Returning Home to Farm: Cultivate Your Mindset Before the Land

II. Laying the foundations: Cultivating the heart before tending the land

During the first year, my eldest and youngest uncles and I trialled ecological farming on our family’s contracted land. By the second year, I had rented additional plots, expanding the holding to over 20 mu (around 1.3 hectares), while my mother persuaded my father and my brother’s family to remain in our hometown. In the third year, we built a new house large enough for the entire extended family, and my mother closed her tea house to return home and manage the household.

Yet, beyond cultivation and farm management, the greater challenge of returning home to start a business lies in the toll of internal family dynamics. Every household has its own difficulties, and coming back means old tensions can quickly resurface and complicate matters. In our case, the misunderstandings and friction between my parents and me, between my parents themselves, and between my father and my youngest uncle all required sustained effort to gradually ease.

To begin with, from my parents’ perspective, they had originally hoped we would move to the city. Instead, we returned to the countryside to farm—without using pesticides or chemical fertilisers—which, in their eyes, meant I had ‘gone completely off the rails after all that education’. For their generation, leaving home for migrant work was a necessity, driven by the belief that a decent life was simply unattainable in the villages. Rural life and agriculture remained a source of deep frustration for them. (My father, in particular, would chide me with ‘Why did you ever come back to the countryside?’ whenever he felt even slightly disconcerted.) To help them work through this reluctance, I made a point of creating opportunities for them to converse with others whenever I sold produce at the market or hosted tours at the farm. Validation from outsiders proved far more effective than my own explanations or persuasion. I also took them to various events and training sessions, and visited other farms. From initially being too nervous to speak on stage, they gradually opened up, came to realise that agriculture could actually be done this way, and found a renewed sense of confidence in their identity as farmers.

At first, I did not understand why my parents spent their time playing mahjong.Looking back, at their age, they have little interest in lofty spiritual pursuits. Working in the morning and playing cards in the afternoon serves as their inner life. Some things may seem straightforward to you, but from their perspective, they are not. In moments like these, creating antagonism will not resolve anything, and lecturing them at length only backfires.

Secondly, although we all lived under the same roof, there was once a profound lack of emotional exchange among us. Domestic life and daily labour are indispensable components of a family farm; therefore, the growth of crops in the fields and the emotional well-being of family members must be given equal attention.

Once, I wanted to take my parents, who were estranged, to a wellness retreat, but neither was willing to go with the other. I spoke to them separately, and after much patient persuasion, they finally agreed to attend. Although they gave each other the cold shoulder on the journey, within a few days the couple were chatting and laughing together. My father and my younger uncle used to argue the moment they saw one another; a single glance was enough to make them slam down chopsticks and smash bowls. After my younger uncle returned home, tensions easily flared up again. On one occasion, they both felt deeply aggrieved and broke down in tears. I held my younger uncle as he wept, allowing him to gradually release his pent-up emotions. This kind of “emotional labour” serves as the lubricant that eases and nurtures family relationships.

For a while, my partner Lizi and I were each wholly absorbed in our duties to the farm and the local community. Though we were constantly in each other’s company, we hardly spoke. Eventually, we decided to change our pace. We realised we couldn’t keep ourselves so relentlessly busy; we needed to carve out time for ourselves and make space within our relationship to truly talk. Once that connection was restored, we found ourselves in a much better headspace, which naturally rippled out to the children and everyone else in the house. How we tackle everyday issues can completely shift the mood at home. A disagreement might erupt over something as minor as washing up, but if handled thoughtfully, it can instead become a moment that strengthens the bond between us all.

When soil particles press together in disarray, the ground becomes compacted. Soil can only sustain healthier plants and yield better food once it forms a crumb structure and is in a healthy state. Our families need a ‘crumb structure’ too: if the individuals within them lack appropriate connections and remain isolated and atomised, the home environment becomes rigid and stifling. Only with the right emotional ties can a family break through its ‘compaction’ and thrive with vitality and warmth.

Ultimately, changing people’s mindsets and habits can only be done by leading by example and gradually influencing your family. After all, a household is not a company; you cannot simply give orders or hand out fines.When we first started sorting waste, we faced widespread opposition at home, particularly from my father. I took the initiative, sometimes even bringing food scraps from outside to compost at home. Slowly, others began to join in. After about six months, I noticed my father had started sorting waste too. Even when my parents went out to play mahjong, they would conveniently collect sugarcane pith and peel on their way back.

People often ask how much capital is needed to set up an ecological farm. At the time, our income was modest; we had just 30,000 yuan to work with. Most of it was directed towards basic infrastructure: constructing livestock enclosures, building access tracks, renovating buildings, running internet cables, and installing a biogas digester. We did all of this ourselves. We did bring in two craftsmen to ‘straighten up’ a leaning old pig pen so we could keep using it, which let us make the most of existing infrastructure rather than burning through our entire budget at once. This kind of low-cost management approach is particularly crucial in the early stages. Later on, the government also stepped in with some infrastructure support, providing items such as road upgrades, biogas facilities, drip irrigation systems, and drones.

Our approach to crop selection might best be described as a ‘pyramid production structure’: at the apex sit cash crops grown primarily for sale to generate monetary income, whilst the base comprises various produce for household consumption, ensuring self-sufficiency and significantly reducing the cost of living.During the first year, I experimented with small-scale plantings of diverse crops, selling them via online channels. By the second year, I selected Xiaohuang ginger and chilli peppers as our core products, chosen for their ease of storage and processing. Gradually building our distribution channels, we established stable supply arrangements with local community shops, traditional Chinese medicine clinics, and similar institutions, ultimately using ‘order-based production’ to determine our planting scale.

The farm cultivates around 100 different varieties, though we have never kept a precise count. Roughly a third of the total yield is kept within our immediate circle—consumed by our family and the visitors who stay with us—creating a local cycle. Another third is distributed through various partner platforms, while the final third is sold via the farm’s WeChat shop.

Our income saw steady growth in the opening years. As operations stabilised, annual gross output settled at between 300,000 and 400,000 yuan, with net income nearing 200,000 yuan. 2023 proved to be an atypical year. Following crop shortfalls caused by the extreme heat and drought in 2022, revenue from our produce fell noticeably. In addition, the farm undertook substantial infrastructure development in late 2022, leading to higher depreciation on fixed assets in 2023 than in previous years. Consequently, overall income for that year dropped considerably.

The farm’s workforce is primarily family members, though we occasionally bring in neighbouring villagers to lend a hand during busy periods. We currently have six full-time staff members (excluding my older and younger paternal uncles). In terms of full-time equivalents, about three are dedicated to field production, while the remaining three handle logistics, administration, and other operational duties.

Drawing on each family member’s strengths, we have gradually settled into a stable division of labour. My father focuses on frontline fieldwork, while my brother manages production and operates the machinery. My sister-in-law assists him, and my mother works alongside my father in the fields; both women also help with behind-the-scenes tasks. My wife handles farm design, oversees the children’s education, looks after the farm’s landscaping, and leads our cultural and educational pursuits. My older uncle helps with weeding, and my younger uncle feeds the animals and sweeps. Though they are older and enjoying their years, they still pitch in where they can, finding a comfortable rhythm that allows them to contribute and stay integrated into family life. I take care of everything else, including overall farm planning and operations, skills development, production trials, and external sales.

Within the extended family, we distribute income using a work-point system. Everyone controls their own earnings, and each nuclear family remains financially independent, with couples free to coordinate between themselves. Younger members have higher outgoings, so they are allocated a slightly larger share.

The farm’s income is modest, but we harbour no ambitions to scale up or capture market share. From a commercial standpoint, pursuing size and comprehensiveness would require heavy capital investment. Should sales dip, we would face serious cash-flow pressures. By aligning production with actual demand, we can mitigate potential risks. Regarding labour, keeping the workload within the family’s capacity allows for much greater flexibility in how we organise the farm’s schedule.As for the broader significance of agriculture, I recognise that farming is not a path to great wealth. Rather than striving to scale up and dominate, my priority is on cultivating a farm and a family life that are more beautiful and vibrant.

2. Hands in the Soil: Engaging Directly with Nature

When we speak of “building a family enterprise”, the “family” we refer to extends beyond the human household to include the land—the home of other creatures.

Our local soil is a yellow clay, far from ideal, and requires slow, patient cultivation to improve. At times, we tend to focus on how to produce more, cut costs, and optimise management, viewing things primarily through an economic lens. Yet, when you take the time to quiet your mind and settle in, you begin to sense your connection to the earth. The soil is a habitat for microorganisms; farming is an entirely different endeavour depending on whether they are present or not. It is also a home for insects.

Agricultural work demands constant attention to climatic conditions. Over recent years, the number of days with extreme heat has been steadily rising. A severe drought struck in 2022; in areas without shade netting, the ginger plants withered and died, and watering only exacerbated the problem. Many farmers lost their entire harvest, and our yield of small yellow ginger was halved, which took a heavy toll on our 2023 income. While average temperatures in 2023 were a degree higher than usual, there were no prolonged, concentrated spells of heat and drought. For this reason, we have spent recent years discussing how to lessen the impact of climate change, bringing greater consideration into our farming practices. Over the next year or two, we intend to focus on steadily rebuilding our reserves and trimming external costs. Provided our foundations are sound and our internal operations remain robust, we will have a much wider buffer to absorb external fluctuations.

After over a decade of working the land, I have slowly come to appreciate that what we choose to sow is inextricably linked to the local soil and climate. Finding the rhythm that aligns with them fosters a profound sense of “harmony between humanity and nature”.

3. Farming and Reading: Agriculture as a Way of Life

In the past, farming was widely regarded as backbreaking and monotonous. Yet when it becomes more than just a means of making a living, transforming into a way of life, one can begin to appreciate the rhythm of the seasons and the quiet aesthetics of rural existence.

On one hand, we vary our working settings. For example, we grow flowers in the fields (which also aids ecology and pest control), allowing us to work as if we were tending a garden—this quietly influences our frame of mind. On the other hand, farming does not consume our entire lives. We hold family meetings and farm discussions, sometimes focusing on management and technique, sometimes on daily living, and occasionally reading classic texts together. During these family meetings, we share recent struggles, uncertainties, and our current state of mind, fostering deeper mutual understanding. We also seek out learning and activities beyond the farm. My younger brother, who had always regretted leaving secondary school early, found the chance to enrol in a higher education course in agricultural machinery whilst managing the farm’s operations. On another occasion, our family of seven travelled to Shanxi; the children joined a rural summer camp whilst the parents attended a wellbeing retreat. We deliberately create such opportunities so that everyone can cultivate a sense of growth in their own lives.

Compiled: Anael

Editor: ZX