As soon as the snow began to fall, the logistics department buzzed with activity.
Li Huilan and Ye Qin excitedly shared the news with their colleagues. “We’re slaughtering the pigs! Section Chief Zheng already had the farm prepare two big, fat ones for tomorrow. Each one weighs over a hundred jin!”
Wei Min’s mouth watered instantly. Despite his title as a leader, he was still a child at heart. “Two fat pigs over a hundred jin each? That means we each get nearly a jin of meat! And it’s pork fat without meat coupons—”
Chen Zhilu practically leaped out of his seat. “Braised pork! We’ll cook a huge pot of it. I’m going to eat my fill!”
Hu Huanxin rubbed his nose. “Let’s get some pork fatback to render. The lardons with a pinch of salt… slurp.”
The sound of him swallowing hard made the whole group burst into laughter.
During the Lunar New Year, children always loved watching their parents render lard. The pork fatback would be cut into cubes and fried slowly in a cast-iron pot.
The lard would turn crystal clear, while the lardons became crisp and fragrant. The rich aroma was mouthwatering—it was the true smell of the New Year. Who could resist it?
Two medium-sized spotted pigs were brought in from the pens—one weighing 150 jin and the other 130. After skinning, bleeding, and eviscerating, the total meat weight came to about 210 jin.
With 523 active employees on the farm’s payroll, the math was simple: each person would get four ounces of pork.
The twenty Jiangcheng educated youth would receive a combined eight jin. *Eight jin of pork!* That would last them a long time.
Everyone eagerly planned their meals, buzzing with anticipation for the next day’s feast.
***
The next morning, Tao Nanfeng awoke to a world of blinding white.
When she pushed open the door, the crisp, cold air rushed in, carrying a flurry of goose-feather snowflakes that made her shiver. She looked up at the sky, and a flash of her dream’s apocalyptic landscape crossed her mind.
The heat was unnervingly intense, the air thick with the stench of decay. The sun hung perpetually high, and the sky was forever a dull, oppressive gray. There were no autumns or winters—only an endless, scorching summer.
The contrast was stark. Though Mount Xiufeng was much colder than Jiangcheng—with heavy snow falling in mid-December—it had the distinct change of seasons and fresh air. It was a hundred times better than the apocalypse in her dreams.
Her spirits soaring, Tao Nanfeng felt a surge of childlike joy. She threw on the dark blue padded coat her father had sent, ran to the center of the courtyard, and began to spin, arms outstretched.
Snowflakes drifted down on her head, shoulders, and arms—crystal-clear and glistening—melting instantly to leave faint damp spots on her clothes.
“It’s snowing,” she murmured, a soft smile touching her lips.
Beneath her feet, the inch-deep snow crunched with every step. If she listened closely, she could hear the faint shush-shush of snow landing on the treetops, the roofs, and the ground.
The distant green mountains had turned white. The rooftops in her view had turned white. Even the muddy paths, usually trodden by countless feet, were now a pure, blinding white. The world was a pristine, beautiful wonderland.
As Tao Nanfeng spun in the courtyard, a warm current flowed through her body, her movements growing more graceful and agile.
In the next room, Qiao Yadong watched her intently through the glass. To him, she looked like a snow sprite dancing in the winter chill, a vibrant splash of color against the cold.
He was so absorbed in the sight that he didn’t notice Wei Min, who had just changed and was now leaning in close.
“What are you looking at?” Wei Min asked. “You’re staring so hard you won’t even blink.”
Seeing her, Wei Min’s own eyes widened. “Whoa, Tao Nanfeng can dance? She’s usually so quiet—I never thought she’d transform like this just because it’s snowing.”
He threw open the window and cupped his hands to shout, “Tao Nanfeng, you dance beautifully!”
Her body froze. She looked up toward the boys’ dormitory, quickly retracted her outstretched arms, and scrambled back inside, leaving a messy trail of footprints in the snow.
Qiao Yadong glared at Wei Min. “She’s a girl! What’s wrong with you, shouting like that?”
Wei Min grinned, completely unfazed.
“She was dancing beautifully. What’s wrong with cheering her on? But you…” He paused, a realization dawning on him.
“You’ve been staring out the window in total silence for ages. What’s your angle?”
At that, their roommates, Chen Zhilu and Hu Huanxin, joined in on the interrogation.
“I knew it. You’ve got designs on her! I felt something was off back at the post office when we were leaving the mountain.”
“Spill it! Do you have a crush on Sister Tao?”
“I’m her sworn brother, you know. If you like her, you have to win me over first. Got it?”
“We’re all Jiangcheng Educated Youth here—you can’t just bully her. If you like her, you have to treat her well for the rest of her life. Understand?”
*A lifetime?*
The word felt too heavy. Qiao Yadong, only eighteen, didn’t know if he could bear such a burden.
When he didn’t answer, Chen Zhilu’s face fell.
“What’s with the silence?” he snapped. “You watch her in secret, acting all mysterious and longing, yet you’re too scared to admit you like her. Sister Tao is a capable, hardworking girl—she can build houses and repair roads. If you don’t like her, then stay the hell away from her.”
Qiao Yadong’s handsome features were clouded with confusion. Tao Nanfeng’s cool, distant eyes flashed before him.
“I… I do like her.”
Chen Zhilu rolled his eyes. “Liking someone isn’t a crime. Why are you so nervous?”
Qiao Yadong couldn’t bring himself to say what he was thinking. He was an only child, and his parents had always been strict. His mother, an official at the education bureau, had high expectations for him.
The night before he left for Xiufeng Mountain Farm, she had a very serious talk with him.
“You’re an only child,” she had said. “By the rules, you wouldn’t have to go to the countryside. But I signed you up anyway. Do you know why? I know the conditions in the villages are poor, and I know farm work is grueling. A mother’s heart aches when her child is far away, yet I suppressed my own reluctance to enroll you. Do you know why?”
“You’re an excellent student,” she had told him. “But with the college entrance exam suspended, the only way to university is through a worker-peasant-soldier recommendation. You can’t get that in the city, so you must go to the countryside. I want you to work hard at the farm, make a good impression, build a strong relationship with the leadership, and earn the respect of the masses. That is the only way to secure a recommendation and a better future.”
She had paused, her expression grave. “While you’re at the farm, watch your words and your actions. Never give anyone a reason to target you. The political climate is tense; you never know when a friend might betray you. Only your parents will never turn on you. Friends, brothers, lovers—none of them are reliable.”
Then, her voice had dropped to a stern warning. “And above all, do not fall in love. No matter how beautiful, capable, or intelligent a girl may be, you must stay away from her.”
“First, a romance will distract you. People will criticize you for neglecting your work and failing to labor properly. Second, love clouds your judgment and makes you careless. Husbands and wives turn on each other, brothers become enemies—what chance do you have with a woman whose background you don’t even know? If you fall for a local girl, she’ll become a shackle that keeps you from ever returning to the city. If you fall for a fellow educated youth, your every emotion will be on display for everyone to see. It will undermine your prestige and damage your reputation.”
His mother’s words had taught Qiao Yadong how to hide his true feelings.
Throughout his journey, his youthful passion had driven him to lead the other educated youth in defying Farm Director Jiao and Luo Xuan, all to protect the secret of the phosphate mine and strive for the farm’s development.
Yet, he had always remained clear-headed. Once he recognized his feelings for Tao Nanfeng, he chose to step back and suppress them.
When his roommate pressed him for an answer, Qiao Yadong carefully chose his words.
“Liking someone or admiring them is one thing,” he said. “But falling in love and spending a lifetime together is another. I’ve never been in love before. I’m still trying to understand my own heart.”
Chen Zhilu nodded, seemingly convinced. “Fair enough. Until you figure it out, stop hanging around Sister Tao so much. You’ll only cause misunderstandings.”
Though Chen Zhilu’s grades were poor, his father was the procurement manager at the nitrogen fertilizer plant. His family hosted many visitors, and he had learned to navigate social complexities and read people with ease.
Qiao Yadong’s face flushed crimson. Without a word, he turned away and pulled out a copy of On Protracted War, pretending to read.
Hu Huanxin, oblivious to Chen Zhilu’s implication, scratched his head in confusion.
“We’re all teammates,” he said. “We eat, sleep, and work together every day. What do you mean by ‘hanging around’?”
Wei Min grabbed him and started dragging him toward the door. “I’m heading out to work, and you’re not staying here doing nothing. Hurry up and gather some firewood while the snow is light.”
The zhiqing settlement’s rooms all shared a single covered walkway. As Wei Min dragged Hu Huanxin out, the man howled in protest, drawing everyone’s attention. The courtyard instantly buzzed with laughter and cheers.
“It’s freezing out! Has the water vat in the kitchen frozen over yet?”
“Stop dawdling! Let’s go see if our pond has frozen solid.”
“Yeah, let’s move. We’ll rust if we just keep cooped up in these rooms all day.”
“Oh, right—whose turn is it in the kitchen today? Let’s get things ready. Once the meat comes in, we’re making a big pot of braised pork.”
The warm, lively chatter dispelled the winter chill, filling the snowy day with a cozy sense of camaraderie.
Inside, Tao Nanfeng dusted the snowflakes from her coat and smiled softly.
Xiao Aiyun coughed twice and quickly bundled herself up in her quilt like a cocoon. She turned to Tao Nanfeng and cooed, “My dear Nanfeng, could you get me a glass of water?”
Li Huilan jumped out of bed and glared at Xiao Aiyun. “You, you! Why are you pestering Nanfeng? I’ll get the water.”
Ye Qin, seated by the window combing her hair, pursed her lips. “Ignore her. Xiao Aiyun is just spoiled. Her cold was gone long ago—she’s just trying to slack off.”
Forced out of bed, Xiao Aiyun slipped into her cotton shoes and padded over to pour a glass of water. She downed two large gulps and sighed heavily. “Gods, it’s freezing.”
The four girls chatted and laughed as they washed up, ate breakfast, and tidied the room. By the time they finished, it was only nine o’clock.
Tao Nanfeng settled in quietly with a book, while Li Huilan carefully tended to her potted Spring Orchid. Xiao Aiyun and Ye Qin, the two biggest foodies of the group, kept glancing out the door.
“Why haven’t they told us to collect the meat yet?”
It wasn’t until the afternoon that Wei Min returned, carrying a bamboo basket on his shoulder. He stood on the dirt patch in front of the building and shouted, “The meat’s here! The meat’s here!”
A swarm of people poured out of the rooms, cheering and craning their necks to peer into the basket. “How much is there? Let me see! Let me see!”
Wei Min set the bamboo basket down under the eaves. Inside, slabs of white pork were neatly stacked beside a long string of stuffed blood sausage.
“Three ounces of pork each,” Wei Min announced. “There are twenty of us in the settlement, so that’s six pounds total. It’s cut into one-pound slabs: a pound of hind leg, front leg, shoulder, belly, ribs, and spine. One string of blood sausage per settlement—the rest of the offal was kept by the canteen for tonight’s noodles, one bowl per person.”
Blood sausage was a local delicacy. Pig’s blood was stuffed into cleaned large intestines and air-dried. Sliced and stir-fried with chilies or steamed, it was an incomparable treat.
Chen Zhilu, known for his quick wit and sharp mind for numbers, glanced at the meat and sausage and frowned. “Wait, weren’t we supposed to get four ounces each? Why is it only three?”
The previously jubilant youth exchanged confused glances. That was right—eight pounds should have been divided among them, but only six remained. Where had the missing two pounds gone?
“Sigh…” Wei Min let out a heavy breath. “Director Luo is being a miser. He insisted on taking one ounce from everyone, saying it needs to be cured for the winter. The farm has to be ready for the coming war and famine, after all.”
One ounce per person—that meant two pounds of meat gone from their settlement in an instant. The news ignited a firestorm of complaints.
“We’re all on communal rations,” one youth snarled. “If we’re supposed to get four ounces, we get four ounces! What right does Luo Xuan have to take an ounce from each of us?”
“Luo the Skinner! That miserable miser!” another shouted. “He’s nothing but a tyrannical landlord stealing our food! There are over five hundred of us—that’s fifty pounds of meat! Who knows where he’s stashed it?”
They turned their fury on Wei Min. “Section Chief Wei, you’re a leader here! Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Wei Min heard their grievances, but recalling Luo Xuan’s blatant justification, he simply spread his hands in helplessness. “What could I do? He wanted to take two ounces. If I hadn’t fought him on it, we might not even have this basket of meat and bone, and the blood sausage. Go ahead, compare our lot to the other settlements—you’ll see how much fattier our meat is!”
The youth stared at the glistening, marbled pork in the basket. Their anger subsided, replaced by a flurry of suggestions.
“I thought four ounces was a lot,” one mused, “but looking at this now, we can’t just gorge ourselves. We’ll have to be frugal.”
“Yeah, we should cure the meat and hang it up,” someone suggested. “Let’s use the bones to stew potatoes for now.”
“And render the fat,” another added. “Stir-frying vegetables or cooking noodles with lard makes them smell so much better.”
Only Chen Zhilu pulled Wei Min aside. “You need to keep a close eye on this. If Director Luo can’t produce fifty pounds of cured meat by the New Year, it means they’ve embezzled it.”
Wei Min nodded. “I’ll remember.”
He was actually worried himself.
He’d heard that during past meat distributions, Farm Director Jiao would have the logistics department set a portion aside, to be sent to the Provincial Capital Land Reclamation Bureau and the Agriculture Bureau before the New Year.
It was recorded as “public relations expenses” on the books, a necessary bribe to ensure the Land Reclamation Bureau would provide the farm with seeds and a new batch of educated youth the following year.
The youth were calculating their losses on the open books, but the leaders were keeping a secret ledger.
Wei Min had only recently joined the leadership team and didn’t fully understand the farm’s inner workings, so he didn’t dare interfere.
That night, everyone received a bowl of soup made from fresh pig’s blood, lungs, and liver, followed by a large bowl of noodles.
Their faces glowed, their lips glistening with oil, as they patted their full bellies and sighed, “So satisfying!”
Sated and content, they all forgot about the fifty pounds of meat Luo Xuan had withheld.
On snowy days, Li Huilan and Ye Qin continued their work at the pig farm as usual. Wei Min, assigned to the security section, was even busier than before.
The other dozen or so educated youth, however, were exempt from labor.
Their days were filled with group political study and writing ideological reports, as the Youth League members strove to align themselves with the Party. It was a fulfilling routine.
***
When evening fell, they relaxed at the Zhiqing Settlement, huddling together to chat, tell stories, sing, and dance.
Outside, the world was a blanket of pure white; inside, the charcoal fire glowed warmly. The young people’s world was lively and full of hope.
Tao Nanfeng had always lived in a family of four and had never experienced communal living before.
After arriving at Xiufeng Mountain Farm and spending every day with nineteen fellow Jiangcheng natives—studying, working, and playing together—she gradually let down her guard, and her smiles grew more frequent.
The onset of the bitter cold made the Jiangcheng youth truly appreciate the benefits of their brick-and-tile house. Tao Nanfeng had designed and supervised its construction, and everyone had helped dig the trenches and make the bricks.
The result was a perfect new home.
The thick earthen bricks, mixed with corn stalks, provided excellent insulation.
The rammed-earth floor featured a moisture-proof layer, keeping the interior dry and comfortable.
The kitchen was connected to the dormitories, making cooking and dining safe and convenient.
The shower room design was a particular triumph; even in the biting cold, one could simply boil a large pot of water in the kitchen to enjoy a thorough, steaming bath.
During heavy snows, the group would gather in the main hall to study. When they’d been cooped up inside too long, they would step out onto the veranda to stretch their backs and kick their legs, the layout perfectly balancing activity and repose.
Educated youth from other settlements braved the wind and snow to visit. After sipping hot tea inside, they couldn’t help but stare in envy.
The Infrastructure Department had reinforced their own settlements before winter, making them sturdier and warmer than the previous year, but no such repairs could compare to a real brick-and-tile house.
The others’ mud-plastered thatched walls still let in the wind. Their thatched roofs, weighed down by the snow, dripped relentlessly along the eaves, where icicles hung like jagged spears, heightening the bone-chilling cold.
Now this, they thought, this is how the Jiangcheng youth live!
Du Chenzhe, the Party Branch Secretary for the De County youth, was a handsome man with the scholarly air of a lifelong student. He looked at Tao Nanfeng with undisguised admiration.
“Educated Youth Tao, may we borrow your architectural plans next year? Could you teach us how to build a brick-and-tile house too?”
Tao Nanfeng nodded gently. “Of course.”
The techniques for building brick-and-tile houses were not complicated, so there was no need to keep them a secret.
Tao Nanfeng’s father, a man of integrity, had dedicated his life to teaching and had never believed in hoarding knowledge. In his letters, he had repeatedly reminded her to foster unity with her comrades and to shun arrogance.
A single flower does not make a spring, he had written, and Tao Nanfeng took his words to heart.
Sharing, after all, was a virtue.
Du Chenzhe had not expected Tao Nanfeng to agree so readily. Overjoyed, he thanked her profusely. The next day, he sent Hu Yiqin, a female educated youth, to deliver a bowl of braised pork and potatoes through the wind and snow as a token of his gratitude.
The other five settlements, hailing from the provincial capital, Nan County, Youzhou, and Yuezhou, heard that the De County youth had already secured Tao Nanfeng’s promise to help them build new houses next year.
They couldn’t sit still. Copying Du Chenzhe’s gesture, they all brought treats to visit her.
Dried bamboo shoots, homemade white chili paste, pickled cowpeas… the offerings piled up.
The Jiangcheng educated youth basked in the reflected glory, boasting with pride, “I’m telling you, if we were in ancient times, Tao Nanfeng would be the Grand Architect or the Minister of Works. As long as you get her approval, you’re guaranteed to live in a warm, comfortable new house next year!”
As Tao Nanfeng’s prestige continued to soar, Qiao Yadong watched with a complex mixture of emotions.
Was he happy? Yes, he was. It filled him with a genuine sense of pride to see the girl he admired and liked earning so much recognition.
But was he jealous? Faintly, yes. His mother had told him to excel and build a strong foundation of support among the people, yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep up with Tao Nanfeng.
She barely spoke a word, yet her quiet, composed demeanor inspired an innate trust in everyone around her.
Stung by this flicker of jealousy—an emotion too shameful to voice—Qiao Yadong, the class monitor, suddenly lost his temper.
For the past week, their political study had been a collective reading of How the Steel Was Tempered. They took turns reading the novel aloud, section by section, and sharing their reflections.
Initially, the discussion had been earnest and straightforward.
“Pavel endured enough class discrimination as a youth,” one student said. “He joined the revolution and, through sheer resilience, became a hero in everyone’s eyes. We, the youth of this new era, should follow his example and dedicate our strength to building our motherland.”
“Exactly,” another chimed in. “Steel is forged in the roaring fire and sudden cooling. Our generation has been tempered in struggle and hardship. Although farm labor is grueling, we must face it without fear and resolutely pursue our integration with the workers and peasants.”
“Right!” someone else agreed. “The beauty of life lies in our unceasing quest for self-improvement.”
As they talked, however, the conversation drifted. The focus shifted to Pavel’s three romantic relationships.
“Pavel’s love life was a series of setbacks and twists,” one student mused. “What does that tell us? Perhaps the first person we fall for isn’t necessarily the one we’ll marry as revolutionary partners.”
“Tonya was a forester’s daughter, beautiful and innocent,” another added, “but she was still a delicate young miss of the bourgeoisie.”
“Rita and Pavel were both Party members,” a third chimed in, “yet a misunderstanding tore them apart. It wasn’t until Pavel met Taya that he finally entered the halls of marriage.”
Which young girl doesn’t daydream of love? Which young man doesn’t pine for a sweetheart?
The mention of romance electrified the group. Everyone sat up straight, their eyes shimmering with longing.
Ye Qin, always blunt, voiced her opinion: “Pavel’s first love was immature. It was only after he joined the Party and grew under its influence that he truly matured. I want to find a fellow revolutionary who shares my ideals!”
Xiao Aiyun’s face flushed crimson. She gave Ye Qin a playful shove and whispered a scolding, “Have you no shame?”
Ye Qin, spoiled at home and bold in spirit, glared back. “What’s there to be ashamed of? Even Pavel had three romances. Surely we can talk about it!”
Xiao Aiyun’s heart pounded. She kept her head down, unable to meet the eyes of Qiao Yadong, who sat across from her.
Through the corner of her eye, the handsome boy in his oversized military greatcoat seemed to glow, his brilliance almost too blinding to behold.
Ever since she’d woken from that fever, her hands still wrapped in his warm cotton hat, Qiao Yadong’s name had been etched into her heart. He had used his own hat to warm her hands, and the memory of his body heat lingered on her fingertips long after.
He was a good man—kind, warm-hearted, and dependable. Besides, he was handsome, well-spoken, and carried himself with a natural masculine charm that completely captivated Xiao Aiyun, whose heart was opening to love for the first time.
The conversation continued, and Qiao Yadong’s voice, low and gentle, gave her a sudden, inexplicable surge of courage.
She lifted her head and looked directly at him. “Monitor Qiao, how do you feel about educated youth falling in love?”
The main room, which had been buzzing with debate, fell silent. Everyone stared at Xiao Aiyun in astonishment.
Discussing heroes and fictional characters was one thing, but to openly bring up romance among the educated youth… wasn’t that a bit too much?
Under the scorching gaze of the group, Xiao Aiyun’s face flushed crimson.
She hurriedly covered her face with her hands, stammering, “I—I was just asking. Pavel had three romances, didn’t he? And I heard two couples in De County have already gotten married. Some of the men in Nan County have even married locals.”
Qiao Yadong’s expression soured, his tone turning stern. “The revolutionary cause comes before all else! We’re just high school graduates—it’s too early for romance. Comrade Xiao Aiyun, your line of thinking is dangerously flawed.”
Xiao Aiyun refused to back down. Summoning all her courage, she pressed on. “What if we stay here for five or ten years? Are we never supposed to fall in love or get married?”
The boys fell silent.
The girls, however, reacted quite differently.
Sensing the darkening look on Qiao Yadong’s face, Li Huilan cleared her throat. “A man should marry when he’s of age, and a woman should marry when she’s ready. There’s nothing wrong with discussing it.”
Ye Qin tucked a stray strand of her now-long short hair behind her ear and resolutely backed Xiao Aiyun. “Exactly. We’re all eighteen now—we have our own independent thoughts and opinions. This is a group study session, a place where we should speak freely. How is that ‘dangerously flawed’? We’re all close here, so why throw around such accusations?”
Tao Nanfeng said nothing, but she placed a gentle hand on Xiao Aiyun’s shoulder. Her steady gaze met Qiao Yadong’s, her silence a clear message: I support Xiao Aiyun.
Nanfeng’s large, bright eyes shimmered, her raven-black lashes trembling slightly. The stubborn set of her pale face stung Qiao Yadong’s heart.
He had always suppressed his feelings for her, held back by his mother’s words, but now he could no longer control his temper.
He slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet.
“I don’t care how other settlements do things,” he declared. “But here at Educated Youth Post No. 6, no one is allowed to date before twenty! A person’s energy is limited. If you’re distracted by romance, how can you fully dedicate yourself to farm labor? We young people carry the heavy responsibility of developing this farm and helping the villagers lead better lives. To be distracted now is ideological depravity!”
Xiao Aiyun’s eyes welled with tears. Suddenly, she burst into a sob, burying her face in the table as her shoulders shook violently.
Li Huilan and Ye Qin quickly moved to either side of her, rubbing her back and offering soft words of comfort. But Xiao Aiyun barely heard them. All she knew was that the man she loved had just branded her thinking “depraved.”
Tao Nanfeng and Xiao Aiyun were inseparable friends. Seeing her friend be scolded without reason, Nanfeng slowly stood up, her eyes narrowing as she fixed her gaze on Qiao Yadong. “What did she say wrong that deserves such a harsh criticism?”
A wave of resentment surged through Qiao Yadong. He loved Tao Nanfeng—he admired her, adored her, worshipped her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and keep her beauty all to himself. He wanted to be by her side every day, the sole recipient of her smiles.
But he couldn’t. He could do nothing.
“Why am I criticizing her?” he demanded.
“We were discussing Pavel’s lifelong struggle for the revolutionary cause, yet she insisted on bringing up educated youth dating! The farm roads aren’t paved, the phosphate mine isn’t open, Ximei can’t go to school, and the villagers are still starving. We have so much to do—how can we even think about romance?”
Tao Nanfeng was no match for Qiao Yadong’s eloquence. She found herself speechless, unable to counter his argument.
Chen Zhilu couldn’t stand to see Nanfeng bullied. He shot to his feet, slamming his hand on the table. “What are you yelling for? You think being the class monitor makes you special? If the rest of us hadn’t supported you, why do you think you’d be the monitor and Study Group Leader?”
He glared at Qiao Yadong. “Xiao Aiyun only asked your opinion on educated youth dating. Instead, you just keep piling one accusation on top of another.”
Qiao Yadong pointed a finger at Chen Zhilu. “This is none of your business. Back off!”
Chen Zhilu loathed being pointed at.
He slapped Qiao Yadong’s hand away. “If you don’t want to date, just say so. Why drag the farm’s development into this? I think your own mind is just filthy, and you’re lashing out because she called you out on it!”
Qiao Yadong’s last shred of restraint snapped.
For the first time in his life, he exploded in a genuine rage, lunging forward and throwing a punch.
Thud!
His fist connected squarely with Chen Zhilu’s face.
Chen Zhilu wasn’t one to take an insult, let alone a punch. He swung back instantly, his fist sailing upward.
Chaos erupted as a brawl broke out right in the middle of the main hall.
The harmony they’d maintained for four months shattered. Qiao Yadong, usually the picture of an elegant young gentleman, shoved up his sleeves and grappled with the much sturdier Chen Zhilu on the floor.
A crowd formed, desperately trying to break them apart, but no one could pull the two men off each other. Xiao Aiyun was so terrified she’d forgotten to cry, her voice shrill as she screamed, “Stop! Stop it! It’s my fault! I admit it, I was wrong! Please, just stop fighting!”
Tao Nanfeng watched coldly from the side, her brow furrowed in confusion.
How did it even come to this? she wondered.
Though she was strong enough to intervene, she had no intention of helping. Qiao Yadong’s mouth is just asking for a beating. He deserves whatever Chen Zhilu throws at him.
Their thick winter coats padded the blows, so despite the flurry of punches and kicks, they ended up with nothing more than swollen faces and bruises.
Chen Zhilu, a seasoned brawler, pinned the scholarly Qiao Yadong to the ground.
“You dare hit me?” he snarled. “I’ll beat the life out of you! Admit defeat! Say it!”
Qiao Yadong had never fought anyone in his life. The sudden burst of rage had drained him completely, leaving him gasping for breath.
A wave of despair washed over him. He lay motionless on the floor, eyes shut tight, stubbornly refusing to surrender.
The fight only ended when Wei Min finally stepped in and hauled Chen Zhilu off him.
Though the incident wasn’t reported to their superiors, the once-cohesive atmosphere at the Zhiqing Settlement was now thick with tension. Xiao Aiyun was consumed by guilt, offering a relentless stream of apologies and self-criticisms.
Chen Zhilu shot her a glare. “This has nothing to do with you. Stop trying to take the blame.”
Qiao Yadong snapped, “What good are your apologies? This is over. Don’t mention it again.”
Their small study group became cautious, carefully avoiding any sensitive topics related to romance.
New Year’s Day passed in the blink of an eye, and the year-end drew near. After several more snowfalls, the winter storms finally ceased.
Early one morning, a junior staff member from the security department stumbled into the Zhiqing Settlement, his voice booming as he shouted, “Section Chief Wei! Director Luo took all the cured meat!”
The announcement jolted everyone back to reality. Right! Every time they’d slaughtered pigs, Luo Xuan had confiscated a portion of the meat, calculated by the number of people. They must have amassed over a hundred pounds of it!