For several days in a row, just as the sky began to lighten at dawn, the work bell pierced through the morning mist.
Shen Zhiyi was gradually growing used to this rhythm.
Getting up at cockcrow, scarfing down a few hurried mouthfuls of coarse rice, and rushing off to the fields with her farm tools in hand.
The blisters on her palms popped and returned, popped and returned again, until they finally hardened into calluses. She was already accustomed to the pain.
That day, the production team leader was on the ridge with his work-point ledger, assigning plots.
“The new educated youth can’t handle heavy labor. Keep them on weeding duty.”
He pointed his pipe at the eastern side of the ridge. “Shen Zhiyi, you take that section. You older youth show the new comrade the ropes, don’t let her mess around blindly.”
Shen Zhiyi looked in the direction he pointed, her heart tightening slightly.
The plot right next to hers was the exact section Ye Yu was responsible for.
She tightened her grip on the wooden handle of her hoe, recalling Zhao Wenbin’s warning to stay away from Ye Yu, her steps hesitant.
But the team leader’s gaze had already moved elsewhere, leaving her no choice but to bite the bullet and walk over.
I just hope this good-for-nothing doesn’t come trouble me.
Ye Yu was already there.
Dressed in a coarse cloth shirt covered in patches, trousers rolled up to the calves, revealing thin, bony ankles.
She bent over in silence, weeding. Her movements weren’t graceful, yet they possessed a strange sense of rhythm.
With a single strike of the hoe, the weeds came up by the roots.
Shen Zhiyi squatted down two or three meters away, unable to resist stealing glances out of the corner of her eye.
This person was far too quiet.
No chatting with others, no sneaking glances at the female educated youth, no slacking off to rest.
It was as if the surrounding noise had nothing to do with her. There was only the rise and fall of her hoe, cutting through the air with a faint rustle.
Shen Zhiyi recalled the slender, thin silhouette carrying a hoe on the ridge the day she arrived in the village, and then thought of the words Zhao Wenbin had used: “hoodlum,” “delinquent,” “scoundrel.”
They felt like two completely different people.
Lost in thought, her fingertip accidentally caught on a blade of grass, and a bead of blood seeped out. She let out a soft gasp.
Ye Yu heard it.
The hoe in her hands paused slightly, and she cast a side glance.
Her gaze rested on the bleeding finger for less than half a second before she pulled it back and continued working.
There were no insincere greetings, no mocking sneers, nor any extra emotion whatsoever.
Shen Zhiyi froze for a moment, then lowered her head to keep pulling weeds, though she felt even more bewildered.
The sun climbed higher, and the midday glare baked the earth. Heat rose from the ground, rendering the air suffocatingly muggy.
Shen Zhiyi weeded slowly and was quickly left behind.
She straightened her back, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, when a honest, coarse voice suddenly came from behind her:
“Comrade Shen, tired? Have a drink of water.”
Shen Zhiyi turned around to see Ye Youde standing on the ridge with a chipped enamel mug, smiling warmly.
Splotches of mud clung to his pant legs, and sweat beaded on his forehead, making him look like he had just finished work and happened to pass by.
“Brother Youde?”
“I wrapped up over on my side, so I came to see how you new comrades are adjusting.”
Ye Youde handed the mug over, then reached into his pocket to pull out a polished, short-handled hand-hoe. “You work thoroughly, but your tool isn’t right for the job. Use this—the blade is sharp, saves effort.”
Shen Zhiyi waved her hands dismissively. “No, no need, I have my own…”
“Don’t stand on ceremony.” Ye Youde pressed the hand-hoe directly into her hands.
In the moment of handing it over, his fingers “accidentally” brushed across the back of her hand.
Coarse and warm, with a thin layer of callus, his touch lingered a moment longer than a normal hand-off.
A wave of discomfort swept through Shen Zhiyi, but seeing his honest smile and sincere eyes, she thought she might be overthinking it.
“Thank you, Brother Youde,” she forced a smile.
“If there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask me anytime.” Ye Youde unscrewed the enamel mug and held it out toward her.
He was standing a bit too close. In the muggy heat of the fields, his strong stench of tobacco mixed with sour sweat sent her stomach churning.
Just as she reached out to take it.
Clang!
An iron hoe slammed heavily against a hard clod of dirt, the sound cold, sharp, and entirely unhidden.
Without anyone noticing, Ye Yu had stopped her work. She stood a few paces away, straightening her posture.
She didn’t look at Shen Zhiyi, only staring fixedly at Ye Youde.
Her expression was flat, devoid of emotion, yet it inexplicably sent a chill down one’s spine.
The smile on Ye Youde’s face stiffened for a moment.
“Brother Youde,” Ye Yu spoke, her voice raspy and tone flat. “The team leader is looking for you.”
“Huh?” Ye Youde froze, his eyes dodging. “The leader is looking for me?”
“Yeah.” Ye Yu withdrew her gaze, her tone neutral. “Just saw him heading toward the brigade compound.”
Ye Youde rubbed his hands together, glancing back at Shen Zhiyi as if he still wanted to say something.
Under the weight of Ye Yu’s silent, oppressive glare, he gave a sheepish laugh. “Then… I’ll head over and see what it’s about. Comrade Shen, keep at it, we’ll talk later.”
He turned and left with hurried steps, forgetting to even hand over the enamel mug and carrying it off with him.
Shen Zhiyi stood on the spot, looking at Ye Youde’s retreating back, then at Ye Yu, who had lowered her head to resume working. A strange feeling bloomed in her heart.
Was she helping her out of a tight spot?
Why?
Besides, Ye Yu had been working the whole time without even lifting her head—how could she know the team leader was looking for Ye Youde?
Grasping her hoe, Shen Zhiyi’s mind was a swirl of questions.
By afternoon, Shen Zhiyi was exhausted, hot, and drenched in sweat.
Forcing herself to clear the final patch of weeds, she realized everyone else had already wrapped up and was heading back.
Trailing behind, she gathered her tools with weak, heavy limbs.
Having squatted for too long, her vision went black as she stood up abruptly, making her stumble.
A hand reached out from the side, steadily catching her by the arm.
It was thin, with distinct knuckles and calluses on the palm, yet surprisingly strong.
Startled, Shen Zhiyi looked up to find Ye Yu standing beside her without her realizing.
The two were close—close enough for her to catch a faint scent of soap mixed with the smell of earth clinging to Ye Yu. Clean and crisp.
Completely different from Ye Youde’s heavy tobacco stink.
“Th… thank you.” Shen Zhiyi quickly found her footing.
Ye Yu let go without a word, bent down to pick up the hoe Shen Zhiyi had dropped, and thrust it back into her hands. Then, slinging her own tools over her shoulder, she turned and walked away.
Shen Zhiyi held the hoe, staring blankly as the thin, upright back disappeared at the end of the dirt ridge.
She suddenly remembered Zhao Wenbin’s warning.
Could this person really be the same ‘good-for-nothing’ from the rumors?
If Ye Yu was truly a bad person, why would she stand up without hesitation when Ye Youde approached with ill intentions?
Shen Zhiyi tightened her grip on the wooden handle, which still retained Ye Yu’s body heat. A string inside her heart that had been pulled taut suddenly loosened just a fraction.
The bell for the end of the afternoon shift rang.
Shen Zhiyi dragged her exhausted feet toward the village road. Reaching an intersection, she bent down to tie a loose shoelace. As she stood up, her gaze instinctively darted toward the elm tree nearby.
A figure was standing in the shadows of the tree.
Ye Youde.
A pipe dangled from his mouth, unlit, as he stared straight at her.
Seeing her look over, that honest-looking smile slowly spread across his face once more, and he even raised a hand to wave at her.
A spring breeze blew past, making the elm leaves rustle softly.
Shen Zhiyi went completely stiff, a cold chill surging from the soles of her feet straight to the crown of her head.
Those eyes stuck to her back like glue, impossible to shake off.
Clutching the hem of her shirt, she quickened her pace to catch up with the crowd ahead, not daring to look back.