Jiang Ning had the original owner’s memories. She knew the woman couldn’t paint, but she herself had loved it since childhood.
“Yes, I love it,” she said, nodding.
The male lead and the original owner had never met, let alone known each other. Even if she were lying, there was no way for him to verify it.
Jiang Ning stood up and looked at He Zheng, who towered over her. He had been working steadily under the blazing sun. His short-cropped hair was soaked with sweat, and beads of it covered his face. His short-sleeved military uniform was so drenched it could be wrung out.
He was so hot that Jiang Ning worried he might suffer from heatstroke.
“Why don’t you take a break?” she suggested softly. “Wait until it’s cooler before you continue.”
“I’m not tired,” He Zheng replied. “I’ll have the latrine built by tonight.”
Jiang Ning blinked, surprised. “So soon?”
She glanced at the latrine’s foundation, which was already dug. Another man was piling earth and mixing yellow mud with a shovel.
“Mm,” He Zheng grunted. “Someone will come to help later. Sister-in-law, you should go get some rest.”
Jiang Ning nodded slightly. As she turned to leave, He Zheng spoke again. “Sister-in-law, don’t take what the aunts said to heart. No one can force you to do something you don’t want to do.”
Jiang Ning knew he was referring to her remarrying him and starting a life together.
She had never considered remarrying.
She had only just arrived in this world and was still adjusting; remarrying was the last thing on her mind.
Knowing He Zheng was trying to reassure her, Jiang Ning offered a small smile. “I understand.”
As his eyes met hers—shining like a sea of stars—He Zheng cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll get back to work, then.”
Jiang Ning returned to her room and closed the door. Instead of taking the nap he’d suggested, she went to the wardrobe and retrieved the thick envelope and passbook she’d stashed there the day before. She’d been so exhausted after her bath last night that she’d fallen asleep almost instantly, completely forgetting about them.
She tore open the envelope, which was stuffed with a thick stack of Ten Yuan notes and various ration coupons.
All of this—the money and the coupons—had been paid for by the original owner’s husband with his life. She checked the passbook again; it held eight hundred yuan. Added to her original one thousand fifty, her total assets now came to one thousand eight hundred fifty yuan.
Good, she thought. That’s a lot of money.
In the sixties, she could live comfortably without working, and she certainly wouldn’t starve.
Jiang Ning carefully tucked the money and passbook into her clothes before finally lying down for a nap. She didn’t know how long she slept, but when she woke, the sunlight outside the window was softer.
Clutching her lower back as she stood, she pulled back the curtains. In the courtyard, He Zheng was still working.
The man was shirtless, wearing only army-green trousers as he laid bricks for the wall.
He stood with his back to the window. Jiang Ning’s gaze traced the broad, powerful span of his shoulders. As he bent to reach for another brick, the muscles in his back rippled with lithe strength, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his tanned skin.
When He Zheng straightened and glanced toward her window, Jiang Ning suddenly felt a pang of guilt—though she’d done nothing wrong—and quickly lowered the curtain, leaning against the wall.
What am I hiding from? she wondered. I haven’t done anything wrong.
Out in the courtyard, He Zheng’s eyes drifted to her closed door, his brow furrowing imperceptibly. He’d sensed a gaze upon him, but was he just imagining things? His sister-in-law would still be napping at this hour.
“Deputy Commander He, I’ll go shovel some more yellow mud,” a dark-skinned man said, wiping his face with a towel.
“Alright,” He Zheng replied.
Inside, Jiang Ning waited against the wall for a moment before finally opening the door.
At the sound of the door, the man building the wall turned his head. The moment he saw Jiang Ning, he dropped his red brick and trowel, crossed to the clothesline, grabbed his short-sleeved shirt, and threw it on in one fluid motion.
Seriously? Jiang Ning thought. You don’t need to be this modest.
But then again, this was the sixties, she reminded herself, and his modesty made more sense.
He Zheng went to the well, pumped up a basin of water, and bent over to wash his hands and arms. “Sister-in-law, I brought back a watermelon. It’s chilling in the well. Would you like some now?”
Jiang Ning’s eyes lit up at the mention of watermelon, but she felt a bit awkward.
“Let’s wait for Grandma to wake up so we can eat it together.”
“I’m up,” a cheerful voice announced. The old lady lifted the door curtain and stepped out. “How did Ningning sleep?”
Jiang Ning smiled softly. “I slept well.”
He Zheng brought the watermelon from the kitchen and set it on the table. After slicing it open with a vegetable knife, he handed her a piece. “It’s not very cold.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the slice.
He Zheng’s gaze dropped to her hands. Her skin was so pale and smooth, making his own look all the more large and calloused.
Jiang Ning took a bite. The abundant juice slid down her throat—not very cold, but incredibly sweet.
On a scorching day, a piece of crisp, cool watermelon was nothing short of bliss.
He Zheng ate a few more slices before returning to the wall. Soon, the man returned with a cart full of yellow mud. The old lady called him over for some watermelon.
Jiang Ning noticed how He Zheng bent down to pick up a brick every time he needed one. She glanced at the late-afternoon sun, which had finally lost its bite, then walked over. Just as He Zheng was about to bend again, she handed him a brick.
His hand brushed against her pale wrist. He immediately pulled his elbow back, looking down at her as she had suddenly appeared by his side.
Seeing the brick she held with both hands, he quickly took it and warned, “Sister-in-law, go sit down and rest. I can handle this. The ground is covered in mud; I don’t want you to slip.”
Seeing he truly didn’t need her help, Jiang Ning sat back down under the eaves, bored.
Pregnancy is such a hassle, she thought. Sleeping, walking—everything is a struggle.
Just after dinner, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed outside the yard. Four men in short-sleeved military shirts filed in. Seeing the old lady and Jiang Ning under the eaves, they grinned, revealing bright white teeth. “Grandma! Sister-in-law!” they greeted in unison.
The old lady responded with a cheerful smile. Jiang Ning, still uneasy, merely nodded and smiled. It had been awkward enough for He Zheng to call her sister-in-law; now several more men were doing it.
He Zheng’s brow furrowed as he looked at them. “What are you all doing here?”
One of the men, his skin darkened by the sun, chuckled. “Deputy Commander He, this is unfair. If Commander Fang hadn’t told us you were home building a toilet, we wouldn’t even know. Why do you think we’re here?”
Another man shouted, “We’re here to help Deputy Commander He!”
He Zheng went silent.
A smile touched his eyes. “I’m almost done.”
The dark-skinned man was Zou Wen, Commander of the 3rd Company, 16th Regiment. He had served under He Zheng since his own enlistment. Grabbing a fresh trowel, he scooped up some yellow mud and slapped it onto a brick.
“Not quite done yet,” he chuckled. “Many hands make light work. We’ll have this finished in no time.”
And they did. With one man passing bricks and another spreading mud, the work was nearly complete by the time darkness fully descended.
“Sister-in-law Jiang.”
The sudden voice startled Jiang Ning. Though the yard was lit, the dim 1960s light bulbs were hardly enough to see who was calling her.
“Sister-in-law.”
This time, it was He Zheng.
Jiang Ning looked up. He Zheng tilted his chin slightly toward the east. “Fang Xiaoli is calling you.”
Jiang Ning followed his gaze and saw a head poking over the top of the wall.
It was indeed Fang Xiaoli.
Like mother, like daughter, Jiang Ning thought. Both of them love peeking over walls.
Fang Xiaoli chirped from atop the wall, “Sister-in-law Jiang, my mom told me you drew pictures of my two brothers! She said they look just like them. Could you draw one of me? I’ll bring the paper and pencils tomorrow. Would that be alright?”
“Of course,” Jiang Ning replied, her voice carrying a hint of a smile.
Fang Xiaoli’s grin widened. “Thank you, Sister-in-law Jiang!” With a cheerful skip, she hopped down from the wall.
Zou Wen turned to Jiang Ning, his curiosity piqued. “Sister-in-law, you know how to draw?”
Jiang Ning nodded. “A little.”
“Could you draw one of me too?” another man asked with a laugh. “I’ll send it home to my parents.”
“Sure,” Jiang Ning agreed without hesitation.
Her ready willingness prompted the others to speak up as well. He Zheng lifted his eyelids and shot them all a sharp look. “Are you lot finished?”
Zou Wen and his companions rubbed their noses and chuckled. “Back to work, back to work.”
By the time the outhouse was completed, the night had grown late. After the men left, He Zheng finished the final tidying and swept the yard clean. Seeing the light still on in Jiang Ning’s room, he walked over and knocked softly on the door, his voice intentionally lowered.
“Sister-in-law, are you asleep?”
Jiang Ning’s clear voice carried through the wooden door. “Not yet.”
She opened the door, finding He Zheng waiting outside. “All done?”
He Zheng was so tall he almost completely blocked the moonlight as she looked up at him from the doorway.
“Mm,” he grunted. His voice was rougher than usual, likely from a day of working in the sun. “Don’t worry about what Zou Wen and the others said. Don’t let it become a burden. I’ll speak to them later.”
Jiang Ning smiled. “It’s no burden at all. I have too much free time as it is, so drawing is a good way to pass the hours.”
Seeing she truly didn’t mind, He Zheng nodded. “I’ve heated some water. I’ll bring it in.”
“You’ve worked all day. Isn’t this too much trouble?” Jiang Ning asked, feeling a twinge of guilt.
“This is nothing compared to training,” He Zheng said. “It’s not a burden.”
Still, she couldn’t help but feel bad about it.
Jiang Ning stepped aside as He Zheng entered, carrying a wooden bucket and a smaller pail of water.
He Zheng poured the hot water into the wooden tub, steam rising in a faint mist. As he turned to leave, his gaze fell on Jiang Ning standing by the bed. An image flashed through his mind: last night, when she’d emerged after her bath, her wet hair had soaked her clothes right over her chest.
He rushed out of the room. Moments later, he returned with two more buckets of water, emptied them into the tub, and spoke with a strained, measured tone. “Sister-in-law, remember to dry the ends of your hair after your bath.”
Jiang Ning blinked, startled by his abrupt reminder. “Oh,” she murmured.
Once He Zheng left, she closed the door and windows. After her bath, as she pulled on her clothes, she noticed the damp ends of her hair resting against her chest, the moisture seeping through the fabric and outlining the curve of her breast.
It felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck her.
A numbness crept all the way up to the crown of her head.
Jiang Ning stared blankly. The same thing happened last night, she realized. She had stood in the courtyard, talking to He Zheng as if nothing were wrong.
The memory of his words—telling her to dry her hair before going inside last night, and his reminder again just now—made her want to sink through the floor in shame.