Interstellar Educated Youth:Farming In The Seventies

Chapter Three

Lin Fan stepped away from the window as a sudden, sharp pain flared behind his temples. It was not physical fever this time, but the violent surging of the original host’s suppressed memories, cascading into his mind like a broken dam.

The blurry fragments resolved into the suffocating reality of the Lin household. The original Lin Fan had lived under the thumb of his stepmother, Auntie Chen, a woman whose sweet-talking, gentle exterior hid a calculating heart. Every meal had been a lesson in quiet cruelty. Auntie Chen always made sure her own two biological sons received the thick, hearty portions of rice and lard, while Lin Fan was left with diluted water and coarse corn meal.

Worst of all was his father. Weak-willed and desperate for quiet, the man bowed to his second wife’s every tearful suggestion. Whenever Lin Fan tried to speak up about his freezing bedroom or failing health, his father would simply avert his eyes, sighing heavily about the importance of "family harmony" and telling his eldest son to stop being ungrateful. When the local neighborhood committee demanded one educated youth from their household for the rural farm assignments, Auntie Chen had wept hypocritical tears about her own sons' "weak constitutions," easily convincing the father to sign away Lin Fan’s name instead.

Her eldest son, Lin Wei, was a arrogant bully who took after his mother. He spent years mocking Lin Fan's frailty, stealing his few personal belongings, and shoving heavy household chores onto his shoulders. In fact, the faint, aching bruise lingering on Lin Fan's shoulder was from just two days ago—when Lin Wei had violently shoved him against the bedframe for daring to hesitate over accepting the rural assignment.

Yet amidst the coldness of that family, one memory flickered with quiet warmth. Lin Xiao, the younger stepbrother, was the sole exception. Timid and soft-spoken, Lin Xiao could never openly defy his domineering mother or aggressive older brother, but he secretly cared for Lin Fan. The memories showed quiet nights where Lin Xiao would sneak into the drafty room to slip half a hot steamed bun under Lin Fan's blanket, or secretly carry the heavy water buckets so the sickly boy wouldn't collapse from exhaustion.

Lin Fan gently pressed his hand against his sore shoulder, a cool resolve settling inside his chest. The original host had died of a broken heart, crushed by a family that viewed him as a burden to be discarded. But to the starship botanist, this forced exile wasn't a sentence—it was a golden escape hatch away from a toxic household, leading straight toward the boundless, fertile earth waiting outside.

The morning noise of the courtyard intruded upon Lin Fan’s thoughts—the sharp clatter of aluminum pots, the scrape of wooden stools, and the harsh, shrill voice of Auntie Chen barking orders. Lin Fan carefully wiped his damp eyes, straightened the coarse cotton shirt hanging loosely over his frail frame, and pulled open the creaking wooden door.

In the cramped central room, the family was gathered around a low rectangular table. The contrast in their treatment was stark. In front of the eldest son, Lin Wei, sat a steaming bowl of thick white rice porridge glistened with lard and sprinkled with fresh green spring onions. Next to him, fourteen-year-old Lin Xiao sat with his head bowed, quietly picking at a dry cornmeal bun.

Auntie Chen was busy ladling soup, her face wearing an exaggerated expression of false maternal sorrow. "Oh, Xiao Fan, you're finally awake! Look at you, sleeping so late when the neighborhood committee representatives are coming by this afternoon to finalize your countryside papers. I was just telling your father how heartbreaking it is that you have to leave us..."

Lin Fan’s father, Lin Guodong, didn't look up from his enamel mug. He merely cleared his throat nervously, resting a heavy, calloused hand on the wooden table. "It's for the honor of the family, Xiao Fan. The country needs educated youths. Your stepmother worked very hard to secure you a placement in a relatively fertile southern commune. You should be grateful."

Auntie Chen immediately chimed in, dabbing at her dry eyes with her sleeve. "That’s right! I begged the cadre for three days to make sure he wasn't sent to the freezing wild borderlands of the northeast. A southern commune has actual rice! He won't starve!"

Lin Wei snorted into his porridge, a smirking arrogance shining in his eyes. He leaned back, flexing his broad shoulders. "Southern commune or not, a weakling like him won't last three days in the mud. He can't even carry a bucket of water without gasping for breath. I give him a month before he’s begging to come home on a stretcher."

In the past, the original host would have lowered his head, tears dripping into his empty lap while enduring the humiliation in silent agony. But Lin Fan simply pulled out a creaking wooden stool and sat down. He stared straight into Lin Wei's eyes—his gaze calm, cold, and utterly detached, like a senior researcher observing an annoying specimen.

"If hard labor in the soil builds character," Lin Fan said, his tone smooth and entirely unbothered, "then it's a pity you're staying behind to eat lard porridge, Elder Brother. You seem to need the character building far more than I do."

The table fell dead silent. Lin Wei froze, his spoon hovering halfway to his mouth, his face flushing dark red. Auntie Chen gasped in indignation, clutching her chest. "Guodong! Listen to how he speaks to his older brother! After all the sacrifices we made for him!"

Father's brow furrowed, but before he could scold, Lin Fan reached out and took his allocated breakfast—a small, rock-hard piece of steamed cornmeal and a bowl of pale, watery grain broth. To the shock of everyone at the table, Lin Fan didn't look miserable. He took a bite of the dry cornmeal, chewed slowly, and smiled. It was coarse, dry, and lacked any processing, but it was real grain. It had grown directly from the earth.

After the tense meal, Lin Fan returned to his small side room to organize the meager belongings assigned for his journey. The government provided a basic stipend for departing youths, including a heavy canvas travel bag, an enamel washing basin, and a thick cotton quilt.

The door burst open without a knock. Lin Wei sauntered in, picking his teeth with a wood splinter. He walked over to the wooden chest where Lin Fan's newly issued gear was laid out, casually picking up a brand-new pair of sturdy cloth shoes provided by the state.

"These shoes are too good for farm mud," Lin Wei sneered, tossing his own worn, frayed shoes onto the floor. "I'll take these. You can wear my old ones. You'll just ruin good cotton in the rice paddies anyway."

Lin Fan didn't flinch. In the interstellar era, he had managed complex hydroponic command structures and navigated high-stakes research politics; he was not about to be intimidated by a petty teenage bully.

Lin Fan stepped forward, his posture straight despite his thin frame. He picked up the heavy enamel basin from the table and slammed it onto the wooden chest with a sharp, echoing CRACK.

"The neighborhood committee cadre is inspecting my luggage in two hours," Lin Fan said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "If they ask why the son of a loyal worker is wearing frayed rags while his stay-at-home stepbrother wears his state-issued footwear, I'll be happy to explain Auntie Chen's allocation methods. Should we call them right now to clarify?"

Lin Wei’s eyes widened in shock. The timid, cowardly stepbrother who used to flinch at a raised voice was staring back with absolute, chilling authority. Lin Wei dropped the shoes as if they were red-hot coals, backing toward the doorway. "You... you crazy bastard," he muttered, turning on his heel and stomping away.

As the afternoon sun shifted, throwing long shadows across the small room, a soft tap sounded against the doorboard.

Lin Xiao slid into the room quietly, closing the wooden door behind him with trembling hands. The timid fourteen-year-old looked around nervously before reaching into his padded jacket pocket. He pulled out two small items wrapped in a clean hand-towel: a boiled egg, a crumpled five-yuan note, and a couple of nationwide grain coupons.

"Brother..." Lin Xiao whispered, his voice shaking as he forced the bundle into Lin Fan's hands. "I... I hid this from mother. I saved my allowance for three months. Take it. The journey on the train takes three days and two nights. You need real food."

Lin Fan looked down at the warm, smooth shell of the boiled egg and the worn paper money. In his past life aboard Space Station Alpha-9, human relationships were strictly transactional—colleagues competed for limited laboratory resources, and intimacy was an unaffordable luxury in a world dying of cold efficiency. He had died entirely alone, regretting that he had never known true friendship or warmth.

A soft, genuine heat spread through Lin Fan's chest. He reached out and gently patted the younger boy's shoulder, his fingers lingering on the faded fabric.

"Xiao Xiao," Lin Fan said quietly, using the boy's affectionate nickname. "Keep the money for yourself. You're still growing."

"No! You take it!" Lin Xiao’s eyes brimmed with tears, his voice choked with emotion. "Brother, I'm sorry... I'm sorry I was too scared to stop Brother Lin Wei when he hit you. I was a coward."

Lin Fan smiled gently, peeling the boiled egg and cutting it in half with a clean knife from his desk. He handed one half back to the boy and kept the other. "You're not a coward. You kept me fed when no one else looked. That makes you my brother."

They ate the simple boiled egg together in the quiet room. For Lin Fan, the creamy yolk and rich, organic flavor were a revelation compared to synthetic gel, but the quiet companionship was even sweeter. He had found his first genuine connection in this strange new world.

Before the sun dipped behind the western hills, Lin Fan walked out into the small courtyard behind the house. Nestled in a neglected corner beneath the whitewashed wall was a tiny patch of unpaved ground where wild dandelions and stubborn weeds pushed through the dark soil.

Lin Fan slowly squatted down. He hesitated for a fleeting second before reaching out and plunging his bare fingers deep into the earth.

The cool, moist texture wrapped around his skin. The smell of rich, decaying leaves and damp mineral earth filled his nostrils. Tears welled in his eyes—not from sorrow or pain, but from profound, overwhelming fulfillment.

Auntie Chen poked her head out of the kitchen window, watching her frail stepson kneeling in the dirt, covered in mud, yet smiling with absolute radiance. She shuddered, whispering to her husband, "Look at him... he's completely lost his mind over going to the countryside."

Lin Fan stood up, brushing the dark earth from his palms, his eyes shining bright under the evening sky. Let them think he was crazy. Tomorrow, he would board the train toward the vast southern farmland—where millions of acres of living earth, real crops, and a whole new destiny awaited him.