Workshop team leader Wang Chunmei glanced at Xia Baozhu in surprise. This young Xia usually had her nose in the air—had fainting once changed her temperament?
Yang Wenxiu chuckled, "Comrade Xia, what kind of talk is that? You’re also contributing to the construction of socialism. It’s only right and proper for us to take care of you when you’re unwell. Don’t hold back in the future."
Wang Chunmei nodded in agreement, "Xia, after we get back, you don’t need to go to the workshop today. Take a good rest, and it’d be best if you could go to the factory hospital. I still think your complexion doesn’t look right—what if your fever flares up again? You suddenly fainted and stopped breathing—it scared us half to death. If it weren’t for Comrade Song knowing first aid, I wouldn’t know how to explain this to your parents when I got back."
Yang Wenxiu cautiously explained, "Comrade Xia, don’t misunderstand. Comrade Song is a soldier. Helping us ordinary people is as natural to him as eating and drinking."
Let’s not start with the whole ‘repaying kindness with marriage’ thing.
She’d heard this young Xia was the daughter-in-law of Factory Director Teng.
Even if he was just the director of their heavy machinery factory’s subsidiary ice cream factory, he was still a director. Young women nowadays were thin-skinned—no need to stir up unnecessary trouble.
Besides, Comrade Song was also a hot commodity eyed by many. She had brought him out, and she had to return him intact to the Military Representative Office.
Perhaps noticing the commotion here, before Xia Baozhu could reply to Director Yang, Song Qu came over to check on the situation.
Xia Baozhu raised an eyebrow as she watched her "savior" stride over.
She was sitting on the straw mat of the ox cart, her gaze lifting upward. Sharp eyebrows, bright eyes, heroic and upright—not bad at all.
But like everyone else, he was covered in dust from head to toe. A good shake would probably dislodge a good two liang of dirt.
"Comrade Song is here. Thanks to you, Comrade Xia looks much better than before, and her fever seems to have subsided," Director Yang said with a smile, striking up a conversation. She then patted her chest in lingering fear. "When we get back, I’ll make a request to Regimental Commander Yang. After your Military Representative Office completes its rotation, it’d be best to assign a military representative to accompany us every time we go to the countryside for assistance work."
Song Qu waved his hand with a serious expression, "Director Yang, there’s no need to be so polite. Working in the countryside is a soldier’s duty, and lending a helping hand is an unshirkable responsibility.
However, I’ve heard that our factory hospital also participates in assistance work. The factory office could consider having a doctor or nurse accompany each countryside trip to prevent special situations like today’s."
The Military Representative Office had only so many people. If they took on this task, it’d be like using an anti-aircraft gun to shoot mosquitoes—how would they get their real work done?
After listening to him, Director Yang clapped her hands in approval, "That’s a good idea. When it’s the hospital staff’s turn, they go down in swarms of twenty or thirty, which doesn’t play a key role."
Seeing Comrade Song nod and fall silent, Xia Baozhu found an opportunity to express her gratitude.
She straightened her back as much as possible on the bumpy ox cart and said, "Comrade Song, the kindness of saving a life is heavier than a mountain. Thank you for your help!"
Song Qu was taken aback.
At the time, there were many nuances to handshakes between men and women. Unless necessary, male comrades followed three principles when shaking hands with female comrades: do not initiate, do not grip tightly, and do not shake vigorously.
So he had never actually shaken hands with a young female comrade before.
Seeing the hand extended beside him, he hesitated for a moment before reaching out his right hand, intending to give a light, symbolic handshake.
To express her gratitude, Xia Baozhu held the other person's hand and gave it a slight shake, saying sincerely once more, "I'll come by to thank you properly after we return."
Song Qu had never experienced such a situation before and was momentarily at a loss for words. He withdrew his hand and replied stiffly, "No need, you're too kind."
Just then, the oxcart wheel suddenly rolled over a large clump of dirt. Xia Baozhu was jolted off the straw mat and landed back down, her serious expression freezing in place. This era was going to be the death of her.
Seeing her clear, bright round eyes instantly turn utterly despondent, Song Qu suppressed an impolite chuckle and reminded the cart driver, "Uncle, could you please slow down a bit more?"
Xia Baozhu couldn't be bothered with trivial matters like losing face.
Right now, her entire body ached as if it didn't belong to her, especially her bottom—it hurt terribly.
Every time they hit a clump of dirt, her bottom got jolted; every time they hit a pothole, her bottom got jolted again.
Ignoring the dissuasion of Yang Wenxiu and Wang Chunmei, she decisively moved to the edge and jumped off the oxcart. Dragging her sore body, she insisted on walking on her own.
Besides, lying down meant eating dust, and all seven orifices felt clogged.
How long they walked after that, Xia Baozhu wasn't sure—she didn't have a watch—but she conservatively estimated it to be about two hours.
She was the type who would drive rather than take a taxi, and even taking a taxi meant walking to the neighborhood entrance. Driving just meant taking the elevator down to the parking garage.
Walking nonstop for two or three hours like this was something she had never done before. Her shoe soles felt like they were about to wear through.
Along the way, she glanced at Song Qu a few times. This comrade's feet seemed to be fitted with Jeep tires, and he wasn't even breathing heavily despite carrying a load on his back. She was utterly envious.
Song Qu once again felt a gaze coming from the southwest side.
Walking after a fever could strain the heart and risk dehydration. Song Qu glanced at the unusually flushed redness on her face, his lips twitching as he prepared to suggest she rest on the oxcart for a while.
Unexpectedly, the girl misinterpreted the signal and leaned closer. "Comrade Song, is something the matter?"
Song Qu looked at the girl who had suddenly moved so close to him. He thought back but had no recollection of her. Was she this energetic even while sick? He had assumed she would trudge back listlessly the whole way.
He calmly shifted his gaze away.
Never mind. She looked quite healthy—no need for him to say anything extra.