Chapter Three: A Nature Reserve of Hidden Wonders
“Teacher Zhuang, please review it carefully before signing.”
The voice beside him pulled Zhuang Lin back from his thoughts. Although he had already glanced through parts of the contract, it was still necessary to look it over again.
As for the section labeled “Actor Requirements,” Zhuang Lin quickly skimmed through it and moved on, knowing that specialists would provide guidance later.
The confidentiality agreement was the more significant part for Zhuang Lin.
Previously, he had signed a simple non-disclosure agreement that forbade revealing any information, but today he was seeing the full extent of the “Project Po-Wang” confidentiality agreement.
The agreement spanned five pages and contained a great deal of content.
In summary, all participants were prohibited from disclosing any information about the project in any form, both before and after its execution.
The agreement’s duration extended for sixty years.
Before the project began, all participants’ household registration details would be completely erased; academic records, employment history, and all other personal files would be reset to zero.
Of course, all these records would be preserved or backed up by Party A, the executing party of the project.
When Zhuang Lin read this, his gaze paused slightly.
Even with his limited understanding of Liu Shihao, he knew that since it was written in such a manner, Liu Shihao was likely capable of truly making it happen.
In an era when information technology was underdeveloped, computers were not widespread, and paper documents dominated—with a considerable degree of uniqueness—
Most personal information was stored locally, with no convenience of networked inquiries.
To give an imperfect but truthful example: if some unscrupulous men or women didn’t mind the hassle, they could marry multiple times in different parts of the country and might not be discovered for years or even decades until records began to merge.
In other words, during the project’s implementation, all participants were genuine “ghosts” without official status!
In this situation, Zhuang Lin smiled wryly and thought to himself: isn’t everyone in the same boat as me?
He continued reading downwards. Indeed, after the project concluded—success or failure—Party A would provide everyone with new documentation to support a normal life.
These documents could be the original identities or others, but returning to their hometowns to live was discouraged.
Seeing this, Zhuang Lin felt somewhat reassured. If others could do it, then his ghost status would be resolved naturally as well.
There was no need for hesitation, nor to wait for others to ask or confirm anything. Zhuang Lin directly signed his name on both the contract and the confidentiality agreement.
Regardless of the thoughts or reactions of those inside the room, the few village representatives outside were beaming with joy at this moment.
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Around nine o’clock one morning, on a dirt road winding through the mountains, a team of ox-drawn carts was making its way along the uneven path.
Each cart carried a substantial load—various utensils, tools, and mostly construction materials, including old wooden beams and bricks.
Zhuang Lin and Zhou Xianglin were among the group.
Though surrounded by greenery, the forest was deep, and the rugged mountain road, combined with the long journey and the mingling scents of livestock and human sweat, made the refined young assistants around Director Zhou somewhat uncomfortable, causing them to mutter quiet complaints from time to time.
What surprised Zhuang Lin was that the veteran director Zhou Xianglin, despite his age, remained energetic. Although perspiring heavily, he showed little sign of fatigue.
When Zhuang Lin glanced at him, Zhou Xianglin caught his eye, wiped his sweat with a towel draped over his shoulder, and smiled.
“Teacher Zhuang, you look so refined, but you’ve got quite a strong physique!”
“That’s from years of practice. Sometimes students skip classes, and when that happens, we have to take the mountain paths to persuade them. So I’ve walked these roads plenty of times. Besides, I don’t think I look all that refined, do I?”
Zhuang Lin replied honestly, jokingly cracking his knuckles.
An assistant nearby chuckled.
“I used to skip class too and had teachers chasing me home!”
Zhuang Lin smiled without changing expression, simply responding,
“The children here are different. When the principal and I persuade, it’s the parents we’re convincing.”
“Convincing the parents?”
The assistant asked with curiosity. Zhou Xianglin seemed thoughtful, while Zhuang Lin explained directly.
“The students want to come to school, but their parents won’t allow it—they need them to work at home. If we don’t go persuade them, those children might never return to class!”
Without waiting for further questions, Zhuang Lin continued, acknowledging the limitations of the times and the normal lack of understanding some had beyond their comfort zones.
“For mountain children, nothing changes their fate more than education. Parents don’t always understand that, and even when they do, they might change their minds. The principal and I know we can’t let the children drop out...”
Zhou Xianglin, being older, seemed to understand, while the assistant couldn’t help but ask,
“Does this happen often?”
Without hesitation, Zhuang Lin replied,
“Sometimes we have to do it once every three or five days, bringing rice and flour along; otherwise, it’s impossible to persuade them.”
Someone from behind quickened their pace, inserting a teasing remark,
“But Teacher Zhuang, there’s a saying that ‘greed is insatiable,’ and another that ‘harsh mountains breed cunning people.’ You bring rice and flour to persuade students? No wonder they often drop out. Once they taste the benefit, they keep asking for more...”
The comment was partly right but not entirely, unfairly painting the mountain people as villains without deeper understanding.
Zhuang Lin nodded in agreement but then shook his head.
“That’s partly true; I’ve thought the same. But after going with the principal more often, I changed my mind... I exchange sincerity for sincerity. Mountain folk aren’t ignorant, just less educated. If we truly care for them, they can feel it. Unless someone stirs trouble, it’s not as bleak as it seems!”
There was one thing Zhuang Lin didn’t say: he wasn’t someone easily manipulated and knew how to adapt—he could be kind or stern as needed.
The interjector laughed again.
“This mountain path really wears a person out! Teacher Zhuang, you must have endured a lot of hardship?”
Zhuang Lin gave him a faint, half-smile mixed with indifference.
“You know, those difficult mountain roads? The students walk them every day.”
The laughter around him immediately died down, but Zhuang Lin grinned.
“Smile, then, keep smiling. Let’s see who complains about being tired next!”
Yet one reaction surprised Zhuang Lin.
Zhou Xianglin, after waiting for Zhuang Lin to finish speaking, exclaimed with delight,
“Yes, yes! Teacher Zhuang, that’s exactly it! A teacher’s spirit lies in the transmission of knowledge and the dispelling of doubts. That’s the aura I want! Teacher Zhuang—or rather, Master Zhuang—you’re gifted!”
Zhou Xianglin’s eyes burned with enthusiasm.
“With that feeling, all you need is training in demeanor; your status will naturally shine through!”
“Uh... okay...”
Faced with Zhou’s gaze, Zhuang Lin could only nod awkwardly, while the others nearby burst out laughing.
The atmosphere as they moved forward was pleasant—filled with chatter and laughter, occasionally helping push carts stuck in the mud.
From dawn until about two in the afternoon, Zhuang Lin, Zhou Xianglin, and the others at the front of the convoy spotted a conspicuous warning sign.
It was newly erected, with fresh cement at its base.
The sign bore blue background and yellow traditional script:
“You are approaching the Shennongjia National Nature Reserve. To protect rare wildlife, entry without approval is strictly prohibited!
—National Department of Hunting Management, March, Year 380 of the New Calendar.”
Everyone, including Zhuang Lin, instinctively glanced at the sign as they passed, but none halted. Their destination lay deeper within.
Indeed, although this place differed greatly from Zhuang Lin’s former homeland in geography and history, it also bore the name Shennongjia.
Coincidentally, two years prior, the Liu family had collaborated with the Chinese National Academy of Natural Sciences to establish this national nature reserve.
Spanning 62,000 square kilometers, it was many times larger than the identically named reserve in Zhuang Lin’s original world.
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On the surface, the relocation of Muleng Primary School, the original mountain villages, and many similar communities within the reserve was simply to create a unified, large-scale protected area.
Liu Shihao’s motives, of course, went beyond contributing to the protection of China’s precious flora and fauna; his ultimate goal was to use the reserve as a cover for his son’s psychological treatment.
The project’s area and several surrounding mountain regions were officially designated as “Forestry Economic Experimental Zones” within the reserve, specially authorized by the Liu family.
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After another half-day of arduous travel, as they crested a mountain pass, Zhuang Lin and the others finally saw the destination of their caravan.
Everyone who had just crossed the pass, including Zhuang Lin, paused for a few seconds, momentarily stunned, gazing absentmindedly at the land ahead.
Beyond the pass, the mountains rose high and the forest deep, but in Zhuang Lin’s line of sight, descending diagonally was a thoroughly cultivated paradise.
Terraced fields layered one above another, dotted with vegetable gardens and orchards; a mountain stream flowed downward. Below, flat fields intersected with paths and irrigation channels dividing the land into neat plots.
In the distance, people were seen operating waterwheels to irrigate crops; others worked the fields. Under a favorable climate, green crops swayed with the mountain breeze, while scattered large trees stood like canopies among the fields...
They had known it was a crescent-shaped valley, but hadn’t expected it to be so vast. The expansive fields and multiple clustered settlements numbered four or five.
Buildings were arranged harmoniously—mostly completed, though some were still under construction.
Many ancient structures incorporated materials painstakingly dismantled and transported here from across the country, reconstructed one-to-one to blend the old and new naturally.
From afar, smoke rose from some dwellings, drifting upward and mingling with blooming mountain flowers in the pleasant climate, casting a hazy, dreamlike aura over the scene.
A perfect harmony of human artistry and nature’s marvels!
Zhuang Lin had thought some mountain villages he’d visited before were beautiful, but they were no match for this spectacle.
Of course, this was the work of a master set designer, one who spared no expense in site selection and planning—truly extraordinary!
The entire area looked as if painted into existence.
Truly, no expenses had been spared!
Even if the project ultimately failed, this place alone would serve as a remarkable spiritual sanctuary for Liu’s eldest son...
“I heard that when they first found this place, some areas didn’t even need modification—the fields were naturally flat, which saved a lot of effort. Otherwise, large machinery would have had a hard time getting in here!”
“Right, it hardly seems natural, yet you can’t help but marvel at nature’s wonders!”
The assistant chatted nearby, while Zhou Xianglin smiled at Zhuang Lin.
“Every time I come here, I feel refreshed in body and mind. The air in the reserve is excellent. This place is definitely the best. Old Liu even invited a Daoist master to set up formations here, said it could gather spiritual energy and help restore the soul. Quite a fuss, really...”
“That Daoist master must have been powerful?”
Zhuang Lin couldn’t help but ask. Zhou shook his head with a smile.
“I spoke with him once. He was just an old, rigid man who excelled at reading ancient texts, but I never saw any real skill. Just copying from old manuscripts. But Old Liu, as a big boss, really believed in superstition. Looking at it this way, he was partly responsible for his son’s illness!”
“If those masters were really capable, why didn’t they cure Hongyu’s illness?”
Zhuang Lin didn’t dare fabricate anything about Liu Shihao and could only smile.
Zhou Xianglin looked out over the valley and added,
“But having him set that up did add a lot of charm. If he hadn’t passed away soon after, I might have asked him to help with movie set designs...”
“What? He’s dead?”
Zhuang Lin was momentarily stunned. Zhou nodded.
“Old Liu was especially superstitious at times like this. He thought the valley caused the Daoist’s death and donated a large sum to the temple. That money was enough to make all those Taoist priests wealthy... You see how it goes...”
“He was over ninety years old. You can’t say much about his health. Even if he seemed strong and spirited, a small illness could take him down easily... Alright, enough talk. Don’t just stand there—let’s move on!”
The caravan resumed its forward movement, and Zhuang Lin, after a brief moment of daze, caught up once more.