When Principal Yang saw the great heap of cotton discharged by the cotton picker, his face darkened.
He pointed at the cotton and said to Li Long beside him:
"Are you sure this cotton can be cleaned? It's even dirtier than the shoddy cotton those crooks sell on television!"
The term "shoddy cotton" already existed by then. It had appeared locally too. Some boarding students buying bedding had encountered unscrupulous sellers of work-safety supplies, whose mattresses were stuffed with layers of who knew what.
There were even said to be discarded medical waste from hospitals in them. In any case, it was frightening.
"Don't worry. It can be cleaned." Li Long genuinely saw nothing unusual about the cotton the picker had dumped on the ground. He had seen dirtier cotton, so he was immune to it.
Besides, this was nothing.
Thirty years later, people would even go into the fields specifically to gather cotton that had fallen on the ground and become filthy beyond recognition.
Even cotton like that had buyers. In cotton-growing areas, winter or summer, vehicles with loudspeakers would drive through the villages almost every day, calling, "Buying cotton!"
Once cotton-cleaning technology improved, cotton could be cleaned no matter how dirty it was-though cotton like Wang the Miser's, used to wipe diesel-engine cylinders, was another matter. That did not count.
Seeing Li Long take such filthy cotton entirely in stride, Principal Yang could not help asking, "Xiao Li, can this cotton really be cleaned?"
"Yes. Don't worry." Li Long waved to the cotton picker winding its way toward them. The operator lined it up and stopped, and Li Long called to him:
"Could you let me try operating it?"
The operator did not refuse. After Li Long climbed aboard, he explained the controls, and Li Long gave it