Demônio da Agricultura

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In the year 1998, on the twelfth day of the tenth lunar month.
In the western Shandong region, Yu family village.
Early morning.
Inside a dim, old clay-brick house, Yu Yang, wrapped in a military cotton coat, sat upright on a long bench, carefully examining the papers spread across the Eight Immortals table.
Opposite him sat the village chief, flanked by three bank officials.
“Comrade Yu Yang, if you just sign these contracts, when the court convenes, they’ll surely go easy on your father, and Yu Jianjun can come home for the New Year,” the village chief urged.
“Yes, this is your father’s chance to get out of trouble. Just agree quickly,” he added.
Yu Yang’s face was expressionless, but his mind raced.
Yu Jianjun—his honest, simple father—hadn’t really done anything wrong.
He had saved some money raising pigs, then was fooled by the township leaders into buying the long-dormant brick kiln at an outrageously low price of 100,000 yuan.
A tunnel kiln capable of producing 60,000 red bricks per day, worth at least a million yuan.
The township basically gave it to old Yu half-sold, half-gifted, but there were many hidden problems: difficulty in firing, temperatures too low, bricks collapsing inside the kiln, and the flues long since worn out.
To repair the kiln, old Yu borrowed and sold everything—his ancestral home, farmland, even taking out several loans.
But less than half a year after production resumed, a once-in-a-century flood in mid-year soaked the green bricks, corroded the new ones, destro