Chapter 17

Just then, Jiang Qishen got a work call. His tone was very harsh. Cursed the person on the other end.
Yang Bufan broke out in a cold sweat. *Lucky I left fast. Now even if I’m poor, I can’t take this kind of hardship.*
This kind of person—his class attributes came with arrogance that looked down on everyone. Life’s driving force was aggression and competition. No mercy for ordinary people.
After cursing, he seemed even unhappier.
But they were already clearly separated. She wouldn’t waste even a second caring what he thought. This belief she’d engrave into her body with a lithography machine.
Yang Bufan opened her phone, searched how to fix a fence.
At the same time, Jiang Qishen took another call. Said a few things. Gaze fell on Yang Bufan. Laughed coldly. Uncommon malice in his eyes.
By the time Yang Bufan finished reading the guide, his call wasn’t done. Their eyes met. Jiang Qishen’s mouth twitched again.
Yang Bufan asked: “What’s up? Phone leaking electricity?”
Jiang Qishen stood up. Suddenly felt tired. Wanted to leave.
Staying in this countryside one more minute was wasting life. He had to go back to work, create value for society.
Yang Bufan said politely: “Won’t you stay a bit?”
The man only left her a cold back of the head.
After waiting a while, Lao Zhang still hadn’t come. Yang Bufan was thinking about her fence. Told Jiang Qishen to sit, went to get the toolbox, opened it, found a saw, planned to cut wood later.
But the saw was heavily rusted. Jiang Qishen mocked: “This saw’s so dull, you could ride it to Chongqing and it wouldn’t rub your butt.”
Yang Bufan thought about it. Agreed. Went out. Came back carrying a huge, extremely sharp chainsaw.
She pulled an extension cord from a corner, planned to check if the chainsaw worked first. Though she’d seen her parents use it many times, this was her first time.
A chainsaw’s danger was like an AK‑47 with a bullet in the chamber, trigger in the most evil child’s hand.
Jiang Qishen glanced back. Expression didn’t change. But a thread of irritation suddenly rose.
After plugging it in, Yang Bufan turned it on. The chainsaw *whirred*. Huge power made her hands shake. Almost slipped. Would’ve amputated, cut, split her in two.
Before she could press the switch, the chainsaw suddenly stopped.
Jiang Qishen’s foot was on the extension cord. Hand held the plug. Roared angrily: “Why don’t you stick your head in and cut it in half?”
Yang Bufan acted like she didn’t hear. Excited: “Hey, this’ll make cutting wood so much easier.”
Since coming home these months, she collapsed into sleep every day. Besides work, no mental energy for anything else.
Though some work was still barely passable, at least she had some general agricultural knowledge to arm herself.
No matter how frustrated, agriculture still gave her lots of confidence.
But in Jiang Qishen’s eyes, this bit of knowledge was more dangerous than her holding a chainsaw. The scariest thing was having a little knowledge.
Yang Bufan was eager. Carried the chainsaw, was about to go. Jiang Qishen gripped the plug, wouldn’t let go. Looked at her angrily.
“I found the trick.”
“The trick to quick reincarnation?”
“…”
“Let professionals do professional work.”
“I’ll become a professional.”
For something this small, still need to hire someone?
Yang Bufan calculated labor costs. More determined to do it herself.
After taking the plug from Jiang Qishen, she said: “Farming, you need to be good at everything. This is the salary you earn.”
Jiang Qishen saw her hands. Only four months. Those white hands had become so rough. All kinds of scars, wounds. New, healed, crisscrossed. Those cutting words at his lips, couldn’t say a single one.
“Don’t make it so tragic. If you don’t have money…”
Seeing Yang Bufan look over, Jiang Qishen changed tack. Said sarcastically: “Don’t build the barn. Set up a crowdfund for your sheep farm.”
“Where’d the money go?” He asked again.
Yang Bufan went from the most urgent barn now, to future lambs, breeding, feed, vaccines. Item by item, expenses calculated. Money looked like a lot. Actually still tight.
So unless necessary, absolutely wouldn’t pay extra labor.
Plus, if she didn’t do this work, her parents would. She did more, they did less.
Yang Bufan carried the chainsaw toward the farm. Didn’t expect Jiang Qishen to follow. Said he’d collect her body.
How did things develop?
After five minutes of arguing, Yang Bufan’s chainsaw smoothly transitioned to Jiang Qishen’s hands.
Probably her unintentional “you don’t understand, don’t talk nonsense” had provoked him. He grabbed the chainsaw, walked ahead aggressively.
The fence Yang Bufan wanted to fix was on the outer edge of the activity field. The ground here wasn’t hardened. It had rained a few days ago. All mud.
Jiang Qishen’s expensive handmade leather shoes would be ruined stepping there. Yang Bufan thought about it, got Dad’s camo rubber boots for him. These were bought too big. Had been gathering dust.
Actually she knew this fussy person wouldn’t wear them. While he sat there, fiddled disgustedly, cursed for ten minutes, she’d have plowed two mu.
“This size fits you perfectly.”
Hearing that, Jiang Qishen’s movements froze for a moment.
He glanced at her lightly. Put on work gloves. Quickened his movements. When a breeze passed, held his breath. Waited for the stink to disperse. Face full of disgust, put on those cheap, ugly, stupid camo boots.
“Fit?”
“Big toe’s still kneeling inside. What do you think?” He said deliberately.
“Impossible.”
Yang Bufan was firm. Squatted, measured the boot size handspan by handspan. Length and width both perfect. She was puzzled. Looked him up and down. Finally concluded seriously:
“Not small either?”
Jiang Qishen straightened. Smiled slightly. Took off his watch, set it aside. Folded his sleeves neatly up. Revealed fair, strong muscles.
He stood, picked up the chainsaw. Asked Yang Bufan about the fence repair process.
“Pick wood, cut it, plant it in the original holes, nail boards to fix it. Done.”
Yang Bufan talked. Suddenly saw him look down, stare at her hand. His lashes were thick, long, curly. This angle just hid his eyes. With his sunken sockets, looked inscrutable, like a mature man.
She showed the back of her hand. “What’s wrong?”
“Clean your hands.” Jiang Qishen looked up, met her eyes.
“I’m clean, thanks—”
Jiang Qishen had already quickly grabbed the hydrogen peroxide from the table, efficiently, mercilessly, shoved it into her hand.
Making a big deal. Acting like he cared about her. Yang Bufan thought this while cleaning her bleeding nails.
After that, time to fix the fence.
Fixing fences was very tedious. Getting clothes dirty was unavoidable. Jiang Qishen had no choice, put on a work jacket.
The jacket was new, plastic‑wrapped. Cheap street stall goods. Printed with a muscle man in briefs, flexing pecs, trying hard to pose seductively at the air.
Jiang Qishen looked in the mirror a moment: “…”
A pungent, cheap plastic smell drifted out. Jiang Qishen said: “You took out a loan to buy suggestive merch?”
“It’s a smock. If you don’t want to wear it, take it off. I’m reluctant to wear it.” Yang Bufan said.
This smock on him was indescribably ridiculous. If not for the long legs in pressed dress pants below, really looked like a straight man gone wrong, selling himself. Face ready to die. Body trying hard to please the family. Pathetic.
Yang Bufan walked out. Had imagined many times before: Jiang Qishen visiting her home.
Before, she’d have been afraid he’d get angry at the low‑quality, dirty, poor everything. She’d have worked hard to satisfy him.
Now, no.
Just thought: *So weird. Why is he here? Why is this a bit absurd?*
Seeing her gaze keep falling on this seductive man, Jiang Qishen took off the smock, put it on inside‑out. Didn’t stop talking. Insulted her several times, no repeats.
Warehouse.
Yang Bufan picked two pieces of wood, right thickness. Jiang Qishen handled transport. After all, he was tall, worked out regularly. Moved with real power. Shoulders carried 4‑meter‑long wood. Still calm and steady.
Suitable for carrying night soil at the village entrance. Won’t spill easily. Yang Bufan thought.
Wood picked, measured, marked. Time to cut with the chainsaw. Before using it, the two huddled together, carefully read the manual.
Jiang Qishen wouldn’t let Yang Bufan touch the chainsaw. Assigned her to check chainsaw performance, safety devices, and hold the wood steady. Cut power if needed.
…Meaning she did nothing.
Actually he was very clumsy at this kind of manual work. Expression grave. Chainsaw in his hands used too carefully. So much so he was flustered.
This clumsiness made his superior air seem funny.
Yang Bufan said: “If you’d built this fence back then, my granny might not have died. She’d have gotten up from her coffin laughing.”
“…”
After moving the wood over, the two planted new posts, filled dirt, tamped it down. Then nailed boards horizontally to connect the posts. Done.
But there was a small incident in the middle.
Nailing into posts required coordination. Yang Bufan held the post steady. Jiang Qishen held the hammer.
They got close. Jiang Qishen smelled her. A smell unique to Yang Bufan. Faint. Like her, not very noticeable.
But familiar. Familiar enough to make him uncomfortable. Made him instinctively look at her.
Yang Bufan was stomping dirt underfoot. Like a pile driver. Straight up, straight down. Tamped the dirt under her feet. Hair like a water ghost’s tentacles, whipped Jiang Qishen’s face. Mud splattered all over his pants.
“………………”
“You have springs in you?”
Jiang Qishen gritted his teeth. Grabbed her.
Yang Bufan steadied. Saw the mud on his pants. Hurried: “Ah, I told you you couldn’t do this. Gets dirty, you get unhappy. Let me do it myself. The living room AC’s on. Go wait there for Lao Zhang.”
Jiang Qishen was so angry he saw stars. “…Already fucking dirty, what’s the point of going?”
“Yang Bufan, living with an idiot like you is despairing. I’m a living person standing here. You can’t see? You doing this on purpose?”
Jiang Qishen was convinced the mud was toxic. Would burn through his clothes, poison him.
He stared darkly for a long time. Reached to brush it off. Stuck to his gloves. Looked more and more annoyed.
Yang Bufan hesitated.
Jiang Qishen took a breath, calmed down. Face tense. Said: “Come here. Hold it steady.”
Yang Bufan had to go over. Held the post steady. Neither spoke. Started hammering.
To drive nails into posts, needed full concentration. Because if the hammer was even slightly off, not only would it bend the nail, might hit your hand.
Jiang Qishen was focused. Still bent three nails before finding a bit of a trick.
Before, he’d accidentally watched some farmer videos. All like they were sick. Got up at 11 a.m., did perfect sunburn makeup, made delicious lunch, mixed drinks. Afternoon: let out animals, posed, showed off scenery and fresh air, complained about the inconveniences of working.
Key point: getting up at 11 a.m.?
Didn’t do any work. No signs of labor on them. Said “physical exhaustion is more fulfilling than mental exhaustion.” Mental problems?
Even doing nothing, they could still harvest, sell cattle and sheep, buy cars and houses, get seven‑figure savings.
Now, Jiang Qishen’s personal experience: agriculture couldn’t be comfortable. Had to work twice as hard. Just this little bit of work made your back ache.
Forget sunburn makeup and coffee. Didn’t even have time to drink water or wash hands.
Tiredness was secondary. Most unbearable was dirty and smelly. Plus lots of flies.
Sun was fierce. Sweat soaked his shirt. Sticky, uncomfortable. Air around was sour, rancid.
Hammer in hand, sparks flying. Only nailed two boards. He felt like this was so absurd it made him furious.
Who was he? How much could he make in a minute? What was he doing?
Normally, he’d just spend a tiny bit of money, hire professionals. Do it beautifully, flawlessly.
Wait, no.
Why would he hire someone to help Yang Bufan?
Why should he hire someone to help her?
Was he burning money?
Yang Bufan was slow, did stupid things. That was fine. Why was he doing something that produced no return? Was he sick?
Just then, oblivious Yang Bufan picked out a handful of nails, handed them over. Met those dark eyes. Jiang Qishen said nothing. But that look had infinite meaning.
Yang Bufan knew: he was angry again.
She held the post. Automatically offset the current anger with his labor. Getting a bit of his favor, felt like her fucking soul was getting hit a dozen times.
Fuck.
Because of this distraction, Jiang Qishen’s finger got scratched by a nail’s rough edge. Blood beaded, spread on the work glove. Bright red.
He frowned. Speechless, didn’t know what expression to make.
Yang Bufan glanced. Asked: “Hand cut?”
Jiang Qishen ignored her.
“Let me see.”
Still ignored.
Yang Bufan was awkward. Laughed. “Ah, so young and already such a big setback. What a shame.”
“…If you can’t talk, shut up.”
Yang Bufan was embarrassed. The two kept hammering.
For the next full half hour, besides the hammer and nails in his hands, Jiang Qishen also had a furious mouth cursing heaven and earth.
But despite all the difficulties, the fence was fixed.
Lao Zhang, after dropping off Xiao Liu and handling some business, came back. Saw Jiang Qishen repeatedly washing his hands in the yard. Mud all over. Looked very unhappy.
Looked like something unpleasant had happened. Lao Zhang pretended not to see. Didn’t embarrass the boss.
Xiao Jiang Zong’s style was very different from Lao Jiang Zong’s. Sometimes really baffled him.
“To the hospital.” Jiang Qishen needed a tetanus shot.
After the two drove away, Yang Bufan got a call from the local commercial bank. Said the investigation into the clerk’s sexual harassment had results. The employee had been reported and fired. Never to be hired again.
After hanging up, Yang Bufan was a bit surprised. Solved that easily?
She opened the three‑person group chat, planned to ask what happened.