沈乔 (Shen Qiao) thought to herself that this was just his temperament. She figured he was aware of what she meant, and so she continued on her way to where she needed to go.

Plowing the field wasn’t a task that required much skill—just strength. She stood there, resting after a while, and in no time, she had managed to complete enough for three work points, though the work was rough and uneven.

Three points.

Compared to working alongside 郑重 (Zheng Zhong), this was clearly much harder to earn.

Shen Qiao couldn’t help but sigh. She thought of the old saying, “From luxury to poverty is hard.” She probably fit this description now.

But people still had to rely on themselves, she thought. She gritted her teeth and gave herself a little pep talk. After all, earning six points a day was already a lot. It was enough to ensure she could make a living.

After work, as she watched the scorekeeper record her points, she felt a sense of satisfaction she couldn’t describe. Her steps felt lighter as she walked back with the others.

The situation at the Youth Corps station was just as usual, or rather, everyone’s lives were more or less the same.

By April, the weather was gradually getting warmer, and the days were longer. After work, there was more that could be done.

Shen Qiao decided to check on her plot of land before dinner.

Each person had two small plots, and what to plant was up to them. For the locals, sweet potatoes were the most suitable crop.

The season wasn’t quite right for them yet, so she planted some spring vegetables first. They had just sprouted little shoots, which required occasional watering and fertilizing.

Over the years, Shen Qiao never quite got the hang of using a carrying pole, and her shoulders weren’t strong enough. She could barely carry one bucket of water at a time, which was already quite a challenge.

There were small water reservoirs scattered around, dug by the team members themselves. A little rain had fallen a few days ago, and the water level was almost overflowing.

Shen Qiao made her way to the nearest one, and carefully carried a bucket of water toward her plot. As she walked, the water sloshed, and by the time she got to her land, a third of the water had spilled out.

She sighed in frustration. “Maybe it would’ve been better if I hadn’t filled it so full,” she muttered, pouring the remaining water into the field.

At this hour, there were many people working on their own plots, and Zheng Zhong was one of them.

He had gone to pull a cart in the afternoon, which was hard work. One person had to pull while another pushed. He had thought about it and realized that Shen Qiao could never do this kind of labor—only someone strong could handle it.

But he didn’t think calling 郑明光 (Zheng Mingguang) was necessary. The guy was too talkative, always prying into things. It made him come off as irritating. Compared to him, he preferred working with Shen Qiao.

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as he wanted it to be. Watching her struggle with carrying water made it obvious that she wasn’t built for this kind of work.

Zheng Zhong had grown up relying on physical strength to survive. He took it seriously and found himself worrying about her future.

But just because he was quiet didn’t mean he was oblivious. He had heard various things about Shen Qiao and thought to himself that she would eventually return to the city anyway, so he didn’t need to worry about her.

He bent down, returning to his task, slowly pulling weeds from the ground.

As he worked, there was a familiar sound, the “rip” of fabric. Without looking, he knew his pants had torn again.

He was good at nearly everything, except for sewing. His patches were always crooked and didn’t hold well. As soon as he made a big move, they’d tear. It was always at the most inconvenient spots too. Now, he’d have to wait until it got dark before heading back.

Looking around, he decided it was time to call it quits for the day and continued working.