Dupu slept for more than ten hours in a sleep, and when he woke up, it was already 9:40 in the morning.

Outside the slightly narrow window, a ray of sun shone in.

The room he was in was no more than ten square meters. In addition to the single wooden bed where he slept, there was also a desk, a chair, and an old-fashioned wardrobe.

The furniture is made roughly without paint, and the wood has been painted with oil, black and shiny by time.

But the house was clean and clean and dusty. There was a small glass bottle on the eaves of the window, and a blooming willow orchid was inserted into the bottle.

When you push the door, you will see a large yard. The yard is surrounded by a half-person-high wooden fence.

The buildings on both sides of a long row of bungalows seemed to be newly built for a few years. The tall exterior walls were painted white and a large "ku" character was written in red paint on it.

On the other side is a "tool room". An old man with a big straw hat sits against the wall, holding a long cigarette pole in his mouth. When he sees Dupu, he squints at him.

There is a shed-style livestock block next to the tool room, and there are several donkeys "sneezing" in their mouths.

There is a large vegetable field in front of the left side of the large yard, and there is a small orchard next to it, with apple trees, peach trees, apricot trees, sand jujube trees, etc.

An old black shepherd dog lay lazily beside the yard gate. Seeing Dupu, he raised his head and ears vigilantly, and quickly returned to his original state.

His father Du Kui came out of the kitchen and glanced at him, and said in a muffled voice, "Go and wash your face quickly, come and have breakfast when you're done."

Du Kui is forty-six years old this year, but looks like a sixty-year-old man. His back is slightly slapped, his face should be shaved, he is wearing a inferior "Adi" navy blue T-shirt, wrinkled sports trousers, and a pair of "Naker" shoes on his feet.

Dupu knew his father, he looked cold and hard, and didn't talk much, and had few gentle words to him since he was a child. He was a good father who didn't know or said "disdained" to express his emotions.

"I'll go to the cotton field first, you can rest..." My father walked out of the kitchen, rode a dilapidated electric car, and then turned around and explained: "You must feel bored, and I'll go to our contracted field later."

"Good! Don't you eat something together?" Dupu chased after him while brushing his teeth, "Dad! Where is our contracted land?"

Du’s father didn’t turn back and pointed to the left of the gate, “Walking out and turning left, walking along the dirt road for more than ten minutes, the sign reads “Du 113 Cotton Field” which is our family.”

After breakfast, I chatted with Mr. Toheti, who was guarding the door, and put on a few cigarettes. I understood the current difficulties of my own contracted land.

Du’s father and mother joined the picking army nine years ago. Unlike other short-term workers, the couple couldn’t bear to leave the long-distance fare for the round trip, so they took root. They only returned to their hometown once a few years, once in the Dupu Middle School entrance examination and the other was the college entrance examination.

Except for picking cotton for 9 or 10 months every year, I work as a construction worker, private ranch care for livestock, etc.

Four or five years later, the couple, who had a small savings, jointly contracted 500 acres of cotton fields in Mutun with two families in the same village. Among them were Yang Bingzhao and Du Guohai's family of three.

At that time, the Du family invested more than 400,000 yuan and contracted more than 150 acres of land. Yang Bingzhao also had 150 acres, and Du Guohai's family had the largest contract, with 200 acres.

After contracting the cotton fields, the Du family earned at least 70,000 or 80,000 yuan a year, and at most 100,000 yuan.

Later, land transfer fees and labor costs continued to rise, and Yang Bingzhao did not want to make any hard money, so he was the first to withdraw his shares and go to the county to do electrical appliance business.

Yang Bingzhao's 150 acres of contracted land were transferred to Du Kui.

Two years later, Du Dahai's son was going to Wucheng to do logistics business, so he transferred the last 200 acres of cotton fields to Du Kui.

He took over 500 acres of cotton land at once and took out all the savings of Du Kui and his wife.

Last year, the money earned by 500 acres of cotton fields was not as good as before.

There are large and medium-sized cotton fields around the corner, thousands of acres and thousands of acres of acres, and almost all of them are equipped with machine-picking equipment, and labor costs are greatly reduced.

The Du family is barely equipped with more than a dozen handheld cotton pickers, and at the same time, they have to hire a small number of cotton pickers, which has high labor costs.

In addition, due to the low-temperature hail this year, cotton seedlings rotted seeds, sprouts, roots and cotton bolls are not fully developed, and diseases and pests and diseases greatly affect cotton yield and quality.

In the words of Mr. Tuoheti, it is a blessing to have a guaranteed harvest this year, and there is a high probability of losing money.

Once you lose money, it will have a greater impact on the sowing of next spring.

Agricultural funds, seed funds, material reserves, etc. must be reduced.

Vicious cycle.

Dupu was anxious and felt deeply that he could not help.

Stepping onto an old mountain bike in the yard and heading towards the contracted land of your home.

There are endless cotton fields on both sides of the dirt road.

Each cotton tree has lush branches and leaves, and each cotton tree has a lot of flower bells, looking full of vitality.

In less than ten minutes, Dupu finally saw a large wooden sign "Du 113 Cotton Field" next to the road.

Even if he, a person who doesn't understand cotton, could tell at a glance that the cotton plant in the No. 113 cotton field is like a sick person, listless, obviously worse than the lively cotton field in front.

He got out of the car and squatted to check.

Flower bells also bear, but the upper branches of the cotton plant in Du113 field are large and small in leaves, with light colors. Some branches only have flower buds on the top, and the leaves have not yet been expanded, so there are much fewer flower bells.

His heart sank.

A middle-aged woman carrying a pesticide barrel came on the way. He asked politely: "Hello Auntie! I'll delay you for a few minutes, please ask me."

The aunt is in her forties, wearing a sun hat and a veil, with her arms and arm covers to protect her sun, and she is fucking Nanhe accent, "You are Miss Xiaomei's son, right?"

"Do you know my mom?"

"I'm working at your house!"

"Oh! I would like to ask, the impact of the low temperature disaster should be the same for everyone. Why is the difference between the cotton in other houses in front and our house..."

"I'm not very clear..." The aunt hesitated for a while, "I heard someone say that the cotton seeds you buy are worth more than ten or twenty yuan per kilogram. The cotton seeds you buy are worth fifty or sixty kilograms, and even eighty or ninety yuan per kilograms..."

Dupu really wanted to ask why my family didn't buy better-quality cotton seeds? When he said that, he shrank back.

He remembered that after the Spring Festival, it was the material preparation period before the spring sowing. He had just planned to start looking for a job, so he asked his family for money several times. The clothing fee was only 5,000 or 6,000 yuan. During the Spring Festival, he also went to the southern coastal area for five or six days...

"I'll go and do it first. By the way, your mother is busy in the other side of the field, and she's busy injecting pesticides..."

"Thank you aunt!"

Dupu squatted down with guilt and stared at the depressed cotton plant in a daze.

I don’t know if it was his illusion, but he actually felt the pleas of several cotton branches that were closest to him!
Chapter completed!