Shen Jingyao sat on her luggage, idly staring at her fingernails.
Suddenly, her heart raced. She abruptly looked up.
That soul-stirring figure was walking straight toward her—he was indeed here.
Her hands trembled as she tightly gripped the seams of her trousers, pressing her lips firmly together to maintain her composure.
In her memories, A Yan had always been gentle toward her, exuding the refined elegance of an aristocratic family.
The person approaching her now looked the same, but with added resilience. His gaze was sharper than before, and his pale complexion had turned wheat-colored.
Yet that profound tremor from the soul told Shen Jingyao that this was indeed her A Yan. She had finally found him.
Tears welled in Shen Jingyao’s eyes, and her lips curved into a smile. In that moment, her soul felt redeemed.
An overwhelming joy surged from deep within, urging her to throw herself into his embrace.
The girl beside her noticed her tears and glanced around in confusion, wondering if the wind had blown dust into her eyes.
Zhou Muyan stopped half a meter away from her, his deep eyes burning with intense emotion.
Their gazes locked, waves of unspoken feelings transcending time and space to reconnect.
To onlookers, it seemed like a man utterly captivated by a girl, with no attempt to hide his fascination.
The female Educated Youth all turned to look at Zhou Muyan, surprised to find someone so handsome in such a remote, impoverished place.
However, people in this era tended to be reserved. After a few glances, they averted their eyes out of shyness.
Only Zhou Muyan and Shen Jingyao continued to gaze at each other, as if countless words remained unspoken.
Zhou Youlin, approaching from behind, saw his youngest son staring intently at a female Educated Youth and scowled.
“Useless,” he muttered, slapping his son’s back firmly. “Third Son, why haven’t you gathered everyone yet?”
Zhou Muyan snapped back to reality and gave Shen Jingyao a gentle, reassuring look.
He then began reading the list: “Chen Weiguo, Xu Aili, Feng Tianzhu, Shen Jingyao.”
When he reached the last name, everyone noticed his voice softened noticeably, unlike the businesslike tone he’d used for the others.
“I am Zhou Youlin, captain of the Zhoujia Village Production Brigade. Those whose names were called are assigned to our brigade. Bring your luggage and follow this way,” Zhou Youlin announced sternly after his son finished.
Hearing his name, Shen Jingyao guessed this must be A Yan’s father in this world.
Yang Hongjuan, watching from behind, noted Shen Jingyao’s figure and thought, So her name is Shen Jingyao. It’s a lovely name.
She felt a mix of emotions realizing they weren’t assigned to the same place.
Meanwhile, Song Xiaolan was relieved. If they had been grouped together, she feared it would lead to trouble.
Shen Jingyao carried her luggage and followed at the back of the group. The two male Educated Youth kept a low profile during the walk, and Xu Aili was the one who had gotten sick earlier.
Zhou Muyan walked to the rear of the group, frowning at the luggage in Shen Jingyao’s hands.
“Let me carry that for you. Don’t fall behind,” he said in a somewhat stiff tone.
A flicker of amusement shone in Shen Jingyao’s eyes as she set the luggage down. “Thank you, comrade.”
Zhou Muyan’s lips twitched into a slight smile, his eyes overflowing with tenderness.
He bent down to pick up her luggage and walked ahead. Shen Jingyao watched his taller and more robust figure than before, smiling silently.
A Yan used to be the campus heartthrob type, but now he wore a traditional upper garment, coarse cloth trousers, and Liberation Shoes, giving him a somewhat rugged appearance.
Yet no matter how he looked, he was still her A Yan, and she loved him all the same.
Chen Weiguo noticed him carrying Shen Educated Youth’s luggage and turned to the pale-faced Xu Aili. “Xu Educated Youth, let me help you with your luggage.”
He felt that since they were all assigned to the same production team now, they should help each other out.
Xu Aili, completely exhausted, offered a grateful smile. “Thank you, Chen Educated Youth.”
She truly had no strength left and was barely holding on.
Nearby, Feng Tianzhu silently loaded his own luggage onto the oxcart.
Zhou Youlin watched as they all placed their luggage on the cart. “Let’s go.” His ox was precious—it only carried luggage, not people.
Zhou Muyan walked over to his father. “Dad, let the two female Educated Youth ride on the cart. Look, that other one looks like she’s about to collapse. If she faints on the way, it’ll delay us.”
Zhou Youlin observed Xu Aili’s unsteady state and thought his son made a good point.
“The two female comrades can get on then.” He just felt sorry for his ox, thinking he’d give it extra grass when they returned.
“Thank you, Uncle.” Shen Jingyao smiled sweetly, thinking how thoughtful A Yan was.
Xu Aili quickly followed with her thanks.
Zhou Youlin’s expression softened considerably—they seemed like polite youngsters.
“No need for thanks, hurry up and get on.”
Shen Jingyao and Xu Aili climbed onto the oxcart, sitting on their own luggage.
Zhou Youlin drove the cart while Chen Weiguo and Feng Tianzhu walked on its left side.
Zhou Muyan walked on the right side because Shen Jingyao was sitting on that side of the cart.
The journey from the commune back to Zhoujia Village Production Brigade would take just over an hour. The oxcart moved slowly forward.
Though bumpy, the ride was less jarring than a tractor and far better than walking.
Shen Jingyao gazed ahead and noticed Xu Aili had already slumped over her luggage. The two male Educated Youth walked straight ahead without glancing around.
She secretly extended one hand outside the cart. The next moment, a warm, dry yet rough large hand covered her small one.
His thumb caressed the back of her hand tenderly, as if reluctant to let go.
An electric current shot from their palms straight to their hearts. Shen Jingyao’s lips curved into a sweet, reassured smile.
Playfully, she lightly scratched Zhou Muyan’s palm with her fingers. Zhou Muyan stiffened momentarily, a helpless smile tugging at his lips—Yao Yao was still as mischievous as ever.
Zhou Youlin, craving a smoke, turned to his son. “Third Son, come take over driving for a bit.”
Hearing Zhou Youlin’s voice, Shen Jingyao immediately withdrew her hand and sat up properly.
As the soft little hand slipped away, Zhou Muyan coughed dryly into his half-clenched fist.
“Alright.” He went to the front and took the whip from his father, continuing to drive the cart.
Zhou Youlin retrieved his old tobacco pipe from behind his back, lit it with a match, and began smoking.
Shen Jingyao felt unprecedentedly happy. Watching A Yan’s back as he drove, she started observing their surroundings.
The dirt road beneath them stretched ahead in winding curves, with the distant mountains faintly visible through the haze.
She took a deep breath—the oxygen anion content was truly high, indeed the air here hadn’t been polluted by heavy industry yet.
Walking ahead, Zhou Muyan felt more relaxed than ever before.
The disorientation of arriving in this era, the panic of not finding his beloved—all would cease to exist after today.
His high-spirited, beaming appearance even made Zhou Youlin glance at him several times.
No, he needed to observe him a bit longer.