“So soon?” Yang Dai was surprised. Then, remembering past events, her tone shifted quickly. “I knew our Comrade Han Lin is capable. He keeps his word. I can rest easy at home.”
“If life can go on like it has recently, we won’t have to worry about eating through our savings.” Her smile was bright with both joy and satisfaction.
Han Lin felt both happy and guilty. Thinking of what happened today at the construction site, his heart burned with more motivation.
Life was so poor now that daily expenses still depended on Yang Dai’s dowry. That made him feel all the more that he had to push harder.
He shouldn’t just keep observing. He needed to seize opportunities and change their circumstances.
“Don’t worry. These days won’t last long.” Han Lin promised once more.
Yang Dai nodded with full trust and urged him to eat.
That evening’s food had been brought over by their families and was still warming in the pot—no need for her to cook.
Watching Han Lin wash up and prepare to eat, Yang Dai’s lips curved slightly.
She used to think Han Lin, as a crown prince, was moody and difficult to fathom.
But now, she felt his moods were quite easy to read.
When emotions ran strong, he grew quieter, yet his eyelashes fluttered faster.
And he was unexpectedly easy to coax—just a few words, and he’d drive himself harder, piling pressure on his own shoulders.
This pleased Yang Dai greatly.
Besides, she wasn’t worried about “eating through their savings.”
In great noble families, a daughter’s dowry was meant to last a lifetime, covering every aspect of living.
In her storeroom, she even had fine timber prepared—her coffin, already set aside.
It was a message: even if my daughter marries into your family, we can afford to provide for her her whole life.
In truth, even if she did nothing now, her storeroom held everything she needed. Only food would run short.
But she didn’t want to live like that.
Taking from the storeroom too often carried risk.
And she had discovered that people in Huangzhuang Brigade had little concept of privacy.
Their courtyard wall was higher than before, but still low overall. If someone wanted, they could easily see inside.
And as long as the gate wasn’t locked, people would enter. They’d call out in the courtyard, and if she didn’t answer, they’d step right into the rooms. Yang Dai wasn’t used to this.
But when she complained, her mother scolded her for being too particular. So she learned to be cautious: even if she took something out of the storeroom, she quickly put it back afterward.
Another reason was that she was genuinely interested in things from this era.
Though poor, some things were clever and useful. She wanted to experience them more, and it would also help her avoid revealing herself.
On this point, she and Han Lin agreed: use the storeroom sparingly. Hard work was tiring, but it came with no extra risks.
After dinner, Yang Dai asked Han Lin to split the pheasants and rabbits he’d caught, sending some to her family and some to his.
Since they couldn’t cook at home these days, it was better that way.
Yang Dai had practiced needlework since childhood—even embroidery wasn’t difficult—so sewing a few masks was easy.
Before Han Lin left with the cart, she thought for a moment and handed him two masks.
“With house construction, there’s a lot of dust. Wear these masks—your nose will feel better.” She had never asked about his work environment, but she had seen construction sites before: dust flying everywhere.
Now he was working in the county, building larger houses. It had to be even dustier.
Since he’d promised her better days and even brought home a stove today, she felt she should reward him too.
“I don’t wear these things.” His expression twisted at the sight of the mask, but though he refused with his mouth, his hands quickly pocketed them.
Yang Dai pretended not to notice and said smoothly, “At any time, health matters most.”
With that, Han Lin left full of energy for the county, and Yang Dai mounted her bike to another brigade to paint propaganda murals. Both were busy, leaving home in a rush.
By midday, a couple came to Yang Dai’s door. Finding it locked, they asked the neighbors, then had no choice but to leave.
Wearing a mask, Yang Dai worked much faster than yesterday. Still, the distance was far, so she came home around the same time.
No one was home. She bathed quickly, then began thinking about their current house.
The longer she lived there, the more flaws she saw. But one couldn’t build Rome in a day—changes had to come gradually.
Han Lin returned earlier than yesterday, carrying a brand-new stove.
“I’ve ordered coal, but we’ll have to wait in line for two days. When it’s ready, I’ll haul it back, and the stove will work properly.” He explained, while Yang Dai circled the stove. Bare for now, it could only be admired, not used.
Though she grumbled aloud, her eyes lingered on it—fresh things always held some charm.
Both their families still cooked over large brick stoves. Yang Dai and Han Lin only knew these kinds of coal stoves from school.
In the county’s high school, there was no central heating—only these stoves kept classrooms warm in winter. Heavy curtains hung over doors, windows sealed, and stoves kept burning from morning to night to keep hands from freezing.
As the couple admired the stove, Han’s parents arrived, faces dark, carrying food.
“Eat this, then rest early.” Mother Han’s voice was hard, her tone sharp, clearly aimed at Han Lin.
Yang Dai lowered her head, silent.
Han Lin was too hungry to care; his mother’s nagging didn’t affect his appetite.
Father Han waved his hand. “He’s hungry. Talk after he eats.”
The two tugged each other away home.
“What did you do to upset your mother?” Yang Dai finally asked.
Mother Han’s face had been stormy, her words harsh. Yang Dai had feared Han Lin might lose his temper, but to her surprise, he showed no anger—if anything, he seemed in a good mood.
“It’s still about the mountain. She hopes I’ll never go up there again.”
Her worries were clear: the mountains were dangerous. If something happened, it would be disastrous.
Now that Han Lin had steady work in the county, there was no need to risk his life for a meal.
But Han Lin would never agree.
The first two times he’d gone up were for food.
Now, his goal was to discover who was active in those mountains.
He had some clues already.
There were quite a few people there, though they didn’t move daily. They seemed to follow a fixed pattern, appearing only at intervals.
Large game had disappeared—likely cleared out by them.
And each time, after large movements, they carefully erased traces, not wanting to be discovered.
In the old days, Han Lin might have thought they were bandits.
But that made no sense now.
Bandits of the past were either villains by nature or poor folk with no choice.
But with the new system, large-scale banditry shouldn’t exist.
And even if someone chose to rule the mountains, they would never select such deep, remote hills where transport was so difficult.
“You really mean to keep going? What’s so good up there?” After dinner, Han’s parents came again, quieter now, prepared for a heart-to-heart.
“There’s plenty up there. And since no one else dares go, I can find even more.”
Han Lin’s face grew serious as he looked at his father. “The Housing Department job won’t last forever. And I can’t just cling to it for money, giving up every other path.”
“You’ve said yourselves—I’m grown. I need to support my family. I want rice and flour at every meal, and meat on the table.”
His tone was steady, not fast, but utterly firm.
Mother Han opened her mouth, but Father Han stopped her again.
“If you’ve made up your mind, we won’t say more. But remember what’s most important.”
Then he opened the bundle he’d brought and handed something to Han Lin, avoiding his gaze.
“Don’t boast. If there really are wild boars or tigers, you won’t have time to cry.”
“This earth gun—take it. If you run into big game, at least you’ll have a chance to escape.”
Feeling he’d said too much, Father Han thrust the weapon into Han Lin’s hands and left quickly.
Mother Han hurried after him without another word.
In the room, only Han Lin and Yang Dai remained, staring at each other.
“Will this thing really help?” Yang Dai asked curiously, reaching for it.
As the legitimate daughter of Duke Chengguo, though she’d never trained in martial arts, she knew well what weapons were used in battle. Otherwise, her dowry wouldn’t have included swords, axes, and spears.
But this was her first time seeing such a thing, and she instinctively wanted to take a closer look.
Unexpectedly, Han Lin dodged, leaving her hand grasping at air.