The brigade leader actually considered it for a moment before retorting irritably, “Don’t stir up trouble here. Sure, his house is big, but a single man and woman living together—what kind of arrangement is that?”  

His wife glared. “Who’s stirring trouble? They wouldn’t be sharing a room—what’s the big deal? I hear city folks live in apartment buildings, packed even closer together! If you’re really worried about gossip, just put up a wall in the middle. It’s not like it’d cost much.”  

The brigade leader fell silent, frowning as he stuck his tobacco pipe between his teeth.  

Seeing an opening, his wife pressed on. “Haven’t you thought about your nephew? A grown man in his twenties who ducks into mouse holes at the sight of people—if you don’t fix that habit, what’s to become of him? If Xiao Song moves in, at least he’ll have to interact with her. Who knows? He might just get used to it.”  

Ning Yuan’s habit of avoiding people was a sore spot for the brigade leader. His wife’s words struck a chord, stirring both eagerness and hesitation. “You really think it’d work?”  

“Won’t know till you try. Just look at Xiao Song.”  

Hearing her name, Song Ruan quickly looked up, offering a bright, sunny, and utterly well-behaved smile, her large eyes curving into crescents.  

The brigade leader’s wife felt her heart melt. “Look at her—pretty as a fairy, sweet-natured, educated as an educated youth. If even with someone like her he still stammers, turns red, and bolts, then we might as well give up. At that point, his fate’s in the hands of the King of Hell.”  

The brigade leader nodded along at first, but his eyes bulged at the last line. “What kind of talk is that from an elder?”  

Unfazed, his wife continued, “Besides, he doesn’t work the fields—just gathers a few baskets of pigweed a day. His dad used to send some money to help out, and he earned a bit from writing, but now that his father’s new wife has taken control of the funds, all he gets for his submissions are notebooks and pens, no cash. If you don’t find him some extra income, what’s he going to do later?”  

The real issue was that Ning Yuan only had them as family left here. Forget kinship for a moment—if he truly couldn’t survive, could they, as his uncle and aunt, just stand by? If they let him starve, they’d be skewered by public scorn! But once they started helping, who knew when it would end?  

Though her husband was a brigade leader, their family wasn’t exactly rolling in wealth. Her eldest daughter-in-law had just given birth to twin granddaughters, her second daughter-in-law was likely pregnant (judging by the recent nausea), her youngest son still wasn’t married, and her little daughter would soon be of marrying age—she wanted to prepare a generous dowry to send her off in style. Money was needed everywhere!  

Not that she was eyeing her nephew’s rent money, but if Ning Yuan had that extra income, at least they wouldn’t have to keep subsidizing him, right?  

With that thought, her resolve to make this happen hardened.  

The brigade leader wavered even more.  

So his wife delivered the final blow. Glancing at Song Ruan, who sat obediently on the kang, she lowered her voice. “Besides, can you really stand to see such a sweet girl fall into that shameless old lecher’s hands? If she lives with our nephew, she’ll be under our protection. At least that’ll keep him in check.”  

Gritting his teeth, the brigade leader relented. “Fine, I’ll ask Xiao Song what she thinks.”  

Thanks to the Body-Strengthening Pill she’d taken, Song Ruan had heard every word clearly. But she still put on a look of pleasant surprise and confusion. “Brigade Leader, is there news about housing?”

The brigade leader ran a hand roughly through his hair, horrified to find yet another clump coming loose. Terrified of following the village party secretary’s fate (baldness), he quickly yanked his hand away.  

He repeated the discussion he’d just had with his wife, emphasizing the part about building a dividing wall: “We’ll put up a wall in the middle with stones and mud bricks, then seal off one side of the main gate and make separate small doors for each of you—like two little courtyards. If anything happens, you can call out, and he’ll be able to help. And if he can’t handle it, he’ll come straight to us.” 

Though he phrased it vaguely, Song Ruan understood perfectly—this was an offer of protection. Relations between educated youths and villagers here were tense, and with that lecherous old man lurking around, having the brigade leader voluntarily step in as her backer was nothing short of divine intervention!  

Seizing the opportunity, she pulled out a pack of Daqianmen cigarettes—her father’s prized stash, though in reality retrieved from her system space—and slid it discreetly under the brigade leader’s hand. “That’s really wonderful. I’m so grateful for your help—you’re like family to me. These are the cigarettes my dad loves. Would you like to try them and see if they suit your taste?”

“Ah, kid, this is nothing, really. Oh—this is too much,” the brigade leader stammered, flushing as he tried to push them back. “I can’t accept these.”  

But his reluctance was half-hearted—he’d already glimpsed the brand. Daqianmen! Even commune cadres rarely got their hands on such premium smokes.  

Song Ruan, reading him perfectly, grinned and nudged the pack closer. “Once I’m living next to your nephew, won’t you practically be my uncle too? What’s wrong with a niece giving her uncle a pack of cigarettes? Besides, I’ve already brought them, and I don’t smoke. Who else would I even give them to here? Letting them go to waste in my hands would be a shame.”

In the end, the brigade leader caved, red-faced. “Well, if you put it like that… then this uncle won’t stand on ceremony. If you ever need anything, just come find me.”  

His wife, sharp-eyed, swiftly pocketed the bag of brown sugar. “You can come to me too! Since it’s almost mealtime, why not stay and try your auntie’s cooking?” 

This little educated youth had come bearing gifts—brown sugar, snowflake cream, and cigarettes—to ask for their help. And now she was even going to pay them rent? Not inviting her for a meal would’ve been downright shameful.  

Song Ruan shook her head and stood firmly. “No need, Auntie. I should head back.” 

After this conversation, she’d sized them up—while the couple had their own minor agendas, they were fundamentally decent people. Leaving them with a slight sense of indebtedness would only make them more eager to assist her.  

Sure enough, the brigade leader rose awkwardly, guilt nudging him into action. “Then don’t rush back to the educated youth point just yet. Let me take you to talk to my nephew first—we’ll get this settled as soon as possible.”  

“I’d really appreciate that, Brigade Leader.” 

“No trouble at all. You city folks sure talk politely!”

Ning Yuan was up in the mountains cutting pigweed when the distant clang of the work-break bell echoed through the hills. Faint noises rose from the foot of the mountain, and a flicker of panic crossed his face. He hastily tucked his sickle into his back basket and hurried home.  

The house, built of blue brick, stood silent in the distance. Spotting the heavy padlock still securely fastened on the front gate, he didn’t reach for a key. Instead, he circled around to the back and slipped in through the rear door.  

The padlock on the front remained untouched, giving the illusion that no one was home.  

Only after locking the back door, sealing the courtyard into an isolated little world, did Ning Yuan finally exhale in relief. He set down his basket neatly under the eaves.  

The August vegetable garden in the Northeast was at its peak, and his plot was a riot of colors. He gazed at it for a moment before plucking a tomato and two field cucumbers. Bending down, he retrieved a handful of wild greens from his basket and headed to the kitchen.  

Before stepping inside, he brushed off the stray grass and dirt clinging to his clothes, leaving them outside the door.  

The firewood in the stove flickered between glow and ember. As he leaned in to check the flames, a gust of air scattered the ash, revealing scattered red sparks beneath.  

The pot of coarse corn porridge was already steamed, the kernels split open, the broth slightly thickened—though sparse, since he hadn’t added much grain. He tossed in the washed wild greens and let them simmer a while longer. It would pass as a half-decent meal.  

Just as he started slicing the cucumbers, a sharp knock-knock-knock rattled the front gate.  

His hands froze. He held his breath and straightened up.  

His silence didn’t deter the visitor. After a pause, the knocking came again, louder this time, followed by a familiar voice: “Xiao Yuan! Yuan! I know you’re home—come out, we’ve got business!”

Ning Yuan exhaled slowly, tension easing just slightly. He walked to the gate and, without opening it, tossed a key over the wall.  

Silence. Then the metallic click-clack of the lock turning.  

The gate creaked open, and before it had even fully swung aside, the brigade leader’s exasperated voice slipped through the gap: “Xiao Yuan, I swear—what’s with this habit of yours? Locking the gate when you’re home like there’s tigers outside?” 

Ning Yuan listened quietly, eyes downcast—until he spotted the unfamiliar girl standing behind the brigade leader. He jerked back a step.  

“Look at you, acting like you’ve seen a g—” The brigade leader cut himself off, remembering the ban on feudal superstitions. He swallowed the word and cleared his throat. “This is the new educated youth, Song Ruan. She’s here to rent your place.”

Ning Yuan’s eyes flew open wide, his entire posture stiffening like a bristling cat. The word “No” nearly burst from his lips.  

Without hesitation, the brigade leader grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the kitchen, tossing a reassuring glance back at Song Ruan. “Xiao Song, the room on the right is empty—we’ll section that side off for you. Take a look around, see if there’s anything you’d want added.”

Song Ruan smiled and nodded.  

Once inside the kitchen, the brigade leader’s gaze immediately landed on the meager ingredients on the cutting board. His brow furrowed. “You’re eating this little?”

But Ning Yuan wasn’t paying attention to the question. His eyes were locked onto his uncle, his entire face radiating resistance.  

The brigade leader rubbed his hands together. “So here’s the thing…”

He repeated the same arguments he and his wife had discussed earlier, emphasizing the rent income.  

Ning Yuan’s reluctance was palpable.  

Thinking fast, the brigade leader brought up the village party secretary’s predatory behavior, painting Song Ruan as a helpless girl in need of protection—someone safer under their wing.  

Ning Yuan pressed his lips together and stared at the ground, silent.  

Like a slick matchmaker selling a clueless girl to a groom she’d never met, the brigade leader piled on the praise. “And Xiao Song’s a good one—pretty, educated, gentle as her name suggests. We’ll build a wall in the middle; you won’t even notice she’s there. Besides… you’ve got to learn to interact with people eventually. What’ll you do when we’re gone? You think your mom… up there… would rest easy?”

Something in those words struck a chord. After a long pause, Ning Yuan finally relented. “Just her. No one else.”

The brigade leader beamed. “Good, good! Just her, just her.”

Ning Yuan quickly added, “Give her the front gate. I’ll keep the back door.” 

Then he exhaled, as if relieved to have shed some invisible burden.  

The brigade leader: *”…”*  

This hopeless kid.

But he agreed anyway.  

Turning toward the yard, where Song Ruan was leisurely inspecting the premises with her hands behind her back, he called out, “Xiao Song! Come over here—we’ve settled it!”