Chapter 13: Handsome, Wealthy, and Single

Jin Yang had never imagined he would encounter someone like Lin Xiaqing—such a strange and unusual country girl—in a remote little county.

She was special, with a peculiar but irresistibly attractive charm. Jin Yang had never met a woman like her before.

Late at night, as the sound of cicadas faded into silence, Jin Yang lay in bed with one arm under his head, listening to Lin Xiaqing’s voice outside the hospital ward as she chatted with other patients’ family members.

“Xiao Lin, still working hard this late?” asked the chubby auntie from the neighboring room, holding a basin of freshly washed clothes. Her voice was low and cautious.

At this hour, the ward lights were off, and most patients were already asleep. The hallway was quiet. The auntie dared not speak loudly, fearing the night shift nurse might hear and scold her.

Lin Xiaqing was leaning against the wall, doing bookkeeping. She had bought quite a few things for Jin Yang over the past two days, and she hadn’t had time to check the accounts until now. She was matching receipts and counting her remaining cash to make sure everything was in order—trying to be a responsible and competent treasurer.

“You’re doing laundry, Auntie?” she looked up from her notebook.

This chubby auntie had already visited them earlier in the day and had chatted quite a bit with Qiao Chun Jin. She had figured out most of their background. Plopping the basin down, she leaned back and stretched her aching waist, groaning as she grumbled affectionately, “Men’s clothes are the hardest to wash—both the old and the young! I don’t know why their collars and underarms get so greasy. No matter how much soap I use, those yellow stains just won’t go away!”

She craned her neck to sneak a peek at Lin Xiaqing’s account book. She couldn’t read, but she still knew beauty when she saw it, and she admired how neat and elegant Lin Xiaqing’s handwriting was. “Your mom said you went to school up to first year of middle school? That’s really something. In our village, girls rarely study that long. Even in the best households, they usually stop at elementary school. No wonder your handwriting’s so nice.”

A person who writes so well—must also look stunning.

Lin Xiaqing looked dazed for a moment. If not for the auntie’s comment, she would’ve forgotten that the original owner of this body had only completed the equivalent of middle school. In her time, academic degrees were constantly devalued, and it was hard for even postgraduate students to land satisfying jobs. Yet in the early 1980s, rural girls who made it past elementary school were already considered enviable.

This auntie clearly had her eye on Lin Xiaqing. When Lin came asking about patient care yesterday, she was immediately taken by her. Where else could you find such a pretty young girl in ten villages’ radius? Snowy skin, black hair, rosy lips, white teeth—like a porcelain doll, radiant and sweet. The more you looked at her, the more you liked her.

Her son was only ten years old and hospitalized with appendicitis. Of course, she wasn’t trying to matchmake Lin Xiaqing with her immature boy. Her real plan was to introduce her to a nephew from her maternal side who was actively seeking a wife. She had already asked around earlier to confirm that Lin was a respectable girl, and now she was even more pleased.

“So diligent and capable, knows how to read and write—definitely a good candidate for managing a household someday.”

The auntie kept going. Lin Xiaqing, tired from the long day, couldn’t keep up with the overly enthusiastic chatter and quickly escaped back to the ward.

Jin Yang hadn’t closed the window again. Maybe he didn’t mind mosquito bites—probably didn’t want to feel stuffy. Lin glanced at his bed. He was curled up like a shrimp, facing away from her, looking oddly vulnerable.

Her gaze lingered on his back. Under the thin hospital gown were the marks she had left earlier—long, red scratches from scrubbing his back too hard while taking out her frustration. Only after helping him into his clothes did she realize how harsh she had been. Jin Yang wasn’t like that heartless thug Mazi—he didn’t deserve her misdirected anger. She had meant to stand up for the powerless, not lash out at the wrong person.

Feeling guilty, she remembered the small tin of Tiger Balm she bought yesterday. It could also help repel mosquitoes. She pulled it from her bag and brought it over to Jin Yang’s bedside.

Thinking both patients were asleep, she tiptoed carefully.

After placing the balm on the nightstand, she hesitated—most Chinese people, no matter how hot it was, always slept with a sheet covering their stomachs. Jin Yang wasn’t using one, and she stood there debating whether she should pull a sheet over him.

But then Jin Yang spoke, startling her: “You’re not going to sleep?”

So he was still awake. Good thing she hadn’t gone ahead with the motherly sheet-tucking gesture. That would’ve been way too awkward.

He turned to face her, half his face bathed in moonlight, the other half hidden in darkness. “Why are you chatting with that noisy sparrow for so long?”

He was from the capital, with that lazy, soft accent. The word “sparrow” came out more like “chew-er.”

It took Lin Xiaqing a second to realize he meant the talkative auntie from the next room.

She asked, “Did she come by while I was out this afternoon? She seems pretty familiar with my mom.”

Jin Yang replied dryly, “Yeah, she came.”

Lin assumed he was just being aloof, as usual, annoyed by nosy people disturbing his peace. But what could she do? It’s not like the hospital belonged to her; she couldn’t stop others from socializing.

Trying to shift the conversation, she asked, “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow? The cafeteria has meat buns, veggie buns, steamed bread, flower rolls, and sweet dumplings. I won’t get porridge since you ordered milk. Want some pickled veggies? I had a bite of pickled radish today—spicy and pretty tasty.”

Jin Yang: “……”

He was speechless. Lin Xiaqing was on the verge of being “sold off,” and here she was talking about pickled radishes. So clueless.

He swallowed his frustration and tried to sound casual: “That woman’s basically a matchmaker. This afternoon, she nearly got your whole life story out of Aunt Qiao.”

From the side, Jin Yang had picked up everything. He now knew all about Lin Xiaqing’s family—her grandparents had no moral compass, and her step-grandmother had kicked them out. Her father had been in Xinjiang for years with no word. She and her mother were all each other had. Her mother used to work at a paper factory but had to quit because her absent husband left her vulnerable to harassment from the lecherous boss. Now, her mother endured bullying from her in-laws, especially her mother-in-law and sisters-in-law.

Tonight’s visitor wasn’t the nasty sister-in-law but the kind younger one—the only college student in the family.

He even knew Lin Xiaqing’s birthdate now. Aunt Qiao proudly told the auntie that her daughter had been considerate even in the womb—she was born quickly and easily in under two hours.

Jin Yang had thought to himself: So it’s better to have daughters. They don’t cause pain during childbirth. I must be the cursed one. My mother died giving birth to me. If I had been a girl, maybe she’d still be alive.

Lin Xiaqing asked, “Did you nap too much today? Can’t sleep now?”

Jin Yang didn’t take the bait. “Why do you keep changing the subject?”

She didn’t know what he really wanted to say. Tired from the long day and dreading tomorrow’s trip back to the countryside—she had a hundred bottles of soy paste to deliver—she just wanted to sleep. “Go to bed. I know it’s boring in here, but I’ll try to bring you something fun tomorrow.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what people did for fun in the 80s without TV, computers, or phones. Radios? Newspapers? Chess? If she saw anything interesting on the way, she’d pick it up for him. No one should have to stare at the ceiling day in and day out.

Jin Yang found it odd. He was clearly older than her, yet she always acted like the grown-up humoring a child.

He just wanted to warn her. That auntie had already marked her as a piece of meat on a chopping block—ready to be sliced and sold. And there Lin was, cheerfully chatting with her, completely unaware she might be “sold” off soon.

Irritated, he snapped, “I want a lianhuanhua (comic booklet).”

Lin Xiaqing: “Sure, sure. Lianhuanhua.”

Now she really sounded like she was humoring a kid.

Jin Yang pushed further: “I want last year’s edition of The Rainbow Barrier from the Legends of Tang Dynasty Heroes series.”

He had gotten the full set from the Xinhua Bookstore when it first came out. He loved the grand, majestic atmosphere of the Tang Dynasty. Unlike the repressive modern world, it was full of bold love and hatred. He loved those stories of daring, passionate youth.

“How much is one?” Lin asked.

“One mao eight,” he replied.

She did the math. Oh, that’s not too bad. For someone like him, who could casually pull out a few hundred US dollars, 1.8 yuan was like a stray monkey hair on Sun Wukong—nothing.

But she’d seen too many rich bachelors like him—reckless with their money, their wealth either wasted or swarmed by greedy relatives. In the end, their fortunes disappeared, and they didn’t even know where it all went.

She shivered. Strange—why did she get the feeling that someone as handsome and wealthy as Jin Yang was still single?