“Uncle Wang, I was there when the child support was discussed. My grandma was given an additional 300 yuan separately, and that amount was designated by the base as a fund for us to go to college,” Nie Weimin said confidently, showing he had a clear understanding.

“Well, that’s your personal business. None of us at the base will interfere, nor will anyone discourage a child from claiming their support funds.

Also, Comrade Chen, the district head and secretary issued strict orders regarding your file, which is locked in the cabinet behind me.

In Wumayi, you’re not regarded as one of the ‘stinky intellectuals’—you have the right to take action against anyone.

Even if someone pointed a gun at me, I wouldn’t hand over your file. Just do your job with confidence.”

Another spring breeze brought the official announcement: Liu Jiefang was removed from his post as farm director for lack of achievements during his tenure, and Chen Lina was appointed to take his place.

When the news reached the base, Sister Wang came over holding her shoes, and Aunt Ha brought her embroidery—everyone wanted to join in the excitement.

Chen Lina was trying to bake dalieba for the children at the time.

Next to the fire wall was a naturally warm oven.

She had walnuts saved up from the New Year, raisins from Aunt Ha’s horse milk grapes, but she was missing butter.

The supply store occasionally stocked butter, but it was often out.

The only fat she had was mutton fat, which wouldn’t work for baking—it would ruin the bread.

With a firm resolve, she had bought five pounds of milk and was now attempting to make butter herself.

Knowing they were making dalieba, Nie Weimin, with his small, thin hands, stirred the milk with all his might.

He and his brother Er Dan ate the same amount, though one had a chubby, round bottom and the other was a skinny stick.

After a bit, the little guy was sweating all over his forehead, unable to keep stirring.

Aunt Ha laughed and took over, grasping the stick to start churning.

As a Kazakh woman, she was used to churning milk, and within half an hour, the oil and water had separated.

Now it was time to refine the butter.

She added boiled millet amusu into the cream to fry it, waiting until the amusu was crisp and all the water had evaporated from the oil.

This amusu could later be dissolved in milk tea.

For bread-making, Aunt Ha’s skill was even better than Chen Lina’s.

Erdan watched eagerly as the dough was kneaded, rolled out, and layered with brown sugar, walnuts, and raisins.

His mouth was watering. “All these raisins were saved up by Mom, one by one.”

Chen Lina dabbed his nose with flour. “If you hadn’t sneaked into the storage room to steal snacks each time, we would have enough raisins to make three big loaves.”

“I can eat bread without raisins.”

So Chen Lina kneaded another batch of dough, this time shaping it with two ends and poking two little eyes with chopsticks on one end.

“Mom, what is this called?”

“A caterpillar.”

“Like the ones that fall from trees in the spring?”

“Exactly.”

Erdan squatted by the oven, waiting, curious about the taste of these “caterpillars” that fall from trees.

“Comrade Chen is really amazing, able to make dalieba and be a farm director,” said one of the women after placing the bread in the oven by the fire wall.

Inside, the women gathered and began to chat.

Sister Wang commented, “Still, quite a few people around the base don’t believe you can handle being director.”

“I’m not taking this job to impress them,” Chen Lina replied, unconcerned. “They can say what they like.”

“My sister told me that Engineer Sun’s mother has sworn that if you ever set foot in Mulan Farm, she’ll welcome you with a bucket of coal ash and chase you out,” Sister Wang added.

“I’m going to do my job as director, not argue with her. But if she wants a quarrel, I’m not afraid to argue back.” Her reputation for being fierce was well-known among the base families.

This was one reason why recently, when Nie Weimin had been fighting other kids, no one dared come to complain at Nie’s house.

She was fiercely protective, even wildly so.

After Aunt Hama and Sister Wang left, the smell of freshly baked bread filled the air.

When it was cut open, Chen Tiantian, drawn by the scent, rushed in, calling out, “Auntie, I want some dalieba too!”

“Come here, I’ll cut you a big slice.” Chen Lina thought to herself, This little girl, you need to cut back! You should know that men like slim waists and long legs. With your chubby bottom and tadpole belly, you don’t fit the standard look.

No wonder, later in life, Nie Weimin would end up with Liu Xiaohong as his mistress.

The next generation’s family drama was still a long way off, but Chen Lina was already feeling a headache coming on.

Her little romantic Nie Weimin—did he end up marrying Chen Tiantian or did they separate?

And how did he end up with Liu Xiaohong, whom he supposedly disliked?

On the first day Chen Lina was set to take her new role at the farm, Nie Weimin, dressed in his little white sailor suit, had been restless since morning.

With a mouthful of dalieba and a gulp of milk, the little fellow looked worried.

“Comrade Chen, do you really have to go?” Nie Weimin asked.

“Of course.” Chen Lina replied.

“How about I go with you? If my grandma acts up and refuses to give you money, I can help.” Nie Weimin proposed.

“With your ‘iron head technique’?” Chen Lina chuckled at his serious expression. “Comrade Little Nie, you’re still just a child. And a child’s job is to eat, sleep, and grow taller. Asking for money is an adult’s responsibility. I can’t use you as my shield, nor as a cover. Now go off and play.”

….

“Tomorrow, that Chen Lina is coming. What do we do, Liberation?” Huang Huacai sat cross-legged on the kang, feeling restless as she smoked her pipe.

Liu Jiefang was a master of underhanded tactics.

He usually maintained a facade of harmony, flattering the leaders, while leaving the messy work to the women.

Sun Xiangnan, who managed the warehouse, only knew how to skim funds for her own family.

Naturally, she followed the orders of the old lady.

It was Sun Duoyu who piped up with an idea: “Throw some nails to puncture her tires.”

Huang Huacai was satisfied after having her first child, Sun Dabao.

When Sun Duoyu was born, she cursed as he wailed: “You’re just an extra.”

And so, he got the name “Duoyu,” meaning “extra.”

“Right, right, just looking at that Red Flag car of hers makes me mad. That’s a leader’s car; if your big sister were still alive, she’d be driving it. Go ahead and throw some nails. Burst her tires.” Huang Huacai ordered firmly, “Duoyu, go scatter some nails.”

Like a stubby winter melon, Sun Duoyu took a handful of large iron nails from the warehouse, planning to puncture Chen Lina’s tires first thing in the morning.

“I say, I ought to prepare a bucket of manure too. When Chen Lina arrives, I’ll dump it in front of the farm entrance to shame her.”

“Coal ash is enough. If you throw manure, the security team will arrest you for public indecency.” Sun Xiangnan replied, giving her mother a stern look.

But the whole family relied on the old lady to stir up trouble.

Even if they couldn’t drive Chen Lina away, they’d at least make sure her first day was miserable and full of embarrassment.

“Comrade Little Nie, I’ll start work at eight and be back by noon to make lunch. Can you handle the younger two?” Chen Lina asked Nie Weimin repeatedly.

Nie Weimin answered nonchalantly, “How many times do I have to say I can handle it before you believe me?”

“If you don’t want me to go to work, I’ll stay home and look after you three.”

“Then would you still be the ‘First Lady’ of the base?”

“No.”

“Then there’s your answer. Go on. I’ll take good care of them.” The little guy looked both weary and oddly mature, with a hint of pride, as if he had seen through all of Chen Lina’s vanity.

Chen Lina ruffled his hair, and when he didn’t protest, she gave him a light pat on his little backside.

His face flushed, and he turned and ran off.

As she was about to leave the base, she ran into District Chief Gao’s Shanghai sedan.

He had brought his secretary and had just arrived from the mining district.

“Xiao Chen, I understand you’re a university graduate with aspirations to achieve something. To help you pave the way, I’ve spent this New Year learning about the situation at the farm. I must warn you, it won’t be easy to manage.”

Fearing the challenges ahead, Chief Gao had come specifically to escort her to her new post, hoping to give her a smooth start.

“If you can’t handle it, there’s always He Min. He’s reliable, steady, and capable. I’ll find a way to bring him here from Daqing if necessary. So, maybe you should just give it a try?”

If she couldn’t make it work, she’d be immediately replaced and sent back to her old job with no delay.

“The intellectuals are manageable, but the relocated villagers are another story. They’re uneducated and rough, only interested in immediate benefits.

You’re young, educated, and scholarly; they might try to give you a hard time. Right now, the political climate isn’t good; the workers, farmers, and soldiers hold the most power.

You must be patient, accommodating, and work with them diplomatically, understand?”

As they neared the farm entrance, Chen Lina turned the steering wheel sharply toward the Poplar River.

“Xiao Chen, aren’t we supposed to go to the farm? Liu Jiefang is waiting to hand things over to you.”

“District Chief, I’d like to show you the Poplar River first and discuss how to channel its water to irrigate the farm’s fields.”

“The Poplar River is lower, while the farm is on higher ground, and it’s all desert in between. Digging a channel would be an enormous task, and we don’t have the funds for such a project.”

“We can dig karez wells. District Chief Gao, you’re from the northeast, so you probably haven’t seen the karez wells in Turpan.

It’s the world’s only underground irrigation channel system. Despite Turpan’s scorching heat and dry landscape, it’s the top grape-producing area in the border region.

This isn’t because grapes don’t need water, but because, as early as the Han Dynasty, the people there invented karez wells to irrigate the land,” Chen Lina explained.

Chief Gao looked at her, astonished, as if seeing her in a new light.

Then she pulled out a stack of documents from the hood of the car. “This is my five-year development plan for the farm. Please have a look, sir.”

An authentic university graduate, indeed, so different from those workers, peasants, and soldiers, Chief Gao thought, thoroughly impressed.

When they reached the Poplar River, Chief Gao saw a group of middle-aged men with worn-out clothes but pens clipped in their front pockets—a scholarly look that set them apart.

They were, without a doubt, the professors and experts sent down for re-education.

As Chen Lina introduced them one by one, Chief Gao bent over in respect, extending his hands to shake theirs.

From soil analysts to grafting professors and seed improvement engineers, a group of former intellectuals now working in the shadow of the snowy mountains and the vast desert.

Chen Lina’s team, tasked with solving food security for the mining area, was taking shape.

Meanwhile, at the farm, Huang Huacai had a basket of coal ash on her head.

Sun Duoyu was hiding at the entrance with nails in hand, and a crowd of villagers had gathered to watch, eager to see Chen Lina humiliated.

Not long after, Secretary Xiao Zhang arrived at the farm, jogging.

“Director Liu, the District Chief ordered you to go to the Poplar River immediately. He and the new Director, Comrade Chen Lina, are both there waiting for you.”

“The Poplar River? They’re not coming to the farm?”

“I’m not sure about that.”