I helped all 46 fruit-growing households in our village make a name for a so-called agricultural-support entrepreneur. We handed over all the oranges we had grown throughout the year for him to sell. I turned a poor young man who couldn't even afford cooking oil into a famous rural influencer who drove a Mercedes and lived in a villa. But once he became rich, he turned around and portrayed me as a lonely old man who hadn't eaten meat in three years. He even wanted to sell my old yellow ox, which had been with me for 18 years. I refused. "This ox has already been declared dead online. He can't appear in public again!" On the day of the sale, my old ox suddenly spoke: "Don't sign your fingerprint! He wants to take your orchard and occupy it for twelve whole years!" From that day on, the secrets revealed by a talking ox began to uncover the village's tangled accounts and long-hidden truths.