On the morning of the fourth day, the train finally arrived at Dingyang County.  

This was a small station with a brief stop, and the passengers boarding and alighting collided like butting oxen, shoving relentlessly against each other. Caught in the middle, Song Ruan was jostled so fiercely she might as well have been a leaf in a storm.  

She shot a resentful glance at the now sky-high 500-point “Strength To Topple Mountains” skill in the system store, struggling forward while vowing inwardly: Next time it goes on sale, I’m stocking up like there’s no tomorrow!

After three days and nights on a hard seat in the peak of summer, plus this latest ordeal, by the time she finally fought her way out of the crowd, she looked—and smelled—like a crumpled, sun-dried pickled vegetable fresh out of a jar. Of course, the other three weren’t faring much better.  

The four disheveled “stinky mandarin fish” regrouped at the station entrance.  

Lin Xinping adjusted his glasses and smiled amiably. “I just asked around. We need to get to the county’s educated youth gathering point ourselves, where the commune representatives will pick us up. It’s a twenty-minute walk, so we’d better hurry.”  

Ordinarily, his considerate demeanor would have been reassuring, but after days cooped up on the train, every time he moved, Song Ruan swore she could see invisible waves of body odor wafting off him. She instinctively took a small step back.  

Lin Xinping didn’t seem to notice.  

His gaze skimmed past Song Ruan’s meager luggage and rumpled old clothes, settling instead on Xiang Hongying—who, despite the toll of the journey, still managed to look sharp in her new military-style outfit, with a hefty bag at her feet.  

“Comrade Hongying, your luggage looks heavy. It might be tough for a girl to carry alone. Let me help you with some of it?”  

Xiang Hongying’s eyebrows shot up. “The Chairman said, ‘Women hold up half the sky!’ What do you mean, ‘a girl can’t carry it’? You need to strengthen your ideological studies!”  

She hoisted the large bag onto her back, staggered a step forward, then stubbornly steadied herself, grinding out through clenched teeth, “Let’s go!”  

Lin Xinping showed no sign of offense at the rejection, even responding good-naturedly, “Alright, let’s go.”  

He thoughtfully positioned himself ahead of her. “If you get tired, you can hold onto my bag.”  

Xiang Hongying glared. “Tired? The Chinese people have willpower and capability! If we can’t even walk a few steps, how are we supposed to ‘surpass Britain and catch up to America’?”  

Lin Xinping was silenced once again.  

Song Ruan watched, thoroughly amused.  

Ever since Xiang Hongying generously shared her wheat-flour flatbread, Lin Xinping’s attitude had shifted subtly. He kept trying to engage her in conversations about ideals and life—though each attempt was promptly shut down by Xiang Hongying’s ideological retorts. Yet, undeterred, he persisted, undaunted by repeated failures.  

His efforts peaked whenever she ate her wheat-flour rations or checked the time on her pocket watch.  

But people in this era were simple and honest. Take Xiang Hongying and Li Bing, for example—neither had the slightest suspicion, genuinely believing Lin Xinping was just a warm-hearted, considerate comrade.  

That said, Song Ruan wasn’t exactly a paragon of virtue herself—what kind of decent person scrapes off an entire layer of wallpaper and takes it with her? So she was particularly attuned to these petty, ghost-story-worthy antics.  

Maybe Lin Xinping sensed she had seen through his intentions, or perhaps it was just the unspoken recognition between two morally flexible individuals, but he treated her with noticeable coolness. Of course, since she had been feigning a “sore throat” to avoid conversation, it wasn’t glaringly obvious.  

—She absolutely refused to admit it might have been because of the revolting cucumber-and-pickled-vegetable pancakes she’d brought along.  

The system snorted in her mind:  

[With those ugly black lumps of yours, it’s a miracle he didn’t outright sneer. Manners must run deep in this one.]

Song Ruan bristled. “Say that again!”  

[Oh, touched a nerve, did I?]

“With a mouth that nasty, no wonder you’re stuck with a deadbeat host like me and zero performance metrics!” she shot back, hopping mad.  

[You—you’re actually proud of that?!]  

The system’s metaphorical fur stood on end.  

“Serves you right! You made me this way!”  

[You—!]

And just like that, the camaraderie they’d built over the past two days of shared gossip evaporated into thin air.  

…

The group trudged onward, lugging their bags and bundles. What was supposed to be a twenty-minute walk—clearly calculated for locals—took them over half an hour before the educated youth office finally came into view.  

After some searching, they finally boarded a tractor bound for Huaiqi Commune. The vehicle was already packed with people who, upon their arrival, wordlessly scooted aside to make room before closing their eyes again—no one had the energy for small talk after days on the train.  

Exhausted, Song Ruan and the others dumped their luggage and immediately slumped against the tractor’s sides, falling asleep almost instantly.  

The tractor rattled and lurched forward, and as they neared the commune, the road grew increasingly potholed. The driver, seemingly intent on giving them a “warm welcome,” aimed for every bump and rock, sending the vehicle into a series of violent hops. The passengers tumbled around like chestnuts in a wok, tossed mercilessly amid clouds of dust and grit.  

No one was sleeping now, but silence still reigned—everyone clung to the sides, teeth clenched, as if loosening their grip even slightly would send them flying.  

After what felt like an eternity of bone-jarring turbulence, they finally staggered off the tractor, souls hovering somewhere above their heads.  

Just when they thought the ordeal was over, they spotted a handful of ox carts and donkey carts parked by a wall. A few village cadres bellowed at them:  

“Tuanjie Brigade! Tuanjie Brigade over here!”  

“Qingshan Brigade, this way!”  

“Zhang Village! Zhang Village!”  

Turns out, they weren’t done yet.  

The educated youths stared at the oxcart and donkey cart, which looked even more rundown than the tractor. The carts were stained with something unknown—some parts of the wooden planks were darkened in patches, splattered with yellow mud and bits of grass, filthy and buzzing with flies. The ox’s tail swished back and forth, shooing away the insects. They were utterly devastated on the spot.  

The tractor driver got out to smoke, watching the group of sickly, sobbing young chicks with a shake of his head. “This is nothing yet,” he muttered.  

A female educated youth with twin braids tied with red ribbons wailed the loudest. Stamping her little leather shoes, she screeched like a boiling kettle: “What kind of dump is this?! I want to go home, waaah!”  

Xiang Hongying, who had been vomiting from motion sickness nearby, sensed the call to battle. Still pale-faced, she wobbled over unsteadily to lecture her: “Comrade, how can you have such a lazy, comfort-seeking mindset? We educated youths should—”  

The braided girl wasn’t one to back down either. Wiping her tears and planting her hands on her hips, she snapped, “Who the hell are you? Think you’re so special, barging in to yap at me? Are you out of your mind?”  

Xiang Hongying, still dizzy and nauseous, grew agitated at the retort. Her stomach churned in response, and before she could hold it back—splat—she vomited right onto the braided girl’s shoes.  

The ensuing scream could probably be heard from miles away.  

Song Ruan didn’t bother with the chaos. Instead, she tilted her head to listen for the direction of Dongfeng Brigade, then darted over with her luggage in tow—the oxcart had limited space, and what if there wasn’t enough room for everyone? She had to seize the opportunity!  

She really, really didn’t want to walk anymore.  

She sped to the oxcart like the wind but didn’t climb on immediately. Instead, she flashed a bright, eager smile: “Hello, I’m an educated youth assigned to your brigade. My name is Song Ruan.”  

The brigade leader of Dongfeng sat gloomily at the front of the cart, smoking his pipe—this year, they’d been assigned five educated youths!  

These youths were useless at everything, ate like locusts, and caused endless trouble. He truly didn’t want them.  

And without even looking closely, he could tell—names like “Ruan” (Soft), “Hongying” (Red Heroine), and “Zhen” (Delicate)—great, three out of five were girls! What kind of work could they even do?  

With the autumn harvest just around the corner, this was the worst time for a bunch of deadweight to show up.  

The more he thought about it, the more his face wrinkled like old tree bark.  

Hearing the voice, he looked up and saw a smiling face. Even though she was an unwanted girl, he couldn’t bring himself to outright scowl. Instead, he forced a smile that looked more painful than a grimace. “Oh, alright. Get on, then.”  

Song Ruan nodded obediently, eyeing the brass pipe in his hand. She quickly swapped the fruit candies she’d originally prepared for a couple of White Rabbit candies and, while no one was looking, slipped them over:  

“Thank you for coming out in this scorching sun to fetch us. Please take these for your children to enjoy.”  

The brigade leader initially meant to refuse, but when he saw it was White Rabbit candy—and only two pieces at that—he silently pocketed them.  

He’d heard of White Rabbit’s reputation, but this was a poor backwater far, far from Shanghai. Where would they even sell such fancy treats?

Whether he ate it or not at his age didn’t matter, but his little grandson had never tasted it before. 

—Two pieces were just a small gesture, hardly counted as a bribe. 

Thinking this, he tucked the candy into his pocket.  

“Aiya, you really didn’t have to… Well, thank you, then.” 

“Go on and take a seat. It’s a fair stretch from here to the brigade.”  

Song Ruan subtly observed his expression. Seeing that he accepted the gift with slight awkwardness rather than the smug, self-important air some people got after the slightest bit of flattery, and noting the honesty in his gaze, her smile grew more genuine.  

This village cadre seemed decently honest—a good sign for her.

She settled onto the oxcart with her luggage.  

The brigade leader picked up his beloved pipe again, his mood noticeably improved.  

This “Ruan” girl might be a bit skinny, but she seemed alright—certainly better than those two still squabbling over there. Those two looked like nothing but trouble. Some brigade was in for bad luck getting stuck with them.

With that thought, he bellowed: “Dongfeng Brigade! Dongfeng Brigade’s educated youths, over here!” 

Then, to his dismay, the two female youths came stomping toward him, still mid-argument.  

Under his horrified gaze, they stopped in front of him—they were none other than the remaining “Hongying” and “Zhen.” 

Even after introducing themselves, they didn’t quiet down, immediately launching into another round of bickering.  

One accused the other of “being soft, chasing comforts, and needing ideological reform,” while the other shot back, “You’re just jealous and trying to ruin my happiness!” Their quarrel was so heated it seemed neither would ever back down.  

Lin Xinping attempted to mediate, only to get scolded by both sides.  

Looking at their unpatched, obviously city-bred clothes and their fiery personalities, the brigade leader wiped his face in despair. Good grief, he’d just brought back two high-maintenance princesses.

As the oxcart rumbled on, so did their argument—their shrill, furious voices ringing out so sharply even the ox shook its head, swishing its tail incessantly.

Finally, the brigade leader couldn’t take it anymore. “If you two keep arguing, I’ll make you walk the rest of the way!”  

The two fell silent but continued glaring at each other, neither willing to back down.  

The ox’s bell jingled for what felt like an eternity before they finally arrived at Dongfeng Brigade.  

The brigade leader pointed to a mud-brick courtyard. “That’s the educated youth dormitory.”

He raised his voice and called out, “Comrades Liu Yongqiang and Tian Huini, are you there?”  

A response came from inside the yard, followed by the creak of a door opening as a man and a woman stepped out.  

“Brigade Leader.”  

“Brigade Leader.”

“These are the new educated youths. Get them settled in.”  

Just then, the system—which had been sulking in silence after their earlier argument—suddenly piped up:  

[No wonder the original host’s life was so full of twists and misfortunes. Turns out she was just a side character meant to hand-deliver plot armor to the female lead!]

Afraid Song Ruan might have missed it, it added loudly:  

[Today is their ~first~ meeting!]  

“What?!” Song Ruan was stunned.  

The system dangled the hook but refused to elaborate further.  

Song Ruan: “…”  

She softened her tone. “I’m sorry, System. I won’t snap at you again.” 

She heard the system hmph before a book materialized in her mind.  

So easy to coax. Amused, she flipped through it—only to freeze, her face twisting into the same horrified grimace as the “Disgusted Old Man on the Subway” meme.