Chapter 504: Chapter 37: The Senior Brother Who Hit a Wall
Just a few days before Xiao Xian turned her mat-weaving skills into scholarly knowledge, on a day in early August, Zhou Ziang arrived at Uluqosa Town in southern Xinjiang, accompanied by a recommendation letter from Director Yu Gang of the Agricultural Science Academy.
For recommendation letters written by others, the mayor of Uluqosa Town would not take them seriously, but a letter from Director Yu was different.
Director Yu’s letter stated: Zhou Ziang is an agronomist with a Ph.D. from the United States who has helped solve many plant disease and pest problems across the country. If there are any issues, seek him directly. If there aren’t any pressing problems, have Zhou Ziang interact with the local cotton farmers to exchange experiences and insights on cotton cultivation.
After finishing the letter, the mayor asked Zhou Ziang to sit in his office, mentioning that he would ask a veteran local cotton farmer to come and take Zhou Ziang around to see various places.
Traveling all the way from the south of China to the Northwest, Zhou Ziang’s skin had tanned considerably, losing some of his scholarly air yet gaining a more valiant bearing. Frequent contact with farmers from various regions had taught him many practical experiences that could not be learned in research institutes or books.
Farmers speak most straightforwardly; if they think you speak well, they’ll give you a thumbs up, pat your shoulder, and invite you to their home for a drink. If they think you’re not good, they’ll spew saliva stars, poke your spine, and curse your ancestors for three generations—yet the next day, they’ll greet you with a smile.
Most of the genetically modified seeds imported to China by Meng Mountain had been altered by Zhou Ziang using the spring water in his space, and a small part had been scattered and sold to various individual farmers. Even if planted, the impact would not be significant.
Xinjiang is the most remote place he has visited among several others. Initially, according to Meng Mountain’s itinerary for him, there was no need to come here, but Zhou Ziang felt that the agricultural cultivation in Xinjiang was more distinctive than other regions and instinctively thought that it was worth visiting.
After getting off the plane in Urumqi, he was greeted by the sight of Xinjiang people with thick eyebrows, hooked noses, and long eyelashes. The local fruits and the grape raisins and nang sold all over the streets were all novel to Zhou Ziang.
Following the suggestions of Director Yu Gang, he had come to this town, where, it was said, Director Yu had served as a technician in his younger days.
The mayor returned shortly, but there was a troubled look on his face. He first took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Zhou Ziang.
When Zhou Ziang said he did not smoke, the mayor had to take the cigarettes back.
The mayor of Uluqosa was over forty years old, and his face was dotted with dark spots from years in the sun. He spoke loudly, but once he started using Mandarin, his speech slowed down significantly—he was a typical local official from Xinjiang.
"Ahmat says that the cotton fields of the farmers under him are all well-cultivated and do not need external technicians to guide them," the mayor relayed. Ahmat—full name Ahmad Miti—was the town’s most senior technician and also the largest cotton farmer in the town.
"Are there really no households that need help?" Zhou Ziang did not show any displeasure but just asked again.
The mayor took out a cigarette and, without lighting it, just played with it in his hand. He was hiding something. Actually, it wasn’t that he was hiding something, but that Director Yu had knowingly sent someone to their town. Why would someone come specifically to Uluqosa Town in the far southern part of Xinjiang instead of any other town? This town was different from others.
In Director Yu’s letter, it was mentioned that the poor farmers of the town needed technical support, and that’s why Zhou Ziang was sent here. However, this Zhou who was a technician was too young and had studied abroad. According to people like the mayor and Ahmad Miti, such individuals should be sitting in the municipal office building, like the Han officials, enjoying the air conditioning, sipping freshly-brewed tea, and reading newspapers—that was the suitable work style for their kind.
But how could the mayor say such things? Accustomed to dealing with Han people, the mayor then switched to a more euphemistic tone and clarified his intentions.
"If you really want to ask, there indeed is one household." Hoping Zhou Ziang would give up, the mayor mentioned the poorest cotton farmer in the town.
Zhou Ziang asked for the name and address of that cotton farmer and inquired about the name of the town’s guesthouse before leaving the town government office.
Shortly after his departure, a skinny old man wearing a velvet four-cornered flower cap waddled into the mayor’s office.