TFRLTOP Chapter 32 Part 1

He Lin nodded in satisfaction. “You know, none of us really planned to settle down here. That’s why we were so shocked when you got married. At first, we all wondered if that old fox Chen Weiguo forced you somehow.”

Yan lowered his gaze, silent. He wasn’t the kind to share personal matters, so nobody knew the real reason for his marriage to Chen Chanjun.

Realizing he’d overstepped, He Lin laughed apologetically. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Seeing you and your wife getting along well, I’m happy for you. Marriage is just about two people living well together. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Living together…” Yan Junsheng repeated under his breath. And just like that, the heaviness in his heart lifted.

Two people in love? He shook his head. That didn’t describe him and Chen Chanjun at all.

Meanwhile, instead of going straight home, Ming Ming detoured—on her way earlier, she’d seen a crowd gathered around a tractor and had been dying to check it out.

It turned out the brigade had arranged lessons for village women on how to drive a tractor.

A tractor, Ming Ming thought. Might as well learn. More skills mean more possibilities for the future. (Farming skills excluded.)

Back in her original world, plenty of classmates learned to drive after exams or during summer breaks, but she had always been too busy working part-time jobs.

Hopefully, the next world I end up in will be modern. Not even about money—I just miss modern tech.

System: Then stop consoling yourself with ‘a tractor is still a vehicle’ while running over there, all excited.

This was an old hand-crank tractor, notoriously difficult to start. If you got it wrong, the diesel engine would kick back hard, spinning the crank handle with it—bruises were minor, broken arms or teeth weren’t rare. It was dangerous.

Back then, even the men and young guys needed weeks of practice. But these farm women were strong, and once they learned the tricks, they got the hang of it.

So the afternoon passed in the clattering roar of the tractors and thick black smoke.

By four or five, many mothers and wives had gone home early to cook, some taking their daughters with them. Only a few teenage girls remained, with Ming Ming the only married woman among them.

“Chanjun-jie, aren’t you going home to cook?” asked a girl with pigtails.

Ming Ming said, “Cooking’s nothing compared to driving a tractor.”

Another young woman about her age giggled. “Your Chanjun-jie can’t cook at all. Bet her man does the cooking at home!”

She slung an arm around Ming Ming’s shoulders. “So, how’s married life? If you can’t cook, how do you two manage?”

“Yan Junsheng can cook. Besides, I don’t always eat at home—I go to my dad’s.”

“What’s wrong, you two not getting along?” This girl, An Xue, frowned with concern. “I told you before, he may look fair and refined, but he’s still a city boy. No way he’d really settle for us country folk. Once you start living together, you’ll clash for sure!”

“And I thought I’d almost convinced you not to marry him. Then suddenly, bam, you two were wed! So you didn’t listen to a word I said, huh?”

Wait—you were actually that nice to me? Ming Ming was moved to tears, grabbing her hand. “Why didn’t you push harder to stop me back then? If I hadn’t married him, maybe I wouldn’t even be here!”

An Xue blinked, not following.

Ming Ming sighed. In her last world, at least she’d had some fun. Here? No food, no entertainment, nothing. And soon enough, she might get dragged into the male and female leads’ melodrama.

She nearly felt like plopping down like the village grannies, slapping her thighs and wailing: “Oh, my fate is so bitter…”

An Xue suddenly remembered something. “By the way, watch out for Huang Erlü’s family.”

Huang Erlü had a daughter about the same age as Chanjun. His wife, Chunhua, had long wanted that girl to marry Yan Junsheng, but it hadn’t worked out. The daughter, Huang Cuiping, was the opposite of Chen Chanjun: quiet, gentle, good at every chore from cooking to splitting firewood to feeding pigs. All the young men in the area wanted her as a wife.

But Chunhua only had eyes for Yan Junsheng. From the moment he arrived in the village, she’d set her sights on him. When Chen Chanjun ended up marrying him instead, Chunhua couldn’t stomach it.

She never missed a chance to gossip, whispering about how useless Chen Chanjun was—lazy, spoiled, unable to run a household. But with a father as the production team leader, of course, she lived better than anyone else.

At first, even after Yan Junsheng’s family fell on hard times, Chunhua still wanted her daughter to marry him. After all, a starved camel is still bigger than a horse.

“So what, she’s waiting for us to fight and divorce, so her daughter can swoop in?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised. Just the other day, when Yan forgot his lunch, Chunhua rushed Cuiping over with food like she was desperate.”

Ming Ming chuckled. Too bad. He only has eyes for his childhood sweetheart. Even if he divorces me, he’s not going to marry Huang Cuiping.

By the end of the day, everyone else had gone home, leaving Ming Ming happily monopolizing the tractor, chugging it around the fields.

As dusk fell, the men stopped working and headed home one by one. Yan Junsheng wiped the sweat from his brow, picked up the little basket Ming Ming had left, and prepared to leave too. All the while, he wondered: She’d been gone all afternoon. Where did she run off to? Would she be home for dinner? Or eat at her father’s again? If she wasn’t around, should he still cook for her?

From the west road came the sputtering roar of a tractor, its black smoke impossible to miss. He frowned. Who’d still be driving at this hour, when everyone else had packed up?

Then he saw her—Ming Ming, bouncing along on the tractor, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ahhhhh—soooo funnnnnn——!”

Yan Junsheng: “…”