Volume One, Chapter 19: Putting on a Brave Front

“Provide the main materials and I can do it.” This was her greatest strength: assembly. In the post-apocalyptic game, her vehicle was a creation cobbled together by herself, once a nightmare for all players.

Transformable, sturdy, and deadly—it was her proudest achievement.

Yuan Yanzhou’s face remained impassive.

The entire country was tense with fear; all scientific research had to be conducted in secrecy. Moreover, because he refused to let outsiders join the brigade, the Red Guards were constantly eyeing their production team.

He set the blueprint aside, his expression stiff and unmoved. “No.”

Jiang Yingli, expecting enthusiastic support, was momentarily at a loss.

After a long while, she finally asked, “Why?”

Yuan Yanzhou kept his stern demeanor. Jiang Yingli was the only surviving member of the Jiang family; she couldn’t be risked.

“First, it’s the behavior of intellectuals, which is frowned upon. Second, the brigade doesn’t have the funds.”

Jiang Yingli’s fingers curled slightly; she hadn’t expected him to be so conservative.

“So what? Captain Zhou, would you rather watch your members till the land by hand, ruining their health?”

Seeing her stern face as she questioned him, Yuan Yanzhou felt a strange sensation rise within him.

It wasn’t unpleasant.

She continued, “Intellectuals? Only those who sit high above are intellectuals! Is seeking benefit for your team members also the actions of an intellectual?”

Rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, he looked up solemnly. “Go back for now. I’ll make a trip to the commune.”

Jiang Yingli found his sudden shift in attitude odd—just like last time in the cowshed.

“Didn’t you say no?”

Yuan Yanzhou stood, put on his coat, and carefully placed her blueprint in his crossbody bag, which bore the words ‘Serve the People.’

“You make a good point. As the captain of the Fifth Production Brigade, I should be responsible for my members!”

He ushered her out. Watching him leave, Jiang Yingli murmured, “Sorry.”

She wasn’t assembling, but modifying.

If she told him outright, he would certainly refuse. It was better to act first and present the results afterward.

She was gambling—gambling that the commune would need her invention.

Lowering her eyes as she returned to the cowshed, she needed to come up with a backup plan.

But she hadn’t expected to find seven or eight burly men gathered at the door, shouting slogans and busy with something.

“What are you doing?”

Someone turned around, saw Jiang Yingli, and replied cheerfully, “Captain Zhou found some timber for us, so we’re building you a bed.”

Timber?

Jiang Yingli recalled the wooden stakes he’d carried on his shoulder that day—he’d actually found them to help her make a bed?

Her expression grew complicated. Just moments ago, she’d thought him a stubborn, narrow-minded man.

The members assumed she was embarrassed to accept their help and began chattering:

“Oh, Captain Zhou always keeps every member’s concerns in mind. Last time, my aunt’s youngest daughter got sick in the middle of the night—it was him who helped carry her to the clinic!”

“That’s right! And my kid, who fell from a tree and broke his leg, we couldn’t afford plaster, so Captain Zhou paid for it.”

“Exactly! No other brigade has such a good captain! Comrade Jiang, don’t feel embarrassed!”

They maneuvered the bed inside; it wasn’t large, only knee-high, but fit perfectly with the one-meter-three cowshed.

Not wanting to linger in a young woman’s room, the members placed the bed and quickly left, their faces flushed.

No wonder a city girl’s room had a faint fragrance of flowers.

Someone noticed her earthen stove, saw there was no pot, and offered enthusiastically, “Comrade Jiang, I have an unused iron pot at home. I’ll bring it over for you to use.”

“I have a jar—I'll have someone move it here.”

“I’ll send you two bowls.”

“A basin…”

“Firewood!”

They eagerly discussed how to fill her cowshed with necessities. Jiang Yingli’s head was spinning from the commotion. She raised her hand and shouted, “Quiet!”

Once they settled down, she regained her calm demeanor. “Brothers, uncles, you don’t need to bring me anything. I haven’t done anything for you.”

The members exchanged glances, silent.

Finally, an older man spoke, “We heard you might have a way to save us from all this hard labor tilling the land, so we wanted to thank you.”

Another added, “But we don’t know what to do, so we can only help with these little things. Hope you don’t mind.”

Someone else said, “I’ve worked the fields for years—my hands can barely close now. But to avoid going hungry, I have to work myself to the bone.”

Jiang Yingli looked at his hands, splayed like claws, knuckles thick, skin rough—short and coarse like old tree roots.

“Thank you so much! If you really have a way, you’ll be the benefactor of our whole brigade!”

“Thank you!”

Seven or eight burly men bowed to her.

Jiang Yingli couldn’t quite identify the sensation swelling within her chest—sour and full, as if something was about to break through.

In the apocalypse, everyone schemed against each other, desperately seeking a chance to survive.

One moment someone called you ‘sister,’ and the next, they’d plunge a knife into your chest.

So she had never dared trust anyone; there was no pure emotion between people, only hidden motives.

She closed her eyes, suppressing the turmoil in her chest, and said, “This depends on Captain Zhou. He’s applied to the commune.”

“It’ll definitely succeed! There’s nothing but benefit for the villagers!”

“Exactly!”

Seeing their confidence, Jiang Yingli felt reassured—the commune wouldn’t punish her.

“Oh, Comrade Jiang, you probably came back for lunch, right? Step aside, step aside, don’t delay Comrade Jiang!”

“Haha, we’ll head back then. See you, Comrade Jiang!”

The crowd dispersed, as if the commotion had been a mirage, but the new wooden bed in her room proved it was real.

Jiang Yingli took out her quilt to spread it, paused, then put it away again.

When she arrived, her suitcase was small—there was no way it could hold such a large quilt.

She’d sleep on the straw mat for now, and buy a quilt when she next visited the commune.

After lunch, she returned to the fields for work, but before she could even touch a hoe, she was invited to sit at the field’s edge.

They claimed she’d already completed a day’s work in the morning.

The widow’s son, seeing her sit there, swung his hoe in the field so vigorously sparks nearly flew.

The members laughed at him, teasing that spring had stirred in his heart again.

Jiang Yingli glanced at him briefly, then looked away, munching on plain sunflower seeds from the table.

They seemed to be homegrown, with tiny kernels.

From the distant ditch, Jiang Jinguo straightened up, staring coldly at her, his gaze flitting between the widow’s son and her.

He snorted, and before the team leader arrived, bent back down to clear the ditch.

He refused to believe she had any good ideas! All those years studying abroad, and what had she learned? Just foreign languages, ending up as a mere translator.

Now she wanted to stand out? All show, no substance!