Old Zhang genuinely liked the young girl in front of him. She was good-looking, spoke politely and pleasantly, always wore a smile, behaved with proper manners, and handled matters efficiently. Interacting with such a young person was a real pleasure.
“That old fellow only has that little bit of skill—having customers at all is already good enough for him. How would he dare to charge more? He certainly wouldn’t risk embarrassing me.” Old Zhang waved his hand with a smile.
The two chatted idly all the way back to Qinghe Village. Old Zhang drove the ox cart into the abandoned courtyard, called out once, and a few people working inside immediately ran out to help carry everything from the cart into the backyard.
Those who came to help were all strong young men from Qinghe Village. This was their first time seeing Song Yun, so each one craned his neck to steal a look. A girl as pretty as a flower like her had never been seen in these parts—far more beautiful than the female educated youths who had come before. But with such a delicate appearance, could she really do farm work? And she even had a younger brother to care for—what kind of life could they possibly lead in the future?
Song Yun paid no mind to the curious stares. She smiled warmly and thanked them repeatedly. After the things were moved, she came forward to apologize.
“Originally, since I invited everyone to help, I should be providing food. But I have nothing here—not even a mouthful of water to offer—so I can only owe you for now. Once the house is finished, I’ll definitely invite everyone to a proper meal to thank you.”
The villagers had felt a bit unhappy before. In the countryside, providing food for helpers was customary. Even though they were being paid, they had still hoped for a free meal. But now that the educated youth had explained things so honestly, their dissatisfaction instantly vanished.
One man laughed and said, “You don’t even have a pot—we never really expected to eat your food. But since you said you’ll treat us when the house is done, we’ll hold you to that!”
“I’ll definitely keep my word!” Song Yun replied with a laugh.
With that bit of chatting, everyone’s impression of her improved greatly. They worked with even more energy.
Back in the backyard, Song Ziyi was circling around the newly bought water tanks, clay jars, and pots in fascination—he had never seen such things even back in Beijing.
Song Yun explained their uses one by one, then gave him a task:
“Wipe all these things clean with a rag. I’m going to Carpenter Liu’s house to buy water buckets and a carrying pole, and to order some furniture. I’ll probably be gone for a while.
“When I buy the buckets, I’ll go straight to the village entrance to fetch water. When I come back, we can use the water to finish washing everything. For now, just wipe off the dust and mud on the outside. No rush—take your time, and be careful not to cut yourself.”
Song Ziyi nodded repeatedly, eyes bright. Being able to share housework with his sister made him feel happy—he wasn’t a burden.
Song Yun hurried into the village, asking directions to Carpenter Liu’s house. When she arrived, she was met with his dark, unfriendly face. She didn’t know what had happened but smiled anyway.
“Captain Liu told me you have wooden buckets ready. He suggested I come take a look. Is now a good time?”
When Carpenter Liu saw she was an educated youth, he was about to shoo her away. But hearing she was sent by the captain, and seeing her smiling face, he swallowed his words and instead turned away to puff on his pipe.
His wife came out of the house, glared at her husband, and smiled at Song Yun.
“Girl, don’t mind him—he’s just got a bad temper. You’re looking for water buckets? I’ll take you to see them.”
She took Song Yun’s wrist and led her to a shed on the left side of the yard, where all their finished wooden items were stored.
“My surname is Qian. Just call me Aunt Qian.”
Song Yun smiled. “My name is Song Yun.”
“Then I’ll call you Educated Youth Song. What kind of bucket do you want? For washing feet?”
They reached the shed, where there were plenty of wooden goods—buckets, basins, boxes, chests, cabinets.
Song Yun pointed to a pair of water buckets in the corner. “I want these for carrying water. I’ll need a carrying pole too.”
Aunt Qian looked puzzled. “Doesn’t the educated youth dormitory already have buckets? Why are you buying more?”
Song Yun explained her situation. Aunt Qian understood immediately.
“Oh, you’re that Educated Youth Song who rented the abandoned courtyard and is fixing it up?”
Aunt Qian was a sharp woman—she instantly realized that place had nothing, and that all the furniture and utensils would need to be bought or custom-made. This was a big business opportunity. Her face bloomed into a smile, and she quoted a fair price so as not to scare off a valuable customer.
Song Yun didn’t bargain. She knew prices here were set with the understanding that villagers saw each other daily—no one would charge outrageously.
Aside from the water buckets, she also bought two foot basins, a small bucket for drawing water from the well, a chopping board, and a small wooden table to eat on for now (later it could be used as a desk for Ziyi). Bit by bit, she bought half the stock in the shed. Aunt Qian was overjoyed, and even Carpenter Liu, who had been sulking from an earlier quarrel with Zhao Xiaomei, couldn’t help but smile.
Song Yun carried her buckets to the village entrance to fetch water, while the rest of her purchases were delivered to the courtyard—Carpenter Liu gladly agreed, since big orders included free delivery.
In her previous and current lives, this was the first time Song Yun had carried water. Thanks to the physical work she’d been doing lately, she had the strength for it. But fetching water wasn’t just about strength—there was technique too.
She learned quickly, even without a teacher. Still, on her first trip back home, she had only two and a half buckets left from what she’d started with. After filling the water tank, she immediately went back for another trip and managed to return with buckets nearly eighty percent full.
The young men working at the courtyard saw such a delicate girl carrying water and offered several times to help, but Song Yun refused.
After more than ten trips, she finally filled both water tanks by dusk.
“Tomorrow we’ll go into the mountains to cut some bamboo and make covers for the tanks,” she said. “Otherwise dirt and insects will get in—not sanitary.”
Ziyi looked at her in admiration. “Sis, you can weave bamboo too?”
Song Yun pinched his cheek. “Just the simple kind. I used to make things for fun—if it’s too complicated, I can’t.”
In truth, in her previous life at university, she had joined a bamboo weaving club and learned quite a bit. She had forgotten most of it after graduation, but she still remembered how to do simple projects.
Once the villagers had left, Song Yun started cooking.
She washed the large clay pot, filled it with water, and set it to boil porridge. While it cooked, she and Ziyi gathered stones to build a small outdoor stove. As she worked, she explained the method, tips, and principles to him—this was a survival skill worth knowing.
Finally, she washed a small clay jar, filled it with a third of its volume in water, and took out some herbs that had been drying all afternoon. After washing them, she placed them in the jar to simmer.