truthfully, his recovery had progressed well—he could now walk short distances without the cane. But with snow on the roads, it was safer to use it.
However, arriving for a blind date with a cane inevitably drew attention, especially from the young woman he was meeting.
Guo Chang'an didn’t mind. He set the cane aside, removed his coat, and revealed his slightly deformed right hand.
This was his reality. If they were to consider marriage, honesty was essential—no point in hiding anything to deceive her.
But the matchmaker had clearly downplayed his condition. The girl’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw him.
She was much younger, only twenty, and less skilled at masking her emotions. Her hesitation was obvious—she didn’t seem willing.
Her accompanying relative, however, was enthusiastic, praising Guo Chang'an’s good looks and capability. "At such a young age, he’s already the second-in-command at Jinchuan’s pilot project!"
"Acting Director Ning is the real second-in-command. I’m just an observer and recorder," Guo Chang'an said smoothly, having picked up diplomatic phrasing from Yan Xue and Lang Yue'e.
"Same thing, same thing," the relative insisted. "Everyone knows the most valuable part of this project is the technology."
The real treasure behind Jinchuan’s success was Yan Xue’s brilliance. His own skills were learned from her.
Guo Chang'an stayed silent as the relative continued, now boasting about her niece’s diligence and nurturing nature.
Throughout, the girl kept glancing at him, her expression conflicted each time she noticed his right hand and leg.
Guo Chang'an knew this wouldn’t work. A forced marriage was bitter—even if she reluctantly agreed, he wouldn’t want such a life.
Still, he remained courteous until the end before excusing himself. On his way back, he ran into Lang Yue'e after her shift.
"So? Was she pretty?" Lang Yue'e asked with a grin.
"Not bad-looking," Guo Chang'an admitted. "But she’s too young—only twenty. We didn’t have much to talk about."
He didn’t mention her reluctance, but her youth alone made it hard to connect with someone who had lived through so much.
"Next time, I’ll ask my mom to introduce me to someone older."
"Tell Aunt Guo to find you an older one then."
They spoke simultaneously, their words almost identical, which startled them both before they burst into laughter.
Lang Yue'e joked at her own expense, "Seems we’re a pair of unlucky siblings when it comes to marriage."
She had married and divorced young, while Guo Chang'an had nearly wed before being left at the altar.
Guo Chang'an glanced at her. "Yeah, we really are unlucky siblings."
Then he asked, "I think you’re about two years older than me?"
"Only a year and a half," Lang Yue'e corrected. "My birthday’s late—I was born in the autumn."
"Close enough." Guo Chang'an waved it off. "It’s freezing. You should head back. See you at the pilot site."
Aunt Guo was disappointed the match didn’t work out. When she visited Yan Xue’s home during the New Year, she couldn’t help complaining.
"His ex is already married with a child who can crawl. Meanwhile, he’s acting like he’s in no hurry at all."
Yan Xue had no solution—marriage was a personal choice. If Guo Chang'an wasn’t eager, no amount of pressure would help.
After the holidays, rumors spread from the town’s forestry bureau: Qu Mingli was up for a promotion.
Honestly, it wasn’t surprising. Qu Mingli had made significant strides over the past two years, all successful. If he hadn’t been promoted, it would’ve been strange.
Oddly, while Qu Mingli remained unfazed, his biggest rival, Director Liu, seemed thrilled.
When they crossed paths at the bureau, Director Liu grinned and asked, "I heard you’re being transferred to the county forestry bureau. Is it true?"
Qu Mingli couldn’t help but scrutinize him. "Where did you hear that, Director Liu?"
His lack of denial made Director Liu’s smile even more genuine. "It’s common knowledge now. Congratulations!"
His sincerity made Qu Mingli study him again, wondering what scheme he was plotting.
What was Director Liu’s plan?
To happily send Qu Mingli off and take his place as secretary, reaping the rewards of his hard work.
Though delayed by three years, Qu Mingli’s efforts had left behind a prosperous foundation.
Last year’s profits from the centers were just the beginning. Once this year’s and next year’s crops came in, the real benefits would show.
Of course, the current model would need adjustments—letting them keep 80% of the earnings and only handing over 20%? That wouldn’t stand.
Unlike other factories that handed over all profits and only distributed wages based on rank, the bureau kept the lion’s share, which meant tens of thousands extra each year...
Director Liu calculated silently, then once again voted in favor of Yan Xue and Qi Fang for this year’s "Outstanding Individual" award.
Someone raised concerns, "Wouldn’t awarding the same two people two years in a row be unfair? Might it demoralize other comrades?"
He rebutted sternly, "This isn’t about dividing pork. Given the contributions these two have made to the bureau, who could be more deserving?"
And so, smoothly, Yan Xue and Qi Fang received the "Outstanding Individual" award once again, stepping onto the stage to collect their certificates and prizes.
The applause was thunderous—far louder than last year. Back then, it had all been empty promises, but this time, the rewards were tangible, and they tasted especially sweet.
Whether it was the forestry farms growing mushrooms or the town’s machinery repair plant, everyone involved in the training workshops and retrofitting had received bonuses.
Not only that, but the town’s repair plant had even been named an "Outstanding Unit." The only regret was that Qi Fang, the mastermind behind their success, still wasn’t officially part of their team.
After the awards ceremony, Yan Xue and Qi Fang planned to celebrate at a restaurant, just like last year. Well, at least this time, they wouldn’t run into Qi Fang again. But then Director Liu approached.
The bureau’s second-in-command wore a smile as warm as a spring breeze, his tone as gentle as a drizzle. "Congratulations, comrades. Another ‘Outstanding Individual’ award this year."
Yan Xue immediately thanked him with a smile, while Qi Fang gave a quiet "Mm," though he studied the man for a moment, sensing an ulterior motive.
Sure enough, Director Liu continued, "You’ve both contributed so much to the bureau, yet I still don’t know you well. If you’re not in a hurry, why not come to my office for a chat?"
Qi Fang was tempted to say they were in a hurry, but he held back. Yan Xue, curious about what the man wanted, agreed.
It was their first time in Director Liu’s office. He even picked up a thermos and personally poured them cups of water.
Oddly, when Secretary Lang or Qu Mingli did such things, it felt natural. But with Director Liu, it only brought to mind the saying: When someone lowers themselves before you, they must want something.
Director Liu hadn’t worked in party administration before and wasn’t particularly skilled at small talk with subordinates. After a few perfunctory pleasantries, he got straight to the point.
"Qi Fang, with skills like yours, you should’ve been transferred back to the repair plant long ago. Staying at the forestry farm is a waste. But don’t blame Secretary Qu—he’s busy, as you know, and about to be transferred to the county. Probably just overlooked it."
His opening remarks subtly implied that Qu Mingli had exploited their talents without rewarding them—an obvious attempt to drive a wedge between them and Qu Mingli while drawing them to his side.
Yan Xue quickly grasped his intent. With Qu Mingli leaving, Director Liu was reshuffling alliances, hoping to keep using them for his own ends.
Director Liu pressed on, "But it’s not hard to fix. Once Secretary Qu’s tied up his affairs, I’ll help arrange it. No reason for you to keep languishing in the forestry farm."
He glanced at Qi Fang, expecting eager gratitude—a promise to work hard and live up to his expectations. Instead, Qi Fang remained impassive, giving no reaction.
This was… awkward. Had he not been clear enough? Or was Qi Fang so focused on machines that he didn’t understand politics?
But the man had come up with the training program—a move that boosted political capital. Surely he wasn’t that dense.
Director Liu paused, then turned to Yan Xue. "As for you, Yan Xue, Jinchuan Forestry Farm is running smoothly now. You could take on lighter work at the bureau."
He adopted a confiding tone. "If needed, we could make you a ‘technical consultant’—just visit the farms when issues arise. Forestry work is too harsh for women."
Hastily, he added, "Don’t worry, your pay won’t change. The bureau has always treated you fairly."
The real issue? He wanted to alter the cultivation base’s distribution system. With Yan Xue still at the farm—where she’d built everything from scratch—that’d be tricky.
But she was a woman. Once Qi Fang was reassigned, she’d have to follow. They couldn’t live apart, could they?
Director Liu thought he’d covered all angles. Yet Yan Xue only smiled. "No rush. The pilot project’s about to start fungal inoculation. Would you like to try it?"
She even suggested he experience farm life. "It’s character-building. Let the workers see you endure hardships like everyone else."
Qi Fang added, "Drilling holes is best. Hard labor—great for setting an example."
Both stared at Director Liu, as if waiting eagerly for his answer. The scrutiny made his teeth ache.
During the recent "hardship and struggle" campaigns, all officials had been sent to the countryside for re-education. He’d done his two months of farming—more than enough.
No firm commitments were made before they parted. But Director Liu wasn’t worried. Once Qu Mingli left, he’d call the shots.
Outside the bureau, Qi Fang finally spoke, coolly. "He probably wants to meddle with the forestry bases." A sharp observation.
Yan Xue agreed, smiling at him. "But he won’t find it so easy."
Qu Mingli had built this system. He wouldn’t let someone dismantle it recklessly after he left.
Still, with Director Liu reaching into their affairs, neither was the type to roll over. "We should tell Secretary Qu."
Just then, a bicycle bell rang behind them. Qu Mingli walked his bike over. "Care to join me for dinner?"
Casual, as if it were mere coincidence—though they wondered if he’d been waiting.
Yan Xue grinned. "You cooking?"
To their surprise, he nodded. "My wife’s working, and the kids are in school. They didn’t come with me."
A man who cooked—and unashamedly so. Since they had matters to discuss, they accepted.
Qu Mingli’s bureau-assigned dormitory wasn’t large. A brick bed connected to a stove by the door, where he prepared the meal.
After cooking, he poured them small cups of baijiu. "Try my skills. Even my wife lets me handle meals at home."
Men cooking was rare in this era, let alone admitting it so frankly. Yan Xue found him as mild-mannered as when they’d first met years ago.
His cooking was good. Halfway through the meal and drinks, he asked, "You’ve heard I’m being transferred to the county?"
They nodded. Even if Director Liu hadn’t mentioned it, Secretary Lang would’ve tipped them off.
"Then I’ll be direct," Qu Mingli said, looking at them. "Have you considered moving to the county too?"
(Note: Due to handling a complaint today, there’s no time for a side story.)
