Chapter 266 The Development Plan of the Whole Clan
It has always been easier to grow fruits than to sell them.
Even in the future's vast sales networks, news of fruit farmers struggling to sell their harvests is common, with hundreds of tons of fruit rotting in the fields.
Though fruits are scarce in this era, and selling them shouldn't be a problem in the coming years, the sheer scale of watermelon cultivation in Thatchfield's Deng clan—hundreds of households planting them—means securing a purchase contract with the supply and marketing cooperative in advance is essential. Otherwise, ripe watermelons with no buyers would spell disaster.
So, after seeing the clan members planting watermelons, Deng Shirong made time to visit the Double Prosperity Supply and Marketing Cooperative and sought out Guan Dewu, Guan Yongying's uncle.
After exchanging greetings, Deng Shirong got straight to the point: "Dear relative, I came today mainly to discuss the purchase of watermelons."
Ideally, price negotiations and contracts should happen before planting, but the clan members had simply followed the trend without thinking that far ahead.
Guan Dewu smiled. "Uncle Jiu, that's no problem. We'll match last year's price, and we can sign the contract anytime."
Deng Shirong shook his head. "This year, it's not just my family planting watermelons. Hundreds of households in our Help And Correct Brigade are doing the same. Conservatively, we'll harvest tens of thousands of tons. You should check with your leaders first—can your cooperative handle that volume?"
Guan Dewu was startled. A few hundred tons? No issue. But tens of thousands? That required higher approval.
He nodded. "That is a large quantity. Uncle Jiu, give me a moment—I'll consult my superiors."
Deng Shirong agreed. "Of course. I appreciate it."
Guan Dewu waved it off. "It's our duty to purchase farmers' produce. Watermelons have a decent shelf life, so I doubt it'll be an issue."
He left to seek instructions.
A few minutes later, Guan Dewu returned, beaming. "Uncle Jiu, our leader confirmed it—we'll take all your watermelons. We can sign an open-ended contract at last year's price."
Deng Shirong wasn't surprised. The supply and marketing cooperative was a nationwide giant with unmatched distribution channels. Ten thousand tons? A drop in the bucket. Even millions wouldn't strain the system.
That said, this arrangement would only hold for a few more years. By the late 1980s, with rising fruit production and the cooperatives' decline, direct bulk sales like this would vanish. But by then, private fruit merchants would fill the gap. If their prices were low, farmers could seek their own buyers.
In short, with flexibility, selling goods would never be impossible, no matter the era.
Deng Shirong smiled. "Good. That's a relief."
They signed the contract. Now, the clan's watermelons were guaranteed a market.
...
Beijing.
In a state-owned restaurant near Peking University, Deng Yunheng dined with his five roommates.
Each came from different backgrounds:
Tang Mingjie (Beijing): Family full of officials. Though he called them "small," transferring any to the provinces would make them major figures. His financial standing matched Deng Yunheng's—hinting at greater influence than he let on.
Zheng Shifeng (Heilongjiang): Rural-born, towering at 1.88 meters—the dorm's enforcer.
Chu Zhenyu (Hubei): Also rural-born, with striking features—the dorm's heartthrob.
He Yong (Zhejiang): Well-off, shrewd, financially third behind Deng Yunheng and Tang Mingjie.
Cui Wenguang (Henan): Working-class, introverted, often silent unless addressed.
After nearly two years together, their bond was strong. They dined together monthly.
Conversation meandered until it landed on fruit.
Tang Mingjie eyed Deng Yunheng. "Southern China dominates fruit production. Yunheng, your Guangxi hometown must be overflowing with them, right?"
Deng Yunheng grinned. "Absolutely. My county has a rhyme about it: Bobai's blessed land grows fruits year-round—bayberries in March, plums in April, peaches and lychees in May, pineapples and wampees in June, longans and sandpears in July, bananas in August, oranges and persimmons in September, pomelos in October, carambolas all year... Plus sugarcane, loquats, mangoes, papayas, tomatoes, myrtles, olives, lemons, tangerines, grapes, monk fruit—you name it. Right now? Bayberry season."
His roommates gaped. Half those fruits were unheard of, let alone tasted.
Tang Mingjie drooled. "Incredible! I adore fruit, especially southern lychees and longans. Last year, someone finally shipped longans to Beijing—my first taste. Divine."
He Yong nodded. "I've had longans. Unbelievably sweet."
Zheng Shifeng sighed. "I've never even seen a lychee."
Chu Zhenyu recited: "Overlooking Chang'an, embroidered mounds; summit gates swing wide. A royal consort's laugh—who knew? 'Twas lychees arriving." Then sighed. "Lychees' legend taunts me. A shame I've never tried one."
Deng Yunheng shrugged. "My family planted a thousand lychee trees—premium Cinnamon Flavor variety. But by summer break, the season's nearly over. And they spoil faster than apples, so bringing any back's impossible."
Tang Mingjie's eyes widened. "A thousand trees?"
Deng Yunheng blinked. "What's strange about that?"
Tang Mingjie slung an arm over his shoulder. "Yunheng, going home this summer?"
"Didn't visit last Spring Festival, so definitely this time."
"Mind if I tag along?"
Normally, Tang Mingjie wouldn't ask—but Deng Yunheng's wealth, openness, and their close bond made it natural.
"Of course! If you don't mind the trip, I'd love to host you." Deng Yunheng then turned to the others. "Brother Feng, Brother Yu, Brother Yong, Brother Guang—same goes. If traveling that far doesn't bother you, you're all welcome."
Zheng Shifeng looked touched. "Yunheng, are you sure it's not an inconvenience?"
Deng Yunheng laughed. "What inconvenience? Don't worry about food or lodging—I'll handle everything."
Chu Zhenyu, equally moved, asked, "Yunheng, is it really alright for so many of us to visit?"
"Of course!" Deng Yunheng grinned. "My father's incredibly hospitable. He'd be thrilled to host my classmates. Plus, he's a decent cook—knows his way around several regional cuisines. I guarantee you'll leave satisfied.
"Most importantly, if we go during summer break, you can eat fruit nonstop—lychees, jackfruit, kumquats, mulberries, carambolas, longans… Trust me, you won't regret the trip."
Even the usually quiet Cui Wenguang couldn't resist. "Yunheng, you're tempting us."
Tang Mingjie clapped excitedly. "Then it's settled! Summer vacation—Guangxi, here we come!"
Zheng Shifeng nodded, smiling. "Perfect. I'd love to see the land that bred someone as remarkable as you."
Chu Zhenyu, He Yong, and Cui Wenguang agreed in unison.
The group buzzed with anticipation for their summer adventure.
...
Thatchfield Village
Deng Shirong sat beneath his wooden awning, puffing on a cigarette as he pondered clan affairs.
Responsibility shifts with role.
As a parent, you raise children to succeed. As a teacher, you mold students into pillars of society. As a county leader, you drive development for all citizens.
Now, as head of the Thatchfield Deng clan—respected and beloved—Deng Shirong had to steer the clan toward prosperity.
The clan's scholarships and grants encouraged education, yes, but talent cultivation was a 10- to 20-year investment. It did nothing to alleviate current poverty.
This year's watermelon planting would bring short-term profits. Yet once fruit production surged nationwide, profits would dwindle.
A long-term plan was essential to truly lift the clan from poverty.
One solution sprang to mind immediately.
Back when planning his second nephew's career, he'd considered transportation—a high-ceiling industry split into passenger and freight services.
Passenger transport was more lucrative but fiercely competitive, dominated by rough characters who could summon hundreds at a word. Honest folk stood no chance. So, he'd steered his nephew toward safer freight transport.
But now? Passenger transport seemed tailor-made for the Deng clan.
An individual might struggle, but could any rival overpower 3,000 clansmen? With the clan's collective strength, who'd dare strong-arm them?
The idea solidified. After this year's watermelon harvest, he'd convene the clan to discuss it. Willing participants? Proceed. Uninterested? Drop it.
Still, groundwork was needed—like training drivers now. Driving was easy to learn; basic vehicle repair took longer (though advanced skills weren't necessary).
As for trainees, his gaze drifted toward Crossmen Passing Village.
In Help And Correct Brigade, arguing over the wealthiest village was pointless—no clear winner. But the poorest? No debate: Crossmen Passing.
How poor? One example sufficed.
After the brigade's electrification, Deng Shirong's household once consumed more electricity than all of Crossmen Passing combined. Such frugality spoke volumes.
His grandfather's brother had founded Cross Passing—close blood ties. Extending this opportunity to his uncle's descendants felt right.
Decision made, Deng Shirong set down his pipe and strode toward Crossmen Passing Village, hands clasped behind his back.
...
Crossmen Passing Village
A small village in Help And Correct Brigade, Crossmen Passing comprised just 26 households—barely over 100 souls.
Crossmen Passing Village's small population gave it a distinct layout. All its houses were interconnected, forming a "non"-shaped structure with a central road flanked by rows of dwellings.
In the first row lived Deng Changwen's family. In his youth, Changwen had been the village's legendary strongman - routinely carrying 200-kilogram loads to neighboring communes without breaking sweat. But tragedy struck when exhaustion overcame him after one such trip. He collapsed without even wiping his brow, awakening later to vomit blood.
Without means for proper hospital treatment, Changwen relied only on the village barefoot doctor's remedies. His condition deteriorated over a decade until his passing, leaving his already impoverished family destitute. Only after land redistribution did they escape hunger - though new problems emerged.
Changwen's widow now faced the marital prospects of their six children: four sons (Deng Silong, Sihu, Sibao and Silang - each name fiercer than the last) and two daughters. At 28, eldest son Silong topped the village's bachelor list - an alarming status in this era where late marriages were virtually unheard of.
Their two-room home offered no solutions - one room shared by the widow and daughters, the other crammed with four grown sons. Without additional space, marriage remained impossible until last year's revelation: Uncle Jiu's watermelon fortune. Inspired, the family reclaimed mountain land to plant their own crop, hoping this harvest would fund a house and marriage prospects.
Recently, this glimmer of hope had noticeably lifted the widow's spirits.
...
Thatchfield Village
"Changwen's wife, mending clothes?" Deng Shirong called out as he approached the widow sewing at her doorway. (Note: In Double Prosperity, older women are addressed as "Sister-in-law" regardless of actual relation.)
She sprang up. "Uncle Jiu! What brings you here?"
"I've business to discuss. Are your 'dragon-tiger-leopards' home?" (Referring to her sons by their fierce names)
"All at the orchard!"
As she offered tobacco, Deng Shirong declined: "Just smoked. Actually, I came about driving lessons for your boys."
"Driving?" Her hands stilled.
"No suspense - after training, I'll place them as shuttle bus drivers."
Her eyes widened. "Truly, Uncle Jiu? My sons could become drivers?" In this era, being among the "Eight Elite Professions," driving represented unimaginable social mobility. Had anyone else made such claims, she'd have scoffed - but Uncle Jiu's word was gold.
"Exactly. If interested, have them visit this afternoon for arrangements."
Overcome with excitement, she clasped her hands. "How could they refuse? I accept for them now!"
"All three then. Send them to my house after lunch." With a nod, Deng Shirong departed.
...
After leaving Changwen's wife's house, Deng Shirong went to Crossmen Passing Village.
Deng Shirong canvassed Crossmen Passing for suitable candidates - specifically targeting large, impoverished families. Though clan-backed transport reduced risks significantly, he adhered to the adage "better safe than sorry" by selecting families with multiple sons. This ensured no household would be completely bereaved should misfortune strike.
The driver's prestige made recruitment effortless - all twenty approached accepted immediately with profuse gratitude. Deng Shirong's vision required at least ten buses initially, aiming to dominate half the county's long-distance routes and capitalize on the impending migrant worker boom.
Deng Shirong found a total of 20 people. Since the clan was running passenger transport, the starting number must not be one or two buses.
According to his idea, at least 10 buses should be started. After exploring the market, he will continue to add buses. Not to mention dominating the long-distance buses in the county, at least half should be occupied. Only in this way can he reap the most attractive first batch of passenger transport dividends in the upcoming wave of migrant workers.
By afternoon, all the twenty driver candidates (aged 20-35) gathered at Deng Shirong's home - married fathers and bachelors alike united by one trait: fearless audacity.
In these turbulent times, meekness wouldn't suffice behind the wheel. Only the bold need apply.
(End of Chapter)