Everyone trusted Han Ting, and his words eased their worries a bit.

But they didn’t talk seriously for long before they were all goofing off and playing again.

Soon it was noon, and they started a fire to cook.

The food was as bland as ever—no oil, no dishes, just coarse grains.

Naturally, everyone griped while eating, complaining that even pigs had it better.

Then someone looked at Han Ting enviously and said, “Brother Ting sure has it good—Chu Xia gives him special meals now and then.”

That reminded Han Ting of the bowl of zhajiang noodles Chu Xia had taken away the night before.

Thinking of how strange she’d acted, he asked Su Yun, “Did you ask Chu Xia what was going on with her last night?”

Su Yun shook her head. “I asked, but she didn’t really say. I don’t know what’s up.”

Gu Yuzhu chimed in, “She’s definitely not right in the head. She usually doesn’t even look in the mirror, but last night she insisted on taking mine. We even got into a fight over it—she nearly drove me nuts.”

She turned to Han Ting. “She’s your girl. Aren’t you going to talk to her?”

Han Ting sipped his coarse porridge and said, “I’ll ask her myself when she gets back.”

But Chu Xia didn’t return to the educated youth station for lunch.

The schoolyard and buildings looked small, but cleaning them up wasn’t nearly as quick as she’d imagined.

By the time the sun was directly overhead, she had only cleared the weeds from her half of the courtyard. There were still roots to dig out and the ground to level.

Her breakfast—just a bit of coarse porridge—had long since worn off.

Chu Xia had wanted to go back to the youth station to cook, but seeing that Lin Xiaohan had no intention of leaving and was still diligently working, she decided not to go either.

Cutting the weeds was exhausting, so she left the root-digging for later.

She exhaled and ran over to the courtyard of the opposite production team office, filled two half-buckets of water, and carried them back to the school with a shoulder pole. Then she started sweeping and scrubbing the office.

By the time she had thoroughly cleaned the dust-laden office from top to bottom, the sun had already shifted westward.

Chu Xia was exhausted and starving, but Lin Xiaohan still showed no intention of stopping.

He had also fetched water from the production team office and was cleaning the adjacent classroom.

Standing in the office doorway, Chu Xia peeked into the classroom next door.

She tried to catch her breath, thinking to herself: Maybe I shouldn’t worry about Lin Xiaohan anymore. I should go back and cook something to eat. I need food to have the strength to keep working—otherwise I’ll collapse here.

Lin Xiaohan really was intense.

In his efforts to prove himself, he sometimes didn’t even treat himself like a human being.

While Chu Xia was watching him and thinking this, a voice suddenly called out: “Comrade Lin, Comrade Xia, you two should take a break! You still need to eat after all this work!”

Turning toward the sound, Chu Xia saw Liang Youtian’s wife, Chen Jinfeng, walking through the gate. She had a small bamboo basket covered with a cloth slung over her right arm and a thermos in her left hand.

Chu Xia quickly stepped forward to greet her. “Auntie, what brings you here?”

Chen Jinfeng smiled as she approached. “Well, you two are working so hard, and Old Liang was worried you’d wear yourselves out on an empty stomach. He sent me over with something to eat.”

Chu Xia politely declined, “Auntie, that’s really not necessary. We can just head back and cook ourselves.”

Chen Jinfeng gestured up at the sun. “At this hour? You won’t have time to cook anything.”

Before Chu Xia could respond, Lin Xiaohan walked out of the classroom, holding a damp rag in his hand.

“Auntie,” he said, “I told you not to bother. Skipping one meal won’t kill us. What matters is the kids—we can’t delay their school.”

Chen Jinfeng gave him a mock glare. “Yes, education is important, but eating is too. If you ruin your health, how are you going to teach anyone? You’re both still growing, working hard—you need to eat well. Enough nonsense. Get inside and eat.”

With that, she headed straight into the office.

Chu Xia glanced at Lin Xiaohan, but he didn’t look back at her.

He followed Chen Jinfeng into the office, still mumbling polite protests about not wanting to trouble her. And it didn’t sound fake—it seemed genuinely sincere.

Chu Xia followed behind him into the office.

Chen Jinfeng had already uncovered the basket, revealing two steaming cornbread buns and a bowl of cabbage stewed with glass noodles.

She laid out the bowls on the desk and said, “Don’t say another word. Eat while it’s hot. Just put the dishes back in the basket when you’re done—I’ll come by later to pick them up.”

Without lingering, she turned and hurried off.

Chu Xia and Lin Xiaohan barely walked her to the door before she’d already disappeared past the gate.

The moment she left, Lin Xiaohan’s expression shifted.

Just seconds earlier, he’d been all warm smiles—harmless and pleasant. Now, all traces of friendliness vanished from his face.

Chu Xia watched his transformation in silence, unsettled by how quickly he changed. Instinctively, she felt something was off. She couldn’t help but suspect that even Chen Jinfeng’s visit might have been part of his plan.

Once his face returned to its usual expression, Lin Xiaohan turned and went back inside.

Chu Xia swallowed hard and took a moment to compose herself before following him in.

She washed her hands in the clean water, then sat down at the desk to eat.

Naturally, she didn’t try to make conversation. She picked up a bun and her chopsticks, ready to dig in.

But just as her chopsticks reached for the cabbage and noodles, Lin Xiaohan blocked her with his own.

Chu Xia looked up in confusion. “What are you doing?”

Was he seriously going to stop her from eating?

Lin Xiaohan looked at her and said flatly, “I don’t like sharing a dish with others—especially with women.”

Chu Xia: “…”

Before she could respond, Lin Xiaohan pushed her chopsticks aside and grabbed an empty bowl to divide the food.

He spooned half of the cabbage and noodles into a separate bowl and placed it to the side.

Chu Xia: “…”

Did he really think she was dying to share a dish with him?

Without hesitation, Chu Xia took her half of the dish, her chopsticks, and her bun, and moved to the other desk to eat in peace.

As she sat down, she couldn’t help but think: No wonder he never had anyone who truly cared about him in his life. A man like him—meeting someone who genuinely loved him would be a miracle.

He and Han Ting really were two extremes.

In the novel, Han Ting was known for his loyalty and generosity, always ready to shoulder others’ burdens as his own. He was charming, carefree, and never short of admirers.

Lin Xiaohan, on the other hand, didn’t have a single romantic storyline.

Not that he needed one—he only cared about power and status.

And in the end, his downfall was a tragic one.

He spent his life chasing fame and fortune, only to lose it all.

Early on, while Han Ting was busy enjoying life, love, and freedom, Lin Xiaohan was playing it safe, climbing steadily, and always ahead.

He reveled in standing above others—especially above Han Ting.

Calculating and methodical, he gained a sense of superiority with every success, sneering at Han Ting’s entanglements with women.

At a time when Han Ting was still nursing heartbreak, Lin Xiaohan had already become the wealthiest and most powerful character in the book.

But in truth, Han Ting just hadn’t bothered to compete.

Once Han Ting had experienced enough heartbreak, settled down, and turned his focus to building his career, it didn’t take long for him to catch up.

That’s when the real battle between them began.

And once Han Ting got serious, Lin Xiaohan never stood a chance.

After a few rounds of head-to-head competition, Han Ting effortlessly crushed Lin Xiaohan beneath his feet, reducing the wealth Lin Xiaohan had painstakingly accumulated over half his life to nothing in an instant.

Bankrupt—everything gone overnight.

Thinking of this, Chu Xia couldn’t help but glance at Lin Xiaohan with a trace of pity.

But the moment she saw his cold, expressionless profile, she immediately withdrew her sympathy.

No point in pitying others—she’d better take care of herself.