This stretch of dirt mountain road was hard to travel, but it wasn’t long—just a little over ten kilometers. Yet, it took James Bolton a full hour to cover these ten kilometers. During that hour, James Bolton endured the numb ache in his backside from all the jolting, and his mind never stopped questioning his earlier impulsive decision: “Am I crazy or what? Why on earth did I insist on squeezing myself into this remote corner of the mountains? This damn road is really not meant for people.”

However, James Bolton’s complaints came to an abrupt halt after he rounded another bend in the road. He slammed on the brakes with all his might, bringing the car to a stop, then climbed out with a hint of excitement. Gazing at the distant scenery, he muttered to himself, “It was worth it, totally worth it! This is simply a paradise on earth.”

Before James Bolton lay a breathtakingly beautiful natural landscape. He was now halfway up a low mountain slope. Although not very high, the elevation difference still offered a wide, open view. At the foot of the mountain, not far below, stretched a vast expanse of green—vegetable plots and fields. The May greenery was lush and vibrant, brimming with life. As it was nearly noon, dozens of blue-brick, red-tile houses clustered at one corner of the green field were all sending up curling wisps of smoke, which not only brought vitality to this rural scene but also lent it a leisurely air.

Farther away was a brilliant golden line, and beyond that, an endless expanse of azure, deep blue, and navy. The golden strip was the beach, and the blue was the sea!

Amidst this green and blue, the place where the smoke rose was exactly where James Bolton had spent an hour struggling along the mountain road to reach—Haiwozi Village.

The vibrant green of the crops connected seamlessly with the lush trees covering the surrounding mountains on three sides, and together with the shimmering blue waves, this scene of mountains, fields, sea, and sky—where blue and green intertwined—was far beyond what the word “beautiful” could describe. No wonder James Bolton was so stunned by the exquisite view before him, almost unable to contain himself. After all, James Bolton had spent nearly thirty years of his life in the city. Although he had visited famous scenic spots like Jiuzhaigou and Zhangjiajie, those places, crowded with more people than trees, couldn’t compare to the freshness of this natural setting, nor did they have this tranquil atmosphere of rural life.

After thoroughly enjoying the bird’s-eye view, James Bolton couldn’t wait to jump back into the car and head toward Haiwozi Village.

……

Half an hour later, in the village committee office—a single-story house with the same red tiles and blue bricks.

“Young man, are you kidding? You want to contract land in our village?” The village secretary of Haiwozi, Jack Harper, looked at James Bolton sitting across from him with a face full of surprise.

Although Haiwozi Village was beautiful, it was, relatively speaking, a truly poor village! The reason for its poverty was simple—poor transportation.

By water, it took an hour by boat to reach the nearest town, and because the seabed was shallow, only small, shallow-draft boats could dock. By land, the only connection to the outside world was the winding, rugged mountain road that James Bolton had just traveled. Because of this isolation, while governments at all levels across the country had been desperately attracting investment and factories of all sizes had sprung up like mushrooms after rain over the past decade, Haiwozi Village remained completely neglected. After several business inspections, the village didn’t even have the courage to try to attract investors anymore. With such transportation, who would come? Even if a factory was built, how would you bring in the raw materials? How would you ship out the finished products?

So it was no wonder that Jack Harper, the old village secretary, thought he’d misheard when he first heard about James Bolton’s plan to contract land, but he couldn’t help feeling hopeful and eagerly asked again.

When James Bolton confirmed that the old secretary had heard correctly, Jack Harper became a bit excited and quickly pressed on: “No problem, no problem.” The old secretary agreed enthusiastically, then cautiously asked, “May I ask, boss, what kind of factory do you want to set up? And could your factory hire people from our village? Just tell me how many you need, and I’ll go spread the word.

Don’t worry, all our young men are hardworking and tough. Let me tell you, these days, all the young people in our village have gone out to work for others. Most of them have gone to Shenzhen, Huizhou, and Dongguan—not far from home—but who doesn’t miss home? Who really wants to leave?”

The old secretary’s enthusiasm was a bit overwhelming for James Bolton, who quickly cut him off: “Uh, Uncle Hai, I’m not here to set up a factory! I just like the scenery in your village and want to rent a few acres of land to tend myself. You see…”

Although his hopes for industrial revitalization in the village were dashed, the old secretary still patted his chest and agreed to James Bolton’s request. After all, most of the able-bodied laborers in the village had gone out to work, and those left behind were either a few so-called “good-for-nothings” who stayed home, or the elderly, women, and children. Every year, less and less land was being farmed, and there was plenty of idle land. Besides, even a little income was better than nothing—the contracting fee from James Bolton would be some income for Haiwozi Village, which had never had much revenue anyway.