Traveling Through Those Years Of Farming (Quick Transmigration) - Chapter 8

Squad Leader Xu, whose full name is Xu Hua, is a native of this province and has been in the army for two years. A man of his word, Xu Hua reports the situation to the company commander the day he returns. The very next day, he arranges to take Baobao to the military hospital for a physical examination, driving the army’s car himself.

Given the child’s young age, Xu Hua also invites her mother, Xu Panhao, to accompany them.

Since the matter involves the military, the village captain readily approves leave for Xu Panhao and issues her a certificate.

Although Xu Panhao is typically bold and straightforward, she becomes noticeably reserved upon boarding the military vehicle. As a rural woman with no formal education and little worldly experience, she instinctively respects and fears soldiers, especially those carrying guns.

When they arrive at the heavily guarded military camp and step into the bustling military hospital, she is so nervous that her gait turns awkward, walking with her hands and feet almost in sync.

“This hospital is enormous!”

The largest medical facility Xu Panhao has ever visited is the commune’s health station, about five times the size of the station in her production team. She assumes the military hospital won’t be much larger than that. However, the hospital before her has two floors and spans an area far larger than the commune’s primary school.

Soldiers in uniform and neatly dressed military family members hurry through its halls, and the cement floors are sturdier and cleaner than the walls of her home.

In comparison, the commune health station, which she once found impressive, seems like a thatched hut next to this blue-brick structure.

Before leaving home, Xu Panhao carefully dresses in her best clothes and dons a pair of cloth shoes she made herself two years ago. Yet, even with her meticulous preparations, she feels shabby and out of place in the hospital lobby.

Nearby, a well-dressed woman in a Lenin suit holds the hand of a little girl. The girl, no older than five or six, wears a white shirt and a woolen suspender skirt, an outfit made of expensive fabric. Her black leather shoes shine brightly, and her ensemble looks far finer than anything sold at the county’s supply and marketing cooperative.

The sight leaves a deep impression on Xu Panhao.

Her world is small, and her perspective narrow. Though she has always known there are families better off than hers, she takes pride in the fact that, despite being widowed, she and her mother-in-law have raised their children well. In her village, no girl is better cared for than her daughter.

Yet now, the little girl’s clothing alone shatters her sense of pride. It dawns on her that her achievements only seem significant when compared to the limited circumstances of her production team.

Xu Panhao has always wanted to compensate for the absence of her daughter’s father by giving her the best life possible. She longs for her daughter to wear beautiful clothes and shoes, to walk confidently in a crowd like a proud little swan.

But reality weighs heavily on her. She is just a rural woman who has knitted her daughter a sweater using wool yarn from her father-in-law’s martyr subsidy—a far cry from providing such luxuries.

“Sister Xu, the doctor is already waiting. Let’s take the child for the check-up.”

On the way to the hospital, Xu Hua learns her name, and their shared surname creates a sense of familiarity. His warm demeanor helps ease the tension.

Xu Hua leads them to a doctor he arranges beforehand.

The military hospital has better equipment than most facilities, but medical conditions in this era are still relatively underdeveloped. Baobao’s physical examination involves no advanced instruments; instead, experienced Chinese medicine practitioners take her pulse, press specific acupuncture points, and ask about her general feelings.

The examination doesn’t end there. Xu Hua then brings Baobao to the military base, where they test her grip and punching strength.

Some of Xu Hua’s colleagues and superiors come to witness the tests, curious to see the strength of this young girl.

For an average adult male, a grip strength of 50 kilograms is considered impressive.

When Baobao is tested, her grip strength reaches a staggering 300 kilograms in both hands—completely beyond ordinary expectations.

Her punching strength is even more astonishing. A strong man might achieve a punching force of 100 kilograms, with systematic training potentially increasing this. However, Baobao’s punching strength measures an incredible 800 kilograms.

Many have doubted Xu Hua’s earlier claim that Baobao killed a wild boar with a single punch. After seeing these results, their skepticism evaporates.

What shocks them the most is her age—just three years old. No one can predict how much stronger she might become as she grows.

The base’s leadership asks Xu Hua to take Baobao and her mother on a tour of the camp while they hold a brief meeting to discuss whether this extraordinary child should remain under their observation.

“This child’s strength is monstrous, but her physical stamina clearly doesn’t match her power…” The company commander frowns as he reviews the results of Baobao’s physical examination.

Baobao is born prematurely and suffers severe malnutrition during infancy. Although her living standards improve slightly in recent years due to the subsidies from her grandfather’s martyrdom, she is still significantly lacking in calcium and vitamins. The doctors report that her intestinal and cardiopulmonary functions are fragile, and her bone density is below average compared to other children her age.

In short, her body is far from meeting the requirements for high-intensity training. Even with her extraordinary strength, she remains fragile—a shell with immense power but vulnerable at its core.

This isn’t a matter of brute strength alone. Modern warfare has shifted to an era of hot weapons, where raw physical power is less critical. Even in the days of cold weapons, mere strength wouldn’t guarantee victory. Agility, reaction speed, and combat experience are essential to survival.

Baobao has none of these. Her lack of training makes her reflexes inadequate, her body lacks flexibility, and her inexperience means she can’t anticipate or predict an opponent’s moves. An experienced, agile soldier can easily evade her attacks and subdue her.

“This child is an excellent candidate,” one officer says, breaking the silence. “Her weakness is due to her premature birth and malnutrition. If the army nurtures her for a few years, won’t she grow strong?”

Another officer, the chief of staff, nods in agreement. He is eager to see Baobao’s potential realized. “She has so much raw talent. If we train her properly, she could become an exceptional soldier. Even if hand-to-hand combat isn’t crucial on the battlefield, she could shine in inter-regional military competitions. Imagine her as our ace representative in individual matches—our region would undoubtedly stand out, and the increased funding could significantly improve conditions for all soldiers.”

The officers consider the practical benefits. Poor military funding means soldiers train hard daily but often lack proper nutrition. Many retire with chronic injuries or depleted physical strength. The funding from competition victories could provide better food and resources for everyone.

One officer adds another point in Baobao’s favor: “And don’t forget her background. Her grandfather is a martyr, and her father was a village cadre who sacrificed his life protecting others. Her family history aligns perfectly with the ideals we want to promote—she’s the child of a martyr and from a family of poor farmers. In the current climate, where one’s ancestry matters, she’s practically a model candidate.”

The officers agree that Baobao is a rare gem worth investing in. Her family background and raw potential make her a unique opportunity.

When Xu Panhao leaves the base with Baobao that day, she carries a large snakeskin bag filled with cloth, cotton, milk, and egg coupons. These are items she has been desperately trying to obtain for years. With these resources, she can provide proper nutrition for her daughter, something she has struggled to achieve.

Initially, Xu Panhao hesitates to send her daughter to the barracks, fearing the hardships Baobao might face. However, the army’s generous offer of milk, eggs, and other supplements is too tempting to resist. She wants her daughter to have a healthy body and a better future.

Two weeks later, the army officially announces its decision. Baobao will receive monthly provisions: 10 kilograms of fine grains, 30 eggs, 8 kilograms of milk coupons, as well as sugar, meat, and dried fruit coupons. She will undergo quarterly physical examinations, and her rations will be adjusted according to the doctors’ advice. In return, once Baobao’s health improves, she will begin high-intensity military training.

These subsidies exceed what even ordinary soldiers receive, highlighting how much the army values Baobao’s potential. They are willing to make an exception for a three-year-old girl whose future is still uncertain.

Thanks to her unique strength, Baobao gains semi-official status with the army. This arrangement not only provides for her family but also solves their financial struggles.

Five Years Later

“127 minus 31… the ones place: 7 minus 1 equals 6. The tens place: 2 isn’t enough to subtract from 3, so borrow from the hundreds place…”

Baobao glares at the second-grade three-digit subtraction problem in frustration. The veins on her forehead twitch as she resists the urge to slam the math book shut. She can’t fathom why a first-grade student like herself has to teach arithmetic to her third-grade brother using second-grade problems.

Five years have passed. The once-skinny and frail little girl has grown taller and healthier. Although she still looks smaller than her peers, her delicate and obedient demeanor evokes a natural desire in others to care for her.

“Sister, what if the hundreds don’t want to lend it?” Zhen Baoli asks in a very small voice.

“It has to lend it whether it wants to or not!”

Baobao snaps a wooden stick as thick as her wrist with her bare hands, fashioning it into a teaching pointer. She glares at her poor student brother with a fierce expression.

She finally understands why parents often go manic after teaching their children for a few days, yelling and losing their tempers.

“Oh.”

Zhen Baoli shrinks back, feeling sorry for that poor number 1. What kind of number is forced to lend something against its will? That number must be really scary—just like his little sister.

“And this question! Mom buys a box of apples with two layers, 12 apples in each. She gives one to big brother, and Grandma and little sister share one. So tell me, how do you come up with the answer that 20 apples are left?”

Baobao sets the stick down, marches to the firewood pile, and picks out a sturdy one. Every time she gets angry, she breaks sticks into pieces—an efficient way to save time chopping wood later.

“It’s 20, right? I ate one. You and Grandma can’t possibly share half an apple each! And Mom—we each have to eat one!” Zhen Baoli counts on his fingers, then proudly shows her all ten fingers, lifting both feet to add his toes to the count.

Despite how absurd the answer is, Baobao can’t help but feel moved. This time, she doesn’t break the stick to scare her silly brother.

“Just follow the question’s instructions. Don’t think about how it works in real life.” Baobao sighs and continues to patiently teach him.

Ever since she starts tutoring him, Baobao realizes that her brother is a little… slow. When he starts school, this feeling becomes even more pronounced.

Zhen Baoli’s learning efficiency is painfully low. Despite working hard, he struggles to grasp basic concepts and quickly forgets whatever he manages to learn. Reciting long passages is particularly challenging for him—he often condenses entire paragraphs into short, choppy phrases, leaving out most of the details.

Baobao has no choice but to reveal her “precocious” side, stepping in to tutor her brother one-on-one. Yet the results are discouraging. Now that Baoli is in third grade, she’s still helping him consolidate second-grade material. If not for the relaxed standards of primary education in this era, he might have been held back already.

She even takes him to the military hospital for a checkup. Unfortunately, due to the limitations of medical technology, the results only indicate that Zhen Baoli’s intellectual development is slower than average, with some cognitive impairments. The doctors can’t provide a treatment plan or even a definitive answer about whether his condition might improve.

Thankfully, while his IQ is below average, it doesn’t affect his ability to live a normal life. For rural families, intellectual ability isn’t as crucial—strength and the capacity for hard work matter far more.

Liu Sanmei and Xu Panhao are heartbroken for a while after getting the results but soon start thinking about the boy’s future.

It’s clear he can’t rely on academics. But Xu Panhao refuses to resign herself to seeing her son toil in the fields forever. She dotes more on her daughter, but she loves her son dearly too—she wants both her children to have good lives.

But neither she nor Liu Sanmei mentions these thoughts to the children.

Xu Panhao resolves that, no matter what, her son will at least finish elementary school. After all, even the roughest farmers attend literacy classes—her son can’t fall behind them.

“Sister, you’re so smart. You know all the answers.”

Don’t let Zhen Baoli’s slow learning fool you—sometimes, he has a surprisingly sharp, almost animal-like intuition.

For example, when Baobao’s patience is wearing thin and she’s about to break a stick in frustration, Baoli grins, throws his arms around her, and nuzzles her cheek with his head.

“I’m the luckiest brother in the world to have the smartest, most powerful sister!”

With those words, Baobao’s anger melts away.

“It’d be nice if you were this clever when coaxing Grandma and Mama,” she says, unable to keep a smile from creeping onto her face. She spreads her hands in mock helplessness, looking at her silly brother.

Baoli chuckles. Grandma and Mama never break sticks in front of him just to make a point. And they certainly don’t glare at him the way his sister does.

Of course, he’d never say that out loud to her.

“Baobao! I’m here to pick you up!”

Outside the yard, Xu Hua’s voice calls out. Today is the scheduled quarterly inspection and testing day.

“Coming!” Baobao sets down her stick and walks out, her face shy but lit with a gentle smile as she greets Uncle Xu on the truck.

She can’t help but feel a sense of relief.
Finally, she has somewhere to unleash her pent-up strength.