1976, Hongyang Village.
Beneath the blazing sun, sweat streamed down her cheeks. Looking out at the endless sea of golden wheat, Yun Qing genuinely wanted to die.
It had been three days, and she still couldn’t accept reality.
She had transmigrated into a book!
Specifically, she’d landed in an alternate-universe period drama as the fake heiress destined for a miserable ending.
The fake heiress was foolish and full of drama, completely no match for the true heiress who served as the female lead. The moment the real heiress returned, the fake one was quickly shipped off to the countryside to become an educated youth.
The novel spent very little time on her character; the plot focused almost entirely on the sweet romance between the female lead and her military officer husband. Caught up in the heroine’s world, who cared about some cast-off fake heiress exiled to the countryside?
All anyone knew was that the next time the fake heiress appeared in the story, she was dead—beaten to death by a local village bachelor when she was only nineteen years old.
When the female lead heard the news, she merely pitied her for a fleeting moment.
The amount of schadenfreude Yun Qing used to feel reading novels like this was directly proportional to how much she wanted to cry right now.
If she had to transmigrate, fine. But into a gritty period piece? This life was bitter as hell.
If she had to transmigrate, fine. But as a dumb fake heiress? She wanted to die.
At first, she thought she’d face it with a smile and accept whatever came her way. But after two days, Yun Qing only had one thing to say: Screw accepting my fate, I am not eating this bitterness anymore!
Just standing here, looking at this massive expanse of wheat, made her head spin.
With so much wheat, how on earth was she supposed to harvest it?
She had already failed to finish her quota two days in a row, earning practically zero work points.
No, this wouldn’t do. As a former pampered rich girl whose daily routine used to consist of traveling and attending fashion shows, when had she ever suffered like this?
These past two days alone had brought her more misery than all her past life combined.
She couldn’t handle hardship herself, but surely someone else could.
She needed to find someone used to hard labor to help her out.
Yun Qing’s gaze drifted irresistibly toward the tall figure working ahead of her.
The man was exceptionally tall, easily pushing six-foot-four. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing powerful, corded muscles that flexed with every single stroke, oozing raw masculinity and making her imagination run wild.
This was He Chuan, a famously rugged local of Hongyang Village. Built like a bull and ridiculously strong—rumored to have once beaten a wild boar to death single-handedly—he pulled in a full ten work points every single day.
Yun Qing felt a shameful surge of temptation.
Ten work points! Meanwhile, she worked herself to the bone and barely scraped together one. She was losing to the village children.
Even kids could earn three work points.
If she had him helping her, she wouldn’t even have to lift a finger.
Yun Qing glanced around. It was noon, the hottest part of the day, and everyone else had ducked into the shade to pull out their home-packed lunches.
Right here, only the two of them remained.
She slipped a hand into her canvas bag and, under the cover of the fabric, plucked a crisp apple straight out of her spatial dimension.
Transmigrating? Not happy. Having a magical spatial dimension? Very happy.
On her very first day here, she’d discovered she possessed a personal space. With just a thought, she could pull things out or store them away, and her physical body could even enter it.
Inside was like an idyllic utopia, complete with a farmhouse, a babbling stream, and fields growing both fruit and vegetables.
At least she didn’t have to worry about food; that was the only reason she hadn’t starved to death in the last two days.
Otherwise, given the local diet here, she probably would have starved before she even worked herself to death.
The only pity was that while she didn’t lack food, she still had to work.
Yun Qing walked over to He Chuan’s side. The man was harvesting wheat at breakneck speed, working with neat, effortless precision. In the blink of an eye, he’d cleared a massive patch.
A couple of quick sweeps like that equaled her entire morning’s labor.
She felt a brief twinge of embarrassment, but mostly she felt validated in her excellent eye for talent, making her even more determined to carry out her plan.
“Comrade He, you’ve been working so hard for a long time. Aren’t you tired? Do you want to take a break?”
Yun Qing tested the waters softly, afraid of disturbing the intensely focused man.
Without looking up, he kept right on working. “No need. I can go a bit longer.”
Yun Qing blinked. This guy wasn’t easy to approach at all.
“Comrade He, I’ve got an apple here. You should have it.”
Using her sweetest, most coaxing voice, she held the apple forward and looked at him expectantly.
Finally, the man paused his movements and turned to look at her.
The young woman standing before him wore a straw hat and tipped her head up to meet his gaze.
Unlike the other village women who were bronzed by the sun, her skin was fair, her lips naturally rosy, and her large doe eyes seemed almost capable of speaking.
He Chuan knew who she was—the newly arrived educated youth who had caused a stir the moment she stepped foot in the village. All the young bucks had been talking about her, praising her looks and her graceful figure, and secretly carrying torches for her as their dream girl.
Yet she had always been terribly proud, never so much as exchanging a word with any local man.
Why was she suddenly approaching him today, of all days, and offering him an apple?
He Chuan looked at her with dark, inscrutable eyes, as if trying to peer straight through to her soul.
Yun Qing’s heart fluttered nervously. Why did this man’s gaze have to be so terrifying?
He just stared at her in silence, making no move to take the fruit, until her arm grew sore from holding it out.
Right as she was about to give up, He Chuan finally spoke.
“No thanks.”
With that, he bent back down and resumed his labor.
Yun Qing watched his brisk, decisive movements and pouted.
What a stubborn blockhead.
It was the first time she’d ever encountered a man who actually turned her down.
Yun Qing’s competitive spirit flared right up.
So he liked playing the cold and aloof card, huh? Well, she was determined to make him help her anyway.
Refusing to back down, she tucked the apple away and pulled out a clean handkerchief instead.
“Comrade He, it’s so hot out, you must be sweating buckets. I have a handkerchief here, let me help you wipe it off.”
Before he could object, she leaned forward. Completely ignoring his lack of response, she made to dab at his forehead.
He Chuan’s harvesting motion froze. He jerked backward instinctively, the tips of his ears flushing a bright red as if completely unaccustomed to such intimate proximity.
That tiny reaction didn’t miss Yun Qing’s sharp eyes.
Aha! So underneath that fierce exterior, he’s actually easily embarrassed.
Now she knew exactly how to handle him.
Undeterred by her missed attempt, Yun Qing stepped closer, holding out the handkerchief again.
“No need, I can do it myself.”
Flustered, He Chuan ducked away from her hand, snatched the handkerchief from her grip, hurriedly wiped his face a couple of times, and shoved it right back at her.
Yun Qing took the cloth back, then thrust the apple toward him once more.
“Comrade He is seriously amazing. You can get so much done all by yourself, unlike me—I’m completely useless at everything.”
She looked at him with undisguised, starry-eyed admiration, the heat of her gaze making He Chuan hurriedly look away.
She had sought him out, offered him an apple, tried to wipe his sweat, and was now looking at him like he hung the moon—what on earth was she playing at?
Seeing that he remained tight-lipped, Yun Qing bit her lower lip. “Am I really that useless?”