Chapter 20

The narrow country path was utterly silent, except for the soft crunch of footsteps on scattered stones.

He Xianqiu rested on Ji Chen Zhou’s back, watching the scenery along the way. The trail was only about a meter wide, surrounded by thick grass and low trees.

After walking for several minutes, He Xianqiu saw the educated youth compound in the distance. She gestured for Ji Chen Zhou to put her down. “There are just a few hundred meters left. I’ll walk on my own.”

Ji Chen Zhou carefully lowered her and asked worriedly, “Are you sure you can walk by yourself?”

He Xianqiu hesitated for a few seconds. She took a few steps and then turned back with a firm nod. “Yes. Xiao Ji, just wait here for me a moment.”

Ji Chen Zhou nodded, watching as she limped her way toward the compound.

He Xianqiu walked from the back of the building to the main gate. She paused for a few seconds to rest, then hobbled into the dormitory.

No one was inside. She didn’t know where the other educated youth had gone. He Xianqiu changed her clothes and took two packs of White Rabbit candy from her trunk, wrapping them in a cloth bag before leaving again.

When she’d walked the several hundred meters back, she waved to Ji Chen Zhou, her eyes curved into bright crescents.

Seeing her, Ji Chen Zhou quickly strode over. He said, “You must be tired after walking that far. The old man said you shouldn’t walk for too long yet.”

As he spoke, he bent down slightly, motioning for her to climb onto his back again.

After limping for a while, He Xianqiu was indeed exhausted. Dragging one foot along had been troublesome, and now her injured leg ached with fatigue.

Without any fuss, she climbed back onto his back and smiled. “Okay.”

The corners of Ji Chen Zhou’s lips lifted as he stood up carefully.

He Xianqiu rested against his broad, warm back.

There was still some distance to Grandpa Zhong’s house. Feeling bored, she began humming a song. Her voice was clear and pleasant, gentle and soothing.

Remembering the White Rabbit candy she’d brought, she tore one open, then held it near Ji Chen Zhou’s mouth, smiling. “Xiao Ji, I brought some candy. Since your hands are busy, I’ve unwrapped one for you. Just open your mouth.”

Ji Chen Zhou paused for a few seconds, then opened his mouth and gently bit down on the sweet.

The White Rabbit candy was very sweet, with a rich, creamy taste.

Ji Chen Zhou had never eaten it before. He’d only seen his mother sneak pieces to his younger siblings. When he caught them, she would scold him to leave the room.

When he grew older and finally had some money, he couldn’t bring himself to buy the candy he’d longed for as a child—he only wanted to save every cent so he could one day escape that home.

There was a smile in his eyes as he said softly, “Thank you, Comrade He.”

He Xianqiu laughed. “You don’t need to thank me.”

They fell silent again. He Xianqiu kept humming, while Ji Chen Zhou tasted the candy and listened to her tuneful voice. He squinted slightly, thinking her humming was truly lovely.

Though neither spoke, the atmosphere felt wonderfully warm.

He Xianqiu kept humming all the way to Grandpa Zhong’s house. From the doorway, she caught the fragrant aroma of stewed chicken. Her eyes lit up. Is that stir-fried chicken?

Grandpa Zhong looked up from the doorway and said, “The chicken soup was too bland, didn’t feel satisfying, so I butchered the bird and stir-fried it.”

He Xianqiu nodded. “Grandpa Zhong, it smells amazing.”

He lifted his chin proudly. “Of course. I cooked for my old wife for decades, after all.”

Then his expression dimmed. “I don’t even know how she’s doing now.”

Because he’d been framed by colleagues and didn’t want to drag his family down, he divorced his wife, severed ties with his children, and was sent here to the countryside. It had been almost eight years.

He Xianqiu fell silent. People sent for re-education were often spat on by the villagers—or worse, tortured to death.

She didn’t know how to comfort him. No words could truly ease his sorrow.

Grandpa Zhong composed himself and said, “Alright, let’s eat.”

Only when the eldest at the table had lifted his chopsticks did He Xianqiu and Ji Chen Zhou pick theirs up.

As soon as He Xianqiu tasted the chicken, her eyes lit up. The meat was tender, juicy, and bursting with flavor.

She smiled contentedly and praised, “Grandpa Zhong, this is delicious.”

Ji Chen Zhou nodded. “You really do cook very well.”

Grandpa Zhong chuckled. “If you like it, eat more.”

He Xianqiu nodded, eagerly picking up another piece. “Okay.”

The three of them ate together, warm and content.

When the meal ended, He Xianqiu felt awkward that she hadn’t helped cook, so she started to rise to clean up.

Ji Chen Zhou stopped her. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Let Xiao Ji do it. You just rest,” Grandpa Zhong agreed.

Given her limping state, He Xianqiu had no choice but to sit down again. If she tried to help, she’d only get in the way.

Ji Chen Zhou began gathering dishes to wash. Soon, only He Xianqiu and Grandpa Zhong remained in the room.

Grandpa Zhong asked, “How did you meet Xiao Ji?”

He Xianqiu thought for a moment. “Once, when I was going to the commune, I asked him to help me carry a pot. After that, we got to know each other.”

Grandpa Zhong was surprised. Ji Chen Zhou actually helped a girl carry something? Though he’d always thought the young man was good-hearted, he wasn’t the type to go out of his way for people.

He only mused silently and outwardly praised Ji Chen Zhou: “Xiao Ji is a good kid. Before I got to know him, I couldn’t even get meat to eat here—just wild greens and what I grew myself. My mouth felt like it would go bland forever.”

“Yes, he’s really very good. He’s helped me so much,” He Xianqiu said sincerely.

Ji Chen Zhou truly was wonderful. Thinking about how she’d almost distanced herself from him out of fear—just because he was labeled a villain in the book—she felt ashamed.

Thankfully, she hadn’t done that, or she’d have missed out on such a good friend.

After spending time together, she had already come to consider Ji Chen Zhou her friend. She hoped he could escape the plot’s grip and live a happy life.

They chatted about many things. He Xianqiu listened intently as Grandpa Zhong told stories of the past. She was fascinated.

Grandpa Zhong had studied abroad through a government program and climbed from intern to hospital director. He was skilled in both Chinese and Western medicine. He’d been framed in the hospital and pressured by superiors but fought back, proving the people who looked down on him wrong.

He Xianqiu listened seriously. Seeing how engrossed she was, Grandpa Zhong became more animated. It felt good to have someone who truly enjoyed his stories. When he told Ji Chen Zhou, the young man would just sit quietly, polite but indifferent.

But He Xianqiu listened with rapt attention, her gaze full of respect and admiration.

When Ji Chen Zhou returned with the washed dishes, he found Grandpa Zhong still talking about his old days.

Ji Chen Zhou had heard these stories so many times, he could recite them himself. Once Grandpa Zhong got going, he could go on endlessly.

But seeing the old man so lively, Ji Chen Zhou didn’t interrupt and just sat quietly nearby.

He Xianqiu was genuinely curious about the past, so she listened closely. She’d always loved hearing her grandmother’s stories and had been fascinated by the 70s and 80s.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d one day transmigrate into a retro novel and become part of the 1970s herself.

Once Grandpa Zhong finally finished, He Xianqiu checked the time. It was past five. She needed to get back to the dormitory.

She took out the White Rabbit candies, giving the unopened pack to Grandpa Zhong and the other to Ji Chen Zhou.

With a bright smile, she said, “I have so much candy in the dorm that I can’t finish it all. They say seven White Rabbit candies are equal to a glass of milk—so they’re pretty nutritious.”

Grandpa Zhong eyed the big bag and tried to decline. “Keep them for yourself. I’m too old to need them.”

“Yes, you keep them,” Ji Chen Zhou agreed, trying to hand the bag back.

But He Xianqiu promptly pushed it back into his hands, stepped back, and said firmly, “I still have a lot more. You two take them—there’s no reason to give them back.”

Seeing how determined she was, neither of them could refuse again. They accepted the gifts helplessly.

It was getting late. He Xianqiu said, “It’s past five—I’ll head back to the dormitory now. I’ll come visit again next time, Grandpa Zhong.”

Ji Chen Zhou quickly offered, “I’ll carry you back—there’s a path with no people.”

Grandpa Zhong nodded. “Go on. It gets dark early here—no street lamps in the countryside. You’d better get back while you can still see.”

He Xianqiu and Ji Chen Zhou bid him farewell and left together.

Once again, she was on his back. She said softly, “Xiao Ji… thank you.”

She felt so embarrassed—he had been carrying her around all day.

Ji Chen Zhou shook his head lightly. “No need.”

The narrow country road was quiet, just the two of them. But with Ji Chen Zhou there, He Xianqiu felt completely at ease.

Soon, they reached the compound. She could hear laughter drifting out.

Ji Chen Zhou set her down and handed her the thorny fruits he’d kept in his waist pouch.

He Xianqiu put some of them into her cloth bag and waved. “Xiao Ji, see you next time. It’s been wonderful spending time with you.”

The corners of Ji Chen Zhou’s lips lifted as he replied, “See you next time.”

He Xianqiu nodded, turned, and walked toward the dormitory.

Ji Chen Zhou watched her back until she disappeared from view. Only then did he turn and head home by the small path.

When He Xianqiu returned, the other educated youth greeted her and asked, “What happened to you? Why are you limping?”

He Xianqiu explained, “I was wandering around the village and fell.”

She had no choice but to lie. She couldn’t admit she’d fallen on the mountain—after all, you were supposed to have someone with you up there.

She was new to the area and knew it would look suspicious if she went alone. To avoid unnecessary trouble, she decided it was better to say nothing.