That tone of his was all too familiar to Chuntao, carrying the urgency and suppressed tension of an impending storm.
Chuntao's heart gave another tremble. This man was too reckless. The road was busy with people coming and going; could he really dare to bully her here?
"Don't... what if someone sees?" Her voice trembled, her hands unconsciously clutching the hem of her clothes.
Zhou Zhijun stopped walking, his rough, large hand gripping her wrist tightly. "See what?"
Chuntao tried hard to pull away. Zhou Zhijun's grip suddenly intensified, his knuckles turning white, but then he released her just as quickly.
That red bodice embroidered with peach blossoms, he had kept it tucked in the pocket over his heart all this time. The soft fabric against his chest made his heart itch.
His Adam's apple bobbed, his voice raspy as if rubbed with sandpaper. "I bought you a bodice. After the autumn sowing's done, I'll put it on you myself!"
"And that thing you promised me, I'm gonna collect on that too!"
His blunt, crude words were like a branding iron fresh from the stove, scalding her until she broke out in a sweat all over, her little face flushing bright red instantly.
"Let's go!" He raised his hand and patted her shoulder, his previously hard voice softening a little.
The harvest in the fields was mostly done, followed closely by plowing, harrowing, and sowing wheat and rapeseed.
Ever since Wang Laohan fell ill a few years back, the plowing for the Wang family had been done by Zhou Zhijun every year.
Back then, people in the village gossiped behind his back, saying he was trying to curry favor with Liu Cuilan, waiting for Wang Laohan to die so they could become a family.
Now that Wang Laohan was gone and Liu Cuilan had married Wang Haichao, it didn't seem right for Zhou Zhijun to keep helping the Wang family plow.
Aunt Zhou had warned him early on, "Now that Liu Cuilan has a man, and Wang Haichao has two good arms and legs, don't you go meddling in her family's work anymore!"
Wang Haichao was famously the village good-for-nothing. Before getting his certificate with Liu Cuilan, the work at home was all shouldered by his younger brothers.
He wouldn't lift a finger even if the oil bottle fell over. During the busy farming season, at most he'd light the fire and cook a meal at home, a proper "idle man."
Now that he was married, he ought to take up a man's responsibilities. Zhou Zhijun listened to his mother and didn't offer to help plow the Wang family's land again.
Chuntao also didn't want to trouble Zhou Zhijun anymore, but with Wang Haichao unreliable, she gritted her teeth, thinking she'd learn to plow herself. However, Wang Xiaohong stopped her outright.
"Sis-in-law, plowing is men's work. You're so thin a gust of wind could knock you over. Where would you get the strength in your arms? You wouldn't even be able to press down the plowshare, don't push yourself!"
Chuntao was naturally slender and weak, compounded by years of poor nutrition. She usually managed chores through sheer stubbornness, but heavy labor like plowing was truly beyond her.
Liu Cuilan had it in for Chuntao all day long, piling all the work inside and outside the house onto her. But plowing was crucial for next year's harvest; it couldn't be taken lightly.
Afraid Chuntao would do a poor job and delay the sowing, Liu Cuilan simply took it on herself. She was strong as an ox, with seemingly endless energy.
She had her own calculations: once the new house was built, she'd split from Chuntao. Then whether Li Chuntao farmed or plowed would have nothing to do with her.
Liu Cuilan guided the plow, Wang Xiaohong led the ox in front, and Chuntao was responsible for spreading fertilizer, breaking up clods, and digging the field borders.
Chuntao's tasks were scattered and piecemeal, but not easy either. By the end of the day, her back ached and her body was sore.
But in Liu Cuilan's eyes, Chuntao's work was child's play.
Guiding the plow herself, her arms so sore she could barely lift them, she found Chuntao increasingly grating. Whether in the fields or at home, she was always nitpicking.
"Look at how you spread the fertilizer, too much here, too little there. How will the wheat grow well next year?"
"The field borders you dug are all crooked, like they've been chewed by a dog!"
Having lived in this family for four years, Chuntao had long grown accustomed to, even numb to, Liu Cuilan's fault-finding over every little thing.
She didn't talk back or explain herself, just went about her business, letting Liu Cuilan's scolding wash over her.
"Are you deaf or mute? Don't like being told a thing or two? Even a pig grunts when scolded!" Seeing her silent, Liu Cuilan cursed even more vigorously.
Wang Xiaohong couldn't stand it anymore. Holding her rough porcelain rice bowl, she pulled Chuntao towards the back of the house. "What's all the yelling about? Making trouble out of nothing, so annoying!"
The autumn harvest and sowing rushed to completion amidst Liu Cuilan's curses and the neighbors' gossip.
Once the farming slack season arrived, the village women loved to gather in small groups under the old locust tree at the village entrance. They'd mend shoe soles or do needlework, their mouths busy with idle chatter.
From what family ate what today, to which young couple quarreled at night, to those shameful-to-mention private matters between husband and wife—all were topics they never tired of.
News from neighboring villages also spread to every corner through their mouths, fast as if it had grown wings.
A few idle old bachelors in the village also loved to squeeze into the crowd of women.
Men with families didn't idle around, thinking of ways to make their lives more prosperous.
Some repaired farm tools or fixed tables and chairs at home; others shouldered hoes to dig field borders or clear a bit of wasteland.
Back then, there were no professional construction teams for building houses in the countryside; it was all "cooperative crews."
The host family would invite a few skilled craftsmen to lead, while helpers were relatives and neighbors lending a hand. Providing three meals a day and a pack of cigarettes was enough; no wages were paid.
After returning from the army, Zhou Zhijun learned masonry from the village's old craftsmen and had been doing it for over a decade. The walls he built were straight and level, the seams even and solid. Families building new houses or repairing ancestral halls for miles around all vied to hire him.
Yesterday, Old Man Zhang from the west came asking, wanting to hire him to build a tiled house for his nephew. Zhou Zhijun agreed, saying he'd go after finishing digging the borders of his own plot by the river.
Early in the morning, after eating corn porridge and steamed cornbread, Zhou Zhijun shouldered his hoe and headed to the fields. As he dug up weeds along the border, his mind wandered, filled with images of Chuntao—her delicate yet stubborn demeanor.
Since tasting that "big white bun," Zhou Zhijun's drive to work had grown even stronger.
He not only had to support his parents, but he also wanted to earn more money to buy Chuntao flower-patterned cloth, treats, hair ribbons... to make sure she no longer suffered.
Thinking further ahead, if someday he and Chuntao could have a child, that child would also need raising, costing money at every turn.
But the moment this thought arose, his heart felt hollow and ached as if gouged by a blunt knife.
Wang Jieshi might have lost a leg, but whether he was still a man in that way, Zhou Zhijun didn't know.
But he knew clearly, no matter what became of Wang Jieshi, Chuntao would never abandon him. She was that kind of foolish, stubborn girl.
"Damn it! That Wang Jieshi's luck is just too good!" Zhou Zhijun couldn't help cursing inwardly.
Wang Jieshi betrayed Chuntao, ended up disabled, and yet Chuntao remained devoted to him.
And himself? He cherished Chuntao, thought of her in everything, so why couldn't she accept him?
What was really in her heart? Had there ever been a moment, even a fleeting one, when she felt something for him?
Lost in these thoughts, he heard someone call out, "Uncle Zhijun, digging the borders?"
Zhou Zhijun looked up. It was Wang Xiaohong walking over with a grass basket, Chuntao following behind, leading an ox.
"Yeah!" Zhou Zhijun responded, but his gaze involuntarily drifted towards Chuntao.
When Chuntao saw him, her footsteps faltered. Instead of following Wang Xiaohong over, she turned onto another small path, heading towards the northern earthen slope.
Wang Xiaohong, worried that Chuntao might be harassed by the village's old bachelors if alone, usually stuck with her for tasks like cutting grass or tending the cattle.
Seeing Chuntao walk up the slope, she quickly said to Zhou Zhijun, "Uncle Zhijun, I'm going to cut grass on the slope!" With that, she hurried after her.
Not far away, on the ridge of the field, Zhou Zhaodi and her sister were bent over cutting grass, stealing glances in this direction from time to time.
Zhou Ergan, a cigarette roll dangling from his lips, leaned against the old locust tree, swaying idly with a slovenly air.
"Hmph, once I get proof of their illicit affair, I'll report them straight to the commune police station. Let Li Chuntao be paraded through the streets, and Zhou Zhijun thrown in jail!" Zhou Ergan blew a smoke ring, saying through gritted teeth.
The thoughts of these three were as clear as day to Zhou Zhijun.
Wang Xiaohong stuck to Chuntao every day like a little tail, and with the Zhou Zhaodi trio watching from the sidelines, finding a chance to get close to Chuntao wasn't easy.
Zhou Zhijun couldn't help but frown, the hoe in his hand slowing. He glanced up at that alluring little figure on the northern slope. His Adam's apple bobbed, and the calculations in his mind clicked away rapidly.
He needed to think of a plan quickly, find a chance when no one was around, to personally tie that bellyband on her and properly tidy up her "plot of land." That would finally put an end to the longing he'd carried for these past four years.
