Han Dongyuan stared at her in utter shock. What on earth was she talking about? Had they simply not known each other well enough before, so he never realized her thought process was this bizarre? And so long-winded?! She used to be the type who wouldn’t say more than a few words even if struck by lightning! But were they close now?
Several times, he wanted to interrupt her endless chatter, but each time, he held back. Finally, when she paused to catch her breath, he looked at her for a long moment and said: “What nonsense is this? Is he made of tofu? That easy to kill?”
“Who knows?” Cheng Ning retorted irritably. “Anyway, just remember—don’t say things like that again! And stop hitting people!”
Han Dongyuan: “……” Was she ordering him? Who gave her the courage to order him around? He felt the bones in his arm itch, gripping the carving knife and pen holder tightly just to suppress that deep, gnawing irritation.
Han Dongyuan glared at her, face dark.
Cheng Ning thought he must be angry. But unlike her past life, she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. She also knew that saying it once wouldn’t make him listen—not with their relationship. No matter. She’d just keep repeating it whenever she got the chance, annoy him to death if she had to.
Thinking this, her gaze drifted to the kang table and the wooden cylinder he was carving. She coughed lightly and changed the subject: “Is that a pen holder? It’s beautiful. Is it for someone else?” Her change of tone was faster than the weather.
“No,” Han Dongyuan replied sourly.
“So it’s for yourself?” Cheng Ning glanced at the other two unfinished pieces on the table, and at the carved pen holder on his desk. She recognized them instantly—both the holders and the pens inside were things she knew all too well.
She said: “But you already have one. Could you give me this one? I don’t have a pen holder.”
Han Dongyuan’s hand tightened. He pressed the pen holder hard against the table, staring at her in disbelief. Annoying as she was, he had watched her grow up. He knew her personality better than anyone. She was the type who, if he gave her a cold face, would definitely huff behind his back. When had she ever been like this—so shamelessly persistent? Was this really her, and not some imposter? He almost wanted to reach out and pinch her cheek.
“No,” he pressed his thin lips together, but then, as if against his own will, added, “This one’s a sample. I’ll make another for you later.”
After speaking, he turned his face away, a little uneasy.
“Sample?” Cheng Ning ignored the “I’ll make another” part and asked in surprise, “What kind of sample?”
“To send to Beicheng,” he quickly reined in his emotions and explained, “To send back to the furniture factory. If the villagers can produce them, the factory might accept them. That way, the villagers could have some income.”
So it was for that? Cheng Ning suddenly remembered—in her previous life, before he went to prison, he had done a lot of things like this here. She reached out and touched the pen holder. He let go, and it ended up in her hands.
She picked it up, examined it carefully, and said slowly: “It’s beautiful. But if you send this as a sample, sure, people will like it. But the villagers don’t know how to carve. They can’t mass-produce it. You can’t expect them to make one while you carve one. This isn’t a skill you can learn overnight.”
He looked at her.
Cheng Ning asked: “Do you have ink and a brush?”
Han Dongyuan gestured toward the desk by the door.
Following his gaze, Cheng Ning smiled: “Let me borrow them.”
She picked up another unfinished pen holder from the kang table, walked over, dipped a brush in ink, and casually sketched a few strokes. Soon, a simple landscape painting came alive on the pen holder.
“If it were on paper, it would look ordinary,” she said with a smile, “But on this pen holder, it’s good enough.”
She had studied painting for a few years as a child. Her skill was limited, but decorating a pen holder was within her ability.
Thinking further, she added a cat to the design. Then she handed the finished pen holder to Han Dongyuan: “See? How about this? It’s not as fine or beautiful as your carving, but it’s fast. My painting speed can definitely keep up with the villagers making pen holders. And maybe some of the other educated youths can paint too, or have good calligraphy—they could add inscriptions. Only…”
She frowned slightly: “Wouldn’t this smear if it got wet?”
Seeing her genuinely troubled expression, Han Dongyuan’s lips twitched:
“Once it’s varnished and baked, the color won’t fade. Fine, I’ll show it to the Party Secretary and brigade leader tomorrow.”
He glanced at her hand and asked: “Are you used to the work in the fields?”
Back home, his grandmother and stepmother had spoiled her—her fingers practically never touched spring water.
Cheng Ning was delighted that he had accepted her idea. Her smile grew bright.
Hearing his question about the labor, she ignored the sarcasm in his tone. Looking down at her own hands, she smiled: “I’m fine. Once I got used to wearing gloves, it was alright. The aunties take good care of me too.”
Her smile flickered across his vision, leaving him oddly restless.
He turned his head away, refusing to look at her, and said coldly: “Alright, you’ve delivered the things. Now leave.”
The atmosphere, which had just begun to soften, chilled again.
Cheng Ning didn’t mind.
Today had already been a big step forward. Cheng Ning gave a soft “mm,” just about to say “Then I’ll be going”, when she suddenly remembered Zhou Xiaomei’s situation and added: “There’s one more thing—I wanted to ask if you could help?”
Always climbing up the pole, aren’t you? Han Dongyuan looked at her.
When he focused on someone, his gaze was deep and sharp, as if it could pierce the skin and carve into the heart.
In the past, Cheng Ning had been terrified of him looking at her like that. But now, she wasn’t. She continued on her own: “It’s about Xiaomei, the Party Secretary’s daughter. She was supposed to get married in a few months, but her fiancé suddenly rescued a female educated youth who fell into the river. He even helped her change clothes, said he saw everything, and now claims he has to take responsibility—so he wants to break off the engagement with Xiaomei. Her fiancé is from Zhangjia Village in the neighboring brigade, the accountant’s son, named Zhang Wenshun. You know some of the educated youths over there, don’t you? Could you help find out what really happened?”
“You’re quite the busybody,” Han Dongyuan said with a mocking tone. “You’ve only been here a few days, and you’re already meddling in other people’s love affairs?”
Han Dongyuan hated dealing with such trivial matters.
In truth, Cheng Ning used to be quiet and slow to warm up. But after living decades in silence, with no one to talk to, she now cherished the bustle of people around her. Besides, she needed to build good relationships in the brigade to prepare for future troubles.
She said: “I’m not meddling, just asking around. And Xiaomei has helped me a lot since I got here. Look—eggs are so precious here. Her mother gave them to her, and she wouldn’t even eat them herself, but brought them to me. Someone who treats me like that—if her fiancé tricks her, planning to marry someone else and dump her before the wedding—she deserves the truth. If I can help, how could I not?”
Han Dongyuan: “Oh, a friendship as precious as eggs.”
Cheng Ning: “……” Would it kill him to speak properly?
“Just say it—can you help or not?” she demanded irritably.
Han Dongyuan tugged at the corner of his mouth: “When you’ve eaten someone’s eggs, your mouth is short. How could I not help?”
Cheng Ning: “……”