Chapter 32: The Simple and Honest Folk of Provence

European efforts to cultivate truffles artificially have been underway since the end of World War II. After the war, annual production in France—the world’s primary truffle producer—plummeted to around 30 tons. Given how obsessed the French are with these fungi, how could they not have considered artificial cultivation?

However, the difficulty was immense. It wasn't until around 2010 that France finally arrived at a relatively comprehensive method for artificial cultivation. Yet, unlike traditional farming, truffle production requires constant human intervention. As for Lucas’s claims of a high success rate... research institutes naturally have to invent catchy slogans to attract partners. The simple, honest people of Provence still have too few dealings with Parisians—have they forgotten that Parisians are nothing but "hypocritical" smooth talkers? But this is inevitable; these institutions swindle thousands of wealthy people like Lucas every year, convincing them to serve as free test subjects.

"High returns always come with high risks. There is no business that guarantees a profit without the possibility of loss." Lucas, still intoxicated by his dream of a truffle empire, refused to wake up and even tried to drag Ronan down with him. "The Luberon is full of broad-leaved forests. Truffle cultivation doesn't require any chemical fertilizers, pesticides, or other substances that alter the ecological environment, nor does it require changing the land-use designation. The government will provide us with plenty of support."

Ronan knew it was hard to wake someone dreaming of getting rich unless he had concrete evidence, which he didn't. Therefore, throwing too much cold water would only cause unnecessary trouble; he decided to stop while he was ahead. "Sorry, Lucas, I’m taking a wait-and-see approach to this project. I’m not considering joining for now."

...

The party ended, and the guests departed. Lucas, Theo, and Elena sat around the fireplace in the living room, chatting about their takeaways from the night.

"Ronan refused again." No sooner had Lucas felt a bit better than he started drinking again, casting aside the vows he had made while hugging the toilet.

"Refused again?" Theo felt deeply guilty. "I haven't been drinking with him much lately. I’ll go find him when I’m free next week and ask what exactly he’s worried about." *Damn it, Elena has wasted so much of my time!*

"You can drink with him, but leave this matter alone," Lucas said, rubbing his aching neck.

"Why?" Theo didn't understand. Were they giving up on recruiting Ronan?

Lucas looked at Elena, his expression softening. "You two had a good chat, didn't you? Keep in touch with him. Occasionally mention the truffles. If the opportunity arises, probe whether he has reservations about the profit-sharing ratio."

The only good news tonight was Elena. After Ronan had spoken with her, his attitude had clearly shifted. Perhaps she was the breakthrough?

"Easy-peasy." Elena, like a cat with its tail held high, flashed a "victor’s" smile at Theo, claws and all.

Something occurred to Lucas, and he asked casually, "What did you talk to Ronan about?" He wanted to understand Ronan’s preferences to facilitate the next round of maneuvering. In short, he decided he would not give up on such a useful helper.

"Oh, right, right!" Elena sat up straight. "You’re going to help Ronan get a stall in Ménerbes. I already promised him."

Theo and Lucas spat out the wine they had just sipped.

"What?"

"What did you promise?"

Elena said excitedly, "I asked if he was having any trouble, and he said his application for a stall was rejected by Ménerbes. He asked if I had any way to help, and I said, 'Isn't that easy? He can go to any market in Provence he wants...' Hey, why are you looking at me like that? Doesn't Ronan need to see our influence if he’s going to trust us?"

"Do you know how hard it is to get a stall in Ménerbes? Is that something you can just promise?"

"Any market in Provence he wants... Elena, do you think I’m a high-ranking official?"

"You can actually brag about something like that? Has your brain gone soft!"

Elena began to roll back and forth on the sofa, crying out, "I don't care! I promised him anyway. You guys have to find a way! You must!"

...

In the following days, Ronan lived the life of a standard Provençal farmer. He woke up at 5:30 AM every day and was in his truck fifteen minutes later; if he didn't have to soothe his dog, Xiao Hei, he could have been three minutes earlier. Xiao Hei had grown up and become a bit smarter, realizing that once Ronan left at this time, he wouldn't be back for at least twelve hours. Every time Ronan took him out for his morning walk, the dog would try everything in its power not to return, hoping to go with him.

Ronan had softened his heart many times, wanting to take the dog along, but his method of finding truffles relied entirely on various "signs." Xiao Hei’s presence would disturb the "barren" areas and scare off the flies prematurely. Reluctantly, he had to endure the pain of leaving the dog as a "latchkey kid." However, once the harvest season ended and things were less busy, he planned to try training Xiao Hei again. Perhaps the dog’s intelligence had increased along with its height?

He ate his breakfast and lunch on the road while working. Even dumplings become tiresome if eaten every day, so Ronan started preparing other foods that were easy to carry and quick to eat.

Once, Ronan left home in such a hurry that he forgot his watch. He estimated the time all day based on the shadows of the trees, and to his surprise, the difference between when he got back to his truck and his usual return time was only seven minutes. After that, he stopped checking the time and didn't even care what date it was. In Provence, time is the least important thing.

He also developed the good habit of going to bed early; by 9 PM, the sound of him and Xiao Hei snoring was sure to echo in the bedroom.

However, one night, a phone call disrupted his early bedtime routine. It was Theo. "I got you the stall permit for Ménerbes. Your code is DS..."

Ronan didn't even bother putting on socks; he just threw on a coat, put on his boots, and drove to Louis's house. The residents of Lourmarin went to bed early unless there was a gambler or a drunkard in the family. Louis and his family of four were also preparing to rest, but when they saw Ronan arrive, they emerged from their respective bedrooms and gathered in the living room.

"We can go set up a stall in Ménerbes!" Ronan said, beaming with joy to Zoe, who had come out last.

It should have been a happy occasion, but Louis and Léa looked at Zoe with concern when they heard the news. Zoe’s mood had been very off lately, and the couple guessed it was because her application for a stall permit hadn't progressed as expected. She had been leaving early and returning late every day; last night, she had even gone to sleep without dinner. Louis had offered several times to help pull some strings, but Zoe had refused. Being independent and strong-willed, she didn't want to trouble even her own father. This news Ronan brought... might not necessarily be good news for Zoe.

Ronan’s smile froze on his face. He realized something was wrong, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Just as he was racking his brain to find an excuse to say goodnight to everyone, Zoe suddenly smiled—a smile as beautiful as a blooming iris.

"Great. We'll go to Ménerbes this weekend."