The supermarket really knew how to please its customers, dedicating an entire shelf to durian, with all kinds on it: Thai durian, Ri6 durian, Cai Mon durian… making Ha dizzy and unsure which one to choose. She turned to the right, then to the left, picking up a large one and putting it down to choose a medium-sized one, when suddenly she noticed a durian with a very large QR code sticker peeking out from the far corner, placed right in the middle.
The supermarket employee noticed Ha's interest in the QR code on the durian and explained, "This QR code is the label of the fruit orchard owner, to help customers understand the process and verify the product's origin." Then, the employee pointed to the small barcode on the stem and explained, "And this one is the supermarket's barcode."
After hearing this, Ha became even more curious, pulled out her phone, and immediately scanned the QR code. A beautifully designed digital handbook appeared on the phone screen. Ha's eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open in surprise at the first lines: "Hello, I'm Trung, I'm the owner of Green Garden Farm in Long Khanh. Thank you for choosing this durian with the QR code. Now, please read the durian's growth diary."
Hạ's finger lightly touched the phone screen, and the durian's growth diary opened, recording the durian's origins in a witty style: Today the weather is beautiful, welcoming the first durian blossoms, which look like crab eyes sprouting from the bare branches. It took almost two months for the flowers to bloom. Durian flowers are strange; they grow in clusters, wrapped in a soft, green silken cloak, truly beautiful. As expected, tonight, after a walk, the durian blossoms burst into white in the night under the bright moonlight, their delicate petals falling gently, covering the red soil with a pristine white layer. After walking around, I noticed that the durian tree with the first blossoms had very poor fruit set, perhaps because the flowers bloom at night when there are fewer insects, so I decided to "marry" the flowers.
The detailed log of the durian's growth, recorded from this QR code, also shows: Three weeks after pollination, the small, beautiful durian fruits huddled together like hedgehogs on the branches. Yesterday, a heavy downpour caused the young fruits to fall off. It was heartbreaking. On the 35th day, I suddenly remembered to add more granular fertilizer to nourish the fruits, hoping they would grow big and have thick flesh. On the 45th day, if too many fruits were left on one tree, the quality would decrease, and I had to painfully choose which fruits to keep and which to discard – a difficult choice. But life, in moments of doubt, still requires strength to make decisions, just like how I gave up a high-paying job in the city to return to farming and be with my parents.
There's a particularly dramatic passage in the durian's growth diary: Four months passed, and this morning, a storm swept in, sending the unsecured fruits tumbling from the branches to the ground. My heart ached, and I fondly recalled my early years, when I left the city for the countryside to pursue organic farming and failed completely, but I didn't give up and persevered. Now, in the fifth month, the durian's thorns have grown large, their tips rounded, and it's just waiting for the ripe fruit to naturally fall from the branch. This morning, as I lay swinging in my hammock on the porch, I heard a thud, and I knew the durian had fallen. I carefully carried it inside and affixed a QR code, along with the dedication of my heart. I sent the first durian to the supermarket, anxiously awaiting the lucky person who would choose it, scan the QR code, and discover the durian's journey of growth.
After reading all the information about the origin of the durian with the QR code, Ha suddenly felt a surge of excitement, her heart racing. Seeing her friend standing there lost in thought for a while, a mischievous smile on her face, Thu pushed her cart closer and teased, "Are you smitten with this durian with the QR code?"
Ha was startled, and before she could reply, Thu revealed, "The owner of the Green Garden in Long Khanh is a single, arrogant young man who's always quietly working in the garden, rarely friendly to guests. Only his mother is cheerful and enthusiastic. Tomorrow, I'll be leading a group down there for an experience. Would you like to come along?"
After hearing this, Ha smiled, a thought flashing through her mind: "Tomorrow I'll pack my bags and leave. In the morning light, who knows, I might be greeted by the shy smile of a simple farmer named Trung, who is pursuing his dream of clean agriculture in the 4.0 era." Just thinking about it made Ha's cheeks flush.
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