Back at the youth point, everyone was busy bustling around unpacking, and nobody paid much attention to the two of them.
Only Xie Ling sat nearby, shooting pure daggers at Wen Ya with her eyes. Before she could even hatch a plot, a blinding wave of pain struck her skull, forcing her to let out a sharp shriek and drop into a deep crouch, clutching her head.
It turned out she had been plotting harm against Wen Ya again, instantly triggering the mental punishment.
The people inside the room jumped in alarm. What on earth is wrong with her? Why is she suddenly screaming out of nowhere?
Because Wang Meiyu had completely cut ties with her, she simply stood by with a cold, detached gaze, refusing to step in. Wen Ya, meanwhile, gave Xie Ling a wide berth. A couple of other kind-hearted girls hurried over to support her, asking what was wrong.
Xie Ling had no clue how to explain herself. The exact same thing had happened in the dining car, and now it was happening again. Suddenly, she panicked and grabbed tightly at the front of her clothes, leaving the two girls who had come to her aid utterly speechless.
What is her deal? the girls thought. We came over to check on her, and she reacts by gripping her collar for dear life like she’s being assaulted! Who does she think she’s putting on a show for? We’re all women here!
Disgusted, the two girls stepped back. Forget it, let her be. If we stay, she might try to pin something on us.
To be fair, the girls had completely misunderstood the situation. Xie Ling had suddenly remembered her public strip-down back in the dining car when her head pain flared up, and she was desperately trying to keep her clothes on this time. In reality, as long as she stopped obsessing over seducing other people, the mental block wouldn’t trigger—but she had no way of knowing that.
After sitting there in misery for a while without anything else happening, Xie Ling finally stopped crying out, though she sat in utter confusion, wondering what on earth was wrong with her body.
Meanwhile, Wen Ya picked out an empty spot on the kang bed, unpacked her basin, towel, soap, and cleaning rag, and got to work. Once her gear was stowed, she headed outside to fetch water so she could scrub down the wooden sleeping platform all over again.
After wiping down the bed frame, she laid out her bedding. By evening, everyone’s official grain rations had been delivered and distributed.
Youth Leader He gathered the group to lay down the local rules. “We cook communal meals here at the youth point,” he explained. “The women are responsible for cooking, and the men are responsible for fetching water and chopping firewood. If anyone decides they don’t want to join the communal kitchen, you’ll be entirely responsible for hauling your own water and gathering your own fuel.”
He pointed toward the yard. “We share a vegetable plot right out back that everyone cultivates together. If you eat with the communal mess hall, you share whatever vegetables come out of that garden. Otherwise, you’ll have to grow your own crops or barter with the locals.”
Hearing this, almost everyone opted to join the communal kitchen. The men certainly didn’t want to cook, and the women wanted nothing to do with heavy axe work and hauling water buckets.
Just as everyone was agreeing to join the mess hall, a cool voice cut through the murmurs.
“I won’t be joining the communal meals.”
Everyone turned to look at Ling Hao. Youth Leader He frowned slightly and asked, “Are you planning to cook for yourself independently?”
“I’ve bought a house. Once it’s cleaned up and repaired, I’ll be moving out. You don’t need to count me in.”
His announcement stunned the room. Even with the government relocation subsidy, most families wouldn’t hand over the entire cash sum to their departing children. And even if they did, nobody in their right mind would waste such a massive chunk of change buying a private house. The village provided housing for free, after all—spending your own cash on real estate felt like burning money for no reason.
Just as the rest of the youths were processing this, a second voice chimed in.
“Youth Leader He, I bought a house as well. I won’t be eating with the communal mess hall either.”
He Zhiwei blinked, recovering his composure. “Well, that’s fine too. Do you two need any help with anything?”
“No, thank you,” Wen Ya replied smoothly.
Instantly, a few envious glances shot their way, accompanied by a handful of sneers from peers who thought they knew better. What a pair of fools, those cynics thought. Do they think life down in the countryside is a picnic? They’ve blown all their cash upfront. Let’s see what they do when they run out of money and can’t afford to buy food later. Ah, young people—always so reckless and naive.
In a corner, Wang Meiyu sat with her head lowered, deep in thought. In my past life, neither Ling Hao nor Wen Ya ever did any of this, she puzzled inwardly. Has my rebirth fundamentally altered the timeline of this world? If history is already rewriting itself, can I still rely on my memories of future events?
With the dissenters opting out, the remaining group pooled their grain rations together and drew up a cooking rotation schedule. Since there were plenty of hands, nobody had to slave over the stove too often.
Excluding Wen Ya, there were eight female youths left, making it easy to pair them up into teams of two. On the men’s side, gathering firewood would be a collective group effort, while hauling water was assigned to individuals on a rotating daily basis.
While the others were still bickering and organizing their schedule, Wen Ya had already started preparing her own dinner.
She decided to whip up a quick batch of egg drop dough-drop soup (ganda tang)—it was fast, easy, and satisfying.
Ling Hao had been keeping a close eye on her. The moment he saw her start cooking, he strode over to his luggage, retrieved a sack of fine white flour, and walked over.
“I’ll supply the flour, you do the cooking. Let’s share a mess for the next couple of days—I’ll handle all the water hauling and firewood chopping for us.”
Wen Ya paused to consider it. That wasn’t a bad deal at all; it meant she wouldn’t have to haul a single drop of water during her transition. Once she moved into her own courtyard, she’d have her own private well, plus whatever water she siphoned from her spatial dimension, so she’d never run short.
In truth, the youth point did have a well of its own, but nobody dared drink from it. Rumors claimed several people had drowned down in that shaft over the years, making it a taboo spot that everyone avoided. Eventually, out of sheer superstition and fear among the female youths, they had held a brief meeting and voted to seal the well completely. Because of that, the current residents couldn’t use local well water and had to hike out every day to fetch fresh water from elsewhere.
Inside the kitchen, Wen Ya added extra water and a pinch of salt to her pot, whisked in two eggs with her chopsticks, and watched the golden ribbons ripple through the boiling broth.
Once it was done, she ladled out a generous bowl for herself and poured the remainder into a small basin for Ling Hao. She gestured for him to carry his basin outside, quickly washed the pot, and politely asked the rest of the incoming kitchen crew if they needed to use the stove yet. Seeing they were ready, she stepped aside.
Outside at the wooden table, Ling Hao set his basin down. Wen Ya reached into her cloth travel pouch and pulled out a small glass jar of pickled mustard greens—without pickles, a simple soup felt incomplete.
Seeing her pull out the jar, Ling Hao reached into his own bag and produced a ten-centimeter-long meat sausage wrapped tightly in oiled parchment paper.
Sitting down across from her, he snapped the sausage cleanly in half and handed one piece directly to Wen Ya, keeping the other for himself.
Wen Ya didn’t stand on ceremony. After all, she had contributed farm-fresh eggs and pickled vegetables to their impromptu partnership. While a jar of pickles couldn’t quite compete with a cured meat sausage, she mentally resolved to cook something even better next time.
Nearby, the other newly arrived youths watched their setup with wide eyes. A rich, savory wave of white flour, egg broth, and spiced meat wafted over them, causing several mouths to water involuntarily.
Damn, that smells incredible! some thought. Meat sausage? That smells out of this world!
Xie Ling’s eyes looked like they were about to shoot actual flames of hatred, while Wang Meiyu watched the pair from afar with a furrowed brow, utterly failing to figure out where the timeline had gone so terribly wrong.
Neither of them paid any attention to the gawking crowd; dinner came first.
As Wen Ya sipped her soup, she smiled inwardly. Ah, perfection. Nothing beats food cooked exactly to your own palate.
Across the table, Ling Hao chewed thoughtfully. Her cooking is amazing, he mused. Even a simple bowl of soup tastes tailor-made for me. If I don’t figure out a way to make her mine, I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.
Once the two of them finished eating, the communal mess hall finally had their own meal ready.
The veterans had cooked a thin cornmeal gruel spiked with wild greens, accompanied by a cold-tossed garden vegetable salad. Compared to the white-flour egg drop soup and meat sausage shared by Wen Ya and Ling Hao, the communal fare looked—and tasted—like sad cardboard.
The food that the other youths had anticipated with such high hopes suddenly didn’t taste very good at all, leading a few of them to grumble quietly into their bowls.