The six people at the youth commune found it hard enough just to take care of the pig, and everyone couldn’t help but sigh.

Zhang Cuiting, noticing Shen Qiao’s expression, chuckled and said, “It’s still the same as before, I’ll go for you.”

In the past, Shen Qiao had often given her little things, which made her feel comfortable asking Zhang Cuiting for help.

But now, Shen Qiao had her own troubles and could only say, “This year, I’ll probably have to do it myself.”

The implied meaning was clear: after all, they’d be seeing each other every day, and her awkward situation couldn’t be hidden for long.

Everyone could see it—after all, people are observant.

Zhang Cuiting tentatively asked, “Shen Qiao, if something’s wrong, you can talk to us.”

Shen Qiao shook her head slightly and said, “I can handle it myself.”

At least for now, her work points were still guaranteed.

Zhang Cuiting didn’t press further. After all, everyone was getting by, and there was no reason to push. She gestured for Shen Qiao to go ahead and said, “You don’t look well. You should rest and eat first.”

With those few words, Shen Qiao’s face became even paler.

The communal meal was usually eaten only once everyone had arrived.

But today, things were a bit different. Shen Qiao scooped a little less than usual and, after eating, said, “I’m going back to my room.”

Once in her room, she made a cup of milk, ate two more biscuits, changed clothes, and washed her feet before slipping into bed.

She should’ve taken a bath, but she couldn’t manage it. Before long, she felt her eyelids grow heavy.

The first day of her period was always the hardest, but it would get better soon.

The next day, Shen Qiao woke up unusually early.

She figured it was because she had gone to bed so early the night before. She tossed and turned in bed, then finally threw the covers off and got up.

The sky hadn’t even brightened yet, but she went to the kitchen to light the fire and made a bowl of longan, red dates, and an egg.

These ingredients were a rare treat. She had hidden them in a jar for this specific time of the month.

Honestly, the taste was a bit too sweet for her. After finishing it, she had to drink two large cups of water to recover.

Shen Qiao hadn’t liked it before, but knowing that the red dates were saved by her family for her, she ate them every month.

She sighed and thought about the package she had sent out that still hadn’t received a reply, her mind beginning to wander.

Once she calmed down, it felt like two conflicting emotions were tugging at her. She began to worry about her sudden departure and whether it had caused any trouble for her family.

The steel factory was like a small society—most of the workers knew each other, and many were neighbors in the family quarters for decades. The Zhang family, in particular, had some social standing.

But why had things turned out this way?

Shen Qiao couldn’t say it aloud. She had been born in an era where children couldn’t criticize their parents. Yet, deep down, she felt that it was their actions that had led to the situation.

As she washed the dishes, the youth commune began to stir.

The first to get up was Wang Yong, who was feeding the pigs today.

The piglets they had bought the day before cost twenty yuan, which the group had pooled together.

They were a collective household, and by regulations, they could raise up to two pigs. Without experience in the past, they had always been afraid of not fattening them up properly, so they’d only raised one. This year, for the first time, they had two.

With two pigs, they could expect at least four or five pounds of meat each for the New Year.

Shen Qiao swallowed, not minding the slight smell on the piglets.

Everyone’s eyes were bright as they looked at the pigpen, and they spent the entire morning imagining what their future would be like.

Having a bright future always lifts people’s spirits. Shen Qiao felt that the discomfort she had been feeling was fading, and her steps felt much lighter as she walked toward the fields.

The record keeper had been waiting for her and said, “Shen Qiao, today you’re still going to the river to meet Zheng Zhong.”

It was rare for people to get to “borrow” work points for two consecutive days.

The team had an unspoken understanding, and for the youth commune members, the team members were always prioritized. If there were benefits, they were typically given to people from the team.

Shen Qiao looked incredulously at the record keeper but still replied, “Alright, I’ll go over there.”

She muttered to herself as she walked there.

She returned to the same spot from yesterday, stood under the tree’s shade, and cautiously stretched out her hand.

It was the spring equinox, and the water was still quite cold. At least when she touched it, she shivered.

Zheng Zhong seemed to either not see her or pretended not to. He bent down to scoop mud and sand, then placed it in a floating basin on the water, repeating the process.

The entire river was his assigned area. What was originally supposed to be a task for two adult men, he was doing alone. Normally, he should have earned twenty work points.

But due to regulations, the most he could earn was fifteen, and the rest had to be distributed to others. This was considered "fair," though onlookers felt it was a bit unfair.

Shen Qiao watched for a while before suddenly coming up with an idea. She turned and walked back to the commune.

Those who came to "borrow" work points were mostly like this—some would help out, while others would just go about their business.

Zheng Zhong didn’t mind. He didn’t like owing people anything, even something as small as a biscuit, which was why he had brought it up to the team leader himself.

He rarely showed any protest about these things, so the team leader didn’t oppose him either, though his expression seemed to suggest some other thoughts.

Zheng Zhong really didn’t have time to think about it. If he had any free time, he preferred to earn more work points.

Only when Shen Qiao came back did he lift his head to glance at her.

Their gazes met, and Shen Qiao, holding a rope, said, “Zheng Zhong, tie the rope to the basin, and I’ll pull it over.”

She had noticed the iron ring on the basin, and the idea popped into her head. This way, they could save some time, and at least she could lend a hand.

Zheng Zhong gave a noncommittal nod. Using his leg as a support, he created a simple sliding mechanism.

Shen Qiao watched his movements, squatted by the bank, and pulled the rope. After bringing the basin over, she dumped the sand out and tied the rope back for him.

They repeated the process, and the efficiency was definitely improved.

Zheng Zhong had heard of this female youth. She was supposedly the weakest person, the type to fall over in the wind.

He’d seen her a few times on the road. After all, the commune was small, and he remembered her as someone who looked fragile enough to be blown over by a gust of wind.

But seeing her now, it seemed like the rumors were a little off.