Shūxīn’s brother really wouldn’t fall for Zhao Lì anymore. After so many years of having his beautiful younger sister right in front of him, Liú Jiànguó’s opinions of Zhao Lì’s looks were just casual remarks—nowhere near the awe described in the original story.
With Shūxīn’s constant guidance over the years, Liú Jiànguó had become indifferent to girls who were both pretty and gentle.
This was because his sister often hit him with a gentle smile. If he made a mistake, she’d hit him. If she was in a bad mood, she’d hit him. Even his brothers, Liú Jiànjūn and Liú Jiànhóng, weren’t spared.
It wasn’t really Shūxīn’s fault. In her first year or two here, she had been busy trying to win over her family’s favor, filling her stomach in the mountains, and hadn’t been so strict with her brothers.
Later, once her position in the family stabilized, the three of them endured plenty of beatings—and the elders didn’t interfere. At first, Shūxīn found excuses, but eventually, she didn’t even need a reason.
Since then, Shūxīn hadn’t paid much attention to the zhīqīng. In a few days, she would report for work, and some preparations were necessary.
She planned to buy a bicycle, since commuting between the village and the county by foot would be impossible once she started working. The Liú family agreed. Granny gave her two hundred yuan, which Shūxīn accepted. Although she had money, its source was irregular.
A bicycle cost around two hundred yuan—an enormous sum for a villager. Her taking that much money would be hard to explain. Since Granny gave it, Shūxīn wouldn’t let her be at a loss; she would give half her salary to the family each month.
She decided to wait until she started work to buy the bicycle. If she bought it now, the family would become the focus of village gossip again, so it was better to delay.
Shūxīn didn’t focus on the zhīqīng much, but someone at the zhīqīng office had taken notice of her.
Luò Yuè, from H City, had family members: grandfather Luò Dàjiāng, grandmother Liú Huā, father Luò Shān, mother Zhāng Juān, elder brother Luò Chāo, second brother Luò Fù, and younger sister Luò Yuè.
His parents worked in a textile factory. When the older brothers reached adulthood, they used connections to enter the factory, and both had since married and had children.
To comply with national policy, each worker family had to send someone to the countryside. Only Luò Yuè and his sister Luò Yuè were eligible.
Luò Yuè had been a premature baby with poor health. Doctors had predicted he wouldn’t survive, but when his mother went to work, his grandparents took over raising him. They loved him dearly and nursed him back to health. Only after his grandparents passed away did he return to his parents.
His parents cared for him too, though less than for the older siblings.
When the notification came to send eligible youths to the countryside, the family was torn. Both sons were precious, and it was difficult to decide. The youngest son was weak, and the countryside was harsh—they worried if he could survive. The daughter was also a concern; they couldn’t bear to let her go alone.
In the end, Luò Yuè volunteered to go. Luò Yuè’s sister didn’t want to go either, but she couldn’t let her frail brother go alone.
The family eventually agreed, providing him money and tickets, and arranging to send five yuan monthly for living expenses.
It wasn’t that his parents didn’t want to give more. Even though there were four workers in the family, many mouths had to be fed. The older brothers were married, so only a small portion of living expenses was contributed; the rest was kept by their wives. Their savings had gone to help the older brothers settle down and raise children, leaving little for themselves. For Luò Yuè, everything except the next month’s living expenses was given to him.
Luò Yuè wasn’t conflicted—he was grateful for anything. Besides what his parents gave, he had his grandparents’ inheritance. When they died, they left all their savings to him, giving the house to his parents.
Why did Luò Yuè volunteer for the countryside? One reason was concern for his sister; the other was a desire to distance himself from the Luò family.
Originally, in an alternate history of a matriarchal country, he had been a noble child in a marquis household, born with a heart condition. His mother loved him dearly, but he died at fifteen from a heart attack.
After dying, his consciousness entered the body of this 15-year-old Luò Yuè. At that time, his grandparents had just passed away, and the family didn’t notice any change in him.
Carefully, Luò Yuè navigated this new era, never revealing anything unusual for fear of being treated as a heretic.
Years later, he had understood the general state of the world, but he still kept a distance from his family, speaking little to avoid suspicion. They assumed his quiet nature was simply his personality.
When the government announced the requirement to go to the countryside, he volunteered. Though he knew it would be harsh, it was a legitimate way to leave the Luò household.
In his previous matriarchal world, men were expected to support women’s accomplishments and manage domestic affairs. Years in this world hadn’t changed his core thinking.
During the first days at Liúlín brigade, he used his knowledge to smoothly integrate into the village women’s gossip circles, learning about the majority of village situations.
The countryside was exhausting. After a day, he could barely handle it. Combining what he learned from the villagers, he devised a shortcut: marriage—here, they called it getting married.
Physically weak, having survived once, he didn’t intend to die young again. He had already scouted the perfect match: the girl who had been brought back to them, Liú Shūxīn, 16 years old, beautiful, strong, and working in the city.
This match seemed tailor-made for him. In this world, men liked delicate women. In the previous world, capable women were valued; here, the standards were reversed.
Most men would want a girl like Shūxīn—not for love, but for her ability to reduce family burdens. After marriage, they would often resent such competence.
Not Luò Yuè. He wouldn’t feel his pride threatened by her capability. He liked a girl like Shūxīn: she earned money and supported the family; he could focus on looking handsome—a perfect match.
Thinking of this, Luò Yuè smiled secretly, imagining Shūxīn’s perfect beauty, feeling his heart heat up. He recalled how she had been impressed by his appearance the first time they met—his years of careful upkeep hadn’t gone unnoticed. Surely, she had some favor toward him.
Encouraging himself, Luò Yuè resolved to win her over, to become her devoted “little man,” and rise to prominence in Liúlín brigade.
But will things go as Luò Yuè hopes? Only time will tell.