Chapter 456: After the Chance Encounter with the Hero

The morning mist in Hongqi Township, tinged with earth's smell, hung wetly on the barren branches of the willow gully.

Li Ping'an stepped on the dew, alternating deep and shallow steps as he walked up the hill behind the village.

Lin Xueqing followed beside him, a small notebook in hand, pausing now and then to scoop a handful of soil, crumble it between her fingers, bring it close to examine, then sniff it.

Village Chief Yang and Town Chief Wang accompanied them, their faces showing a mix of nervous anticipation.

Zhao Laoshuan also leaned on a wooden stick, trailing behind; the hollow of his trousers was half soaked by dew, yet he walked steadily, his gaze fixed on every move of Li Ping'an and his wife.

"This sunny slope has thin soil, but ample sunlight and good drainage."

Lin Xueqing pointed to the relatively gentle wasteland before them, "I think it's suitable for planting drought‑tolerant, sun‑loving medicinal herbs—like astragalus or forsythia. Properly managed, they're better than corn."

She then walked to a low, shaded spot.

"Here the humidity is higher and the soil richer; we could try planting bupleurum."

Li Ping'an squatted, scraping away the topsoil with his hand, and nodded.

"Growing medicinal herbs is a viable path, but the cycle is long; the technique must keep pace, and markets need to be secured in advance."

The party then turned to a larger gentle slope at the western edge of the village.

This spot had once been the village's collective pasture, later abandoned and now overgrown with half‑human‑height mugwort.

"This place is most suitable for raising sheep."

Li Ping'an rose, brushed the soil from his hands, "The grass isn't rich, but the area is vast. We could introduce hardy sheep breeds, like the Small‑tailed Cold‑Weather Sheep, and sow alfalfa and black ryegrass to improve the pasture, boosting carrying capacity."

Village Chief Yang's eyes lit up: "Raising sheep? That's great! Sheep eat all kinds of grass, easy to keep alive! Sheep meat is valuable, and their manure can fertilize the fields!"

Town Chief Wang, however, expressed concern: "Raising sheep is good, but the techniques—disease prevention, breeding, lambing—no one in the village knows. A few years ago, some tried raising a few heads; they either fell ill or died, resulting in losses."

"We can invite experts to teach the techniques."

Li Ping'an replied confidently, "We can bring specialists from the Agricultural Science Institute or the livestock station for regular guidance. We could also select a few bright youngsters from the village and send them to external farms to learn for a period."

He looked at Zhao Laoshuan: "Brother, do you think there are any younger, diligent, willing youths in the village now? Even someone in their forties would do."

Zhao Laoshuan thought for a moment, then scratched several names into the ground with his stick.

"Shuan Zhu… early forties, honest, strong. Also Gen Sheng… used to raise horses at the commune, knows livestock temperaments. The problem… their families are poor, fear they can't afford losses,"

"The startup capital can be loaned to them by the foundation,"

Lin Xueqing interjected, her tone gentle yet clear, "It's not a free handout, it's an interest‑free loan. They buy the sheep, learn the techniques, raise the sheep, sell them, and then repay gradually. This gives them pressure and motivation."

"Right," Li Ping'an added, "We call this 'self‑sustaining' rather than 'blood transfusion.' We help them get on the horse, give them a ride, then they have to run on their own."

He surveyed the barren slope, his thoughts becoming ever clearer.

"I think we could set up a cooperative model. A few households willing to work together would jointly plant forage, handle disease control, and market the products. Risks shared, profits shared. The foundation provides startup capital and technical support, while the township and village help coordinate land and organization,"

"What about the market?" Town Chief Wang asked the most practical question. "When the sheep are raised and the herbs harvested, who will we sell to? Our mountain gully makes transport difficult."

Li Ping'an smiled.

That was precisely the part he felt most confident about.

"No worries about the market. Our Wanxiang Group has partner hotels in Shenzhen, Guangzhou and Hong Kong, such as the venerable 'Tan Family Old Flavor,' which has a huge demand for premium lamb and authentic medicinal herbs,"

"The group's own staff canteens have tens of thousands of mouths waiting for meals. And the nationwide 'Wanjiafu' supermarkets can set up specialty agricultural product counters,"

He paused briefly, his tone steady and forceful.

"As long as the goods are good and meet standards, we'll buy whatever quantity there is. Prices will be guaranteed fairer than what they get selling piecemeal to street vendors. The group's transport fleet can be allocated. If the road from the township to the nearest railway station is truly poor, the foundation can consider funding repairs,"

These words acted like a tonic, injecting confidence into everyone present.

Village Chief Yang rubbed his hands excitedly: "My goodness! You've thought of the whole chain! From raising to selling, it's all covered! Comrade Li, Comrade Lin, this isn't a mere visit; it's like handing our Willow Gully a golden rice bowl!"

Town Chief Wang also nodded repeatedly, his gaze at Li Ping'an and his wife filled with admiration.

This is not merely charity; it's a genuine industry‑based poverty‑alleviation strategy, backed by a powerful commercial entity, making its success rate extremely high.

Zhao Laoshuan said nothing, but he jabbed the ground repeatedly with his stick, as if to let the long‑buried brothers also feel this tangible hope.

Over the next two days, Li Ping'an and Lin Xueqing nearly traversed every piece of land around Willow Gully.

Together with Village Chief Yang and Zhao Laoshuan, they visited families such as Shuan Zhu, Gen Sheng, and a few other preliminarily screened households that showed interest and met certain criteria.

They carefully learned about each family's labor force, current difficulties, and genuine thoughts.

Lin Xueqing meticulously recorded each household's situation and their concerns about breeding or planting.

Li Ping'an, meanwhile, discussed repeatedly with Town Chief Wang and the agricultural bureau technicians who rushed in from the county, the specific variety selections, technical routes, and draft cooperative charter.

The matters were myriad and tangled.

But each step was pushed forward firmly and solidly.

On the day they left Willow Gully, many villagers gathered beneath the old willow at the village entrance.

The dullness and wariness in their eyes lessened, replaced by eager hope and gratitude.

Zhao Laoshuan was escorted by Village Chief Yang all the way to the end of the dirt road at the village entrance.

The elder said no more words of thanks, but grasped Li Ping'an and Lin Xueqing's hands firmly.

The rough old calluses and scars on his hands conveyed a silent yet weighty entrustment.

The jeep drove away from the mountains, returning to the plain.

The atmosphere inside the vehicle, however, differed from the journey out.

It was less heavy, more focused on planning and buoyed by the first signs of success.

"Next stop, Beijing," Li Ping'an said to driver Lao Chen, "Some matters need to be reported in person to Zhou Zhengwei back in the capital. Moreover..."

He glanced at his slightly weary yet bright‑eyed wife beside him.

"After these days out, it's time to go home and have a look. Our 'home' in Beijing hasn't had residents for a long time,"

Lin Xueqing understood and nodded gently.

The Siheyuan near Houhai, which Li Ping'an purchased years ago,

usually stands empty, only occupied briefly when he returns to Beijing on business.

To them, it is not just real estate, but a tranquil haven where one can completely relax and smell the old Beijing atmosphere.

The car entered Bei Jing Cheng as the city lights were just beginning to glow.

The broadness and illumination of Chang'anjie stand in stark contrast to the pitch‑black silence of Willow Gully.

Yet this contrast does not make Li Ping'an feel fragmented; instead, it makes him more clearly sense the responsibility of the different worlds linked to his shoulders.

The car turned into the winding Alley near Houhai.

Under the dim streetlights, the courtyard of blue bricks and gray tiles stood silently, occasionally punctuated by muffled Beijing dialects and bicycle bells.

Finally, it stopped before an unremarkable large gate.

The lintel bore no conspicuous sign, only two worn brass door handles.

The driver and Xiao Zheng helped unload the modest luggage, then took their leave from the nearby guesthouse.

Li Ping'an took out his key and opened the heavy wooden door.

Creak—

The door hinge emitted a lingering sound, and a scent of old wood, book fragrance, and faint dust wafted in.

The courtyard was small, yet orderly.

The floor was paved with square bricks; in the corner stood an old pomegranate tree, its branches swaying gently in the night breeze.

The front comprised three northern rooms, with side chambers to the east and west.

Several old‑style lanterns hung under the eaves, unlit at the moment.

Everything seemed frozen in bygone times, isolated from the city's clamor beyond the Alley.

Lin Xueqing inhaled deeply, a relaxed smile appearing on her face.

"The flavor here is still just right."

The two tidied the main bedroom simply.

The bedding had been sun‑dried in advance, carrying the scent of sunlight.

They boiled some hot water, steeped the Phoenix Dancon tea brought from Shenzhen, and sat on an old wooden chair in the main hall, sipping slowly.

The lingering tea aroma dispelled the fatigue of days spent traveling.

"The matter of Willow Gully has a rough framework, but the details still need polishing."

Li Ping'an took a sip of tea and said slowly, "Especially the liaison with the local Government and technical departments, as well as the concrete supervision of the cooperative's operations, we need to appoint reliable people."

"Hmm," Lin Xueqing nodded, "Passion alone isn't enough; we need knowledgeable and responsible people to keep watch. On the foundation side, I'd like Xiao Zheng from the preparatory team to stay, cooperate with Village Chief Wang, and solidify the preliminary survey and mobilization work. When we return, the technical experts and seed funding must catch up simultaneously."

As they spoke, a faint "tap" sounded from the stone steps in the courtyard.

It sounded like a small stone hitting the ground.

Li Ping'an and Lin Xueqing exchanged a glance.

Li Ping'an rose, walked to the doorway, and pushed the house door open.

The cold moonlight spilled into the courtyard.

Under the pomegranate tree, a tiny figure crouched, trying to pick something up.

It was a seven‑ or eight‑year‑old boy, wearing a faded old cotton coat, his cheeks flushed red from the cold.

Seeing Li Ping'an emerge, he startled; the object in his hand fell to the ground—a smoothly polished sheep shinbone.

"I… I'm not a thief!" the boy exclaimed anxiously, standing up and stepping back, his dark eyes full of wariness, "My shinbone hopped in… I came to pick it up…"

Li Ping'an smiled lightly, his tone softening: "I understand. It's fine—did you pick it up?"

The boy hesitated, then nodded, clutching the sheep shinbone tightly in his hand.

"Are you a child of this Alley?" Lin Xueqing also stepped out, asking gently.

"Hmm," the boy whispered, though his eyes couldn't help glancing at the warm light spilling from the main hall and the faint furnishings inside.

"Have you eaten?" Lin Xueqing asked.

The boy shook his head, then quickly nodded, while his stomach let out an untimely "gurgle."

His face reddened further, and he turned to run.

"Wait," Li Ping'an called, turning back to Lin Xueqing, "There are still the snacks we brought in the kitchen, right? Bring some for the child."

Lin Xueqing quickly wrapped several chicken biscuits and almond cookies from Shenzhen in oil paper, came out, and handed them to the boy.

"Take them, and eat."

The boy stared at the oil‑paper parcel, swallowed, but did not take it.

"My grandfather says… you shouldn't just take other people's things."

"This isn't just taking; it's Uncle and Auntie offering you food." Li Ping'an crouched, looking level with the boy, "Your grandfather is right—you shouldn't just take things. So tell me, what does your grandfather do?"

The boy puffed his small chest, his voice a bit louder: "My grandfather is a veteran! He fought the Japanese Soldiers! He has medals at home!"

Li Ping'an and Lin Xueqing both felt a stir in their hearts.

"Oh? Your grandfather was also a veteran of the Korean War?"

"Yes!" the boy nodded vigorously, "Grandpa's legs aren't good; they hurt when it's cold. But he's amazing—he tells many war stories!"

Li Ping'an and Lin Xueqing exchanged a glance.

Who would have thought that deep within this Beijing Alley, a child they met by chance would also be linked to the very bloody history they had just left behind.

"What is your grandfather's name? Which courtyard does he live in?" Li Ping'an asked.

"My grandfather is named Han Dashan, living at No. 7 Ruyi Alley, in the front."

The boy, talking about his grandfather, continued, "My father works in a factory, my mother is ill, and grandfather takes me."

Li Ping'an now had a number in mind.

He patted the boy's head and stuffed the snack into his hand.

"Take it, and give our regards to your grandfather. Say… it's from uncles and aunties who also fought, giving it to their grandson."

The boy seemed to understand the weight of the words "having fought in battle," hesitated a moment, then finally took the snack and whispered, "Thank you, uncle and aunt."

Then, like a little rabbit, he darted out of the courtyard.

He closed the courtyard gate and returned to the main hall.

The tea had already gone cold.

Yet neither of them felt sleepy.

"Even under the capital, there are families like this."

Lin Xueqing let out a soft sigh, "Father is a worker, mother is ill, grandfather is an old disabled veteran…… life is probably not easy either."

Li Ping'an gazed at the silhouette of the pomegranate tree outside the window, remaining silent for a long time.

"Xueqing, our foundation's vision cannot be limited to remote 'honor villages' like Willow Tree Gully."

His voice rang out especially clear in the quiet night.

"In this city, deep in the alleys, behind those faded medals may lie the same unknown hardships. They might be overlooked precisely because they live in the city."

Lin Xueqing fell into thought.

"You mean… expand the scope of assistance? The struggling military families and disabled veterans in the city also need attention? Especially regarding medical care, children's education, and… as that child just said, parents possibly laid off or ill, facing great living pressure?"

"Yes." Li Ping'an nodded, "Teaching someone to fish—in the city, that could mean a stable job, a crucial medical aid, or a chance for a child to go to school. We can do those things too."

He walked to the desk and spread out paper and brush.

"This time returning to the capital, besides reporting to Political Commissar Zhou on Willow Tree Gully's progress, we also need to put forward our preliminary ideas for urban assistance. We may need to establish closer ties with the Ministry of Civil Affairs and the subdistrict. Perhaps we can ask Commissar Zhou to help us make connections again."

The night grew deep.

The frozen surface of Houhai Lake reflected the clear light of the cold moon.

In the siheyuan, a single lamp glowed like a bean.

Li Ping'an scribbled and sketched on paper, outlining a broader blueprint for the Iron Blood Glory Foundation.

Lin Xueqing helped by looking up materials on the side, occasionally offering suggestions.

Outside the window, the faint time‑signal chimes from the distant telegraph building occasionally drifted in.

This ancient, vibrant city had already fallen asleep.

Yet in this tranquil siheyuan, a profound responsibility linking distant mountain villages with the bustling city, concerning past glory and future livelihood, was quietly gestating and growing.

The bare branches of the pomegranate tree swayed gently in the winter night's cold wind.

As if listening, and also as if bearing witness.