Bai Fumie in the 70’s Chapter 3:

Cleverly, Zhao Lanxiang had donned gloves and kept a slow, measured pace as she tackled the weeding task. Thanks to this foresight, her hands were saved from the typical injuries of such labor. However, as someone unaccustomed to such demanding labor, she found herself teetering on the edge of exhaustion by noon, the relentless sun beating down on her. Yet, her five-point task remained unfinished.

While the others were scattered around in pairs or groups, Zhao Lanxiang was a solitary figure, a silhouette hunched amidst the vast cornfield, locked in battle with the pesky weeds.

She stripped off her mask and rolled up her long sleeves, revealing her fair arms. Beads of perspiration trickled down her skin, drenching her clothes until they clung to her body like a second skin.

Suddenly, the crunch of footsteps echoed from the cornfield. A man appeared, bearing a yoke with buckets brimming with water balanced at both ends. Despite the weight causing the yoke to bow, the man traversed the sprawling cornfield without losing a drop.

Zhao Lanxiang’s act of fanning herself with her mask ceased. It was her man, He Songbai!

She quickly emerged from the lush green field of corn stalks and called out to Songbai, “Comrade, could I borrow a moment of your time? I’ve run into some trouble. Could you lend a hand?” 

Her voice rang out, pure and melodious as a mountain lark’s song.

To her dismay, the man seemed to not just ignore her, but to quicken his stride, moving past her with his water buckets until he disappeared into the distance. Zhao Lanxiang stood frozen, watching the water droplets left behind by his hasty retreat, her eyes darkening. It seemed…he was more intent on avoiding her than engaging.

Undeterred, Zhao Lanxiang slipped her gloves back on, returned to her crouching position, and dove back into her war against the weeds.

Around ten minutes later, a rustling sound rose from the cornfield. Zhao Lanxiang’s lips curled into a knowing smile as she maintained her squatting position, casting a fleeting glance at the approaching figure.

A tall, slender silhouette, thin as a bamboo stalk, emerged from the foliage.

The man weaved his way through the cornfield without uttering a word, then crouched down silently and began to pull weeds. His dark, thick brows remained smooth as he efficiently eradicated the weeds around Zhao Lanxiang, even managing to uproot the stubborn tussocks that usually required a shovel’s force.

After plowing through work worth two points, he paused, drawing a deep breath, and gruffly asked, “Which piece of land is yours?”

Taking advantage of the shade provided by the corn leaves to shield herself from relentless sun, Zhao Lanxiang lounged comfortably. She extended a slender finger, tracing a lazy circle in the air to indicate the land that surrounded them. “I’ve finished these two plots, from here to there.”

Hidden amongst the verdant corn stalks and leaves, her delicate complexion glowed softly. Her features were exquisite, and her eyes, soft and tender, reflected the sunlight, illuminating them with a warm, radiant glow.

He Songbai wordlessly returned to his task, his expression etched in stone. He toiled for another half-hour with his hoe, wrapping up the remainder of Zhao Lanxiang’s work.

While he made a conscious effort to evade Zhao Lanxiang’s gaze, she studied him with undisguised curiosity. His clothes for the day were threadbare at best, with his shorts revealing his lower abdomen and strong, lengthy thighs. Despite the blistering heat, he refrained from removing his shirt due to her presence, rolling up his sleeves instead to reveal muscular arms bronzed by the sun.

He was lean but sturdy. With a more nourishing diet, he might gain even more muscle strength.

Catching her lower lip in contemplation, Zhao Lanxiang reached into her cloth bag to retrieve a snowy white steamed bun.

“My deepest desire back then,” her old man had once revealed during a late-night conversation, his voice imbued with a heartfelt sincerity, “was to taste a white steamed bun.”

When the second batch of educated youths had made a trip to the county town for agricultural tools, Zhao Lanxiang had accompanied them, seizing the opportunity to purchase a bag of high-quality, high-gluten flour. She traded eight pounds of this precious commodity with the cafeteria cook, securing a monthly supply of white noodles and steamed buns.

A single pound of fine flour could create ten fluffy buns, and eight pounds promised a yield of eighty. By allocating two a day for herself, she used the remaining two kilograms of flour as payment for the cook’s efforts.

Zhao Lanxiang held out a chilled, white steamed bun to He Songbai.

His focus snapped to the bun. Its surface was smooth, glossy, and a pristine snow-white. The round bun was flawlessly crafted with the superior flour, displaying no hint of discoloration. It was said that a bun like this, pliant and slightly sweet, could awaken even the deepest of hungers. But such a taste remained foreign to He Songbai.

However, the sight of her hands, more tender and paler than the bun, may have held a stronger allure. She had just slipped off her gloves, leaving her hands gleaming white, with cherry-red fingertips adding a touch of color.

He Songbai diverted his gaze from Zhao Lanxiang, focusing instead on the dark mud at his feet.

“No,” he answered, his expression veiling indifference, yet his eyes flickered with unspoken intensity.

Then, he asked, “How much was your candy?”

Zhao Lanxiang responded, confused, “What?”

Growing visibly impatient, the man elaborated, “Sanya took your candy. Here’s some money to cover for it.”

[T/N: Sanya is the nickname for He Songzhi (He Songbai’s younger sister). It translates to “third girl” as she is the third child in the family.]

From his pocket, he withdrew fifty cents and thrust the crumpled tickets into Zhao Lanxiang’s hand.

Caught off guard by his sudden terseness, Zhao Lanxiang replied softly, “It’s just a handful of candies, there’s no need to repay me. You helped with my work. Won’t you stay for a meal?”

Standing in his path like a gentle blockade, her smile never wavered. But his brows furrowed in exasperation as he nudged her aside, reclaimed his shovel, and proceeded to march away.

His demeanor was as piercing and frigid as a winter thorn bush.

In all her life, Zhao Lanxiang had never been met with such icy indifference.

It was quite the revelation that her partner had once embodied such severity. His elder years had seen him mellow into a gentler demeanor, but his younger self, this Version 1.0, was full of harsh edges. She nibbled on the white steamed bun, thoughtfully watching his figure recede until it was a mere speck in the distance.

One day, you will understand who I am!

[T/N: “you will understand who I am” is a phrase implying that she will eventually get him to understand or appreciate her, not a threat.]

...

As the afternoon waned, Zhao Lanxiang returned to the hostel designated for the educated youths, casting an unimpressed look at Jiang Li. Following dinner, she indulged in a bath and applied some soothing ointment.

For a week, Zhao Lanxiang and He Songbai didn’t cross paths. The reason wasn’t their previous prickly interaction, but rather the grueling workload they both bore.

Strenuous farming sessions sapped her energy, rendering her so drained that she’d sink into her bed immediately after work. The vigor she needed to keep reaching out to her partner was spent. At night, as she fell into the arms of sleep, her mind was filled with thoughts of him.

The food provided to the educated youths was dreadfully subpar, lacking the savoriness of oil, seasoning, or any trace of meat. Each day, their plates held nothing more than coarse grain buns paired with sweet potatoes and bland greens. Every now and then, the cafeteria would replace the coarse grain buns with a lukewarm sweet potato porridge. Zhao Lanxiang playfully joked to another senior educated youth in the dormitory, “Where’s the rice in this so-called sweet potato mix? It’s just sweet potatoes through and through. The grains of rice in this ‘sweet potato porridge’ are so scarce, you could count them on one hand.”

Fortunately, Zhao Lanxiang had a safety net against the terrible communal meals. Her parents continued to send her living expenses.

After a week of enduring the monotonous menu of corn and sweet potatoes, Zhao Lanxiang resolved to buy some meat and flour on the coming weekend to upgrade her meals.

With a sigh, she polished off her bowl of sweet potato porridge. It had been a week since she’d tasted oil, and her longing for meat was becoming intense.

Zhou Jiazhen, the senior sister among them, cast a curious glance at Zhao Lanxiang and inquired, “Your family seems well off. Why did you choose to toil in the countryside instead of staying comfortably in the city?”

“I believe that constructing a new rural world can fulfill life’s ideals. The daily struggle is endless and exceptionally stimulating, which is why I’m here.”

“I’m drawn to the idea of shaping a new rural world, fulfilling life’s ideals. The relentless everyday struggle is a thrilling challenge so that’s why I’m here.”

Zhou Jiazhen’s reply was a bitter smile. Zhao Lanxiang was cut from a different cloth. If Zhou Jiazhen had been in Zhao Lanxiang’s comfortable shoes, she would never have chosen the grueling rural life, not even under duress.

In Zhou Jiazhen’s case, after completing her elementary education, she had remained in the city, but was unable to secure a job. Her brother had been the sole provider for their family. To lighten her brother’s burden, she willingly relocated to the countryside to work for sustenance.

Zhou Jiazhen suggested, “You seem to lack stamina, and hard labor doesn’t suit you. If you get a chance, offer a pound of pork to the captain and ask him to assign you lighter duties.”

Zhao Lanxiang nodded, appreciating Zhou Jiazhen’s advice.

“Okay, thank you for your suggestion.” she responded, a mischievous glint flickering in her eyes.

Her eyes held the warm hues of autumn, her skin was tender and fair, her ebony hair flowed as smooth as satin, and her body radiated vitality. She seemed untouched by the grueling trials of hunger and hardship.

When not working, Zhao Lanxiang adorned herself in a simple white shirt, paired with a black skirt, her silky hair cascading naturally over a shawl that covered her shoulders. There was an effortless elegance about her. Her clothes, while modest, were versatile. There was an indefinable allure about her.

The male educated youths often found their eyes irresistibly drawn towards Zhao Lanxiang, their work-induced weariness seemingly melting away in her presence. She was like an enchanting panorama that continually captivated their attention.

However, Zhao Lanxiang wasn’t as sociable as her female peers, and her interactions with the young men were considerably more restrained. Consequently, these young men found their chances to interact with Zhao Lanxiang exceedingly rare. Given the nuanced dynamics of male-female relationships in that era, Zhao Lanxiang’s distant demeanor implied that any advances by the men could be seen as having bad intentions.

After working tirelessly for several days, the captain finally granted the newly arrived educated youths a well-deserved break on Saturday. Jiang Li, along with a group of educated youths, departed early in the morning for a day trip to the county town.

Zhao Lanxiang, unfazed by the day’s excitement, instead went to procure five pounds of white flour and a cut of pork layered with 20 to 30 percent fat.

She returned to the shared dormitory with her purchases, only to be flabbergasted by the sight of the collapsed building. Zhou Jiazhen emerged from the wreckage, brandishing a hoe and exclaiming with palpable relief, “Luckily, we’re okay. There weren’t many inside, so no one was killed.”

Bewildered, Zhao Lanxiang turned to Zhou Jiazhen, “What happened?”

Zhou Jiazhen filled her in, “Apparently, while Zhao Si was herding pigs, one of them charged into the wall and brought down the dormitory. The building was an old house that had been converted into our dormitory years ago. It had been worn down by heavy rainfall over time. I was cooking when it suddenly fell apart. Just my luck, the white dust ruined a good piece of meat.”

“I must give Zhao Si a piece of my mind,” Zhou Jiazhen declared, bristling with indignation.

The villagers had always taken a somewhat dismissive stance towards the city-bred educated youths. They perceived these youths as a drain, consuming food without making significant contributions to the brigade’s annual food quota.

When the initial wave of educated youths arrived, the village was too impoverished to build new residences for them. The old captain resorted to refurbishing some dilapidated structures to house them. However, as the villagers began to discern the true character of these city dwellers, their eagerness to provide housing dwindled.

Now, faced with the prospect of being homeless for the night, Zhou Jiazhen and Zhao Lanxiang exchanged looks of concern. What should they do now?

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