For ten work points, Lin Cui unhesitatingly hurried to the brigade headquarters’ spacious warehouse. The warehouse that usually stored grain was now idle, yet at this moment it was packed to bursting with people.
She quickly scanned the crowded room. Out of the corner of her eye, Lin Cui caught the tall figure standing in the corner. The man, estimated to be about 1.9 meters, had a towering build—truly eye-catching. Hard not to notice.
“Come, Cuicui, come help write some characters.” Sun Weiguo looked at Lin Cui, a high school graduate, making full use of her abilities by having her help write the records.
Having been battered in turn by familiar yet strange characters, the clerk seemed to have aged several years. He hurriedly yielded his seat to Lin Cui.
……
The soldiers were sharing stories. The commune members listened with great interest, clapping excitedly from time to time. Not many people paid attention to the fact that the clerk recording the meeting’s content at the desk in the right front had been replaced.
Only the tall man standing in the corner fixed his gaze on the woman bent over writing up front.
Compared to the previous balding clerk, who alternated between scratching his ears and cheeks and racking his brains, the new “clerk” wrote smoothly, seemingly able to summarize the meeting content without needing to think, writing furiously.
Wan Feng had cultivated superhuman hearing and sight in the apocalypse. With a thought, he could look into the distance and easily glimpse Lin Cui’s writing from over ten meters away.
Her handwriting was delicate and elegant, carrying a touch of flowing grace—in sharp contrast to the clerk’s stiff, rigid characters before.
From time to time, Lin Cui raised her eyes to listen to the three people’s speeches up front. As her eyes moved, one could tell she was thinking and summarizing. From time to time she bent her head and wrote with a flourish, her pen moving like a dragon and snake, graceful and free.
There was not the slightest attention paid to Wan Decai, to whom she’d once been betrothed, nor any resentment toward He Menghua, who had taken away her marriage.
Wan Feng recalled the novel plot he had transmigrated into. Today should have been the day Lin Cui, the former fiancée, caused a huge scene at the meeting. But none of it had happened.
Why was that?
When the speeches ended, accompanied by thunderous applause, Lin Cui handed the four pages filled with speech records to the brigade leader. A crowd gathered around, marveling at Lin Cui’s beautiful handwriting.
“You really need education for this. Look how beautiful it is, and not a single stumble, not a single ink blot.”
Lin Cui had practiced calligraphy since middle school and wrote beautifully. In high school, she’d even won first prize in the grade’s essay competition. Completing a task like this was naturally easy.
The brigade headquarters cadres praised her repeatedly. Even Wan Decai couldn’t resist looking a couple more times. A flash of amazement appeared in his eyes. Looking at Lin Cui again, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of curiosity.
He had originally taken it for granted that the fiancée his parents had arranged without consulting him was a shrewish country village woman. Only at this moment did Wan Decai have to admit—this understanding seemed to be wrong.
Today’s protagonists seemed to have some of their spotlight stolen. He Menghua was unwilling to look at her beloved’s former fiancée. Thus she didn’t notice that her cousin He Changqing was staring fixedly at Lin Cui’s writing, his gaze then landing on Lin Cui, who had turned to tidy up and prepare to leave, lingering for a long time.
“Comrade Lin Cui, your handwriting is really good. Could you help register the urea details too? I can’t free my hands calculating accounts alone.” Accountant Zhao found an excuse whose problem anyone could see—he wanted to say a few more words to Lin Cui.
This scene fell into the eyes of Aunt Hongmei, who had just entered the room. Her excitement at matchmaking young men and women was written all over her face. She even discussed it with Wan Feng beside her: “Ai ya, Cuicui is our brigade’s gentlest and most cultured girl. Whoever marries her will have great fortune! By the way, Wan Feng, you wait too. Auntie will go scout little firecrackers for you. I guarantee I’ll arrange it clearly for you.”
“The gentlest, the most cultured?” Wan Feng’s sharp gaze landed ahead. His thin lips parted slightly, as if carrying a hint of doubt. This was completely different from the Lin Cui in the novel.
“Of course! Who doesn’t know Cuicui has a good temper? She’s never blushed or quarreled with anyone.” Aunt Hongmei—leaving other things aside—knew the temperament of every person within ten miles best. “She’s also a high school graduate. Ai yo, incredible. If only our brigade had an elementary school, Cuicui could definitely go be a teacher or something.”
Ahead, Lin Cui, mindful of Accountant Zhao’s past kindness in trying to offer her the kerosene lamp, took the opportunity of work to repay it. She immediately took the paper and pen and helped him register the urea.
“215 mu of rice, seedling-strengthening fertilizer, 10 catties of urea per mu; topdressing 15 catties per mu. 83 mu of corn, topdressing 15 catties per mu…” Accountant Zhao had gotten the urea approval list from the commune. He reported it by category for Lin Cui to record. A string of numbers linked together. Accountant Zhao was just about to take out the abacus to calculate the total when he heard Lin Cui’s pen swish-swish-swish and her mouth speaking simultaneously.
“Total 6,233 catties.” Lin Cui wrote the number in the total column. As she capped the pen, she pushed the paper and pen back to Accountant Zhao. “Accountant Zhao, it’s all registered. I’ll head back to eat first. Goodbye.”
Not far away, her eldest brother’s family of three and her second brother were waving to her, urging her to come home for dinner.
Two black braids swayed lightly in the wind. Lin Cui trotted to join her family, talking and laughing as they left.
Accountant Zhao stared blankly at the beauty’s departing figure, disappointed that he hadn’t mustered the courage to ask Comrade Lin Cui to see a movie or eat a meal at the state-run restaurant.
But courage—once lost, was hard to find again.
His fingertip paused on the abacus, motionless for a long time, until he noticed a gaze fixed on the urea registration book beside him: “Battalion—Battalion Commander Wan, you also know about urea?”
“No.” Wan Decai painfully tugged the corner of his mouth and withdrew his gaze.
Only in the shifting corner of his vision, his cousin standing by the warehouse door also seemed to be looking in this direction. His tall figure almost filled the door frame.
The brigade’s organized military-support speech concluded successfully. The several great heroes were invited to the brigade leader’s house for a meal. Accountant Zhao absentmindedly packed up the tools and returned to the brigade headquarters, his mind still full of the soft words that had drifted past his ears half an hour ago.
In the entire brigade, one could no longer find a girl as gentle and cultured as Comrade Lin Cui.
Accountant Zhao, wearing an expression of infatuation, tilted his head slightly back. The corners of his mouth unconsciously lifted. Before his eyes seemed to appear a young girl with two braids—the image carved into the bottom of his heart. Beautiful, lively, gentle… Tall, imposing… Ai!
A tall, imposing figure suddenly appeared before his eyes, forcefully squeezing Comrade Lin Cui out of his line of sight.
Accountant Zhao, his expression somewhat unnatural, coughed twice: “Comrade Wan Feng, why have you come over?”
“Accountant Zhao, I’d like to look at the signature confirmation book for when my parents’ martyr pension was collected.”
Wan Feng knew the book’s plot. Back when Wan Guangzhi and his wife sacrificed themselves, the village evaluated them as martyrs. Their son Wan Feng, until he reached adulthood at eighteen, would receive a martyr pension every year. For the first two or three years, this martyr pension did reach Wan Feng’s hands. But the last two years, it was entirely falsely claimed by his own second uncle, Wan Guangfa. Afterward, Wan Guangfa merely hoodwinked Wan Feng, saying this was money his father owed and had to be repaid.
The original Wan Feng was naturally timid. Plus, having lost both parents at a young age, he had a bit more dependence on and blind obedience toward his only relative in the world, his second uncle. Whatever Wan Guangfa said, he didn’t dare contradict.
“Ah? Then I’ll have to look for it. Wait a moment.” Accountant Zhao poured the man a cup of cold boiled water. After all, this was a hero who had let him share in the glory of eating wild boar meat. Better treatment was normal.
Rustling sounds drifted out. Accountant Zhao searched like looking for a needle in a haystack in the flat cabinet where the brigade headquarters stored files and materials. As page after page flipped, a mottled registration book from years ago came into view.
“Found it.” Accountant Zhao had taken office last year. He didn’t know much about things from seven or eight years ago. He could only find the column where Wan Feng had signed to confirm receipt of the martyr pension and bring it before the man himself. “Here, Comrade Wan Feng. This is the name you signed back then when collecting the martyr pension.”
The two characters “Wan Feng” were crooked and askew—clearly not good-looking. But this was a common level in the countryside. After all, being able to recognize and write characters already surpassed most people.
He lightly scanned the five consecutive signatures. Wan Feng, with keen hearing and sight from the apocalypse, easily caught the subtle differences in the handwriting. Although the later signatures deliberately imitated, a fake was always a fake.
Closing the registration book, Wan Feng already had a clear idea in his heart: “Alright. Many thanks.”
“It’s nothing, nothing.” Accountant Zhao put away the registration book. The male comrade trapped by love clutched the booklet, finding it somewhat hard to speak. His lips opened and closed, but no sound ever came.
Accountant Zhao’s abnormality fell into Wan Feng’s eyes. The tall man frowned: “Is something the matter?”
“That…” Thinking of Wan Feng, who had been on countless female comrades’ minds these past days, Accountant Zhao steeled his heart and went for it. “Comrade Wan Feng, I wanted to ask you… I see many female comrades like you and want to be with you. How did you do it? The female comrade I like finds it hard to even say a few extra words to me.”
Humans really were all brainless creatures, one after another knowing only about romance, dating, and wanting to marry. Wan Feng, who came from the apocalypse, was truly speechless.
The contempt and disdain in his eyes were undisguised. Wan Feng turned and left, tossing back only one sentence: “At least you have to be a bit bold and direct. What kind of look is this, all timid and hesitant?”
Accountant Zhao stared as the imposing figure disappeared from sight. He mulled it over and over, and finally understood—he was still too shy. He had to bravely speak his feelings to Comrade Lin Cui!
“Thank you, Comrade Wan Feng! I’ve remembered it!” A golden saying—Accountant Zhao engraved it in his heart. He even made up his mind: if he and Comrade Lin Cui worked out, he absolutely had to invite Comrade Wan Feng to the seat of honor at the wedding banquet.
……
The brigade’s collective speech meeting was held smoothly, without any accidents.
The very next day after the meeting, Aunt Hongmei came to Wan Feng with several candidates—young girls who could get fierce and fight. All of them had seen Wan Feng and had some interest in him. Eight or nine out of ten could work out.
“Wan Feng, Auntie is very mindful of your matters. See, for your blind date, I’ve scouted several candidates…”
Before Aunt Hongmei could finish, Wan Feng had already spoken first, expressionlessly rejecting his former idea: “Aunt Hongmei, I’ve thought it over. For a blind date and marriage, I should still find a gentle and cultured girl.”
After all, he was new here. He shouldn’t find too outgoing a partner—that would draw too much attention. Besides, a gentle, soft girl would be easier to coax. His identity wouldn’t be easily exposed either.
That’s right. Exactly so.
Aunt Hongmei, who hadn’t expected Wan Feng to change his face faster than the weather: “…?”