Chapter 71: Knowing How to Work, Not Knowing How to Enjoy

Xia Yingzhen looked at her, her originally puffed-up expression gradually dimming, her brows furrowing deeper.

She didn’t want to admit that Xia Li had really become so eye-catching and stunning!

It must be an illusion!!

“I tell you, you have no sense of shame at all!” Xia Yingzhen scolded her fiercely, her eyebrows knitted tightly, and the little fat on her chubby face quivered.

“That thug from the alley, he looks like the King of Hell, and you treat him like a treasure?! Be careful, or you might lose your life over it, and you’ll be the one crying!”

Xia Yingzhen was angry, “Just wait until your wild man gets his leg pulled out from under him; I’ll see if you’re still smiling then! Hmph!”

Her words were loaded; she thought about what she had seen while passing by the fields earlier, and instead of getting more upset, she deliberately raised her face to look at Xia Li with sarcasm and disdain.

Xia Li made a thoughtful “oh” sound.

She pointed at Xia Yingzhen’s face, curious: “What’s on your face?”

Her eyes showed sympathy: “Could it be that someone hit you? Who was so ruthless? That’s really unfortunate.”

Xia Yingzhen was confused.

The young man standing next to her glanced at Xia Yingzhen’s face in surprise and suddenly burst out laughing.

Cough! He couldn’t help it.

Once he said it, it really did look like Xia Yingzhen had gotten into a fight, and they both laughed heartily at her…

Xia Yingzhen touched her own face, her expression changing rapidly, and she immediately looked humiliated and furious: “…You, you were the one who got hit! You…”

She met the awkward gaze of the young man, who hurriedly looked away, and she was so furious she could only stomp her feet in place, unable to say anything.

Is Xia Li deliberately mocking her?? As if she had been hit, when she had clearly just put on blush!

She had thought it looked particularly good before heading out!!

Humiliated and angry, Xia Yingzhen pouted and scolded the awkward young man before turning away, covering her cheeks that looked like a monkey’s butt, and ran off.

The autumn evening light resembled a thin, hazy mist. From afar, the houses stood closely packed, row upon row, like a scattered yet tightly knit chessboard nestled in the village. Wisps of pale cooking smoke rose silently from the rooftops, merging seamlessly with the crimson-purple clouds on the horizon. Lifting one’s gaze revealed an expanse of boundless tranquility.

Time in the countryside seemed isolated from the outside world, spinning quietly and methodically, day after day, in its own steady rhythm.

By the edge of the fields, men with broad, sturdy builds worked tirelessly, their bodies blending into the golden earth. One man lifted a bowl to drink; droplets of water rolled down his throat, tracing his tanned skin before he wiped them away with a rough hand. The moisture quickly disappeared into the thin fabric of his shirt. His side profile, with its sharp angles, was as rugged as the coarse land beneath his feet. Quickly wiping the sweat from his neck with his clothes, he revealed a set of firm abdominal muscles, their tautness seemingly rivaling the hardness of the ground he toiled upon. Solid and unyielding, he exuded a wild, primal vitality.

At sunset, as the light faded, Xia Li stood at the edge of the fields and caught sight of this scene.

It was harvest season, the time when the rice in the fields ripened. Despite a full day of work, Old Zhang seemed quite relaxed. This young man was remarkably strong and had stepped in to help cut a patch of rice. Grateful, Old Zhang filled his pipe with some precious tobacco he usually wouldn’t touch and handed it to the young man.

Jiang Chenyi glanced at it, sniffed the faintly acrid tobacco, and was struck by a sense of familiarity. Had he smelled this somewhere before? He wasn’t sure. Without saying a word, he returned the pipe to Old Zhang, wiped the sweat from his brow, and downed another bowl of water before heading back to the field.

Old Zhang chuckled, “You’re like a bull, all work and no pleasure.”

The man shot him a glance but said nothing, his wheat-colored muscles glistening under the golden sunlight.

As he bent to cut more rice, Old Zhang remarked, “I’ve got some new clothes and shoes for you. They belonged to my son—barely worn. Put them on, and you’ll look sharp. Back when he was around, the girls in the village were all over him.”

The men toiled away in the fields, drenched in sweat. During their brief midday break, those with wives had meals brought to them—steaming and fragrant. The women smiled, wiped their husbands’ brows, and exchanged a few tender words. Jiang Chenyi, on the other hand, had brought his own provisions: dry rations prepared by Xia Li.

Lately, she had been busy selling wolfberries in town and often didn’t return during the day. Before leaving, she would make him thick pancakes, coarse bread, and meat sauce to last him through two meals. In the evening, once both had finished their work, they would return home to cook a proper hot meal together.

Jiang Chenyi had just finished a hearty meat-sauce pancake. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but he couldn’t help but glance at the field nearby. A man there was sharing a warm meal with his smiling wife, who gently wiped his sweat. Jiang Chenyi’s gaze lingered for a moment before quickly pulling back.

“I work the fields, and you marry a wife,” he muttered under his breath, his handsome yet stern profile brimming with determination.

Old Zhang, who seemed to have anticipated this, chuckled. “Thinking about getting yourself a wife, eh? When I was your age, I used to lie awake at night thinking about it too.”

“Back in the day, I got close to my wife, Xiu’er, from the village across the river. You know how?”

Jiang Chenyi paused, looking at him silently.

Old Zhang took a slow puff from his pipe, his eyes narrowing as he smiled in reminiscence. “It was by that river! Back then, it was much shallower. A few young lads and I crossed it to hunt snakes in the wild woods on the other side. She was too scared to cross, so I carried her on my back.”

“The water barely reached my knees, but she clung to my back like her life depended on it…”

“That warmth on my back—ah, it was something else, hot and alive.”

“It was my first time carrying a girl, and I was as clueless as you are now. I even asked her, ‘What are those two soft things poking into my back?’” Old Zhang cackled. “It made my heart itch like crazy…”

“Even now, I still remember how that felt. Just like the song says…” His wrinkled face lit up with a smile, and his cloudy eyes gleamed with a strange clarity. “A fair, lively young maiden, soft as water, and I carried her straight into our future together.”

Humming a tune in his rough, off-key voice, Old Zhang ambled away, lost in his memories.

Jiang Chenyi didn’t understand the song. Yet, in a way, he did.

He lowered his head and resumed cutting rice. Around him, the rhythmic swish of sickles slicing through stalks filled the air. The sunlight and sweat bathed his body and heart, as he buried his restless energy deep into the blade of his sickle, letting it drip into the golden earth beneath his feet.