No matter how hard Jicheng searched, Zhang Yan had completely vanished. He had been worried that Chunfu might take it too hard, but to his surprise, after just two days of gloom, she pulled herself together. As she had said herself, life had to go on—one couldn’t stay trapped in such matters forever.
The day before, Chunfu had mentioned going to town with Jicheng. Early in the morning, she reheated the leftover food from yesterday and ate a quick meal. By the time Jicheng finished feeding the pigs, even Liansheng had come out from his home, and the three of them headed to the village entrance to catch the cart. Just as they reached the big locust tree, they saw Third Uncle squatting impatiently, smoking his pipe. Someone stood with his back to them, talking. When Third Uncle spotted them, he waved, stood up, dusted off his pants, and walked toward the cart.
As Jicheng approached, he recognized the man as Cen Niu, dressed in a faded navy-blue outfit, neat and tidy, as if he had something important to attend to. Soon after, Chunmu arrived with Zhang Tong, ignoring Jicheng and Chunfu entirely. After giving Zhang Tong a few instructions, Chunmu turned and left.
Cen Niu couldn’t hide his smugness. Once everyone was seated and the cart started moving, he spoke up: “Jicheng, from now on, we’ll be working on the same construction site. Since we’re from the same village, we should stick together and look out for each other.”
Jicheng didn’t respond. Chunfu, clearly still drowsy, leaned against him to catch some more sleep. The whole ordeal with Zhang Yan had exhausted her. People often say physical fatigue is nothing compared to the weight of emotional burdens—when the heart is crushed, it’s easy to spiral into despair, draining both body and spirit.
Unfazed by the lack of response, Cen Niu cheerfully patted Third Uncle’s shoulder and leaned in. “Third Uncle, you’re always out and about, so you might not know. The villagers all look down on Ji Kun, blind to his talents. But that quiet Ji Kun? He’s got connections—he’s tight with the big boss at Jicheng’s worksite. Just one word from him, and I got the job. Beats Jicheng, who’s a foreman but can’t even pull strings for others. Right, Jicheng?”
Liansheng couldn’t stand it and snapped, “Why drag others into your business? Climbing up by clinging to a woman’s skirts—aren’t you ashamed to brag about it? Got no shame?”
Dongpo Village was a small place, and secrets rarely stayed hidden for long. Though the men were busy working outside, gossip about the village’s unsavory affairs always reached them quickly. When idle, they’d gather to chat and pass the time. At first, out of respect for Jicheng and Ji Kun being relatives, people whispered in corners. But when Jicheng finally spoke up—”If it’s about Ji Kun, I don’t care to hear it, and I won’t interfere”—the gossip grew louder.
Chunfu had heard about Ji Kun and Chunju’s questionable relationship from Liansheng’s wife. She’d initially dismissed it as baseless rumors, but now, hearing that Ji Kun had helped Cen Niu land a job, she wondered if the rumors held some truth. Ji Kun wasn’t the type to help others out of kindness—there were plenty in the village struggling to find work, and Jicheng hadn’t mentioned seeing Ji Liang at the site lately.
Cen Niu had been at odds with Liansheng since their last clash. Now, stung by Liansheng’s icy mockery, he flared up like a monkey with its tail on fire, eyes red and bulging. “Liansheng, think before you speak! You can eat carelessly, but words aren’t so forgiving. I already apologized for last time—what more do you want? Lately, the villagers have been giving me strange looks. Did you spread something about me?”
Liansheng, furious at Cen Niu’s slander, knew Jicheng well after all their time together and hated seeing him wronged without defending himself. But Cen Niu had mastered the art of smearing others. “Cen Niu, don’t push it, or I won’t hold back,” Liansheng warned.
Cen Niu, notorious for his pettiness, had grown even more disliked since the last incident. Liansheng had spoken impulsively, and now, cornered, he felt a pang of regret. Just as he was about to retort, someone tugged his sleeve, and he swallowed his words.
Jicheng said coolly, “I’m not as capable as you think. I don’t dare recommend just anyone to the boss—I need to keep my job first. But you? You’ve got backing. We can’t compare.”
After Ji Kun recovered from his injuries, he strutted around in fine clothes gifted by an old friend, boasting about how he’d saved that friend from danger. The friend repaid him with gold and silk, and Ji Kun’s fortunes seemed to turn. Soon, the whole village knew. But the lavish clothes hung awkwardly on him, like brocade on a dog—almost comical.
Chunfu suddenly giggled. Jicheng, deadpan, delivered his lines smoothly. Cen Niu’s “backing” was none other than Ji Kun. Who knew why Ji Kun had agreed to help? But favors couldn’t be asked too often—it bred resentment. Ji Kun, a gambler by nature, was greedy. Now that he had someone to lean on, he’d milk it for all it was worth. But how reliable was a man who lived at another’s mercy?
Jicheng stroked her silky hair under her scarf and whispered, “Can’t sleep? Did I wake you?”
Chunfu shook her head. “No, just thinking.”
Every eligible young man in the village who’d seen Chunfu’s beauty regretted not pursuing her sooner. Sure, she might’ve been a bit simple, but wasn’t that better? Skilled with her hands and devoted to her man—a woman who could shine in public and manage a home. How had they missed her right under their noses?
Cen Niu glanced at Chunfu and smirked, irritated by their affection. “Bringing your wife to work? Smart. Who knows what bold souls might eye your pretty lady when you’re gone? Better guard her well, or else— Ow! Third Uncle, why’d you hit me?”
Jicheng clenched his fists, ready to teach the foul-mouthed man a lesson, but Third Uncle beat him to it, whacking Cen Niu with his pipe until the latter yelped and cowered.
“Deserved, for that filthy tongue! If you keep stirring trouble, I’ll toss you off this cart. Find your own way back. I won’t have trash riding with me. Consider this a lesson from your late father—he was hardworking and honest, unlike you, spoiled rotten by your mother. Lazy, drinking, almost gambling—all you do is brag and belittle others. Is this how a man should live? Keep it up, and you’ll face a reckoning.” Third Uncle’s scolding was fierce. Everyone knew he’d been close to Cen Niu’s father but couldn’t stand the son’s ways.
Cen Niu shrank toward Zhang Tong, who was dozing in a corner, and whined, “Third Uncle, don’t curse me like that! Just because you were friends with my dead dad doesn’t mean you can bully me. Everyone’s watching.”
Chunfu paid no mind. Her gaze lingered on Zhang Tong, who hadn’t once looked up or acknowledged her. In him, she glimpsed traces of Zhang Yan, and her heart clenched anew.
In town, after watching Jicheng, Zhou Jing, and Liansheng leave, Chunfu returned to the shop to discuss business with Jin Liuer. Since opening her own store, Jin Liuer had stopped sharing space with her father, Old Jin, who grumbled about his “ungrateful daughter”—not even married yet, and already gone. But seeing her shop thrive, outshining other bakeries, filled him with pride.
Jin Liuer led Chunfu to the back room and smiled. “You wouldn’t believe how many envy my business. Others can’t earn in a full day what I make in half a morning—it’s exhilarating. But our pastries sell too fast, and those who miss out complain and go elsewhere. Worse, competitors are copying us. I’ve tasted theirs—nowhere near as good, but they’re cheaper. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. What if they steal all our customers?”
Chunfu, treating Jin Liuer like family, took her hand. “Don’t fret. That’s why I’m here. We’ve focused on the wealthy, but even they grow tired. We’re not a one-time deal. I’ll tweak the fruit jam recipes so even the poor can afford our treats. In business, we shouldn’t discriminate—rich or poor, all are welcome. Train the staff to be friendly and polite, and customers will remember us. Many workers can’t go home for lunch—why not try selling mung bean soup at noon? Cooling, refreshing—it’ll sell.”
Jin Liuer sighed in relief. “I was thinking of lowering prices, but your plan sounds better.”
Chunfu hesitated. “There’s something else. Working from home isn’t ideal—small batches sell out fast, but large ones are hard for Jicheng to transport. Given our situation, I shouldn’t complain, but I’d like more time for intricate pastries. Build our reputation, and wealthy families will come for their celebrations. For simpler ones, I’ll send the jam with Jicheng, and your staff can handle the rest. The unfinished ones won’t count toward my pay. Does that work?”
Jin Liuer rolled her eyes. “Don’t think just because my family’s in business, I’ve seen such demand before—I’m clueless! You’ve solved the problem; you’re the hero. Forget the small stuff. Send the jam with Jicheng, and I’ll find skilled hands. Focus on your ideas—leave the rest to me.”
With the plan settled, Chunfu felt lighter. She wandered the streets alone. Under the scorching sun, farmers selling goods looked as wilted as their vegetables. Even if they sat all day without sales, it was better than missing a chance. At home, Jicheng managed their garden, planting seasonally without fail.
Passing the fabric shop where she’d last bought clothes, she stepped in. She didn’t plan to buy ready-made outfits for Jicheng—his tall frame made returns tricky. With more free time now, she could learn from Liansheng’s wife to sew for him. Noticing he often wore navy or black—practical and stain-resistant—she picked similar fabrics, not wanting to risk colors he might dislike. As she left, she saw a mother and son laughing their way into a stationery store, and her heart sank, reminded of that wretched boy.
After dropping her purchases at the shop, she visited the worksite to see Jicheng. Keeping her distance to avoid disturbing him, she watched. Among the laborers, he stood out—handsome, sweat tracing his sharp jawline, sunlight glinting off his bronzed back. Lost in the sight, she drew stares from passersby and blushed.
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