Interstellar to 80s: A Scientist's Farming Mission

An Ning walked past Secretary Song. She didn’t need anyone to lead the way and headed for the machinery factory on her own.

Behind her, Secretary Song glanced at his watch.

’So early? Is she already done eating?’

’Could it be that she was too embarrassed?’

Secretary Song took a few quick steps to catch up to An Ning. "Comrade An Ning, what did you have for breakfast?"

"Seafood congee, meat buns, a box of dumplings, and a side dish."

An Ning’s pace was steady, but her mouth was already starting to water. It had been so delicious.

She was telling the truth, but Secretary Song, who was beside her, became certain of his suspicions.

’Who could possibly eat all that in the morning? The state-run restaurants aren’t even open yet.’

’Even if there were street vendors, they wouldn’t be selling seafood congee and dumplings, would they?’

"That’s quite a spread. Would you like to eat some more?"

"Are you trying to make me burst? Don’t tell me you’re in league with Jiang Dongcheng?"

These two questions plunged Secretary Song into the biggest crisis of his professional career.

"No, no, that’s not it. Where did you get that idea? I’m not, I’m not."

Secretary Song’s string of denials made An Ning, who had just been joking, start to look at him with suspicion.

"What are you so nervous about?"

An Ning’s gaze put Secretary Song under immense pressure, and he shook his head emphatically.

"I’m not. I’m not nervous. Not nervous at all."

The suspicion in An Ning’s eyes grew and grew, to the point that Secretary Song felt the urge to kill himself just to prove his innocence.

"According to my little brother’s language arts textbook, repeating a word can change its meaning. For example, ’fine’ means it’s fine. But ’fine, fine’ actually means it’s not."

"By the same token, one ’no’ means no. Two ’no’s mean you’re nervous. And three ’no’s mean you’ve become flustered and angry."

An Ning took a step forward, staring at Secretary Song. "Secretary Song, which one are you?"

Secretary Song was speechless for a long moment, his face turning a little red.

"When you have time, you should lend me that book so I can study it."

Having said that, Secretary Song finally recovered the composure befitting his role as the First Secretary.

"Comrade An Ning, I was just afraid you’d be too embarrassed to eat breakfast, so I asked a couple of extra questions."

Secretary Song changed his conversational strategy to one of honesty, which ran completely counter to his usual secretarial habit of talking in circles.

An Ning furrowed her brow and asked, confused, "Why would I be embarrassed to eat breakfast? Eating when you’re hungry and drinking when you’re thirsty are basic human instincts."

"Secretary Song, time is short and we have a lot to do. I’ll go on ahead."

Leaving Secretary Song to stare at her carefree back, An Ning quickly disappeared down the street.

It took Secretary Song a full three minutes to process that before he finally chased after her.

’I need to be even more direct.’

He had met many people, and he had met direct people, but this was the first time he’d ever met someone as straightforward as An Ning.

Secretary Song jogged to catch up.

Up ahead, An Ning had already reached the main gate of the machinery factory. The seven technicians from yesterday were there, each holding a large bun and munching away.

"Mmph, she’s here."

"Hurry up and eat!"

The seven of them, all in uniform, stood in the morning sun at the factory gate, each one gobbling down their large bun more frantically than the last.

The workers arriving for their shifts all stopped to watch for a while, wondering if a bun-eating contest was being held today.

A few people even joined in at the gate with the buns they were holding.

But just as they took a couple of bites, the seven technicians at the front broke into a run, stuffing the rest of their buns into their mouths.

A girl with a delicate and well-behaved face, whose temperament didn’t match her appearance, walked out of the morning light.

"Good morning. I had buns for breakfast too."

"They were pretty good."

The good breakfast seemed to have made An Ning more talkative.

She walked in front while the seven men flanked her, pulling out small notebooks and pens from their pockets in a single, synchronized motion.

The Q&A session began.

It had already started before An Ning even entered the machinery factory.

The people at the gate who had gotten caught up in the bun-eating hadn’t even finished when the old man at the gate startled them.

"Hey, you, eating the bun! You’re going to be late! Are you coming in or not?"

"I’m coming!"

The bun-eater rushed into the factory at the last second and went to work, still dazed.

Meanwhile, An Ning stood in the machinery factory’s courtyard with the seven designers, engaged in a back-and-forth Q&A.

When Secretary Song arrived, out of breath from running, he was sweating profusely despite the cold winter day. The inside of his shirt was already soaked.

’How on earth does she do it? How can she walk so fast!’

Secretary Song caught his breath and led the group to the room prepared for them.

The eight of them, An Ning included, didn’t stop their discussion for a moment, from the walk there to entering the room.

As his breathing gradually steadied, Secretary Song watched from the doorway for a while. Although he couldn’t understand much of what they were saying, it left him deeply impressed.

Secretary Song closed the door, prepared water and tea for the group, and then left them undisturbed.

At noon, Secretary Song came to call them for lunch, but no one was willing to move.

In the end, Secretary Song brought the food to them, and they all ate inside the room.

An Ning didn’t mind where she ate at all; as long as she got full, it was fine.

However, she didn’t eat much of the lunch. This was partly because she had eaten so much for breakfast, and partly because her taste buds needed a break.

But in Secretary Song’s eyes, this just looked like she was too embarrassed to eat.

From noon until evening, An Ning talked nonstop, drinking at least a full thermos of water.

After it was completely dark, the day’s Q&A session finally came to an end.

An Ning walked out of the room, her stomach spasming. She was hungry.

"Which one of you is Comrade An Ning?"

In the darkness, An Ning looked up, searching for the source of the voice, and found an old man standing under a streetlight.

’Isn’t that the old man from the gate?’

"I’m An Ning."

An Ning walked over to the old man, who handed her a bag.

"Your brother had this sent over. He didn’t know how much longer you’d be and was worried you’d get hungry."

The familiar bag, the familiar contents, and the even more familiar aroma.

"Thank you."

"Heh heh, don’t mention it. No need for thanks. Take it."

The old man turned and left.

Holding the bag of food, An Ning really wanted to just sit on the ground and start eating.

However, she had to wait a little longer.

An Ning turned to look at the seven technicians and the waiting Secretary Song by the door.

"I’m not going to dinner. See you tomorrow."

With that, An Ning took off running, ignoring Secretary Song even as he called out to her from behind.

Behind her, Secretary Song thought about the several hearty dishes he had arranged for dinner, only for the guest of honor to leave.

He felt that An Ning must be the bane of his professional career. Otherwise, why was everything going so disastrously!

An Ning couldn’t care less what Secretary Song was thinking. She ran all the way back to the guesthouse from yesterday.

She bounded up the stairs, washed her hands, and shut the door all in one smooth motion.

When she sat down, her heart was filled with anticipation.

This time, there were four food containers.

The same setup: a glass water bottle and an insulated pouch.

The four food containers were opened, and an aroma different from the morning’s instantly conquered An Ning’s taste buds.

’Jiang Xia is pretty good at this whole brother thing.’