Chapter 17: The Educated Youth Zhao Xianghong

“Wait, Ji Ling, wait.”

The moment Shen Yi heard someone approaching, he sprang away, putting as much distance as he could—nearly thirty feet—between himself and Ji Ling. Ji Ling, half amused, half exasperated, turned her gaze away.

“Ji Ling, I, I have an idea, and I hope you’ll agree,” said the newcomer, Zhao Xianghong, a young intellectual who had been sent to the countryside for quite some time.

Ji Ling was a bit puzzled. She rarely interacted with these sent-down youths—never had before, and certainly not now. She stopped walking and looked toward Zhao Xianghong, waiting for her to continue.

“I heard that some officials are coming for an inspection. I was thinking maybe we could arrange a few performances to show the spirit of us sent-down youth. We could perform right after the marching group. We’d practice during our off-hours, so it won’t interfere with our work.”

Previously, Ji Ling hadn’t arranged any performances because there were hardly enough people in the village to put together a program. She had considered involving the sent-down youths but feared losing control and turning what could be a fine show into a disaster.

But now, since the initiative came from Zhao Xianghong, the power to decide rested with Ji Ling.

Ji Ling didn’t rush to answer. She stared silently into the distance, as if deep in thought.

Zhao Xianghong grew a bit anxious. “We’ll follow whatever you decide. If you don’t agree, we absolutely won’t do it.”

She knew about the friction between Ji Ling and Li Mao and feared that Ji Ling might refuse just because of him.

Only then did Ji Ling slowly turn her head, her tone softening. “It’s not that I can’t agree. It’s just that…”

She trailed off, leaving Zhao Xianghong anxious. It seemed like Ji Ling was on board, but why stop mid-sentence?

“You can have Shen Cong’an write the script. She’s got a good pen—I trust her,” Ji Ling emphasized those last words.

Zhao Xianghong was no fool and caught the meaning immediately. She let out a long breath; this was simple enough. Though Shen Cong’an was Shen Yi’s younger sister, since the village chief had already agreed to Ji Ling’s plans involving Shen Yi, there was no problem including Shen Cong’an.

“All right. Once we have it ready, we’ll be sure to show it to you and the village leaders,” Zhao Xianghong said straightforwardly. Over time, she’d come to see that Ji Ling was someone destined for great things. She had been in the countryside a long while, and since her parents offered no help, she had to plan for her own future.

This was Zhao’s olive branch extended toward Ji Ling.

With no more interruptions, Ji Ling finally, along with Shen Yi, wound their way stealthily through the growing dusk into Professor Lian’s dilapidated little house.

Though small and shabby, the room was tidy. Professor Lian sat at a triangular table that Shen Yi had repaired, looking at a well-worn book with frayed edges.

Hearing the noise, Professor Lian quickly hid the book under the table with a swift motion that seemed almost like a blur.

Shen Yi hurried forward to introduce them. “Teacher, this is my girlfriend. She wants to see the waterproof paint I told you about.”

Professor Lian scowled, exhaling through his nose. “Hmph, the brat finally remembers this old man. And haven’t I told you to stop coming here? Why don’t you listen?”

Ji Ling looked at Professor Lian’s face, creased with a smile like a weathered flower, and thought to herself how much these two knew how to speak ironically.

The old man looked at Ji Ling and suppressed a somewhat frightening grin. “Girl, how could you fall for this reckless fool?”

Ji Ling smiled back. “Yeah, I don’t know either—maybe it’s because he’s just so persistent.”

Shen Yi’s face shifted through a spectrum of colors—ashen, pale, then greenish—before he muttered sullenly, “You two just enjoy yourselves.”