I See through Everything

Chapter 97: Chapter 86: Respect the Fate of Others

Back in his hometown of Shanmei, he had heard plenty of stories about the sale of homestead land. Many city dwellers, unfamiliar with rural conditions, would come to the countryside to buy homestead plots only to fall prey to unscrupulous brokers running under-the-table operations. They were sold forged land deeds, or found that the same plot had been sold to multiple buyers, or discovered the land was already occupied by other villagers’ fruit trees, simple structures, or even graves.

In such situations, it was extremely difficult to investigate and gather evidence to sue the broker.

Therefore, if one wanted to buy rural homestead land, it was best to get the relevant certification from the local village committee, post a notice on the local bulletin board for a period of time, and send people to clear the land—all without paying the full amount right away.

Usually, as soon as you started clearing the land, any parties with a stake in it would quickly come forward if there was a real problem.

At that point, you should immediately have the broker and the seller handle it. If they couldn’t resolve the issue, you should abandon any false hopes and demand an immediate refund.

After all, if even local sharks like the broker and the seller couldn’t handle it, an outsider like you almost certainly couldn’t either. That kind of homestead land was undoubtedly entangled in many problems and disputes among the local villagers.

In other words, you had to be willing to spend one or two thousand yuan upfront to test the waters.

You couldn’t just see a broker holding a land deed, pointing to a plot of land, assume there were no problems, and then buy it on a whim.

Rural land often looks like nothing more than a patch of overgrown wasteland, but who knows, there might be a few large jars of pickled vegetables buried underground.

Jiang Miao’s request to get certification from the local village committee was just a precaution. He knew the old man wasn’t lying, but that didn’t mean the homestead deed was genuine.

After all, according to what Zheng Siwen had told him, the old man wasn’t a local but a resident of Yuecheng.

They chatted for a while.

Shang Yingze finished boiling the water and brewed a pot of tea.

The two parties then negotiated for over an hour, finally settling on a total transfer price of 6 million. The annual contract rent would be paid to the village committee, typically in one yearly installment.

Having agreed on the price, Jiang Miao didn’t sign the contract immediately. Instead, he had Shang Yingze lead them to inspect the durian trees on the back hill.

After all, these durian trees were the very reason Jiang Miao wanted to buy this farm.

The durian trees were all planted on the hillside, and the ground beneath them was overgrown with weeds.

Jiang Miao carefully inspected each and every durian tree.

The results were fairly good. At least the seller hadn’t lied; the variety and age of the durian trees matched his description. The only issue was that the cultivation techniques were rather average.

More than half of the durian trees were already bearing fruit, but the fruits were on the small side and few in number.

In China, due to the climate, durians generally don’t start to ripen until August.

In other words, it was currently mid-June, meaning the fruits on these trees were only about a month and a half away from being ripe. Their size wouldn’t increase much more.

And the Monthong durians before him were only about palm-sized, with many trees bearing just a few fruits each.

Generally speaking, depending on fertilizer, management, planting density, and climate, a single durian tree can yield about 50 to 100 fruits, with the average being around 75.

Durian orchards that prioritize quality will thin the fruit down to about 50 per tree.

Of course, Jiang Miao was mentally prepared for the state of these trees. The old man who managed the farm had been recuperating for over half a year and hadn’t tended to the trees in that time, so a good harvest was naturally out of the question.

However, Jiang Miao’s goal wasn’t the fruit, but rather the branches from these old, fruit-bearing durian trees.

It’s important to understand that growing a durian tree from seed takes about 15 years before it can bear fruit. Even with techniques like supplemental fertilization and grafting, this period can only be compressed to about four years.

The only exception is if the rootstock used for grafting is also a mature tree and the grafted parts are highly compatible; only then might it bear fruit the following year.

This was also one of the reasons Jiang Miao was developing his genetically modified grafting technology: to enable grafted durians to bear fruit the following year, thus ensuring growers could quickly recoup their costs.

After inspecting the durian trees on the hillside, Jiang Miao discovered a few more interesting findings.

The first was that the genetic sequences of four durian trees contained cold-resistance-related gene fragments.

He quickly arrived at a possible explanation regarding the origin of these durian saplings. China had started importing durians in small batches long ago. The saplings on this farm likely weren’t imported directly from Siam or Malaysia, but were instead second or third-generation specimens purchased from other initial durian plantations in Qiongzhou.

After decades of cultivation to adapt to the local climate, it was plausible for second and third-generation durian trees to undergo genetic mutation.

But this kind of mutation was too difficult for ordinary farms and agricultural companies to identify. Even professional agricultural research institutions might not notice it. Only someone like Jiang Miao could spot the hidden marvel.

The second finding was that there were issues with the variety of 173 of the Monthong durian trees. He estimated that after two or three generations of crossbreeding by local farms and agricultural companies, these trees could no longer truly be considered traditional Monthongs.

Although the vast majority of these trees, labeled as the Monthong variety, had performed disappointingly, life never fails to produce miracles.

The genetic sequences of six of the crossbred Monthong trees showed exceptional data on his analysis panel, performing well in terms of fruit shape, sweetness, aroma, and flesh yield.

The one he had the highest hopes for also possessed an extremely strong cold-resistance gene.

Although he could use genetic modification technology to have a genetically modified kapok tree provide shelter for old durian branches, that cold resistance was ultimately conferred by the kapok tree, not an inherent trait of the durian branch itself.

If the durian tree itself already possessed good cold resistance, then after being grafted onto a genetically modified kapok tree, this resistance would be further enhanced. At that point, it might be possible to extend the cultivation latitude from near the Tropic of Cancer northward by another degree or two.

This discovery was a pleasant surprise.

His third finding was that these durian trees had a high demand for certain trace elements. He realized he could even boost their fruiting ability, the sweetness and flavor of the fruit, and—most importantly—their resistance to cold and disease by supplementing specific nutrients.

In truth, this was perfectly normal.

Humans haven’t even fully understood their own bodies, let alone other species.

A fruit like the durian—native to Southeast Asia, extremely particular about its climate, and not amenable to large-scale mechanization—was not something breeding companies in Europe and America would generally invest in for in-depth research.

Ultimately, the research efforts from Southeast Asian nations alone were quite limited.