Back when Jiang Yiliu had just approached, Huo Wu had already noticed him. But he had a personal rule—he never stopped in the middle of a martial arts routine, no matter what. So even though the kid’s eyes were practically burning holes in him, Huo Wu finished the entire set at his own pace.
It took him nearly half an hour to complete the routine. By the time he struck the final pose, his body was already covered in a thin layer of sweat.
Jiang Yiliu, very considerately, handed him a towel. “Uncle Wu, here—wipe off your sweat. It’s freezing out. Wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”
Huo Wu took the towel, quickly wiped off the sweat, then grabbed the clothes hanging on the line and put them on in a few swift motions.
He still hadn’t said a word—he wanted to see what this eager little brat was up to.
Just yesterday, the kid hadn’t been this friendly. Huo Wu hadn’t missed the way the boy had sized them up when they first met. The other members of the Jiang family didn’t have that kind of calculating look in their eyes. Who knew how such a clever little schemer had popped up in such an honest family?
“Uncle Wu, what kind of martial arts were you practicing just now?” Jiang Yiliu trailed behind him like a little tail, asking the question as if casually.
Huo Wu immediately understood—so the kid wanted to learn martial arts from him. His gaze swept over Jiang Yiliu, and a trace of disappointment flickered in his eyes.
Too scrawny. It was only early autumn, and the boy was already bundled up like a ball, clearly indicating a weak constitution. His thin arms were barely thicker than sticks, his skin soft and delicate—no way he could handle Huo Wu’s martial arts style.
Jiang Yiliu didn’t catch the flash of disappointment in Huo Wu’s eyes and asked eagerly, “Uncle Wu, can I learn that routine? Please?” His eyes sparkled with hope.
He wasn’t expecting to become as powerful as Huo Wu. He just wanted to build up his body. Jiang Yiliu gave a wry smile as he looked at his own tightly wrapped frame—he had big ambitions, and he couldn’t let his body hold him back. Plus, learning martial arts would be an advantage. If he ever got into trouble while out in the world, at least he’d have a way to defend himself.
Huo Wu didn’t give a direct answer. He just gave him a long look before turning to leave.
Just as Jiang Yiliu thought that meant rejection, Huo Wu’s voice came from ahead: “Be up at five tomorrow morning to run with me. If you can keep it up for two months, I’ll teach you.”
In Huo Wu’s mind, while the kid was a little more mature than his peers, he’d still been pampered by the Jiang family. There was no way he’d last. This was Huo Wu’s way of turning him down without outright saying it.
He and Uncle Ruan would still be staying in Qingshan Village for a while, and the Jiang family’s support was important. He didn’t want to create unnecessary tension over something so trivial.
“What do you think of that kid?”
Huo Wu had just walked into the house where the three of them were staying. Ruan Yuanjiang and Bai Fangqiu were by the small window, watching the scene unfold in the yard. When they saw him come in, they asked with a grin.
Huo Wu shook his head. “He’s too weak. Probably just a kid acting on a whim—he won’t last a few days.”
It wasn’t that Huo Wu was looking down on him. His standards were simply too high. Five-year-olds had more laziness than discipline. Even his soldiers struggled to handle his training style—no way that little brat would make it.
“Wanna bet on it?” Bai Fangqiu said with a laugh, taking off his glasses and carefully wiping the fogged-up lenses. In a place like this, replacing glasses wasn’t easy—he had to take extra care with them.
Huo Wu raised a brow. Did Uncle Bai think the boy would last?
“What do you want to bet?” Huo Wu asked cautiously. He knew Bai Fangqiu had a sharp eye for people, but everyone makes a mistake now and then.
“Those few packs of cigarettes in your bag,” Bai Fangqiu said, grinning like an old fox. “Don’t think I didn’t notice. I saw a corner of them sticking out when you were packing yesterday.”
Huo Wu immediately rushed over to his bed, opened his bag, and was relieved to see the cigarettes were still there. Scowling, he turned back. “Uncle Bai, didn’t you just say last night that smoking’s bad for you? Now you’ve got your eye on my smokes?”
Huo Wu didn’t smoke much—just one or two when he was feeling irritable. These days, cigarettes required ration coupons, and those few packs were gifts from his former subordinates when he left.
Bai Fangqiu chuckled. “I don’t have any other hobbies. I just like a smoke now and then. I’m an old man—who knows how long I’ve got left? Might as well enjoy it while I can.”
The homemade tobacco around here was too harsh. He’d tried some at Old Man Jiang’s place the other day and couldn’t stand the taste. But the cigarettes in Huo Wu’s bag—those were different. His years of smoking told him they weren’t the regular brands like “Battle Brand” or “Great Front Gate.” They were “Peony,” a premium brand reserved for municipal and provincial officials—smooth and mild, perfect for someone his age.
No idea where Huo Wu had gotten his hands on something that good.
He squinted at him, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “What’s the matter? You scared to make a bet with this old man?”
Huo Wu knew full well it was a goad, but he couldn’t help being provoked. He looked at the few packs in his hand, hesitating.
Seeing his resolve wavering, Old Bai fanned the flames. “You’ve got four packs, right? I’ll only bet two. If I lose, I’ll give you my ration tickets for liquor. Next time Da Hai goes into the county, he can bring you back a bottle. Think about it—booze’s just as good as smokes. And even if you lose, you’ll still have two packs left. Plus, you’ll have a promising young student. A kid that persistent? He might just go further than you someday.”
Alcohol! Now, Huo Wu was tempted. Cigarettes were optional, but alcohol? That was a different story. Quality didn’t even matter—as long as it had a kick. All the conditions seemed in his favor. After giving Old Bai another look, he gritted his teeth and agreed.
Ruan Yuanjiang, who had been quietly observing from the side, chuckled and chimed in after the wager was made. “Hey, Wu—looks like you’ve still got two packs left. How about placing another bet with me?”
That look on his face said, “Huo Wu is going to lose.”
What, Uncle Ruan also thought that kid could stick it out? Huo Wu glanced at the two old men who thought they had him figured out, and made a decision: he wasn’t going to make things easy for that brat. No way that kid could go through with it.
Ruan Yuanjiang and Bai Fangqiu exchanged a knowing smile. Whatever they were thinking, only the two of them understood.
Inside the house, Jiang Yiliu sneezed and thought to himself, Great, am I getting sick again? He quickly threw on another layer of clothing.
Early the next morning, after breakfast, everyone headed to the brigade office for the daily work assignments. Each type of job earned different amounts of work points, and the team’s accountant would keep track of who did what and how much effort they put in. When it came time to distribute grain or money, it would all be calculated based on those points.
Ever since Jiang Cheng had a grandson, he made a point of going to the brigade every day to do some lighter work. It didn’t earn many points, but it helped build up a bit of a foundation for his grandson.
Ruan Yuanjiang and the others also had to go to the brigade. Mo Dashuan had mentioned the night before that he would formally introduce them to the villagers that day, so they followed along with the Jiang family.
Ruanyuan was still young and had nothing to do with any of this. They left her at home with Grandma Miao, along with Sini and Jiang Yiliu—both about the same age—so they weren’t worried.
Grandma Miao’s attitude had done a complete 180 since the night before. If yesterday she still looked a little reluctant about hosting the guests, today she looked delighted, like she wished these people would just live in the Jiang house forever.
Jiang Yiliu knew exactly what that meant. If Grandma was this happy, then those folks must’ve given her something good last night—probably ration or fabric tickets. Given their background, they likely weren’t short on that kind of stuff. Even a “starved camel is still bigger than a horse,” and for them to be reassigned here, they must’ve come well-prepared.
By the time Old Jiang led the group to the brigade office, the villagers were mostly gathered already. When they heard the footsteps, everyone turned to look—and seeing just two old men and a younger guy, their excitement immediately faded.
These days, most villages have their fair share of exiled reactionaries and sent-down youth. Neither group was known for its work ethic. The former group was a bit better—they had criminal charges and wanted to improve their situation, so they would usually try to work harder.
But the latter group? Useless. Pampered city kids who acted like working in the fields would kill them. They spent most days loafing around and trying to pull strings to get transferred out of these godforsaken backwaters. If that didn’t work, they tried to get reassigned to wealthier brigades. Anything to avoid staying in Qingshan Village.
Even the few more sensible ones weren’t enough to change the villagers’ poor opinion of all the sent-down youth.
Since the earliest batch, Qingshan had taken in several more waves. There were now thirteen of them scattered across different teams. And every day, their teammates had to help finish their share of the work. Naturally, resentment had built up.
So when the news came that a few “reactionaries” were being reassigned here, everyone thought, Well, at least this time we won’t have to babysit city kids. But now, looking at the newcomers—two old men practically halfway into their graves and a single strong young man—villagers couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment.
Mo Dashuan noticed the villagers’ expressions and knew they were jumping to conclusions. He quickly explained the cadre-assigned roles of the three newcomers.
A doctor, a strong laborer, and someone volunteering to take on the worst job—managing the livestock shed. That kind of self-sacrifice? You couldn’t even pay people to do it. The villagers’ expressions changed instantly. Their previous hostility disappeared, replaced with a cautious friendliness. Even when Mo Dashuan suggested giving the newcomers an advance on rations, no one objected.
“We need a few people to repair the roof of the livestock shed and build a stove inside—12 work points for the job. Anyone interested, sign up with Accountant Cheng. For now, these three will be staying with Uncle Jiang’s family. Once the shed is ready, they’ll move in.”
Mo Dashuan briefly explained why the new arrivals were staying with the Jiang family, and then moved on to the daily task assignments.
In a far corner, Fan Xiaojun tugged on her husband’s sleeve, muttering bitterly, “Just look at your dad. He’d rather give his food to some exiled reactionaries than help out his kids.”
She’d aged a lot over the past few years. Without the Jiang elders’ support, she and Jiang Dachuan had to work in the fields to earn every point themselves. Her once-fair skin had long been darkened by sun and labor.
After that falling out with the Jiang elders, they cut ties. When they ran out of food, Fan Xiaojun had to swallow her pride and go back to her parents’ house to ask for the food she’d given them over the years. Out of several hundred pounds, she barely got a few dozen back. And even then, whenever she went home now, her sister-in-law would constantly throw it in her face, giving her dirty looks and snide remarks.
But instead of blaming her own family, Fan Xiaojun directed all her anger at the Jiang household. And over time, that resentment only grew.
Jiang Dachuan listened to his wife’s complaints in silence, his dark gaze flicking toward the newcomers, saying nothing.
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152