Chapter 91

Seeing the production crew really show up, He Ruizhen felt a mix of emotions.

If she had a choice, she honestly didn’t want her adoptive mother or the few remaining victims in the village to appear on camera.

Because she knew that every time they faced the camera, every time they peeled open their bloody wounds to speak of the abuse and humiliation they endured, it was another cruel round of secondary trauma.

But her adoptive mother’s support gave her strength.

He Chunmiao told her—they were old now. Who knew when they’d lie down one night and never get up again the next morning?

But the women still left in the village, and the children they were raising, still had to go on living.

Lotus Pond Village now had 132 households. Aside from a few boys, the rest were all women. Among them were survivors of war-time atrocities, women expelled from their rural homes for not bearing sons, and many more who had fled domestic violence, abuse from mothers-in-law, and other horrors of married life they couldn’t endure.

These women might have ended up like so many unhappy women in the countryside before them—drowning in rivers, drinking poison, hanging themselves to escape a life of pain and hopelessness.

But they were lucky. They met He Chunmiao and her daughter—two brave, righteous women who took in one homeless woman after another, piecing together what people now called “Widow Village.”

There’s an old saying: “Widows attract trouble,” and in rural areas, there were plenty of people with bad intentions.

He Chunmiao’s idea was simple: while they still had a bit of attention from the public, why not use it to give the remaining women of Lotus Pond Village a fighting chance at survival? It was also, in her view, a way of doing good in this world.

He Ruizhen, with tears streaming down her face, agreed to her adoptive mother’s request.

And so, the crew from Retracing the Path of Poverty Alleviation arrived.

The problems facing Lotus Pond Village weren’t unique. Like many rural areas that had failed to transition industries, the core issues were weak branding and a lack of clear identity.

And a severe shortage of labor.

Everyone knew that harvesting lotus roots was physically demanding. Areas that cultivated them would hire outside labor every year—and almost all lotus root diggers were men.

Even someone as tough and proud as He Ruizhen had to admit that in terms of height and strength, women simply couldn’t compete. Digging lotus roots meant wading waist-deep in mud; if you didn’t have enough strength, you couldn’t even pull yourself out—let alone dig.

But hiring outsiders cost money. And they had none.

Hire locals? Over the years, He Ruizhen had thoroughly burned bridges with the men of the surrounding villages in order to protect the women here. No one would come!

People think only women stick together, but when men band together for pride and profit, they can be even more ruthless toward women.

Those men who’d been humiliated by He Ruizhen had already spread the word—any man who dared take work from Lotus Pond Village was a coward and a joke, no longer welcome in their circles.

With no local help and no money to hire outside labor, over a hundred acres of high-yield lotus sat rotting in the fields year after year.

Originally, the county had plans to develop Lotus Pond Village into a rural tourism demonstration site. But maybe they were just unlucky—just as the lotus flowers were planted, the pandemic hit.

They couldn’t even leave the village, let alone attract tourists.

Even the elderly in the village—and sometimes He Ruizhen herself—couldn’t help but wonder: would anyone really want to come to a place like “Widow Village” for vacation?

After all, tourism is supposed to be about joy and escape. Who would choose to visit a place filled with sorrow and negative energy?

“Why not? Secretary He, believe me—young people today are nothing like the older generation.” Wei Sheng glanced at the withered lotus ponds and made a bet with He Ruizhen.

“Secretary He, if the village can provide free room and board, I bet I can find you a hundred part-time lotus root diggers within 24 hours.”

In fact, he could recruit even more. Wei Sheng already knew where to look. But considering the limited lodging in the village, he’d start small and test the waters.

“We can do that! We can absolutely arrange food and lodging!” He Ruizhen nodded. Seeing him about to pull another big move, Wang Qun grew nervous and grabbed his arm.

“Mr. Wei, you’re not thinking of calling on your fans, are you? I thought your fanbase was mostly older women. Having a bunch of girls dig lotus roots doesn’t sound right.”

Wei Sheng gave him a puzzled look.

“Who said I was going to ask my fans?”

“Then who are you going to call?”

Wang Qun found out soon enough.

Funny enough, they had to thank Vice Station Chief Pu. If he hadn’t taken Wei Sheng to that retirees’ banquet, Wei Sheng never would’ve had access to such a unique and elite group.

The guy was a social master—after adding a bunch of uncles and aunties on WeChat at that banquet, he made it a point to send them local specialty gifts every time he filmed on location. It wasn’t about the price. His consistency over time left an impression.

Some of them, especially those living nearby, had even become his grandpa’s fishing buddies—retired folks who’d play chess, fish, and drink a little country liquor at Grandpa Hu’s shop. Slowly, those bonds had formed.

Wei Sheng also knew that lotus root digging was tough work and not suitable for young women. But wasn’t this the perfect coincidence? A new friend he met last year just so happened to be the retired dean of J Province Police Academy.

It was still winter break, and school hadn’t started yet. Recruiting local students as volunteers to help struggling villagers harvest unsold crops? What better way to serve the community? If not the police academy, then who?

More importantly, Wei Sheng believed that if there were ever a group of people who would charge into the depths of hell to save someone without hesitation, it would be our people’s police.

Anyone else might scorn or look down on the war-scarred women of Lotus Pond Village—but not them.

When Wei Sheng called, Yang Shaojun froze, staring in disbelief at the calendar on his desk.

Nope. He hadn’t time-traveled or reincarnated.

So how did Wei Sheng already know the exact details of a proposal the school had just sent him—a draft he hadn’t even read yet?

His professional instincts kicked in. His mind raced with conspiracy theories.

Was Wei Sheng a secret agent planted among the public?

But before he could spin further paranoid fantasies, Wei Sheng “cracked the case” himself.

There was no conspiracy.

The truth was simple: villagers near Lotus Pond held deep prejudice against the war-scarred women of He Chunmiao’s group. And by taking in homeless women, He Chunmiao and her daughter had offended many rural married men whose interests were threatened—men who then retaliated. So they had no choice but to ask Wei Sheng for help recruiting kind-hearted volunteers to dig lotus roots.

After hearing the full story, Yang Shaojun was so furious he nearly crushed his phone.

Those beasts weren’t even human.

Why had the women of Lotus Pond become widows? Why were there no men in their homes?

Because their fathers, uncles, and brothers went to the front lines, using their flesh and blood to block the invaders. Without them, would these scumbags even have been born? No—they wouldn’t have had the chance!

Those men gave their lives so these cowards could live in peace—and how did they repay them? Not only did they fail to take care of the heroes’ families, they ganged up to bully the elderly and weak?

It was disgusting. It chilled him to the bone.

Just think—if even the heroes who served their country and people can’t meet a good end, who would ever dare speak of sacrificing for the nation or putting the greater good before their own family in the future?

Oh, so we risked our lives to save you, our bodies barely cold, and you come to bully our elderly and children? Screw you! Believe it or not, even as a ghost I won’t let you off!

“Ahem—Uncle Yang, calm down! The most urgent thing right now is to find people to help Lotus Pond Village harvest the lotus roots from the fields. Spring is almost here—if they don’t dig them up in time, the roots will start sprouting and growing leaves, and then they’ll be hard to sell.”

Yang Shaojun nodded. “Xiao Wei, you did the right thing! You did very well! But are a hundred volunteers enough? If not, we can also rally our school’s faculty.”

“That’s enough, really. If there are too many people, the village can’t house them all,” Wei Sheng quickly declined.

He didn’t expect that comment to make Yang Shaojun laugh in anger.

“Go see for yourself! When have the people ever needed us—whether for flood relief or earthquake rescue—and heard that helping the common folks required them to provide room and board?”

“Enough! You stay out of this now. Give me the phone number of their village party secretary. I’ll have the school contact them. As for your variety show, just get ready to film.”

Principal Yang, ever efficient and vigorous despite his age, recruited over three hundred strong volunteers for Lotus Pond Village in less than a night. The commotion was so great it even alerted the Youth League Committee.

“You all go first. If there aren’t enough people, just say the word. However many you need, we’ll figure it out. We cannot let the descendants of heroes feel abandoned!”

Early spring was still chilly. In the countryside during this season, there wasn’t much work. In the hills nearby, some freeloaders came carrying shovels and sieves, heading over to Lotus Pond Village to dig up lotus roots.

Don’t be mistaken—these people weren’t here out of kindness.

This had started last winter. Lotus Pond Village had planted a large area of lotus roots, but due to poor sales and no money to hire labor, they were left in the ground. Locals nearby saw this and thought: You’re not digging them up? Great! That means nobody wants them, right?

So, from last year into this year, villagers from neighboring villages frequently came to dig lotus roots without paying a cent, and they even washed them in the stream where the village women did laundry, dirtying the water so badly they couldn’t even wash clothes anymore.

Today, the usual villagers came to dig lotus roots like they were on their own land.

But this time, they were stopped at the village entrance.