12
Zhou Xiye’s Doubts
When Jiang Zhizhi heard that Zhou Xiye and the others were staying for dinner, her heart instantly leaped to her throat. She couldn’t understand why they had suddenly decided to stay.
Seeing Zhou Xiye’s agreement, Old Liang happily hurried to the kitchen, urging Yang Fengmei to work faster: “Add more lard. What flavor can you get from just wiping a bit on the bottom of the pan?”
After urging her, he returned to chat with Zhou Xiye and Zhang Zhao. Zhou Xiye casually asked about the harvest, and Old Liang sighed: “Not good. As you know, we rely entirely on the weather here. This year was dry—no rain in spring. When it was time to harvest the wheat, it rained several times before we could gather it, and the wheat sprouted. And those educated youths at the Educated Youth Housing can’t do any work at all.”
Full of complaints, Zhou Xiye remained silent, as they didn’t interfere in local matters.
Dinner was served in the courtyard. Liang Dazhuang brought out a small square table, and Old Liang had him call the village accountant to join the meal.
Jiang Zhizhi then learned that Old Liang was not only the village team leader but also served as the branch secretary, holding some authority. Inviting the accountant was because this meal could be counted as an expense for hosting cadres, so he wouldn’t have to use his own family’s grain.
Moreover, any educated youth wanting to visit home or return to the city needed Old Liang’s signature first.
In other words, this unassuming old man held the futures of a group of educated youths in his hands.
Although Yang Fengmei was full of grievances, because Zhou Xiye and the others were present, she still prepared the meal seriously.
The noodles were rolled thin and cut evenly, served with their local specialty, Sour Slurry—a type of pickled vegetable made from Radish Greens and Bok Choy, stir-fried with lard and a few small dried chilies, creating a sour and spicy dish that whetted the appetite.
Old Liang served Zhou Xiye and Zhang Zhao heaping bowls and gave Jiang Zhizhi a bowl too, with even more noodles than in the others’ bowls.
Jiang Zhizhi quickly waved her hands: “That’s too much. I can’t eat this much—half is enough.”
Old Liang insisted: “My Dazhuang said that when he picked you up at the train station, he didn’t even let you have a sip of water, taking you straight to fix the car. After it was repaired, you rushed back here. It’s been most of the day, and you haven’t eaten a bite—you must be starving by now. We don’t have much good food in the countryside, but if you don’t mind, please eat it all.”
As luck would have it, Jiang Zhizhi was seated right next to Zhou Xiye. She didn’t dare eat too boldly, afraid of drawing his attention.
Although she hadn’t seen Zhou Xiye many times, his eyes were too profound and sharp, as if they could see right through a person’s thoughts.
In front of him, her little tricks felt completely amateurish.
And now, she was so close to him that even by lowering her gaze, she could see his knees and the texture of his army-green trousers.
His scent, like the air after spring rain in the mountains, was cool yet pleasant.
In this situation, Jiang Zhizhi lowered her head, slowly picking at her noodles while wrinkling her nose to inhale the pleasant fragrance.
A tiny, mischievous thought secretly surfaced.
As Zhou Xiye chatted with Old Liang and the others, he could glance down and see the head beside him almost buried in the bowl, braids resting on the chest, revealing a section of fair, delicate neck that curved gracefully.
But why did she keep her head down like that? Wasn’t she tired?
Was she that afraid of him?
After Zhou Xiye and Zhang Zhao finished their meal and were leaving, Zhang Zhao slipped Old Liang five jin of Food Stamps before going, making the old man’s face flush with embarrassment: “Look at you two, if you were going to give Food Stamps, I wouldn’t have insisted you stay for dinner.”
Zhang Zhao smiled: “If you don’t accept them, we really won’t come back again.”
Old Liang had no choice but to take the Food Stamps and see them out: “You’ve given too much. Next time you come for a meal, you mustn’t give anything.”
…
Zhang Zhao drove while Zhou Xiye sat in the passenger seat. Once they left the village, Zhang Zhao finally couldn’t hold back: “How did that Comrade Jiang suddenly become an expert from the provincial capital? Boss, why didn’t you expose her?”
Zhou Xiye frowned: “Expose her for what? And then what? Do you think she’s a bad person?”
Zhang Zhao was stumped by the question, pausing for a moment: “Boss, do you think she’s not a bad person and that she has a reason for hiding her identity?”
Zhou Xiye didn’t respond. He was also very curious—why had Jiang Zhizhi come all the way from the capital to this small mountain village?
If it was to get close to them, then their previous encounters weren’t coincidental?
Seeing Zhou Xiye remain silent, Zhang Zhao couldn’t help but remind him: “Boss, you often tell us not to let subjective judgments affect objective ones, and not to let our guard down because of someone’s appearance. If Comrade Jiang is problematic, we should report it to the public security bureau in advance.”
Zhou Xiye shook his head: “Let’s wait. If she really has some special identity, there must be someone behind her. Reporting now would only alert the enemy.”
Zhang Zhao opened his mouth but found himself unable to refute. He had a feeling the boss might be biased, yet what he said made perfect sense.
…
After dinner, Yang Fengmei carried a stool to the threshing ground to watch a movie, while Old Liang had already gone ahead to entertain the projectionist.
Liang Dazhuang wanted to go too, but he felt it wasn’t right to leave Jiang Zhizhi home alone. After scratching his head and thinking for a long time, he asked Jiang Zhizhi: “Do you want to go watch the movie?”
Jiang Zhizhi wasn’t interested in the movie but thought she might get some useful information from the honest Liang Dazhuang: “Dazhuang, how many people are in your village? Are there any Unregistered Residents?”
Liang Dazhuang nodded without hesitation: “There are Unregistered Residents. My fifth uncle’s wife is one, but Unregistered Residents don’t get Work Points for their labor.”
Jiang Zhizhi frowned—she was probably a bought wife, which would explain why she had no household registration: “Then, if an outsider wanted to stay in your village, what procedures would they need to complete?”
Liang Dazhuang scratched his head: “Not really. As long as my dad writes a note and reports it to the commune, it should be fine. Around here, as my dad says, the mountains are high and the emperor is far away—we don’t have that many rules.”
Jiang Zhizhi nodded: “How would they make a living?”
Liang Dazhuang answered honestly: “Once the commune approves the note, they can join the collective work. If you work, you get Work Points, and at the end of the year, you receive Rationed Grain. Comrade Jiang, why are you asking all this?”
Jiang Zhizhi smiled: “It’s nothing, I’m just curious, asking casually.”
Liang Dazhuang grunted: “I thought you liked our village and wanted to settle here.”
Though honest, he wasn’t stupid—he sensed that Jiang Zhizhi’s many questions must have a purpose.
Jiang Zhizhi smiled faintly: “I do have that idea, but don’t tell your dad yet. I need to think about it more.”
Liang Dazhuang nodded repeatedly, utterly impressed by Jiang Zhizhi and wishing he could take her as his master. If she could stay in their village, they wouldn’t have to worry about the brigade’s tractor breaking down anymore.
But he couldn’t help being curious: “Comrade Jiang, as a city dweller, why would you want to stay in our village?”