Chapter 1

What a solid chest…

The lines of his muscles were as if carved by hand—absolutely perfect.

Almost on instinct, Wen Jiao couldn’t help but let her hand wander downward to explore.

But then, right by her ear, came a gentle yet restrained voice stopping her:
“Don’t move.”

Wen Jiao’s eyes flew open, and a chill instantly rushed through her. Only then did she realize they were both in the river, and she clung to the man in fright.

Zhou Changhuai’s body tensed slightly before he continued swimming toward the bank.

What he didn’t know was that the pretty educated youth clinging to him had already “changed souls.”

Wen Jiao pressed her lips tightly together, quickly digesting this sudden change in her mind.

Unfortunately… she seemed to have transmigrated into a novel.

And worse yet—it was into the story she despised most.

If she remembered correctly, it should now be late May, 1978.

Three days ago, Wen Jiao—living in the highly modern society of 2030—had asked a colleague from the emergency department to recommend her a new novel.

They recommended one called “The Village Belle of ’70s: Earning a Fortune with Her Educated Youth Husband”.

But just reading the first chapter made her head pound with anger.

In the book, there happened to be an educated youth sharing her exact name—Wen Jiao.

The character was written as a brainless beauty who drowned herself over a cheating scumbag and the villagers’ gossip.

Wen Jiao hated “love-brained” fools and people who didn’t value their own lives.

She dropped the book after just one chapter and even scolded her colleague for recommending such stories that demeaned women.

From a medical standpoint, breast size has nothing to do with IQ.

Her colleague had teased: “If you ever get the chance to enter that book, remember to rewrite that girl’s life for her.”

It was just a joke—yet now it had really happened.

Wen Jiao had learned her lesson: never make careless jokes. They might just kill you.

Before being thrown into this book, Wen Jiao had just finished a grueling overnight shift.

A nearby illegal hotel had collapsed during peak tourist season, and their hospital’s emergency room had been swamped all night with an endless stream of severely injured patients.

She and her colleagues worked under immense pressure, saving lives nonstop until noon the next day.

She only remembered reaching home, collapsing into bed, and falling straight asleep.

When she woke, half-dreaming, she had reached out and felt a solid chest. She thought she was dreaming—a sweet dream for once, not another ER nightmare.

Zhou Changhuai carried Wen Jiao ashore and laid her on the grass. Only then did she feel how chilled her body was. She found herself missing the warmth of his arms.

Seeing her shivering with lips turning blue, Zhou Changhuai fetched a travel bag from the nearby grass.

With swift movements, he unzipped it and pulled out a white Type-74 Navy officer’s jacket, holding it out to her.

Only then did Wen Jiao notice that he himself was wearing the same kind of Type-74 naval uniform—she’d seen these in period dramas.

She pressed her hands to the ground to prop herself up and dress but realized her limbs were too weak. She cursed inwardly—what a fragile body!

Then again, thinking of the diet in this era, it was understandable. People were lucky just to have enough to eat, let alone proper nutrition.

Seeing how weak she looked, Zhou Changhuai hesitated, then held the jacket open and carefully helped her sit up, using the garment as a buffer so his hands wouldn’t touch her directly. But by accident, his palm brushed against something soft.

Like touching a live wire, he instantly drew his hand back and blurted an apology:
“I’m sorry.”

Wen Jiao glanced down at her chest, belatedly realizing where he’d touched. When she looked up at Zhou Changhuai, he had already turned his back to her, head bowed.

How adorable—people in this era really were so innocent.

He was shy now… but in the water earlier, when she had clung tightly to him, he hadn’t seemed shy at all.

The surroundings were pitch-dark, with only a crescent moon overhead. The reeds rustled in the night wind.

Luckily, people rarely went out at night in these times. If anyone had seen the two of them in this disheveled state, it would have been impossible to explain.

After putting on the jacket, Wen Jiao softly said to the man carrying her on his back:
“Comrade, thank you for saving me. My name is Wen Jiao, I’m an educated youth sent here to the countryside. May I ask your name?”

She intended to thank him properly later.

Zhou Changhuai slowly turned around, still too embarrassed to meet her eyes.

“Serving the people is the duty of us soldiers,” he said. “I know who you are, Comrade Wen. Four years ago, when you were first sent down to Lingtou Brigade, I happened to be home on leave. You stayed in my house for one night.”

Wen Jiao quickly searched the original owner’s memories but couldn’t recall meeting him.

Zhou Changhuai explained hurriedly, “I was injured and bedridden then. We never spoke, and you moved to the educated youth dormitory the next day. It’s normal you don’t remember me.”

What he really wanted to say was: As long as I remember you, that’s enough.

Wen Jiao smiled sweetly. “Well, I’ll definitely remember you from now on. You saved my life—I’ll never forget that.”

Zhou Changhuai stared at her, dazed by her smile, and when he snapped out of it, he quickly lowered his gaze, heart pounding.

It was only the second time in his thirty-two years that he’d felt this strange sensation.

The first time was four years ago—when he sat by the window at home and saw the brigade leader bring Wen Jiao into his family’s courtyard.

Wen Jiao, smiling brightly, reminded him now: “Comrade, you still haven’t told me your name.”

Zhou Changhuai lifted his head shyly. “My name is Zhou Changhuai—the ‘Huai’ with the three-water radical.”

Wen Jiao nodded. “Well, I still have to thank you, Comrade Zhou. Thank you for giving me a second life.”

Zhou Changhuai looked puzzled. This Wen Jiao seemed different from the aloof girl he remembered—more talkative, livelier. But maybe it was just gratitude.

Still, he liked this cheerful version of her better.

Just then, a figure appeared on the path nearby. “Changhuai, what are you doing here?” The man looked shocked. “Comrade Wen? Why are you here too? What’s going on between you two—?”

Zhou Changhuai stood up to greet him. “Brother, my train was delayed, I missed the bus, so I walked home. I took a shortcut and happened to rescue someone who fell into the river.”

Zhou Changgui glanced at Wen Jiao sitting on the grass. A thought flashed in his mind, and he said with concern:
“Comrade Wen, that Educated Youth Yang isn’t worth it. You were too foolish to do something like this!”

Zhou Changhuai shot Wen Jiao a questioning look.

Wen Jiao, not wanting Zhou Changhuai to think she’d tried to drown herself for love—nor to be linked with that Yang fellow at all—quickly explained:
“Brother Changgui, you misunderstand. I just came to the river to wash my feet and slipped in by accident.”

“Wash your feet?!” Zhou Changgui didn’t believe her. “At night? What are you doing here all alone?”

Wen Jiao shot back: “Then Brother Changgui, what are you doing here at night?”

Zhou Changhuai couldn’t help laughing out loud, though he straightened his face immediately when he saw his brother’s stern expression.

“Well, since Changhuai came home on leave,” Zhou Changgui said seriously, “I wanted to catch some wild ducks for him, maybe gather some wild duck eggs too. Don’t tell me you’re here for the same thing?”

“No,” Wen Jiao shook her head with a playful smile. “I’m no good at catching ducks. I was just looking for wild duck eggs. But I didn’t find any—only got my shoes dirty.”

As she spoke, she lifted her foot… only to realize both feet were bare.

Awkward…