Chapter Five

For several consecutive days, Qin Xiaoyue was busy harvesting wheat for her family and had no time to attend the school. She only managed to review the basics by lamplight during her spare moments.

Her mother had taught her much over the years, and with the words and numbers in the books stirring her memory, understanding wasn’t difficult. She planned to seek further guidance later.

“Oh my, in just a few days, the rapeseed flowers in the fields have thickened considerably. From a distance, they shimmer like gold—more radiant than any Western goldwork. Such beauty was never seen before, don’t you think?”

Manyuwen stood on the stone slab bridge, admiring the splendid scenery and watching the hardworking villagers along the ridges.

Beside him, Fu Weichen was focused intently on a newly built, simple harvesting machine, repeatedly inspecting and adjusting its bellows capacity. He gave no reply.

Manyuwen observed him—the broad muscles of his back barely visible beneath the sweat-soaked green sleeves, sunlight causing his perspiration to stream down his cheeks.

“All done, all done! After all that effort, how’s it coming?”

“Still missing one step.” Fu Weichen reached under the machine, feeling around for something.

“There’s more? This young talent has spent days on this; it must really be difficult.” Manyuwen shook his head.

“In the past, we learned about electric-powered machines. Now, we only have diesel. Integrating the steam mechanism still requires research.” Fu Weichen pulled out his hand; the entire inside of his arm was darkened with grime.

“Go wash up.” Manyuwen scooped a ladle of water and held it out.

Watching him wash, Manyuwen couldn’t help but sigh. “Seeing you, I finally understand what true talent and hard work mean. The problems villagers face these days—you find ways to solve them. This practical agricultural knowledge is far more useful than my old textbooks.”

“Thought and action—the wonders of literature cannot be compared to hardware.”

“Comrade Fu, I admire you greatly.”

“By the way, since the village has two electric charging stations and some cables, we could make good use of them and spread the technology widely, just like in our Shanghai!”

Hearing Fu Weichen’s words, Manyuwen’s lips twitched slightly—this man dared to dream of anything.

He gave a thumbs-up. “Good. As long as you dare to try, you’ll succeed. I support you.”

Upon hearing this, Fu Weichen immediately pondered.

“Don’t think about that now. First, look at this beautiful scenery. I brought you out because I didn’t want you cooped up inside making machines alone. If you stayed in, the only people you’d see would be the children and me.”

Manyuwen pulled Fu Weichen across the stone bridge. Far away, the green mountains and waters stretched out; nearby, yellow and red fields intermingled.

“Look at those children who finished school gathering over there. I wonder what they’re whispering about—maybe complaining that our teaching is too strict.”

“Let them listen. Soon, they’ll be pestering you for treats.” Fu Weichen smiled faintly; life here was truly peaceful and gentle like the breeze.

“Let them come. Later at the market, I’ll buy some extra snacks as rewards for the kids.”

“Sir, the cart you requested has arrived.” Old Yang Tou drove the mule, his face beaming with zest for life.

“Old Yang Tou, life’s better now—mule instead of ox!”

“Ah, the old ox just couldn’t keep going. Better to switch to a stronger one.”

“Did that cost a lot?” Manyuwen patted the gray mule, which raised its head playfully, making everyone laugh warmly.

“Well, not too bad.” Old Yang Tou chuckled, taking Manyuwen’s arm and guiding her onto the cart.

Manyuwen jumped on, calling back to Fu Weichen, “Comrade Weichen, the chicken coop at the yard is yours to build!”

Fu Weichen’s faint smile faltered briefly. “Where would I find cement and bricks at this time?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring some back for you.” Manyuwen slapped her head and waved.

Old Yang Tou turned a corner, and the cart disappeared quickly.

Fu Weichen stood still, waving a smile.

Down in the valley, the old locust trees blossomed, sparse flowers dotting the branches. Fu Weichen glanced around; villagers loved planting these old locusts. Aside from pomegranate and jujube trees in the courtyards, locusts were the most common.

Rare moments like these, he was captivated by the scenery, and he instinctively walked farther away.

“The willow catkins drift like snow on the shore, the wheat rain swells the creek fields. If Gong Xiaojing, an art student, saw this, she’d set up her easel immediately to capture a stunning masterpiece.”

Fu Weichen chuckled quietly, recalling past trips with Gong Xiaojing’s group for countryside inspiration. But they had gone to the city outskirts, where water, electricity, and houses still bore urban traces—unlike this primitive village.

“Sir, what is art?” A clear female voice reached Fu Weichen’s ears.

No one was around. Curious, he looked around and stepped back toward the locust trees. “Who’s there?”

“Mr. Fu, it’s me!”

The voice sounded familiar—it was that half-grown girl, Qin Xiaoyue.

“Girl? Where are you?”

“Look up, sir!”

Fu Weichen followed the voice and looked up just as a large apple came flying toward him. Though quick to react, the fruit struck his forehead.

He caught the apple, sizing her up—she was not as pretty as those at home.

“Mr. Fu, please don’t mind. The apple was rinsed with well water at noon, clean and safe. Please enjoy.”

Fu Weichen looked up to see the girl lying on a thick tree branch, her right foot dangling, swinging back and forth, resting her left foot on another branch, chewing on a half-eaten apple, relaxed and carefree.

She gazed at him, her round eyes bright and clear.

“Are you a monkey? Why are you always up in the trees?”

“It’s comfortable here, Mr. Fu. Would you like to come up and see?”

“Thanks, but no. I don’t like climbing trees.” Fu Weichen swung the apple in his hand, a faint smile curving his lips.

Qin Xiaoyue bit the remaining apple, her face blooming with a radiant smile like a fresh flower, spreading from her cheeks to her eyebrows, dimpling sweetly at the corners of her mouth.

Fu Weichen watched attentively and unconsciously took a bite of the apple.

So sweet! He hadn’t expected these apples to be even sweeter than those acquired through rare channels at home.

“Mr. Fu, isn’t it sweet?”

“Mm, very sweet! By the way, I haven’t seen you at school lately. Have you mastered the lessons?”

“Busy harvesting wheat for my family, but don’t worry, sir. I review the lessons every night and recognize almost everything.”

Qin Xiaoyue patted her chest confidently.

“By the way, Xiaoyue is quite skilled at harvesting wheat—she can cut eight bundles in half an hour.”

Hearing Qin Xiaoyue’s unreserved praise, Fu Weichen wasn’t put off but moved by the brightness in her eyes.

He nodded. “Good. Let me test your knowledge.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Fu.”

“What word can you form with the mountain on the top?”

“Exit. Xiaoyue means exit!” Without hesitation, Qin Xiaoyue blurted out.

Fu Weichen grew interested.

“It’s small, with a big base below; it’s big, with something small on top.”

“...What? Wait, small above big, sharp!”

“One person inside, guess the word!”

“Person inside, meat! Xiaoyue practiced this—braised pork!”

“Seven people with grass growing on their heads.”

“...Mr. Fu, what word is that?” Qin Xiaoyue was puzzled.

“Look around; everywhere you see it!”

Following Fu Weichen’s hint, Qin Xiaoyue looked up at the fields filled with rapeseed blossoms. “Flower! Rapeseed flower!”

“Now a harder one, with many strokes. Imagine a black dog that neither barks nor howls.”

“What dog doesn’t bark?” Qin Xiaoyue’s words had barely fallen when she twisted her waist, slipped, and tumbled down with the apple.

“Ah!”

Flailing, Qin Xiaoyue fell face-first into the dirt slope, her face sinking into a shallow ditch.

Fu Weichen’s raised hand paused mid-air. “You fell too fast.”

“Ouch, that hurts.” Qin Xiaoyue sat up, the spot where she landed forming a small pit.

Fu Weichen looked at the disheveled girl, his lips twitching as he recalled all the sad things but couldn’t help bursting into laughter.

“Haha, are you okay? Not hurt, right, girl?”

Qin Xiaoyue rubbed her face vigorously with her sleeve, her movements quick and practiced.

Like a kitten washing its face with its paws, Fu Weichen suddenly thought of his mother’s little white cat, which often sat on his bedroom window sill washing itself.

Adorable.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “Use this—your sleeves will get dirtier.”

“My grandmother says it’s okay if Xiaoyue gets dirty like this.”

Ignoring him, Qin Xiaoyue grabbed the handkerchief. Fu Weichen took her hand gently. “Let me help you wipe it. If you keep rubbing, you’ll only make it messier.”

As he spoke, Fu Weichen turned Qin Xiaoyue around and carefully wiped her face with the handkerchief.

So gentle and slow, Qin Xiaoyue looked into the man’s face close before her. Her knuckles clenched unconsciously, gripping the fabric of her pants.

She lowered her eyes, then suddenly said, “Sir, look.”

“Look at what?”

“The purple violets on the ground have grown in a big patch again. I need to gather them; dried, they can be used as medicine or for pigeon soup.”

No sooner had she spoken than she tried to rise.

Seeing the girl about to stir again, Fu Weichen stopped her with a firm hand. “Finish cleaning first.”

Fu Weichen stood nearly six feet tall, tall and upright, and his silent authority made Qin Xiaoyue hesitate.

She met his gaze.

“Be obedient.”

Sunlight filtered through his hair, casting a golden glow around him. His deep, gentle eyes seemed able to see into the deepest secrets of her heart.

Joy rose to Qin Xiaoyue’s brows. She shyly turned her head, her smile tender and lingering.

Fu Weichen brushed away stray hair from her forehead, gently wiping her temple with the handkerchief.

“Almost done.”

The handkerchief smelled wonderful—like all the flowers of the four seasons blooming together in one place. Qin Xiaoyue had never smelled anything like it.

She nodded, as if struck by a thought. The shyness in her eyes transformed into curiosity and innocence. “Sir, Xiaoyue can do it herself.”

The girl grabbed the handkerchief and began vigorously wiping. She clearly preferred a direct, rough approach. Fu Weichen thought for two seconds, then smiled.

“By the way, you said you need to gather those violets. I’ll hoe for you.”

No sooner had he spoken than Fu Weichen picked up a curved hoe from the basket under the tree and began working the soil. Before long, a small patch of violets was pulled up cleanly, roots intact.

“Mr. Fu, I didn’t expect you to hoe. Comrade Xu hurt his hand harvesting wheat a few days ago. Everyone was worried and amused, and Xu was so embarrassed he went back to school as soon as the sun set.”

“So that’s how he got hurt.”

Fu Weichen smiled knowingly. Xu was very proud and would rather say he had fallen than admit the truth.

“By the way, when Mr. Fu isn’t here, I’m sure you won’t do farm work.” Qin Xiaoyue sat on the slope, quietly twisting the handkerchief in her hands.

Seizing his moment of distraction, she slipped it into her pocket. “Sir, the handkerchief is dirty. Once I wash it, I’ll bring it back.”

“That’s fine. Here, take this. All clean now.” Fu Weichen handed over the basket and clapped his hands. “Now I can rest easy and go build the chicken coop.”

“Build a chicken coop?”

“Yes. Comrade Manyuwen noticed that the old hen in the yard lays eggs quickly and said we should build a nest for her. We’ll keep her from now on.”

“Sounds good! Don’t underestimate her. A well-kept hen can lay over thirty eggs a month.”

“Hmm, sounds great. The morning crowing always gives me a primal feeling. Comrade Manyuwen even named her ‘Fortune.’ In Shanghai dialect, it’s ‘fa ze.’”

“Fa ze? What a fun name. Do all people in Shanghai want to ‘fa ze’?”

“Not just Shanghai. Almost everyone in China wants to prosper.”

“Fa ze is good. Haha, Xiaoyue hopes everyone can ‘fa re’ too.”

Fu Weichen laughed at the new phrases Qin Xiaoyue had learned.

“Haha, the girl’s accent is unique.”

“Sir, Xiaoyue is good at building chicken coops. I guarantee the chickens will be comfortable and well-ventilated.”

“Good. I trust you, Qin. But we still need Comrade Manyuwen to bring back some cement and bricks.”

Qin Xiaoyue stood and slapped her chest heartily. “No need for so many materials. I’ll bring a bundle of dry grass and make a small chicken coop!”

“Make a coop with grass?”

“Of course.”

Without delay, Qin Xiaoyue hoisted the basket and grabbed Fu Weichen’s hand, heading home. “Sir, it’ll be quick—no more than fifteen minutes—and I’ll make a chicken coop for you!”

Fu Weichen watched her pull his hand, her cheerful laughter ringing in his ears. He looked up at her running figure—light and casual, strands of hair fluttering in the air, adding a lively charm.

He followed along, immersed in the vast, golden rapeseed fields, feeling the soft earth beneath each step, roaring freedom and passion for life.

Suddenly, Qin Xiaoyue let go. “Sir, wait here. I’ll be right back.”

With those light words, she carried her basket and dashed downstream along the river.

Fu Weichen stood by the riverbank. The lotus flowers were blooming. He walked over, picked a few lotus blooms and leaves, and said, “Perfect for placing in some wide-mouthed jars to brighten up the school.”

“Mr. Fu, are you going back to cook porridge? When the lotus pods grow, I’ll bring some to you!” came the voice of Old Zhang Tou, rowing a boat in the river.

“Cook porridge? Lotus pods? Great, thank you.” Fu Weichen smiled and nodded at Old Zhang Tou. “You go ahead; I’m heading back to make egg rice!”

“Alright, Mr. Fu, see you!” Old Zhang Tou turned the boat, face beaming as he rowed farther away.

Fu Weichen gathered the lotus flowers together and looked up just in time to see Qin Xiaoyue approaching with a bundle of licorice root in her arms.