I led the whole village to grow Shine Muscat grapes. To ensure quality, I took the lead in pruning half of the green fruit to control production, but was scolded by the village chief's nephew for cutting off people's fortune. He incited the villagers to use banned swelling agents, harvesting 8,000 catties per mu, and mocked my yield of 3,000 catties per mu as foolish. I didn't argue or fuss, and quietly signed a million-dollar bulk order with a top-luxury supermarket, bringing high-quality fruit. But just as they were waiting to count their money, the meteorological observatory issued a continuous heavy rain warning. Those grapes, pushed to the limit by swelling agents, all cracked and rotted overnight in the water, while I, who insisted on scientific agriculture, harvested a bumper crop.