After Jiang Erzhu left, Song Wei turned to go back to her room, only to be stopped by Xu Laidi, who suddenly stepped out, blocking her path.

“Song Wei, what’s your problem? Don’t you know the zhiqing (educated youth) don’t get along well with the villagers? You shared your meat with some country bumpkin and didn’t give any to us. What, do you think you’re better than us? Where’s your sense of unity?”

Xu Laidi was impulsive, mostly driven by her craving for the meat. Her outburst had some of the other zhiqing looking on with interest. Quite a few seemed to agree with her.

The smile fell from Song Wei’s face. “Where do you get the nerve to say something so shameless?”

“It’s my food. Who I share it with is my business. Now, move.”

Xu Laidi stood stubbornly in her way. “No, not unless you give us the rest of the snake meat.”

Was she this desperate?

“It’s all gone,” Li Juan said firmly. “There’s nothing left to share.”

“What?!”

Refusing to believe her, Xu Laidi barged into the backyard, where the clay pot sat empty. Her eyes reddened at the sight.

“You two must’ve been pigs in a past life to eat that much! Several pounds of meat, and you give it to some random villager instead of us…”

Song Wei interrupted her, “Stop calling people ‘country bumpkins.’ You’re not in much better shape yourself. At least they can farm and support themselves. You can barely feed yourself, so what right do you have to look down on anyone? Besides, farmers are respected members of society now—are you looking down on the working people?”

Xu Laidi paled at that. She wouldn’t dare admit to something like that; if word spread, she’d face serious criticism.

“I didn’t mean that! You’re twisting my words!”

Her face now showing a hint of fear, Xu Laidi gave up on the snake meat, cast a hateful glare at Song Wei and Li Juan, and hurried back to the shared dorm.

Xu Laidi’s background was no secret. With a name like hers, it was clear she came from a family that valued sons over daughters. Unwanted and penniless, she couldn’t afford a private room and had to stay in the communal quarters.

“Song Zhiqing, isn’t that a bit harsh? I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it,” someone chimed in, hoping to score some points. Her words were soft, but Song Wei could feel the barbs.

It was Bai Yunjiao, trying to play peacemaker. “After all, we’re all here together in the countryside, so that’s a bond in itself. We’re all educated youth and should be united; Xu Zhiqing didn’t mean anything bad with those words. We have no real issue with her, so there’s no need to let it spread and give the villagers a bad impression of us.”

What she meant was that now only she and Xu laidi had a conflict. If it really got out, it would be her who spread it?

“They already think we’re unruly, don’t they?” Song Wei replied, leaving Bai Yunjiao momentarily at a loss for words.

“And besides, if rumors do spread, it won’t be hard to trace them back. If anyone dares slander me, I’ll go door-to-door with Xu Laidi to find out who’s behind it.”

Bai Yunjiao bit her lip, her tone softening as her eyes grew watery. “That’s not what I meant…”

Looking ready to cry, she made herself seem like the victim, as if Song Wei had wronged her.

Song Wei stepped back three paces, pulling Li Juan with her. “Everyone saw that, right? I didn’t lay a hand on her.”

Luo Yecheng, about to step in as a mediator, stopped in his tracks, speechless.

Bai Yunjiao also looked taken aback, clearly not expecting this reaction.

Song Wei looked her in the eyes. “Are you crying? Did a tear fall? Go ahead, explain why. I don’t want anyone thinking I hit you. I’m not the type to just hit people, you know.”

The other zhiqing were left speechless. Was she serious? Didn’t she just get into a fight with Liu Linlin?

Luo Yecheng also remembered her not hesitating to throw punches at him, his expression turning dark.

Now Bai Yunjiao didn’t know whether to cry or hold back.

“I… you didn’t bully me,” she admitted, her voice trembling with a hint of grievance.

“Exactly,” Song Wei said, “I didn’t. I only said a few words, didn’t even mention your name. Who’d be dumb enough to take offense at that? Seems to me they’d only do that if they planned to spread Xu Laidi’s words and blame me for it, right, Bai Zhiqing?”

Song Wei flashed a big, toothy smile, and Bai Yunjiao’s forced grin faltered.

“Well, that’s enough. Let’s all call it a day. We have work tomorrow,” Song Wei waved them off dismissively.

The urgent harvesting season might be over, but there was plenty left to do—drying grains, shucking corn, and getting more turnips and cabbage into the fields before winter. In the countryside, work never really stopped except when snow covered the ground.

Satisfied and with a full stomach, Song Wei went to bed, sleeping soundly on her simple wooden bed. She even smiled in her sleep.

At dawn the next day, around six, the team’s gong sounded, signaling time for work.

The sound was familiar to the older zhiqing, but the newer ones dragged their feet. Song Wei, however, was up and energized, ready to go.

She joined Li Juan to receive her assignment for the day.

“Song Zhiqing,” the team leader looked at her, noting the white bandage around her head, which gave her a frail appearance. He sighed.

“Why don’t you go shell the corn over there? It’s a light task, and you’ll get five points for it.”

A full workload was worth ten points, a rate based on a full day’s labor from an adult man. To prevent slacking, the team leader had split the work fairly, so each person completed their share independently.

Song Wei’s assigned pile was about five points worth—a sizeable stack of corn that’d take a half-day’s effort. The lighter work was usually left for the elderly and teenagers, who’d spend the entire day on it.

Considering her injury, the team leader gave her an easy task. She took it without complaint.

When she got to the corn pile, others had already started, some sitting on the ground, others on small stools they’d brought from home.

Song Wei didn’t want to sit on the ground—it wasn’t about cleanliness, but sitting like that for too long made her legs go numb. So, she found a solid stone to sit on, set it in place, greeted those she knew, smiled at those she didn’t, and started working.

“Song Zhiqing, you’re here?”

The nearby aunties immediately turned their attention to her, curiously.

One of the older women scooted her stool closer.

“Feeling better? I heard you took a dip in the river,” she said, her eyes alight with curiosity.

It was clear that Song Wei’s story from the ox cart had already spread.