People who have been to Xinjiang Wulukosa know that the local soil is severely salinized.
When Xinjiang was liberated initially, hordes of military agricultural corps sward in by truckloads.
The older generation of Uighur people still rember those young n in dark green military uniforms specifically choosing those vast and even wastelands. Co spring, they dug wells to divert the ltwater from the Southern Tian Shan to water the saline-alkali soil to reduce its alkalinity.
Subsequently, they planted fields of rapeseed to improve the soil, after sumr arrived, rows of rapeseed were cut down uniformly by reaping machines, and then oil sunflowers were planted as green manure.
Under the sun, the salt in the soil surfaced like dandruff, and people scraped it away.
It took an entire generation of various green manures, animal manures, and straw, and only when those dark green uniforms had faded to gray-green, and even gray.
Only then did the land truly beco cultivable land, capable of reproduction and endless striving; the industrious locals then planted cotton, grapes, and other cash crops on the improved land.
The complete cooperation of that era and the seamless relationship between ethnic groups are no longer seen in today’s Ulucosa Town.
In the fragnted cotton fields of a few acres, rows of drooping cotton plants, with pitifully only a few fist-sized cotton peaches hanging on the branches, appeared from afar like an orphaned, snot-nosed, uncared-for waif.
The recent drought, with its long-absent rainfall, had the town’s cotton farrs, especially the poor farr Zhou Qizheng, very anxious.
Regarding the term "poor farr," which should have disappeared after the liberation, Zhou Qizheng can only helplessly endure.
Almost every afternoon, he would leave his house, carrying buckets of water back and forth between cotton fields. Cotton is not a crop that loves water, but it cannot be completely dry either; the abundant sunlight of sumr is the critical ti for cotton boll formation.
"What exactly is wrong? I’ve watered and fertilized, so why can’t good cotton grow?" Cotton farr Zhou Qizheng crouched on the ridge, his fingers threading through his hair, making it a ss.
The down-and-out cotton farr Zhou Qizheng from Ulucosa Town has a square face and is moderately built but sturdy, and by his gait, one could vaguely recognize him as a retired soldier.
After graduating from high school, he joined the Xinjiang military agricultural corps with a burning passion. After five years of service, he married a local Uighur woman, settled down, and laid down roots in Uluqosa.
Although the last group of supporting old soldiers warned him when they left, reminding Uluqosa belonged to the Uighur people, and without the military corps, it would be difficult for a Han retired soldier to survive.
At that ti, the talented land-reclair Zhou Qizheng was a disbeliever. He believed only in "prosperity through hard work," convinced that given land, no matter how saline or sandy, he could transform it into productive land.
His scenario was like that of other Han leaving Ulucosa, one after another.
His daughter Pali Dan was born, but his wife Guli Azha contracted a chronic disease due to carelessness during childbirth. His retirent money ran out, and he couldn’t find a proper job. After much thought, he decided to farm cotton and went to the mayor to sign the lease for three acres.
When Zhou Qizheng requested those three acres, the entire people of Uluqosa laughed at him. He chose the most barren plots in the town, sheer sandy soil.
Sandy soil was the best for cotton cultivation, a Yu surna expert in the corps had told Zhou Qizheng before leaving. Zhou Qizheng kept this advice closely in his heart. However, since he leased the land for cotton farming, five years have gone by, and each year, the quality of his cotton bolls was the worst.
During the cotton-picking season, the local Uighur’s cotton fields all needed extra hands for harvesting, but his cotton field could be handpicked by him alone.
His sensible daughter Pali Dan would also secretly go to others’ cotton fields to help pick cotton. Thinking of his daughter, who was shorter than a cotton plant, facing the blazing sun, tilting her face up and tiptoeing to reach for the cotton bolls, Zhou Qizheng felt like slapping himself.
The thought of leaving Uluqosa to seek a livelihood elsewhere had surfaced more than once in Zhou Qizheng’s mind, but then thinking of his wife Guli Azha’s health, he hesitated again.
"Dad," the voice of his daughter Pali Dan floated over from the other end of the ridge. Zhou Qizheng, hearing the call, hurriedly stood up.
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