NovelEnglishChapter 52
Life's challenges had toughened the folks in North Ashford. Even when the world seemed to forget them, they'd
hitch their trailers and haul their goods off to nearby towns to sell. It wasn't enough to make them wealthy, but it
was enough to scrape by, though it took a lot of effort.
This year, however, unexpected heavy rains had everyone caught off guard; no one was ready for it. Clara
approached with a humble demeanor despite her injuries. This caused the orchard workers around her to
exchange uncertain looks until a few of the younger ones spoke up.
"It's just three days anyway. She knows about this. Maybe she really can help." The others still looked a bit
skeptical, but they nodded in agreement.
Addison quickly moved behind Clara to check her injuries, but Clara shook her head. "I'm fine."
It was hard to believe she was fine; her back was likely bruised all over. But Clara was already stepping into the
young workers' tent, giving Addison instructions as she went.
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"Send a message to every customer who placed an order with us. Tell them that | did a personal check and found
that North Ashford apples are sweeter. We'll ship those instead. If they're okay with it, we'll send them out. If not,
they can get a refund."
Addison looked confused. "What's the reason for that message? We've got over twenty thousand orders. If we
just ship them, no one would know the difference between South Ashford and North Ashford apples. We could
sell them all in a flash; they wouldn't taste the difference anyway. Plus, North Ashford apples are delicious."
Clara glanced at the young men whose faces were filled with anger and quickly stopped Addison. "For the people
of North Ashford, selling their apples as if they were from South Ashford is a slap in the face. Years ago, South
Ashford pushed them out of prosperity. If they let their apples ride on South Ashford's reputation now, it'll be like
saying they'd rather let their apples rot in the fields."
In this world, a lot of people are stubborn and prefer to stick to their principles, like the folks from North Ashford.
The older generation never bowed their heads, so naturally, neither would the younger ones. It was a part of who
they were.
Smight call them stubborn, but having your own set of principles isn't such a bad thing. At least these folks
wouldn't betray others like people from South Ashford.
Hearing Clara's words, the young men's eyes brightened.
"Exactly! My mom always said we shouldn't latch onto South Ashford's fame. You don't know how awful they
were back then; people lost their lives. Our most respected village chief..."
The young man's voice caught in his throat.
"Our chief was killed. My mom was just a teenager then. She always said he was a great man. He was educated
at the best universities, but he chose to chere to help us live better lives. Planting apples was his idea. Back
then, there was no South or North Ashford, but later, South Ashford's leaders took all the credit for the apple
farms and climbed the ranks. Everyone was upset and wanted to confront them, but our chief said it was fine as
long as folks could have better lives. But soon after, South Ashford kicked our apples out. Our chief went to
negotiate for us and was beaten to death with a spade. South Ashford's leaders only gave three hundred dollars
in compensation."
Three hundred dollars for the life of a devoted local leader.
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Clara finally understood why the people of North Ashford held their ground for so long. For those who lived
through such events, letting go of that kind of bitterness wasn't easy.
The young man wiped his eyes. "Ouur chief was only in his twenties, with a bright future ahead. If he'd stayed in
the city, he would've lived a life of privilege. When his fiancée heard of his death, she drove to South Ashford to
bring him back, but her car was hit with stones on the way. The windshield shattered, she crashed, and she died
too."
Clara's grip on the apple tightened, her breath heavy with emotion.
Addison couldn't hold back, cursing in anger, "That's horrible. Were the ones who threw the stones punished?"
The young man lowered his gaze, lips pressed tight. "They were twelve-year-old kids."
Silence fell immediately. At twelve, they were sent to reform school but not held accountable.
Addison's chest was heaving with rage. She felt a wave of regret and shat the thought of having suggested
rebranding North Ashford apples as South Ashford's.
"I'm sorry. | didn't know."
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