Could it be that Han Lin actually liked her?
Yang Dai was so startled by this bold suspicion that she shivered and instinctively shook her head.
Just then, Han Lin finished washing the dishes, turned around, and walked toward her, drying his hands. He even gently placed his palm on her forehead. “Not feeling well?”
Yang Dai had just forced that daring thought from her mind, but seeing his action, the idea didn’t dissipate. Instead, it took deeper root.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Yang Dai stepped back slightly, intending to bring up the matter of food.
But Han Lin didn’t listen. He caught her by the wrist and led her toward the room.
Just as they stepped out of the kitchen, the courtyard gate opened.
“Old Third, Third Daughter-in-law, the work bell has rung three times already—why are you still at home?” Mother Han, seeing them come out of the kitchen hand in hand, couldn’t help sounding anxious.
“No work means no work points. When it’s time to divide the grain later, do you plan to starve at home?” As she scolded, she pushed the two of them out the door. “Hurry up and go. Gather under the big locust tree to get your tools.”
“Don’t worry about the house. Once I’ve tidied up, I’ll bring you hot water.” Mother Yang stood in the doorway, watching the pair leave reluctantly, angry yet helpless.
At last, she called after Han Lin’s back, “Don’t cook tonight, come home for dinner.”
“You should go back and rest. I’ll ask the team leader for leave on your behalf,” Han Lin said as he walked beside Yang Dai, still uneasy.
“I’m really fine. Let’s just go and see.” Yang Dai turned her head back; faintly, she could still see Mother Han watching from the doorway.
Though the original Yang Dai had been lazy, she still reported for work every day. Yang Dai wasn’t planning to break that routine.
Besides, she wanted to properly observe this village life.
“Han Lin, you follow the team to turn the peanut fields behind the village. In a few days, it’ll be time to plant peanuts.” The team leader pointed to the hoes and signaled Han Lin to join the group.
Then he looked at Yang Dai. “I heard you used to cut pig grass? But we’ve got enough people for that. Today you’ll pull weeds with the others.”
He led Yang Dai to the field and called out, “Sister Chunhua, I’m leaving Yang Dai with you.”
A woman bent over in the field raised her head and answered. She glanced at Yang Dai. “This plot is yours. If you can finish it in one day, that’s eight work points.”
After showing Yang Dai her assigned area, Chunhua returned to her own, but not before adding, “Next time don’t wear clothes like that to the fields.”
Yang Dai glanced at the others working, then at her own clothes, and smiled. “I understand, sister-in-law.”
The men had all gone to hoe the land, so this weeding group was entirely women, ranging from teenagers to women in their forties.
Their clothes were patched upon patches. Some wore straw sandals, some cloth shoes worn through to the toes, while the older ones went barefoot.
Yang Dai looked down at herself—a dark blue jacket with not a single patch and a brand-new pair of cloth shoes. She did stand out.
Squatting down, she imitated the others and began to pull weeds.
Although the original Yang Dai had been infamous for laziness, she had grown up in this time, and her palms bore calluses. At first, Yang Dai managed.
But soon she couldn’t bear it. Her waist hurt, her pace slowed, and she lagged far behind the others.
She thought of just quitting and going home, but seeing everyone else working so intently, she felt embarrassed to leave. She stayed squatting, trying to ease her back pain.
Then she heard voices behind her.
Turning, she saw a group of five girls about her age. They were slacking more than she was, hardly working at all.
“The brigade’s elementary school is adding two more classes. The old teachers aren’t enough. Do you think we’ve got a chance?” one asked.
“We all graduated high school. There aren’t many high schoolers in Huangzhuang brigade. I think our chances are good.”
“And a day of teaching earns eight work points. Easier than slogging in the fields.”
“But we’re educated youth. The brigade might not agree.”
“So what if we are? Our household registrations have been transferred here. We’re officially part of Huangzhuang brigade. If they dare discriminate, I’ll report them to the educated youth office.”
Their chatter about teaching caught Yang Dai’s attention.
She looked at the endless rows of weeds, rubbed her aching waist, and decided. She’d rather go see the elementary school. Being a teacher was better than laboring in the fields every day.
Standing up, she walked away—only to run into the record-keeper.
“You’re leaving now? That’s escaping work. At most, you’ll get one work point,” he shouted.
Yang Dai waved her hand. “One’s fine. I’m done!”
She thought she was leaving quietly, but most people in the field noticed, trading glances.
One young wife nudged the woman beside her and whispered, “Good thing they split households. With a sister-in-law like her, living together would’ve been misery.”
The other woman only shook her head, saying nothing, though her gaze at Yang Dai’s retreating back held a trace of envy.
Following her memory, Yang Dai walked to the brigade elementary school.
It had been built a few years back, repurposing a former landlord’s old estate. The three courtyards now served as classrooms and offices, while the last housed the principal’s family.
“Yang Dai? What brings you here?” A young woman popped her head out from a window, surprised.
“I heard the school’s hiring teachers. I came to check.” Yang Dai looked at her, finding her familiar, but couldn’t recall her name.
The woman stiffened briefly, then smiled. “I’ll take you to the principal. He’s in charge of recruiting.”
“You want to apply as a teacher?” The principal looked surprised but pulled out a handwritten form. “Fill this first.”
“We have standards. After you apply, you’ll do a written test, then come back Monday for a trial lesson. If you pass, the school will notify your family.”
Yang Dai nodded, took the paper and pen, and filled it out.
It was simple: name, gender, age, highest education, grades, and awards.
She breezed through the first parts, but hesitated at “grades.”
Back at the Duke of Cheng’s residence, when she studied with her tutors and grandfather, he often sighed that if she’d been born a boy, she would have achieved greatness.
But she couldn’t write that. She could only record the original body’s results—bottom of the class, year after year.
Still, she filled it honestly.
On her way here, she had already reasoned it out. Huangzhuang brigade had only six high school graduates in total. She and Han Lin were two of them.
Of the other four, one had pulled strings for a slot at a workers-peasants-soldiers university, one had excelled and was lined up for a job at a fertilizer plant in the city, another’s family was arranging for him to join the army.
So without counting the educated youth, she had only three competitors.
The school needed two teachers. Even with her poor grades, if she aced the test and handled the trial lesson well, her chances were good.
She submitted the form, completed the test, and headed home to rest.
After she left, the woman who had brought her in couldn’t hold her tongue.
“Principal, are you really letting Yang Dai teach at our school? You know her reputation. What if she corrupts the children?”
“Kids here aren’t just from Huangzhuang anymore. Two neighboring brigades send theirs too. If she fails, it’ll ruin our reputation.” She clearly had a low opinion of Yang Dai, grumbling nonstop after she was gone.
Of course, Yang Dai knew none of this.
Back home, she rested a bit, then returned to her storeroom to inventory her dowry again, wondering what she could exchange for food.
After all, eating and drinking came first.
Reviewing the list, her gaze settled on the gold and silver.
She picked carefully, finally choosing a few gold melon seeds—small, inconspicuous, easy to trade without drawing too much attention.
Decision made, she waited for Han Lin to return.
“Do you know where the black market is? Take me there,” she said at lunch.
Her tone was light, almost casual, but Han Lin’s face turned grave.
“What are you doing in a black market? That’s no good place.”
“Our food will only last half a month,” Yang Dai replied.
“Leave the food to me,” Han Lin said.
“Do you even have money?” Yang Dai asked casually.
Han Lin’s face froze completely.
Even heroes are helpless without a coin.
Money is a fine thing—too bad he didn’t have any.