Rent a Greenhouse in the Suburbs and Stay a Beijinger for Good

On the eighth day of the Lunar New Year, I received a box of Bletilla (Baiji) seedlings sent by a friend. I had nowhere to plant them, but a dermatology chief physician I have known for years, Dr. Li, had—after seeing me lease land for vegetables last year—also been unable to resist and rented a greenhouse in Fangshan District, Beijing, to grow vegetables. His place was quite large, so I suggested planting these Bletilla seedlings in his greenhouse.

Teacher Li agreed without hesitation, drove to my house, picked up my family of three, and took us to his greenhouse. Before setting off he told me: bring boxes to pack strawberries and vegetables to take home.

I brought a vegetable basket and several large tote bags. My wife said, rather embarrassed: "Are you going to rob Teacher Li?" Teacher Li's greenhouse has seven fen of land inside and six fen outside, totaling one mu and three fen—quite spacious. So he is far more lavish than I in growing vegetables and strawberries, and does not need to plant every spare inch as I do.

Last year, after I leased a small vegetable plot (actually only 30 square meters of usable area), Teacher Li eyed it enviously. A friend of his happened to know of greenhouses for rent in Fangshan District, so he went to inspect; at an annual rent of 5,000 yuan, he leased it immediately. The advantage of a greenhouse is that one can grow things year-round; after renting it, his family never lacked fresh vegetables.

Including him, my rural life has attracted four doctors to lease land for vegetables—among doctors' social circles, the most common people are doctors. I am a negligible little character, but those four are all famous Beijing physicians. We joke that this is called integrated Chinese-Western vegetable growing.

Currently the five of us all enjoy this life immensely; compared with the highly tense work of diagnosis, treatment, and surgery, digging soil, preparing beds, sowing, weeding, and picking vegetables are far more relaxed. Outside work hours, "tilling the southern fields" or "chrysanthemum-picking beneath the eastern hills" has a notable effect on regulating body and mind.

Teacher Li's greenhouse grows many strawberries; he sent me photos when he planted them, and at the time I thought he had planted too many and would certainly not be able to eat them all once ripe. Teacher Li said, don't worry, I'll invite friends to come pick for free. Now that the strawberries are on the market, there are indeed too many to eat; the warm-hearted Teacher Li has many friends and gives them away everywhere.

When my family of three arrived, we divided the work clearly: I was in charge of planting herbs, my wife of picking vegetables, and my son of picking strawberries. We unceremoniously swept up a large pile of the strawberries and vegetables Teacher Li grew, eating heartily as we picked—achieving strawberry freedom in one go.

Teacher Li's strawberries and vegetables are grown without pesticides or chemical fertilizers, and they taste great. After winter set in, I had not grown vegetables for several months, so today I got my fill in Teacher Li's greenhouse. When Teacher Li first rented this greenhouse, he strongly urged me to grow with him. But my family has no car; if I cycled over it would take more than three hours, six or seven hours round trip, so it was not practical.

Today was my first visit to this winter-unwithering vegetable garden of his, and now it was my turn to eye it enviously. I think if I had such a large plot to grow, I would quote the Later-Lord Liu Shan: "Here it is joyful; I do not think of Shu," and would no longer keep longing to return to the countryside for a farming life. One mu and three fen is enough for me to grow all the vegetables and herbs I want; any larger and I would not have the energy to manage it.

The small vegetable plot I lease myself can be grown until this June. After June, I also want to look nearby to see whether there is a suitable greenhouse within a one-to-one-and-a-half-hour cycle from my home. If so, I will rent a greenhouse too and enjoy a more comfortable rural life. Although this will take up more of my time and reduce my income, I have reached my forties and live with some clarity, understanding the importance of treating myself well.

After all, the security environment under the feet of the emperor is better than in my hometown; a few thousand yuan a year is something we can afford—actually, the value of the vegetables and fruit grown is more than what we put in. Bringing family and friends to the greenhouse to grow and pick vegetables every weekend lets us eat green produce and also relax our body and mind—so why not?

Farming life greatly tempers one's patience; after sowing the seeds, all that is needed is patient waiting. Before the time is right, whether vegetables, fruit, grain, or medicinal herbs, nothing grows well. As long as we wait patiently, every crop will grow as we hope.

So it is with a career. Years ago I began sowing seeds in my medical career, and after sowing I patiently persisted: reading literature, following masters in clinical practice, writing ceaselessly; accumulating day after day, I have by now finally gained a firm foothold. Many people want to build a career but are overly eager for quick success, lacking patience; after persisting a few years and feeling it dull, they change direction, and ultimately achieve nothing. I intend to devote most of my lifetime energy to medical research, and have enough patience to wait for my own growth.

As the old saying goes: when the heart is at peace, even a thatched hut is steady; when the temperament is settled, even vegetable roots taste sweet. A person spends a lifetime searching, only to find that what they truly need is very little. As long as there is a humble room and half a mu of thin land to shelter from wind and rain and grow something to fill the stomach, that is enough. For someone like me, who asks for little and already has enough, the heart is always joyful.

Finally, let me inform readers: the Lunar New Year is over, and the comment function on my official account will close again. I am returning to a peaceful world of one person: reading, writing, clinical practice, and planting. I will reopen comments when the next major festival arrives to communicate with you and celebrate together. I wish you all, in the new year, to harvest love, harvest wisdom, harvest joy, and harvest the happiness that can be obtained without depending on material things.