Chapter 33
Su Jin placed the white steamed bun on the table. While washing up, she already felt her head was unusually heavy, with a faint sense of dizziness.
She thought she was just feeling weak because she’d cried too much last night, so she didn’t take it too seriously.
Looking at the bun on the table, Su Jin muttered,
“Always the same—slap me first, then give me a sweet date afterward.”
Just as she was walking toward the table, the world suddenly spun. Her head grew heavier and her legs lighter—her whole body went weak. She raised a hand to touch her forehead; the heat radiating from it was alarming.
She knew immediately she had a fever and was about to use her supply-purchase system to buy some fever medicine—
when suddenly, with a loud “thud”, she collapsed to the ground, her forehead hitting hard.
At that time, Jiang Heng was still at the brigade office assigning tasks. It was almost July—the time to prepare for the grain harvest. These arrangements were crucial.
First, they had to dig up the sweet potatoes, pull the corn, and harvest the potatoes and soybeans. Only after all that could they mobilize the entire commune’s labor force to reap the large rice paddies and a few remaining wheat fields.
This year’s grain ration for everyone would depend on how good the harvest turned out.
After setting aside seed stock, meeting state quotas, keeping back reserves and feed grain, whatever was left would be distributed according to the “seven-to-three” rule—seven parts for labor, three parts for dependents.
If a production team still had surplus grain after all that, it was considered a prosperous one by national standards. That was every farmer’s dream—to have enough to eat every day without having to calculate how many handfuls of rice to cook.
As Jiang Heng read off the assignments, the young educated youths standing below looked grim.
When they first arrived, they were all full of enthusiasm, eager to prove themselves in any task. But after a few days of real labor, those students who’d never lifted a hoe before could no longer keep up.
At night, they fell asleep with their feet aching and palms blistered, too sore to even move once they lay down on their narrow dorm beds.
Now the summer heat was brutal. The sun was already blazing by six in the morning, and by seven, sweat was dripping from anyone walking outside.
Being in the south only made it worse—the air was humid, and sweat evaporated fast, leaving them constantly parched and sticky.
The thought of having to go down to the fields again made everyone’s expression sink.
In just a few days of work, many of them had turned several shades darker. At school they had all been pale and delicate, but now their skin was rough and sunburned.
Wang Manqing tugged at her collar nervously, worried that her neck would tan. Besides her unwillingness, there was growing resentment in her tone:
“Look at this—all the heavy work is left for us educated youths. They say villagers are simple and honest, but I think they’re more scheming than anyone.”
She whispered close to Ye Meifeng’s ear, glancing sideways at Jiang Heng, who was assigning duties up front.
Ye Meifeng narrowed her eyes and shaded them with a hand.
“The sun’s already scorching. We’ll be half-dead from exhaustion later.”
Just then, Tao Xinyue walked by—her hair neatly tied in a ponytail, wearing gray work clothes and green-soled cloth shoes.
Her face was still fair, and not a wrinkle or stain marked her clothes. She looked clean and fresh—pleasant, even.
Wang Manqing looked down at her own floral blouse, stained with sweat and mud no matter how much she scrubbed.
Now look at Tao Xinyue—still as beautiful as ever—while she herself had become no different from the rustic country girls.
Her face was getting rougher by the day, and maintaining it took more effort than ever.
Thinking of how Tao Xinyue only had to work at the oil-pressing team—away from the sun, away from the heat—Wang Manqing’s chest filled with bitter jealousy.
“She must’ve used some kind of connection. Out of all the female educated youths, only she gets the easiest job. Hmph, Tao Xinyue—you even pulled strings after coming to the countryside.”
Ye Meifeng, too, disliked Tao Xinyue’s air of a spoiled capitalist lady. She looked like trouble—definitely not one of them.
“Of course. If we can find proof, she won’t just be sent to the fields—she’ll end up in a cell.”
Wang Manqing smirked, eyes gleaming with calculation.
“Exactly. She’s still stuck in old ways of thinking, totally out of line with the new ideals. Someone like that doesn’t even deserve to be an educated youth.”
The two whispered conspiratorially, already imagining Tao Xinyue’s downfall, their mood lightening.
Jiang Heng clapped his hands and called out,
“Bring the tools over! We’ll start by pulling up peanuts. Distribute the gloves.”
Fang Zhijie stood beside Wang Chenye and whispered,
“Brother Ye, do you think pulling peanuts is tiring?”
Wang Chenye stood straight, casting a sidelong glance at Fang Zhijie’s nervous face.
“You’ll have to get used to it. This season’s the busiest time for crops—there’s plenty of work ahead.”
Fang Zhijie immediately drooped, looking as if he might cry.
“Ah! Then I’m doomed. Look—my hands already have blisters!”
Wang Chenye couldn’t help laughing.
“That’s what happens when you never worked a day at home and suddenly start doing heavy labor. Of course you’ll tire out.
And why didn’t you tell me about the blisters?”
Fang Zhijie pouted, embarrassed.
“If I’d told you, wouldn’t you have said I was overreacting?”
Wang Chenye grabbed his hand, studying the palm carefully. His expression darkened.
“These blisters are this big already, and you still said nothing? You’re supposed to go to work like this? How are you going to manage?”
Seeing him angry, Fang Zhijie quickly pulled his hand back and blew on it.
“It’s really not that bad. Doesn’t hurt that much.”
But Wang Chenye firmly took his hand again and pressed the blister with his thumb. Fang Zhijie instantly cried out,
“Ah!!”
He hissed in pain, eyes watering.
“Doesn’t hurt, huh? Wait here.”
The tone left no room for refusal.
Fang Zhijie clutched his wrist, blowing gently on his palm, eyes following Wang Chenye’s back as he walked away.
A few moments later, Wang Chenye returned with a fine needle and a bottle of iodine.
“Where’d you get that?”
“Where else? From the brigade leader,” Wang Chenye replied, examining the blister carefully. “No need to overwork ourselves. If you’re injured or sick, you can rest or see the doctor at the clinic.
After all, health is the foundation of revolution. Take it one step at a time.”
As the needle pierced the blister, Fang Zhijie turned away, too scared to look, hissing through his teeth.
“Afraid of a little blister popping, are you?”
Still, Fang Zhijie didn’t dare glance back. His eyes brimmed with tears, but he stubbornly endured.
Once the blister was drained, Wang Chenye disinfected the wound with iodine and gently wrapped it with his white handkerchief.
Fang Zhijie smiled faintly.
“Brother Ye, no wonder all the girls like you. There’s a reason for it.”
Wang Chenye looked up, then deliberately pulled the bandage a bit tighter. Fang Zhijie winced and clenched his teeth.
“Ow—Brother Ye! I just complimented you, and you’re already proving me wrong—!”
Before he could finish, Wang Chenye’s gaze sharpened, heavy with pressure.
“Who are you calling useless, hmm?”
Fang Zhijie waved his hands quickly.
“No, no, Brother Ye’s good at everything!”
A faint, deep smile appeared at the corner of Wang Chenye’s mouth.
To Fang Zhijie, it looked like Brother Ye was teasing him again.
