“Enough, stop talking. Everyone has already said their piece. I’ll still go to the fields from now on, but I’ll be more careful.”
Old Mrs. Lin was a proud woman; all her life, she had never allowed anyone to question her judgment or capabilities.
Suddenly, her eyes lit up. “You’re Zhou Chiye?”
Zhou Chiye had been standing at the doorway, not yet stepping inside. Seeing that the old woman seemed fine, he had just turned to leave when she called out. He turned back, and since the doorframe was rather low, he bent his tall frame — he stood nearly six feet two inches — to avoid hitting his head.
“Grandma Lin, my surname is Zhou. You can just call me Little Zhou.”
He always spoke gently and respectfully to the elderly.
“Grandma, this is Secretary Zhou,” someone added.
“Ah, so it’s you!” Old Mrs. Lin exclaimed. If her legs hadn’t been hurting so badly, she would have stood up to shake his hand right away. “Young man, you are such a fine-looking fellow!”
Zhou Chiye simply nodded, acknowledging her compliment.
“Please rest well. Farm work can’t be finished in a single day.”
Touched by his concern, Old Mrs. Lin reached under her pillow and pulled out a red envelope. “Thank you again for saving my granddaughter’s life the other day. Please take this.”
“There’s no need,” Zhou Chiye replied quickly. “I wouldn’t call it saving her life. She was running as fast as an Olympic sprinter at the time — she would have gotten away safely even without me.”
He firmly refused to accept it. Lin Sui’s mouth twitched slightly. He’s turning down my thanks? Could it be he’s worried I’ll try to tie him down out of gratitude for saving me?
“It’s just our local custom,” Old Mrs. Lin insisted. “There’s no hidden meaning behind it.”
“Secretary Zhou, just take it,” Lin Sui urged.
Zhou Chiye glanced at her, his eyes glinting briefly, then smiled faintly. “Very well then — I’ll accept it.”
He took the envelope with both hands. “Thank you, Grandma Lin.”
Old Mrs. Lin was reluctant to let him leave so soon. “Why don’t you stay for dinner tonight? Look, the sun has already set. If you go back now, you’ll only have to cook for yourself.”
Zhou Chiye assumed it was just polite talk. “Thank you, but no need. Someone else will cook for me.”
“Then bring your wife along to eat with us too!”
Lin Sui wondered if her grandmother had twisted not just her back but also her senses — she kept winking at her granddaughter, her eyes twitching awkwardly from the effort.
But that was just how Old Mrs. Lin was; being Hakka, she was naturally hospitable and warm.
Lin Sui, however, had already concluded that Secretary Zhou wanted nothing to do with her.
Before she could speak, Zhou Chiye clarified: “Ah, you’ve misunderstood. I’m not married. The person who cooks is a male colleague working at the town government. He’s a good cook, and I just tag along to share his meals.”
That was the longest sentence Zhou Chiye had spoken since arriving in the village.
Old Mrs. Lin let out a soft “Oh,” then said, “Well then, bring your colleague over to join us as well!”
Lin Sui couldn’t help but snort with laughter. When she looked up again, her eyes met Zhou Chiye’s.
He had deep, striking eyes, yet his expression always carried a hint of impatience. Standing there with his hands planted firmly on his hips, he even looked a little intimidating.
Lin Sui quickly suppressed her laughter. “Grandma, Secretary Zhou is a very busy man with many responsibilities. We’ll invite him again when he has more free time.”
Zhou Chiye thought it over — he didn’t actually have anything pressing to do.
Then Lin Sui’s second uncle, Lin Xiangming, spoke up. “Secretary Zhou, why not stay for dinner anyway? About that proposal you mentioned earlier — setting up experimental farm plots in the village — I’ve already sent word to the heads of the nearby villages. We can all sit down and discuss it together.”
This was exactly what Zhou Chiye had hoped for.
“Very well then. I won’t impose on you any longer than necessary.”
“Not at all — not at all!” Old Mrs. Lin beamed. “It seems only your uncle’s words carry weight, haha!”
Lin Sui’s father, Lin Xiangfa, rubbed his hands together happily, his thin mustache wiggling with excitement. “I’ll go slaughter a chicken right away!”
Old Lin was indeed a skilled cook, and Lin Sui herself had learned most of her cooking from him.
And so, Secretary Zhou stayed for dinner. The whole Lin family was overjoyed — it felt like a great honor to have someone of his standing in their home.
Lin Sui’s younger brother, Lin Yaohua, and sister had just returned from school. While running an errand to buy soy sauce, Lin Yaohua proudly announced to everyone he passed: “Secretary Zhou is eating at our house today!” His voice was loud enough for the whole village to hear.
Lin Sui smiled and turned to Zhou Chiye. “Secretary Zhou, would you care for some white tea? It’s home-dried and cured by our family.”
“That sounds fine,” Zhou Chiye replied.
While the second uncle went to fetch the village leaders and Lin Xiangfa prepared the meal, Lin Sui brewed the tea and set out tables and chairs on the open ground in front of the house. There stood a large persimmon tree, its branches thick with leaves and heavy with fruit. It cast a wide, cool shade, and the autumn breeze made the air feel fresh and pleasant.
Lin Sui’s younger cousin, Lin Xiaohua, was quite shy. She hid just inside the doorway, peeking out with wide eyes at Zhou Chiye.
Zhou Chiye noticed her. “Hello there,” he said gently. “What’s your name?”
At once, the little girl vanished out of sight.
Zhou Chiye raised an eyebrow. “Am I really that frightening?”
He glanced at Lin Sui, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Didn’t you tell me just now that I’m easy to get along with and look like a perfectly good person?”
Lin Sui laughed smoothly, turning on her charm. “That’s true — you really are. My cousin has just never seen anyone so handsome and distinguished before. She probably mistook you for a movie star and got shy!”
Zhou Chiye’s mouth twitched slightly. “You two cousins really are as different as night and day.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Lin Sui replied playfully. “The same rice feeds a hundred different kinds of people. But why does the land in this part of the country grow men as handsome as you?”
With such a fine-looking man sitting right in front of her, Lin Sui found herself stealing more than a few glances. The heavy gloom that had been weighing on her heart lifted a little. Eager to please, she quickly brought over a wooden chair. “Please have a seat, Secretary Zhou.”
Zhou Chiye gave her a brief look, then sat down comfortably and surveyed his surroundings. “This place is actually quite peaceful and pleasant.”
The layout of the village was typical: a large pond in front, the ancestral hall at the center, and houses scattered around the edges.
Lin Sui’s great-grandfather had once been a minor landowner, so their home was still built from solid blue bricks and tiles — a remnant of those days. But after the land and family assets were confiscated years ago, they had become among the poorest households in the village.
They eventually got the house back, whitewashed the walls, and continued living there. But space was very tight; Lin Sui felt embarrassed to admit she still shared a room with her brother, separated only by a thin cloth curtain.
In those days, Linjia Village and the entire Cuizhu Township (Cuizhuxiang)were truly impoverished.
Thinking of her grandmother, who had only just been released from the hospital yet insisted on working in the fields, Lin Sui could not allow herself to feel sorry for her circumstances. She pulled over a small stool, sat down, and smoothed her skirt over her knees. “Secretary Zhou, when you visited the shoe factory earlier — are you planning to open a branch right here in Cuizhu Township (Cuizhuxiang) (Cuizhuxiang)?”
Lin Sui was already petite, and sitting on the low stool made her look even smaller beside Zhou Chiye’s tall frame. Still, her legs were shapely, and in her low-heeled sandals, her ankles looked delicate and smooth, her toes so fair they seemed to glow.
Zhou Chiye quickly shifted his gaze up to her face. “What do you think of the idea?”
Lin Sui was about to say that opening a shoe factory in the village didn’t seem practical, but before she could speak, a rough voice cut in.
“What could a young girl possibly know about such matters?”
It was the head of Zhangjia Village. Since his village was nearby, he had heard Lin Xiangming calling out, and upon learning Secretary Zhou had arrived, he hurried over at once.
Two more village chiefs soon followed. Each of them offered Zhou Chiye a cigarette, which he accepted politely.
Lin Sui felt a surge of annoyance. What do you mean, ‘what could a girl know’? Are you looking down on women? Let’s see how well you do when you try to run a farm or business.
The village chief from Zhangjia glanced her over — in her heels and long dress, she looked soft and delicate, and her education was limited. Other than marrying a wealthy husband, what future could she possibly have? Though, he thought, even marrying well counted as a success for someone like her.
He turned back to Zhou Chiye with a broad smile. “We’ve heard word from the county that they plan to set up experimental crop fields right here in Cuizhu Township (Cuizhuxiang)— is that correct?”
Before Zhou Chiye could answer, he noticed Lin Sui frowning deeply.
He turned to her. “Miss Lin, do you have something you’d like to say?”
She took a breath. “Since you ask, I’ll speak frankly. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
All three village chiefs turned to stare at her, their expressions clearly saying: What does a young girl like you understand about farming and economics?
But Lin Sui was thinking ahead to the decades to come. In all the years she remembered from her past life, no household in Cuizhu Township (Cuizhuxiang)had ever become wealthy from farming — no matter what they planted: rice, soybeans, peanuts, citrus, medicinal herbs, or cash crops. Not one had ever turned a steady profit.