Chapter 17

“You have to listen to me.”

Jiang Henian gripped Wang Yueniu’s shoulders with both hands, her face deadly serious as she spoke in a mysterious tone:

“I’m only telling you this one secret. You must swear—swear on your life—that you’ll never tell anyone.”

Wang Yueniu immediately stopped struggling, her eyes wide as saucers, nodding hard.

“Actually… that day I hit my head and then…” Jiang Henian leaned in slightly, lowering her voice, “I opened up my meridians and awakened my inner eye for spotting scumbags!”

“That Song Wenqing? Total black-hearted green tea phoenix man. Stay away from him.”

Wang Yueniu: “???”

She bit on the towel and shook her head wildly, making muffled noises, “Mmm?! Mmm mmm?!”

Jiang Henian instantly understood: “Green tea means someone who looks pure and innocent, but is actually scheming and manipulative—ruthless, even!”

“And a phoenix man is… well, basically, just stay far away! Got it?”

Wang Yueniu gave a hesitant “mmm” in reply.

Satisfied, Jiang Henian yanked the towel out of her mouth and tossed it back over her shoulder, giving her a pat.

“Good girl. Off you go, now.”

She turned around with the air of someone who had just completed a secret mission and went back to harvesting wheat.

Jiang Henian grabbed a handful of wheat stalks and swung the sickle, her eyebrows twitching from the effort. Damn, why does it feel like this thing’s getting heavier and heavier?

Wang Yueniu picked up her sickle in a daze and numbly continued cutting wheat, her eyes still blankly glued to Jiang Henian.

Was this still the quiet, stuffy Jiang Henian she knew?

This was madness. She had to be dreaming…

Across the endless fields, the wheat field and cornfield were separated by a narrow ridge.

The wind stirred, making the golden crops rustle like waves—full of harvest and life.

“Alright, alright, if you all keep flattering me like this, I won’t be able to stay seated for shame. Let’s get to work—we can’t fall behind schedule.”

Song Wenqing, thoroughly basking in praise, looked both radiant and modest—his humility perfectly performed.

“Wenqing, how should we divide up today’s work?” asked fellow educated youth Yang Chuanlin.

“Team Leader Wang said we’re responsible for finishing this cornfield today. Same as usual—start from the left, each person takes a row. The girls harvest and pack, the guys harvest and transport.”

He patted his injured knee. “I’ll take it easy today and stick to packing baskets. Fair?”

“No problem! Let’s work faster than the wheat team and finish early to get home for dinner!”

Once Song Wenqing finished, the group of young people rolled up their sleeves and got to work.

They were all part of the same batch of educated youths sent to Huagou Village, most just seventeen to nineteen years old. After months in the countryside—and last night’s wolf scare—they’d come to see steady, capable Song Wenqing as their pillar.

“Song Zhiqing, your bandage is dirty. Here’s a clean towel—you can use this.”

Looking at the fine blue cloth towel offered by Si Yuzhen, Song Wenqing appeared surprised and flattered—but beneath his calm eyes lay a glint of triumph.

Finally cracked that prideful beauty’s shell.

He accepted the towel with modest resistance, and as he tilted his head, he happened to glimpse a familiar figure crouched in the wheat field, braids swinging gently.

Jiang Henian had her back to them, cutting wheat at an unusually slow pace—clearly distracted.

Song Wenqing smirked to himself. Playing hard to get, huh?

He snorted inwardly. A village girl playing mind games? Let’s see how long you can hold out. A few more days of cold shoulder, and she’ll come running to do my chores again.

The sun climbed high as the entire Huagou Village production team worked in full swing to harvest the crops.

Even toddlers who’d just learned to walk were out in the fields with little baskets, picking up fallen ears of wheat—for which the team would award two work points.

A healthy adult male laborer earned ten work points for a full day of work. Adult women got eight. At the end of the year, the village team would divide the harvest based on those points—typically, ten points equaled about 0.25 yuan.

In a whole year, a villager might earn just over 100 yuan. In a bad year, even less. Everyone had to tighten their belts just to survive.

Jiang Henian looked back at the field she’d harvested and almost fainted.

After working herself to the bone all morning, she hadn’t even earned two mao?!

Who am I? Where am I? Why am I living this nightmare?

She flopped to the ground, wiping her sweat in silence. At this rate, even a neat freak would get cured—she was too exhausted to care anymore.

“Tired again?”

Wang Yueniu, already far ahead, lugged an armful of wheat over, tossed it onto a pile, and came back frowning.

“Henian, are you sure you’re not sick? It’s almost time to stop, and you’re still behind. You used to be way faster than me—your sickle used to leave afterimages.”

Jiang Henian shook her head weakly, too tired to speak.

Her breath was heavy, sweat beaded on her forehead, and her face was flushed pale-red—clearly overworked.

Her fingers trembled slightly where they rested on her knees, visibly shaking from exhaustion.

Even Jiang Henian was puzzled. The original owner of this body had farmed for years; no way would she be this weak. Did swapping souls really lower the body’s strength stats?

She swore to the heavens, she wasn’t slacking. She’d been trying hard to work this body—but it was just… exhausting. The more she worked, the more drained she felt.

She was fine just yesterday!

“Better get back to it, or you’ll miss the quota and get your work points docked.”

Jiang Henian’s face fell. “How much will they dock?”

“Hmm…” Wang Yueniu glanced at her progress and quietly held up four fingers. “Maybe you’ll get about this much.”

Jiang Henian clutched her chest, gasping.

Four points…!

She had literally sweated blood, used every ounce of strength—and she was only getting four points?!

Not even a single mao to show for it?!

Back in the 21st century, Jiang Henian had grown up under the red flag, pampered with monthly allowances in the tens of thousands. Now she found herself in this backwater called Huagou Village in the 1970s, enduring the greatest existential shock of her life.

Her brain buzzed—she couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion or sheer rage.

Her vision flickered—first blinding white, then black—and suddenly, a sharp, electric screech rang in her ears.

Zzzzzzz—

“Henian?! Henian, wake up! Henian!!”

Someone was shaking her hard.

Jiang Henian suddenly gasped and opened her eyes.

“You scared me half to death! What the heck was that? Why’d you just pass out like that?!”

Wang Yueniu sighed in huge relief. Jiang Henian blinking awake after collapsing out of nowhere had given her quite a fright.

Jiang Henian looked around the wheat fields and the people packing up to head home, her expression dazed.

Then suddenly—her eyes widened.

She grabbed Wang Yueniu’s arm in panic. “What time is it?!”

“Huh?”

Wang Yueniu looked at the golden sun about to slip behind the hills. “Uhh… probably six o’clock?”

Most families in Huagou didn’t have a fancy clock—only the elementary school in the commune had an old rusty pendulum clock that barely worked. Folks here relied on the sun and stars to tell time.

Sunrise meant work. Sunset meant stopping.

When Jiang Henian heard the time, her expression changed dramatically.

She leapt to her feet—then bolted.