Chapter Ninety-Two: Zhou Huayang (A new day, seeking your support)

The riot of blossoms grows ever more dazzling, and the sparse young grass can barely hide the horses’ hooves.

There were flowers and grass, but no horse. Still, he could always consider buying one later and keeping it here.

Zhong Di watched the women planting the flowers for a while; before long, that small patch of ground was finished. For today, at least, there would be no problem.

Once the planting was done, a gentle flood irrigation would basically settle everything.

He took a broad look over the place. Strange as it was, the chaos had its own kind of beauty.

With that matter arranged, Zhong Di found himself idle at last. Every task had people assigned to carry it out, so he had little else to do.

Thus he wandered about, looking wherever he pleased.

The skeleton of the house had already been erected. With so many hands working, progress was swift, and it would surely be done in less than half a month.

Once the house was finished, Zhong Di planned to ease up for a while. Funds were still sufficient, but there was still much to be done.

As for the interior decoration, he meant to delay that until the other projects were completed before starting.

Over at the fishpond, water was already being pumped out. Forty by forty meters—nearly two and a half mu in all. It seemed small at first glance, but it really was not. In some places, people could make a little fishpond from just half a mu; his more than two mu of land gave him plenty of room.

Under normal circumstances, fish could not be stocked immediately in a newly dug pond. In the inland regions, the pond had to be cleaned, sterilized, and disinfected. But in the northwest, things were different.

The topsoil in the northwest did not retain standing water, so bacteria accumulated less. A simple disinfection was enough; most important of all was aging the water.

This water had just been pumped up from underground. It was cold and low in oxygen.

So it needed time in the sun to warm and aerate, and only when conditions were right would it be proper to release the fish.

On Shao Hong’s side, they were building the enclosure. In general, it extended outward from the chicken pen and continued all the way to the fishpond, where it would stop.

After he had roughly inspected all these matters, Zhong Di began thinking again about the jujube technical plan.

From the very beginning—clearing the orchard after returning, then pruning, applying foliar fertilizer, girdling and taking the jujube shoots, until the fruitlets had set, followed by nutritional supplementation, and now fruit expansion—he had a clear grasp of the entire production process. The later stages, with normal growth, coloring, and ripening, were relatively simple.

Once he had figured this out, Zhong Di began drafting a complete production plan, while also taking other factors into account.

For instance, the spring irrigation, the winter water, and the various pests and diseases: jujube gall midges, spider mites, codling moths, and so on. Every one of them was included.

Very quickly, a general framework for jujube production had been drawn up. What remained was simply to fill in the details.

It was like painting a tree: first you sketch the trunk and the main branches, and the smaller twigs and leaves can be added later.

After saving the finished file, Zhong Di began helping with the work.

Carrying bricks, mixing mortar—

It was not until noon that he finally stopped.

He had just been about to cook with Shao Hong when Zhong Di received a call from Qian Weining.

After a few brief words, Zhong Di hung up. Qian Weining said he wanted to come over right now for a meal and to host a few old friends, and asked whether that would be all right.

At first, Zhong Di thought it probably would not work, since the farm was still under renovation. But Qian Weining still wanted to eat here, saying the friends were very important.

After thinking it over, Zhong Di agreed, but on the condition that it be at four in the afternoon.

The uncles who were working had not even eaten yet, so it was definitely impossible now. Even if they came, everything would be in a mess.

Lunch that day was just a standard meal: a stew of three or five fish, some vegetable dishes, and stir-fried chicken.

These days they were consuming quite a lot of free-range chicken, though overall the impact was not too great and it was manageable.

It was not until four in the afternoon that Zhong Di saw two cars arrive. Good heavens—business sedans, of all things. Who exactly had Qian Weining brought with him?

Generally speaking, cars like these were only used for business negotiations. Even if Zhong Di did not know much about such things, he still understood the basics.

But this was a farm. Were they going to discuss business on a farm?

Zhong Di put aside his other thoughts and waited quietly.

At noon, he had already arranged everything.

Shao Hong was cooking, and two women had been called over to help.

As for the dining area, it had been set up in the Herbal Garden—more precisely, between the Herbal Garden and the newly planted flowers.

A patch of ground had been specially cleared, bricks were laid temporarily on top, it was washed clean, and a round table was set there.

There was no other choice. The fishpond side was under construction for the enclosure, the homestead was in the middle of building the house, and the other side was full of vegetables. Only the Herbal Garden was suitable.

At least it counted as scenery, and the surroundings were lovely enough. Put up a screen and stretch out some shade netting, and a dining area was born.

Altogether seven people got out of the cars. They were not dressed as Zhong Di had expected, all in formal wear, but rather in casual clothes.

Their formation was neatly staggered, like a triangle. The person at the very front walked ahead of all the others, giving the impression that he stood above everyone else.

Zhong Di looked him over and did not feel he seemed like some great figure: about fifty or sixty years old, ordinary in appearance, ordinary in bearing, ordinary in every respect—the kind of man who would be impossible to pick out in a crowd.

And yet it was precisely this sort of man for whom Qian Weining was hosting so respectfully. He was absolutely someone important.

“This is the owner here, Zhong Di,” Qian Weining introduced at once to the man at the front.

“This is—”

“Ah, let me introduce myself instead. Young man, just call me Uncle Zhou. I’m older than you, so asking you to call me uncle doesn’t mean I’m taking advantage of you, does it?”

“Of course not, of course not. Hello, Uncle Zhou. If anything today is not quite to your satisfaction, I hope you will forgive us.”

“No matter. I’ve heard the food here is delicious. As long as the food is good, everything else is unimportant. Little Qian has praised this place to the skies.”

Zhou Huayang gave an awkward smile and glanced at Qian Weining.

As the director of the Western Northwest Development and Reform Commission, Zhou Huayang held considerable power. He did not care for much, except fishing and fine food.

He had met Qian Weining through a fishing group. Seeing Qian Weining show off big catches every few days, he had taken the initiative to make contact.

Qian Weining did not know Zhou Huayang, but Zhou Huayang certainly knew Qian Weining. One look at the avatar and he thought: well, would you look at that, isn’t this the director of the Development and Reform Commission?

Qian Weining, for his part, was not short of money, and wanted to make some contribution of his own—to improve the natural environment of the northwest. So he had developed the idea of a project to convert farmland back to forest.

Of course, money still had to be made; only the nature of it would be different. This project was not something he was pursuing purely for profit, but rather with a degree of public benefit.

These past few days, Zhou Huayang happened to be in Shache County inspecting a farmland-to-forest project. Now that he had some free time, he had planned to visit Qian Weining for a bit of fishing and see whether the stories were true.

Qian Weining seized the opportunity and promptly arranged this meal. Zhou Huayang liked fine food; that was no secret. Anyone with even the slightest connection would know it.

As for the project, it could be discussed as well. If Zhou Huayang nodded in approval, then things would be practically settled; the rest would only be project establishment, reporting, and approval.