Wang Suhua was jolted awake by pain. As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw a gleaming needle being pulled out of her body, and she nearly fainted again—until a sweet, enticing scent caught her attention.  

Before she could react, a bowl of steaming hot brown sugar water was thrust into her hands, so warm it nearly burned her fingers.  

“Drink it.”  

Wang Suhua followed the voice and saw Bai Zhizhi standing beside her. Only then did she remember—she had collapsed right outside the Bai family’s doorstep.  

She wanted to refuse, but the sweetness, something she had never experienced before, was too tempting. In a small voice, she murmured, “Thank you,” before lowering her head to sip the sugar water. Though it was still scalding hot, it filled her with warmth—right down to her heart. The rich, sugary taste made it the most delicious thing she had ever drunk.  

It had been so long since she’d felt warmth like this. At home, she had to take care of her grandparents and her younger brother. She couldn’t afford to collapse. No one ever asked if she was suffering, let alone handed her a bowl of brown sugar water.  

“Your health is in terrible shape,” Bai Zhizhi suddenly said, watching Wang Suhua. “Severe malnutrition, overexertion, and stagnant blood circulation. That’s why your menstrual cramps are so painful—enough to make you faint.”  

While Wang Suhua was still unconscious, Bai Zhizhi had taken her pulse and realized just how poor her condition was.  

The two of them were about the same age, but compared to Bai Zhizhi, Wang Suhua was thin and frail, her face sallow from severe malnutrition.  

Yet when Bai Zhizhi finished speaking, Wang Suhua’s expression didn’t change at all. She showed no reaction, as if the diagnosis had nothing to do with her.  

It wasn’t that she didn’t care—it was that caring wouldn’t change anything.  

Wang Suhua’s life was a tragic one. Her father had died young, and soon after, her mother remarried, abandoning her and her newborn brother. Her grandparents were too old to work, so the entire family relied on the work points she earned.  

Even if she knew her body couldn’t take it, what could she do? She couldn’t stop. She had to work herself to the bone—only by earning full work points could her family survive.  

In the end, it all came down to poverty.  

Seeing her complete lack of reaction, Bai Zhizhi grew frustrated. As a healer, nothing angered her more than a patient neglecting their own health.  

Just as she was about to say something, Wang Suhua interrupted her. “Thank you, Zhizhi. I need to go work now.”  

Bai Zhizhi watched her leave, her thin frame gradually disappearing into the distance. A slight frown creased her brow.  

She had known Wang Suhua before this. The Wang family lived at the foot of the mountain, struggling in poverty, but they were kind-hearted. Once, Bai Zhizhi had gotten tangled in a net, and it was Wang Suhua who had freed her.  

So she owed Wang Suhua a favor—and she was determined to help her regain her health.  

….

Qinghe Production Brigade Headquarters

Liang Jian strode in with his nose in the air and announced to Bai Fumin, “Brigade Leader Bai, I’m here to transfer my records. And I need you to issue me a certificate.”  

Bai Fumin glanced up and replied leisurely, “Ah, Comrade Liang. What kind of certificate do you need? A visiting permit?”  

These days, no one could go anywhere without official documentation. This was especially true for educated youths—if they wanted to visit their families, they needed a permit issued by the brigade, and they had to return within the allotted time.  

Of course, if during that period a youth managed to secure a job in the city and had a work unit willing to take them in, they wouldn’t have to come back.  

Though Liang Jian had been staying in the city recently, he’d never bothered with a permit—he hadn’t gone far, and he’d paid others to do his assigned labor, so no one had questioned it.  

But he was still officially a member of the brigade’s educated youth. If he wanted to leave for good, he needed a certificate of return issued by the brigade.  

“A return certificate,” Liang Jian declared, chin raised, as if he were already superior.

Bai Fumin remained completely unfazed by his attitude and replied matter-of-factly, “A return certificate is easy enough to issue—just show me proof of your receiving unit in the city, and I’ll process it for you. But as for the records…”  

He deliberately hesitated.  

Liang Jian’s eyes narrowed. If Bai Fumin refused, he was ready to make a scene.  

“The educated youths’ records aren’t kept at the brigade anymore—they’ve all been transferred to the commune. If you want to retrieve your file, you’ll have to go there,” Bai Fumin said leisurely, taking a sip of tea.  

Liang Jian was stunned. “What? Since when? They were always kept at the brigade before!”  

Of course, Bai Fumin had done this on purpose.  

A while back, the commune had considered reclaiming the brigade’s authority over record-keeping, but Bai Fumin had thought it more convenient to keep them locally. Since the commune hadn’t insisted, the matter was dropped.  

But after listening to Song Jing’an’s advice, Bai Fumin had immediately sent all the files to the commune.  

“New regulations,” Bai Fumin said without batting an eye, then helpfully added, “The educated youths’ files should all be at the commune’s Educated Youth Office. You can check there, Comrade Liang.”  

Whether Liang Jian would actually succeed in retrieving his records was none of Bai Fumin’s concern. But he knew one thing—sorting through those files would take time.  

Liang Jian’s face darkened, his expression shifting between gray and white. Clearly, he hadn’t expected this sudden complication in what he thought was a surefire plan.  

Seeing his reaction, Bai Fumin secretly relished the moment but maintained his professional demeanor. “Comrade Liang, do you still want that return certificate? If so, I’ll need the proof from your receiving unit first.”  

Liang Jian scowled and spat out, “Forget it.” Then he stormed out of the brigade headquarters.  

After he left, Zhao Xingye, the brigade’s Party secretary, who had witnessed the whole exchange, couldn’t help but frown. “That Liang Jian is too arrogant. No manners at all!”  

“Ah, you get used to it,” Bai Fumin said with a wry smile.  

Zhao Xingye snorted. “Thinks he can just waltz back to the city just because he’s latched onto someone there. Delusional!”  

He had no patience for these high-and-mighty educated youths—useless at labor, good for nothing.  

“Lao Bai, your judgment really isn’t what it used to be. You almost ruined Zhizhi’s life,” Zhao Xingye grumbled. “She’d have been far better off with the Yu boy.”  

Zhao Xingye and Bai Fumin had been partners for years, so they spoke bluntly with each other. Besides, he had watched Bai Zhizhi grow up and treated her like his own child. The thought of her nearly being pushed into a pit of fire still angered him.  

Back when Bai Fumin had entertained the idea of marrying Zhizhi off to Liang Jian, Zhao Xingye had warned him—he’d always thought Liang Jian was unreliable.  

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Liang Jian hooked up with someone from the city, dumped the Bai family, and they became the laughingstock of the brigade.  

At the mention of the Yu family, Bai Fumin’s expression grew distant. If the Yus were still in Qinghe Brigade, none of this mess would have happened. He wouldn’t have had to worry about Zhizhi’s future.  

He sighed and waved a hand. “No use dwelling on the past. This time, I really misjudged the man.”  

He had been too hasty.  

Zhao Xingye understood his concerns and patted his shoulder. “I know you worry about Zhizhi. But now that she’s better, you can relax. She’s still young.”  

Bai Fumin nodded. After this ordeal, he had come to a realization—if he wanted to protect Zhizhi, he could only rely on family. Outsiders couldn’t be trusted.  

And besides, he wasn’t ready to let her marry so soon.