Chapter 20

Jiang Qishen said: “Isn’t this your dining table’s waterproof tablecloth?”
“Don’t worry, it’s clean. I personally licked it just now.”
Jiang Qishen thought: *Yang Bufan was like this. Any unhappy thing, she could forget as soon as she turned around. But why, near the breakup, was she cold and closed like solid ice?*
Yang Bufan lay flat on her back. Spread out like a big fan. A blade of grass in her mouth. Sighed comfortably. Watched dense jujube branches rustle. Sunlight filtered through. Like stars.
Lay for a while.
Suddenly said: “I loved climbing trees when I was little. Never fell.”
“If you never fell, how’d your brain get like this?” Jiang Qishen said.
Yang Bufan turned her head. Saw him wiping the spot where he’d sit with a wet wipe. Expressionless. Hard to get along with.
*When is this fussy person leaving?* She wanted to use the bathroom. Turned her head.
Jiang Qishen was just thinking about one thing. Chen Yong.
Why Chen Yong?
He couldn’t help chewing over this vulgar, boring name. Baffling.
Just then, Lao Zhang suddenly sent a message.
Lao Zhang said he was lost, couldn’t find the jujube orchard. Would go back to the car first, wait. Jiang Qishen said okay. He was heading back soon anyway.
Almost twelve. Cicadas chirping. Yang Bufan pulled from her bag: a pack of red peach cakes, a sealed cup of fresh‑squeezed bitter melon juice, and the big red water bottle. Today’s lunch.
She tore open a pack of disposable gloves. Handed them to Jiang Qishen: “Red peach cakes. Dad steamed them last night. So good. What’s that look? Don’t be ungrateful. This is Chaoshan intangible cultural heritage.”
Jiang Qishen looked. This shapeless lump actually had such a nice name.
Steamed last night. Wrapped all morning. Weather this hot, probably already bad.
He wasn’t hungry. Plus this stuff looked all sugar. Eat one, low blood sugar could march to Urumqi.
To keep his mind clear, he ate clean year‑round. Didn’t eat this stuff.
Yang Bufan knew. But still shoved the gloves into his hand. Put on her own. Picked out a better‑looking one, handed it to him.
“Stop thinking. If the sheep come over, no one gets to eat.”
Jiang Qishen observed casually. Not bad. Didn’t smell bad. Though not hungry, tentatively took a bite. Another bite…
Ate it all.
After eating, looked at the distant flock. Savored it. So her dad had this skill. If he opened a restaurant, probably easier than raising sheep.
Just a bit dry.
Yang Bufan seemed to read his mind. Pushed over that unremarkable bitter melon juice. “Cools you down. Beats the heat.”
She held the big red water bottle. Ice water inside, wisps of white vapor. Swung her feet.
Jiang Qishen saw she had something to drink. Didn’t refuse.
Honestly, taste was okay. Refreshing. Not sweet. Only flaw: not iced. Hot.
Yang Bufan watched his elegant eating. Seemed to feel a bit of curiosity about him, long absent.
“Are rich people also curious about poor people’s lives?”
Jiang Qishen said expressionlessly: “Are you curious what pigs eat every day?”
Yang Bufan was insulted, furious. “I should dig up some sheep shit for you to eat.”
For some reason, Jiang Qishen actually laughed.
“Then why did you help me find the sheep?”
“You borrowed 350,000 from the company. You mean, even if your farm fails, has accidents, the company has no loss?”
Yang Qishen tsked. *Money counter come to life.*
After cleaning up the trash, putting it in her bag, Yang Bufan lay flat again. Spread out like a big fan. Rolled twice. Burped. Yelled comfortably.
Jiang Qishen and Yang Bufan were completely different people.
He had naturally imbalanced dopamine and serotonin synthesis. Led to emotional regulation disorders. Strong anxiety and disgust toward dirt and bacteria. Hard to feel joy.
He really wasn’t an easy person to make happy.
But in a lifetime, how important was happiness?
“Ah!!”
Yang Bufan suddenly cried out. Sat up. Opened her palm. Hand covered in mud. A small splinter stuck deep in her palm. If not careful, would break off.
See? The price of happiness.
She reached to pull it out. But that hand was also all mud. Jiang Qishen grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t move!”
He took her hand, put it on his knee. Brushed off mud. Two fingers pinched the flesh of her palm. Squeezed hard toward the center. Easily pulled out the splinter.
Yang Bufan grimaced. The splinter hadn’t made her bleed. He’d squeezed blood out.
And he criticized her first.
“Hand so long, trying to evolve?”
“No, I was stretching, preparing to do Kegels.”
“…Living with an idiot like you can numb you to death.” Jiang Qishen looked at the mud on his hands. Helpless, angry, anxious.
Yang Bufan had to lead him to the stream to wash hands.
After washing, he squatted by the sparkling water. Looked back at her. Frowned. “Want me to serve you?”
Yang Bufan squatted down.
After washing hands, came back. Jiang Qishen wiped his hands with wet wipes again. Grabbed her hand. Alcohol stung the wound painfully.
He pressed hard.
Finally done.
Jiang Qishen kept watching the sheep all over the hills. Wind brushed his face. Leaves rustled. Blue sky, slowly moving clouds.
All movement between heaven and earth in view. Like time had stopped. Made him drop his guard and tension. Forgot he needed to leave immediately.
The distant flock, led by the head sheep, suddenly looked over in unison. Eyes darting, seemed to be looking for Yang Bufan. Saw her, then went back to grazing. Some lying, some standing.
Had a bit of human nature.
Yang Bufan lay down. Probably starting to get carb‑dizzy. Drowsy. Hand found two leaves. Covered her eyes.
For no reason, suddenly remembered a small thing from long ago.
Back then, Jiang Qishen was very busy with work. Often traveled. Even in Shenzhen, not traveling, came home very late. Yang Bufan once thought he was cheating. They had little time to communicate.
Winter solstice. Yang Bufan had a fever. Took sick leave, rested at home. Didn’t tell him. But he rushed back, travel‑worn.
She said she didn’t want to go to the hospital. He bought medicine, took her temperature, made claypot porridge, held her to sleep. Took good care of her.
Back then she actually thought: *If only I could be sick every day.*
Before, she always looked at him. Hoped he’d look at her more. But expectations unmet, always felt wronged.
Now, no expectations when with him. Much more relaxed.
The most fucking annoying part: after breaking up, they spent more time together than before.
So now, Yang Bufan inevitably felt a bit sad for the previous Yang Bufan. A bit worthless.
Leaves rustled. Not long after, heard Jiang Qishen say: “When something happens, can’t ask for help. Don’t you have a mouth?”
“Oh, so if I said it, you’d help?”
“No.”
Yang Bufan wasn’t surprised: “Right. What’s the point of saying it? If saying it worked, why break up?”
Then she fell asleep.
Jiang Qishen felt uncomfortable. Got angry again.
The person who made him angry was snoring. He was still watching sheep for her. Turned to look at her. Just now she was Ponyo running at a cliff. In an instant, became a village girl with a red flower. Repulsive.
“The sheep ran away.” He said.
Yang Bufan reflexively sat up. Eyes not open yet. Words already out: “Where’d they go! Where’d they go!”
Saw the sheep not far away. Her racing heart settled.
Jiang Qishen really was a petty, vengeful bird.
But she couldn’t sleep either. Didn’t speak. Leaned against the tree. Started scrolling short videos.
The vulgar music from the videos rumbled. Made Jiang Qishen glance over impatiently, again and again. Saw her watching intently: a man with his shirt unbuttoned to his groin, posing seductively.
“These short videos now, these men, why are they like they’re selling?” Yang Bufan said.
Jiang Qishen said darkly: “I see your drool’s about to hit the screen. Not like you don’t like it.”
“Hahahahahahaha I do like it! Who doesn’t?! If you don’t like it, stand up. I’ll send you some of my collection. Won’t it mesmerize you?”
“…”
Jiang Qishen suddenly straightened his legs. The cheap plastic tablecloth made a loud *rip*.
But before his cutting words came out, saw a white thing moving fast in the distant flock. Sneaky. Looking around.
The flock’s neat formation was suddenly disrupted by that white thing.
Yang Bufan stood up. This was close to residential areas. Couldn’t be a wolf. What was it?
The two walked and ran over. Got close. Found it was a huge mixed‑breed dog.
Really huge. Huge mixed‑breed dog.
Big dog, ears erect, eyes blood red, baring teeth, drooling. Looked like a rabid dog. Plus huge size. Terrifying and evil.
The mixed‑breed dog stared straight at them. Yang Bufan and Jiang Qishen stood still. 267 sheep also didn’t move. The grassland eerily quiet. The air was all ears. Listening.
Enemy doesn’t move, I don’t move…
Yang Bufan’s palms and soles sweated. Brain boiling.
The dog suddenly bared teeth. Viciously crouched low. Suddenly stood, barked furiously at them: “!!Woof woof!!”
267 sheep and two people moved. Scattered, fled. The mountain seemed to howl and run with them.
Yang Bufan ran for her life. Wind whistled in her ears. Couldn’t outrun any lamb. But luckily outran Jiang Qishen.
See? Agricultural work trained all kinds of fitness. Really useful at critical moments.
Jiang Qishen brought up the rear. Swung the whip. *Crack.* Hit a mossy rock.
That thunderous sound scared the dog, close behind. It tucked its tail. Whimpered twice. Disappeared into the woods.
Jiang Qishen looked at Yang Bufan running for her life. Couldn’t help but feel afraid. If he hadn’t been here today, this person and these 267 sheep might’ve all been bitten. Then get rabies. Then, then what?
Yang Bufan panted like an ox. Ran a while, looked back. Where was the dog?
267 sheep also stopped with her. Stretched necks. Frozen. Looking for the dog.
Under the fierce sun, Jiang Qishen stood there on the phone. Brow tight. Looked worried.
She walked over uncertainly. Heard him saying things like “serious threat to residents’ safety,” “capture and kill as soon as possible.”
Probably using his money power. Dog in danger.
Yang Bufan looked around. The dog really was gone.
After this call, Jiang Qishen relaxed slightly. Immediately the secretary called. Confirmed his time. To arrange the Longdu branch afternoon meeting time, so he could attend.
Jiang Qishen thought for a moment. Looked at Yang Bufan, still shaken, eyes dazed. Said: change the time. Reschedule.
“Scared?” He said.
Yang Bufan nodded.
Jiang Qishen, like a concerned father, coaxed: “If you worked normally, would you experience this kind of thing?”
Yang Bufan shook her head.
“Then what should you do?”
Yang Bufan said: “Change where I herd. Catch the dog.”
“Keep living this hand‑to‑mouth, self‑abandoning life?”
“Yeah yeah yeah!”
Jiang Qishen laughed angrily. At her stubbornness.
“What about your future? Your descendants—do you consider them? Follow you herding sheep, one foot in yellow mud, eating dough lumps? Do you know how much the best school district housing in Shantou costs per square meter? The most ordinary international school tuition—how many sheep do you need to raise to pay for it? You escape reality, just for your strange self‑respect. Do you know how much your descendants will suffer to get a desk in Shenzhen?”
“Your parents used all their resources, sent you to school, let you see the world. You end up a country person for life, farming, herding sheep, getting bitten by dogs? Pastoral idyll and facing the earth, back to the sky, are two different things. Pastoral idyll needs money to support it. You’re hot‑headed now. But are you sure, in the next few decades, you won’t regret it?”
Yang Bufan wasn’t joking either. “If I can’t make money raising sheep, I won’t get married. Won’t have kids.”
“China has 1.4 billion people. Now only 500 million farmers grow food. Still export. If we don’t farm, what will you finance lords eat? I know you’re superior. You’re at the pyramid’s peak. Finance people have always had rich eyes. Look down on farmers. If you think what I do is shameful, not honorable, fine. I don’t want to correct you. Don’t want to convert you. But you don’t need to tell me.”
“Since you insist on saying this, my opinion is: no finance people, we won’t starve. But without food, people starve.”
Farming was hard. But she liked it.
Liked running around on grass. Liked being close to animals, nature. Liked being with family and friends. Even liked this useless, futile sense of freedom.
More important, she’d seen so much hard work at planting time. Felt more and more that a good harvest was precious.
Farming, herding sheep—this was people’s livelihood. Hundreds of millions farm. Why in his eyes was it inferior?
Jiang Qishen’s expression was arrogant. But his tone was calm: “If farming was so promising, it wouldn’t be your turn. Yang Bufan, go up, then you can look down. Go down, you’ll drag everyone around you, accelerate the fall. Do you understand what class decline means?”
When she was with him, lived in a big flat, wore designer, listened to symphony, learned salsa.
Lots of stand‑up, theater, whatever she wanted. Diving, skiing, golf, all available. Wanted to learn swimming? Learn. Wanted certification? Immediately arranged the best tutoring.
Whether spiritual needs or material enjoyment, all flowed to her accurately and steadily.
He never begrudged spending on her. Willing to lift her up, help her grow. Now, she came to herd sheep. Made him almost get bitten by a dog. She still talked back, defended her worthless self‑respect.
Jiang Qishen had nothing to say. His brain nerves were about to fuse.
“Stop spreading your anxiety everywhere. I’m like this. No one can control me.”
The conversation ended here. Once the capture team arrived, Jiang Qishen would leave immediately.
His precious, shining life couldn’t waste another ounce of energy on this shortsighted country idiot.
Yang Bufan also thought arguing was pointless.
She no longer tried to convince him. Didn’t care what he thought. Didn’t care why he was here.
That class Jiang Qishen talked about—that was his class. What did it have to do with her?
Since it had nothing to do with her, she was too lazy to refute.
The two fell silent. Not long after, the dog capture team arrived. Yang Guangyou came with them.