Chapter 90

“When are you coming back to pick up your Mid-Autumn Festival bonus?”

“It’s too far. Can you pick it up for me?”

“You’re not coming back?”

“Nope, not coming back.”

…

On the morning of September 22, in the Changluo Township shelterbelt area along the Liao River, Zhou Hai answered the phone with a sigh.

Zhou Hai was a forest ranger in Changluo Township. He used to patrol the area with Wang Xiangdong. Last year, during the heavy snow in Longbei, the two were stranded on Mount Changluo for half a month. After they were rescued, Wang Xiangdong was transferred to the County Forestry Bureau due to frostbite in his leg.

Changluo Township was one of the larger shelterbelt areas along the Liao River. After years of acid rain erosion, the once verdant forest had turned into a barren wasteland. Only a few ancient trees remained, struggling to survive. A year had passed, and now even those old trees were shedding their leaves. The County Forestry Bureau had sent people to inspect several times—those trees were dead, beyond saving.

At 9 a.m., after hanging up the phone, Zhou Hai stepped outside.

The ranger’s cabin was halfway up Mount Changluo. In the past, opening the door revealed a lush green forest. Now, everything was shrouded in gray. The sky was blue, but the forest was ashen. Zhou Hai squinted up at the sun—it had a bluish tint, a result of sunlight refracting through the dust in the air.

He went back inside and grabbed an iron probe. Soon, he stood before an old Korean pine tree. It was seventy years old, with a wooden tag labeled [032] hanging from its trunk. Dry leaves littered the ground around it. He pinched a leaf—it crumbled instantly. He pressed on the bark—it, too, disintegrated at his touch.

“Sigh.” Zhou Hai let out a long breath and removed the wooden tag.

These tags weren’t official. After the Forestry Bureau left, he had hung them based on his own judgment. Even though the trees were technically dead, he couldn’t help but feel they weren’t completely gone. Over the past year, he had walked every inch of the Changluo Township shelterbelt, tagging every tree he believed still had a chance.

They were all over fifty years old. He had always believed that these ancient trees might come back to life, like dead wood sprouting in spring. But as each one withered and shriveled, it became clear—there were no miracles in this world.

From 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., he worked nonstop. His pocket, which had started with one tag, now held twenty-three. Each tag represented a fallen elder of the forest. He carefully tucked them away and began the trek back. On the way, two squirrels peered down at him from a tree branch.

“Here!” Zhou Hai pulled two walnuts from his coat and tossed them up.

“Chirp chirp!” The squirrels happily snatched them up.

Zhou Hai watched their retreating backs with care. The shelterbelt’s ecosystem had been devastated. Even adult black bears had perished. These two squirrels surviving until now was nothing short of a miracle.

“Where’ve you been? I called and you didn’t answer.” At 4:20 p.m., just as Zhou Hai returned to the cabin, he saw Wang Xiangdong standing at the door with some packages. Two unfamiliar people stood behind him.

“Just got back from patrol,” Zhou Hai said quickly, opening the wooden door.

“These are your Mid-Autumn gifts—I brought them for you.”

Wang Xiangdong placed some apples and mooncakes on the table, then added, “Let me introduce you. This is Director Sun from the Provincial Forestry Bureau. They’re planning to plant a batch of forsythia and honeysuckle shrubs outside the shelterbelt.”

“Nice to meet you,” Zhou Hai said, shaking hands with the two staff members. Then he shot a glance at Wang Xiangdong. “We can plant trees again?”

“Not trees—shrubs,” Wang Xiangdong clarified.

Forsythia and honeysuckle were common shrubs in Dong Province. Since the Longbei Snow Disaster, forest coverage in the region had dropped by 72%. Now, Longxia had launched a shelterbelt shrub project, and Changluo Township was one of the key areas along the Liao River. The plan was to plant a ring of shrubs in the desertified zone outside the shelterbelt to help block wind and stabilize the soil.

“How many are we planting?” Zhou Hai asked.

“We’ll need to survey the area first,” Wang Xiangdong replied with a sigh.

The next morning, Zhou Hai led the team to the edge of the shelterbelt. The boundary was 200 kilometers from the outer edge. Every year, cold winds from Canpesheng swept through this area. As soon as they reached the edge, it felt like stepping into an endless desert.

“Not an easy place to plant,” one of the staff said, snapping photos of the sand.

“Definitely not,” Zhou Hai agreed. Even before the acid rain, this place wasn’t ideal for vegetation.

Over the next three days, Zhou Hai and the team camped in the desert. After completing the survey, they concluded that at least 200,000 mu of windbreak shrubs would be needed in Changluo Township.

“I’ll contact the bureau. Let’s start with a 10-mu trial planting,” one of the staff suggested.

“Using locust fertilizer?” Zhou Hai asked curiously.

“Yep.”

This year, the country had imported three million tons of locusts. Liao River region received 300,000 tons. The fertilizer could improve up to 30 million mu of land.

“We plant this year—what about next year?” Zhou Hai asked after a pause. He’d read the news and knew the fertilizer was only effective for one year.

“If there’s another locust swarm, we’ll harvest them. If not, we’ll raise them ourselves.”

Locust fertilizer was in high demand. Many regions had already begun cultivating locusts. Besides wind and sand control, the fertilizer could be used in municipal projects. Amid the current food crisis, urban landscaping might not fill stomachs, but with the resources now available, it could boost community morale and create jobs.

After finalizing the planting area, the survey team left.

The next morning, a convoy of machinery rolled into the desert fringe. It was Zhou Hai’s first time seeing locust fertilizer—synthetic pellets made from mutated locusts and grain stalks. Each granule was about the size of a goat pellet. He scooped up a handful. They had a faintly gritty texture and didn’t look like much.

“Can this really grow anything?” Zhou Hai asked, skeptical.

“Developed by the bio-research institute. Should work,” the staff member replied. His name was Old Han, and he had worked at the Provincial Forestry Bureau for years.

Over the next ten days, the forestry team tilled and planted. Sandy soil was harder to work with than regular land. By the time they finished, it was already mid-September.

They planted a batch of Spiraea—cold- and shade-tolerant shrubs that could thrive in well-drained sandy soil. After the planting was done, the Forestry Bureau team packed up and left, leaving Old Han behind to monitor the data.

The cabin in Changluo Township was over 20 kilometers from the base. For the next month, Zhou Hai rode his motorcycle there daily. Aside from the occasional card game, he spent all his time observing the base. The shelterbelt had once been filled with Spiraea, but during last year’s Longbei Snow Disaster, they had all been wiped out overnight. Since then, Zhou Hai hadn’t seen a single living Spiraea—only brittle, broken branches.

On October 13, Zhou Hai visited the base again—and saw a tender green sprout emerging from the soil.

“Old Han!” Zhou Hai shouted.

“What?” came the muffled reply.

“Come here!”

“Coming,” Old Han grumbled as he stepped outside.

At the Spiraea base, Zhou Hai was lying flat on the ground, intently focused.

“What’s going on?” Old Han was startled.

“Is this Spiraea sprouting?” Zhou Hai pointed at the tiny green shoot.

“Looks like it…” Old Han quickly grabbed a camera to document it.

The Spiraea had indeed sprouted. If on the 13th it was just a single shoot, then over the next two days, that shoot turned into a field of tender green buds.

On the afternoon of the 15th, more Forestry Bureau staff arrived with equipment. After joint testing by the Forestry and Agricultural Bureaus, it was confirmed: the Spiraea had sprouted, and their growth and soil adaptation were better than expected.

The Forestry Bureau sent the results to the provincial authorities. After a technical review, the province made a decision: officially begin large-scale shrub planting in Changluo Township.

“They’re alive!” Old Han shouted, spinning in circles with joy. Despite his nickname, Old Han was only twenty-nine. Given the barren land, he had often doubted the feasibility of the shrub project. Now that it had succeeded, he was overwhelmed with excitement.

Old Han turned to Zhou Hai, eyes shining.

“They made it,” Zhou Hai said, clenching his fists. He shared the joy of Spiraea’s revival with Old Han, then looked toward the shelterbelt. Now that the Spiraea had taken root, he couldn’t help but wonder—was there still hope for the old forest?

…

“On October 18, Liao Province officially launched shrub planting in Changluo Township—making it the seventh national windbreak shrub base.”

“October 19th, 30,000 tons of locusts from Mali arrived at Shenzhen Port. Bio-fertilizer operations are running smoothly.”

“October 19th, twenty provincial capitals including Jinghe and Luohai began municipal planting projects. These initiatives are expected to ease employment pressure for 70,000 residents.”

…

Over the next two days, the television was flooded with news about planting efforts in Changluo Township and other regions.

Including Changluo Township, there were now seven large-scale shrub cultivation bases. Due to the unique soil properties of the bio-fertilizer, these bases were not only used for planting but also for further on-site research. In addition to protective forest planting, various municipal flowers were also being trialed…

…

“Be careful, everyone. Don’t mess up the flowers.”

On the morning of October 20th, at the Kunshan Flower Market, Zheng Yunjie was directing workers to move flowers. Zheng Yunjie was the owner of Xinyue Flower Shop. After the torrential rains in Longnan, the Kunshan Flower Market had turned into a sea of flowers overnight. But once the rain receded, acid rain had corroded the market, leaving it in shambles. After that, Kunshan implemented a policy to switch from flowers to crops.

Zheng Yunjie was the first to take the leap—he leased ten mu of land to grow sweet potatoes and made over 200,000 yuan in scattered profits over the past two years. The sweet potato business wasn’t bad, but as a flower-loving, artsy young man, he still felt a pang in his heart every time he thought of Xinyue Flower Shop. These days, flowers sold in the market were all greenhouse-grown and free from acid rain. A single rose that used to cost two yuan now went for twenty-eight.

Whenever he had free time, he’d wander around the flower greenhouses. He loved tending to flowers so much that he was seriously considering investing in a greenhouse. Then came the news about Longxia Bio-fertilizer. The moment he saw it, only one thought flashed through his mind: The flower shop can be saved!

Over the past two weeks, he contacted multiple locust breeding farms and flower markets. That led to the scene unfolding now…

“You’re open again?” At 10:20, the shop owner next door walked over.

“You too?” Zheng Yunjie glanced toward his neighbor’s flower shop.

“Just got a batch of lilies this morning.” The neighboring shop owner had his sweet potato field right next to Zheng Yunjie’s. Though both had made decent money, after a lifetime in the flower business, nothing felt quite as right as running a flower shop.

By 11 a.m., after the staff had finished their work, Zheng Yunjie and the neighboring shop owner closed up and went out for lunch.

There were over 3,000 flower vendors in Kunshan. As the two walked down the street, they saw many familiar flower shops reopening. These were all old faces in the flower business. Seeing the promise of Locust Fertilizer, they’d decided to use it to grow flowers.

“Locust Fertilizer’s probably going to go up in price soon,” the neighboring shop owner joked. He talked a lot, but the truth was, breeding locusts wasn’t a complicated process. Where there’s demand, there’s a market. In just one month, over twenty new locust farms had sprung up in the suburbs of Kunshan. The price of Locust Fertilizer was still within an acceptable range.

Half an hour later, the two arrived at a noodle shop they frequented.

The shop owner pulled out his phone, ready to split the bill. But the moment he looked at his screen, he froze.

“What is it?” Zheng Yunjie asked, curious.

“Take a look.” The shop owner handed him the phone.

Zheng Yunjie took it. A news alert was on the screen: [Xinmeng Provinces report large-scale maturity of forage grass. [Image] [Image]]

Xinmeng Provinces were designated as national pilot regions for forage grass cultivation. It had been two and a half months since the seeds were sown in those areas.