Wensu Red

Wensu Red

　　The wave of agricultural industrialization is now sweeping across the vast rural landscape at an unprecedented speed. While bringing blessings to farmers, it may also lead to some tangible regrets. For example, some traditional and superior crop varieties, once excluded from large-scale promotion, might quietly fade away in secluded mountains and fields—just like many oral stories and poems that can now only be remembered in fragments.

　　 Such a story is unfolding just six kilometers from downtown Wensu, along the midsection of the Awen Highway.

　　 This is an ordinary farmhouse, located right beside the Awen Highway, just 20 meters away from the road. Like most Uyghur farmsteads in southern Xinjiang, the yard has an orchard, grape trellises, a donkey, and a tractor. The male homeowner is honest and simple, with a witty demeanor in his speech, while the female homeowner is hardworking and shy, yet warmly hospitable.

　　 However, unlike other farmyards, this one has something truly unique—right in front of the main house, the seemingly ordinary grapevines are actually a rare variety facing extinction. This grape was named “Wensu Red” by the Wensu County Horticulture Station. Existing records indicate that this grape used to grow only in Wensu. Currently, apart from a few preserved by the Wensu County Horticulture Station, this ordinary farmhouse is the only place where the variety still survives.

　　 The male homeowner is named Tursun Memetizi. He says there are only 1.4 mu (approximately 0.09 hectares) of “Wensu Red.”

　　Folklore · Official History

　　 Tursun Memetizi is 59 years old, and his village is Group 6 of Kuruli Village, Tuohula Township. In his view, aside from finding his grapes particularly crisp and sweet, he doesn’t think there’s anything particularly special about “Wensu Red.” The only thing that surprises him a bit is that in the past five or six years, among all the vineyards he has visited, he has rarely come across grape varieties identical to those in his own yard.

　　 He has been growing these grapes for 18 years. He says that the grapevines in his yard were originally planted by his grandfather. When he was a child, some families in the neighborhood had these grapes in their yards, but not many—usually just four or five vines. Later on, fewer and fewer people grew them, and he hadn’t seen any in the surrounding villages. This yard is the only one left in the village.

　　 These descriptions suggest that “Wensu Red” is likely a native grape variety with a history spanning hundreds or even thousands of years. Perhaps, through the haze of the Han and Tang dynasties, wine made from “Wensu Red” once graced the jade cups of kings in the Western Regions, or the golden goblets of Han and Tang frontier soldiers celebrating their victories. “Grapes, wine, and a luminous cup—before drinking, lutes urge the steed onward”—that wine may very well have come from “Wensu Red.”

　　 Officials from the Publicity Department of the Wensu County Committee say that according to their records, apart from this location, “Wensu Red” has almost completely disappeared across the county. To protect this variety, the Wensu County Horticulture Station has preserved specimens and has begun promoting its cultivation.

　　 And in an old, worn collection of Wensu folk tales, we found a legend about the “Red Jade Grape,” which goes as follows:

　　 During the Western Han Dynasty, a servant named Bokeli skilled in hunting served beside the king of Gumo (today’s Wensu). At the age of fourteen, he was conscripted to train in horseback riding, archery, and hunting alongside the king’s nine young princes and one princess. Over time, Bokeli won the love of the king’s only precious daughter, Princess Naziguli. Soon, when the king learned of their romance, he was furious, forcibly imprisoned Bokeli, and planned to marry Princess Naziguli off as soon as possible.

　　 But the steadfast Princess Naziguli, heartbroken, refused to marry anyone else, even at the cost of her life. To sever the bond between the princess and Bokeli, the king secretly ordered Bokeli to be executed in the palace’s white jade grapevine garden, his blood staining the trellises. Upon hearing the news, the princess placed her bed beneath the grapevines and watered the white-jade-like grapes with her tears every day. After ten years, the grapes from the white jade vineyard gradually turned bright red, their flesh white with a faint yellow hue and containing two small seeds—like the two kneeling side-by-side within the grape. The fragrance was intoxicating, and the taste crisp and sweet.

　　 After Princess Naziguli passed away, to commemorate their loyal love, people secretly transplanted the grapevine nourished by her tears from the palace garden. For a time, Gumo’s “Red Jade Grape” became famous across the Thirty-Six Kingdoms of the Western Regions...

　　 This legend is believed to be the possible origin of “Wensu Red,” often referred to as folklore.

　　 Meanwhile, in documents from the Wensu County Horticulture Station, “Wensu Red” is described as follows: Wensu Red, of the Eurasian grape species, is a late-maturing variety selected from local household courtyard grapevines. Its parental lineage is unclear... The berries are round, averaging 9 grams each, uniformly sized with smooth skin in pink or deep red hues. The flesh is firm, crisp, and sweet. In the Wensu region of Xinjiang, it buds around April 5, flowers on May 29, begins coloring in mid-August, and fully ripens by mid-October. From budding to maturity takes about 160 days, classifying it as a late-maturing variety. It is high-yielding, stores and transports well, and can be kept until April of the following year at -1°C...

　　 Though not as moving as folklore, this description is grounded in scientific rationality—thus, it can be called the official history.

　　Red Globe · Wensu Red

　　 In terms of fruit quality, “Wensu Red” is entirely comparable to the globally popular “Red Globe.” In fact, according to most tasters, the flavor of “Wensu Red” far surpasses that of “Red Globe.” Yet, the reality is that “Red Globe” enjoys far greater fame, with the gap between the two as vast as heaven and earth. The reason may lie in the former’s higher yield, stronger adaptability, and more mature large-scale cultivation techniques and models, enabling growers to achieve greater output with the same input. These factors have destined “Red Globe” and “Wensu Red” to follow very different fates.

　　 In truth, this is one of the reasons why some crop varieties are promoted while others disappear. If plants could speak, those facing extinction might curse human prejudice and utilitarianism—just as Wang Xiaobo revealed in his novel *The Silver Age*: homogenization is erasing individuality, which is nothing short of a disaster for them...

　　 Setting aside these complex topics, let’s now look at how “Wensu Red” differs from “Red Globe.”

　　 We arrived here in golden October, as mentioned earlier: “The fruit fully ripens by mid-October.” The warm-hearted Tursun Memetizi brought over a tall stool, picked the reddest cluster, and handed it to us.

　　 Washed in a handful of clear water, the “Wensu Red” grapes gleamed like pearls and jade, sparkling brilliantly under the midday sun. Picked up and examined closely, each grape was uniform in size, plump and full, with skin transitioning naturally from pink to deep red. Under direct sunlight, the translucent hues were mouthwatering.

　　 Biting gently into one, the thin skin burst open, releasing an overwhelming fruity aroma. Chewing slowly, the crisp, sweet flesh lingered on the teeth, offering a full taste of the sunshine in fresh fruit—the very definition of lingering flavor. Remarkably, the firmness and softness of the flesh seemed perfectly unified. Even as your teeth easily sliced through, careful observers could notice that, unlike other grapes, it didn’t instantly turn into sweet juice but remained distinct, piece by piece. This harmony of crispness and tenderness is one of the qualities that sets “Wensu Red” apart in the world of grapes.

　　 Of course, as the flesh and skin eventually melt away between your teeth, it too becomes sweet grape juice like any other. But note this: aside from the two tiny seeds, your mouth will be left with zero pulp residue. Everything, including the skin, has dissolved into the sweet juice—a detail gourmets know well: whether residue remains after eating is a crucial indicator of the fruit’s freshness, purity, and quality.

　　 From the above, we can conclude that, at least within our observable range, the quality of “Wensu Red” is no less than that of any other grape, including “Red Globe.”

　　 Yet, the decline of the “Wensu Red” grape remains a fact. This disappearance, caused not by its own shortcomings, is deeply regrettable.

　　The Life of Post-90s Generation

　　 After his grandfather passed away, Tursun Memetizi began managing the family vineyard on his own. He said that this type of grape was not widely planted in the village originally. It could still be commonly seen before 1988, but after the household contract responsibility system was implemented in 1989, villagers switched to growing rice, and the grape varieties in their yards were also replaced with ones that had higher yields and stronger resistance to pests and diseases.

　　Tursun Memetizi now knows that this grape variety is quite rare and needs to be well protected. Traditionally, the village grew rice, and for Tursun Memetizi, his biggest headache now is that there is too much water and the land is too wet. Originally, there was less rice cultivation here, and the soil was mostly sandy, which was very suitable for growing grapes. But after years of transformation, the soil conditions have changed significantly. Due to the excessive moisture, Tursun Memetizi’s 1.4-acre vineyard yields only about three tons of grapes per year.

　　Since the 1990s, as the number of grapevines has continued to decline, the “Wensu Red” grape has now become a little-known treasure tucked away in a corner, hidden from public view, and remains an unnoticed sight in Tursun Memetizi’s home. Tursun Memetizi said that growing this grape is quite troublesome—it is rather delicate. Too much rain prevents fruit setting, and overly wet soil can cause root rot. The land needs to be tilled and dried every two or three days, and dry soil must be added. Producing good grapes also involves a lot of technical know-how, which most villagers lack, so gradually no one grows it anymore.

　　Selling for two to three yuan per kilogram, this 1.4-acre vineyard brings Tursun Memetizi a net income of more than 4,000 yuan per year. He said that many people don’t even know what kind of grape it is—they just find it very tasty. When he sells grapes at the bazaar, people often buy them only after trying and liking the taste.

　　Eighteen years have passed just like that. Fortunately, thanks to Tursun Memetizi’s hard work, these 1.4 acres of “Wensu Red” grapes have managed to survive and multiply here, and the variety has now gained special protection from the horticulture authorities. In recent years, people in the surrounding villages, including those in the county town, have gradually come to know about the “Wensu Red” here. Every early October, Tursun Memetizi’s “Wensu Red” grapes begin to ripen. The day we visited was October 12, the day before Eid al-Fitr. Tursun Memetizi said that once Eid al-Fitr is over, all his grapes will be sold out.

　　 … In the early autumn season, the bright and warm sunlight shines on the earth just as it has for thousands of years. We no longer have much information about the past and present of the “Wensu Red,” but the lives of the people connected to it should still remain within our view. If we observe with our hearts, both the grape and the people—those stories will bring us a touch of emotion and reflection.