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Chapter 7: Five-Good Youth
He said that if the town needed anything, he would be generous with donations. The town head smiled and shook his head, saying they didn’t lack money—they lacked talent.
That was a common problem in rural areas. The capable young people had all left, and those who remained were mostly the elderly and children left behind. Even if they wanted development, they simply didn’t have the strength for it.
He added lightly that he wasn’t trying to persuade anyone to stay. He just hoped they would occasionally look back at their hometown.
The town head stopped there and didn’t continue the topic.
Then, with a smile, he changed the tone. “There’s one more important matter today. All the single folks take a look at each other—add each other on WeChat. No need to let good prospects go to outsiders. If we can solve it internally, we solve it internally.”
Laughter broke out around the room.
Flipping through the documents in his hands, the town head began calling names. “Our girls in the town are truly something—Xixia, Zhuang Jie, Shengnan, He Yun… all top students, all highly capable. Compared to them, our boys fall a bit short. That won’t do, you know.”
Another wave of laughter rolled through the room.
A man called out, “Town head, we’re just saying—we don’t compete with women.”
“You’re just comforting yourselves,” the town head shot back.
The room erupted again.
Taking advantage of the mood, the town head called out another name.
“And our promising young man from the town—Chen Maidong, a nationally recognized ‘Five-Good Youth,’ returned from Beijing to build his hometown.”
He continued:
“Elderly people in the villages are still a major issue. Last year, a solitary elderly person wasn’t discovered until four days after passing away. Our Comrade Xiao Chen was the one who, under special conditions, helped prepare the remains.”
“Previously, our town didn’t have a professional mortuary cosmetician. When someone passed in unusual circumstances, it was difficult for them to leave with dignity. But now we have Xiao Chen. Whether it’s nursing home deaths, long-term illness, or accidents—people often lack awareness of dignity after death in rural areas. But Xiao Chen has been doing this meaningful work all along.”
He led the applause.
The entire room clapped.
“Let me emphasize this,” the town head added, smiling. “All the young ladies here—our Xiao Chen is single.”
Laughter exploded again, louder this time.
Zhuang Jie glanced at the so-called Five-Good Youth sitting upright in his seat, dressed in a suit, completely proper and expressionless.
Under the table, she kicked him lightly.
He didn’t react at all.
The tea session ran from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. It was relaxed throughout—no bureaucratic stiffness, the town head was approachable and humorous. Even though there was a subtle emotional appeal behind it, it didn’t feel unpleasant.
Before it ended, everyone was given materials: promotional sheets for local industries, agricultural product catalogs, and a ticket to the film My People, My Country.
Outside, she relayed the meeting content to Wang Xixia and even brought her a copy of the materials, saying they should meet before she returned to Shanghai.
When she looked up after hearing a sound, she saw a drone circling above the government building.
The town head had just mentioned they were filming promotional videos for the villages.
Just moments ago, she had been thinking about how to help her hometown.
Now, standing outside in the wind, she suddenly felt it didn’t matter.
Forget it—better to take care of herself first.
When you’re poor, focus on your own survival. She’d think about “giving back” after she made it.
She pulled her windbreaker tighter around herself. Deep down, she and Ji Tong were the same kind of people—both self-interested.
She used to have ideals and faith, but now her only “ideal” was settling down in Shanghai.
Then she saw the man ahead—the so-called “great one”—and quickened her pace to catch up.
“Leave me your number. We can contact each other if anything comes up.”
Chen Maidong tapped the cigarette in his pocket. “Why did you kick me?”
“Because I thought you were impressive,” Zhuang Jie said.
He glanced at her, nodded slightly with a cigarette between his lips, and walked toward the funeral home.
Zhuang Jie followed. “The town head praised you—why didn’t you even smile?”
“Habit. I don’t smile.”
“What kind of habit is that?”
“This kind.”
She immediately understood. “Right… dealing with bodies and grieving families all the time. Yeah, smiling wouldn’t fit.”
“You used to be very quiet,” Chen Maidong said, glancing at her. “And not this noisy.”
“You said it yourself—used to.” She did a quick mental calculation. “That was almost sixteen years ago.”
“You’ve changed a lot too. You used to be the kind of girl who… even got in trouble for lifting skirts in school—”
“I never lifted anyone’s skirt.” He stopped walking.
“Fine, fine, I misunderstood.”
“Everyone wore uniform pants. How was I supposed to lift anything?” He looked at her.
“Okay, okay, I remember wrong.”
He seemed like he wanted to say more, flicked off ash, but said nothing in the end.
Zhuang Jie glanced back at the government building. “People say they want to give back to their hometown, but once they go back to their fields, they’ll slowly forget. That’s just how it is.”
“That’s because you don’t have much feeling for Nanping Town. You only came here when you were fourteen,” Chen Maidong said, crushing his cigarette with his shoe. He pointed toward the industrial area.
“Wang’s investment brought in plans for merging factories—building a large meat processing plant.”
“A meat plant?”
“Xishan has already been converted into terraced fields. Yanggou Village planted dozens of acres of yam. These are all things people working outside contributed back. Some soil here isn’t good, so development has to match conditions. Many hands make light work—that’s what the town head was saying too.”
Zhuang Jie looked at him for a long moment. “You’re kind of scary when you get serious.”
Then she lowered her head to flip through the pamphlets. The second page introduced yams—varieties, advantages, annual yield. At the bottom: Welcome inquiries from all sectors.
“This variety isn’t competitive. Henan yams are too famous. They’ve got multiple growing regions. And Shandong and Hubei too—”
“Give me an idea then. What should we plant?” Chen Maidong cut her off.
“Something new.”
“You’ve got connections. Know anyone who plants trees?”
“What kind of trees?”
“Like those golden trees in games,” he said seriously. “The kind that grow money. Shake them and it falls like rain. Or at least trees that grow red banknotes.”
Zhuang Jie burst out laughing.
After laughing, she punched him lightly. “Want to eat? We can catch that movie too.”
He hesitated, then borrowed her phone to call the funeral home. After hanging up, he asked, “What do you want to eat?”
“Something home-style. I just had part of my stomach removed recently. Can’t handle greasy food.”
“Then let’s go to Xiao Li’s Porridge House.”
“Sure.”
“You really think big cities are that great?” he asked.
“Of course. Even if they cut out the rest of my stomach, it’d still be worth it.” She was joking.
“You’re not in a normal state,” he said flatly.
“You only came back because your grandma’s here. If she weren’t, would you return?” she teased. “Still talking about building your hometown.”
“That’s what the town head said to you people,” he replied lazily.
He glanced at an abandoned farmhouse by the road. “Wait here.”
She watched him go in, curious. A moment later, she heard water.
“Do you have no sense of public decency?” she called out.
“Do you expect public decency for peeing?” he said, cigarette in his mouth, pulling up his pants.
“Why not go home?”
“I couldn’t hold it.”
After tea all afternoon, she’d needed to go too—but she planned to wait until the porridge shop. Now Chen Maidong insisted on detouring back to the funeral home for his phone.
She stood at the road’s edge and waved him off. He came back on a motorcycle.
“Why didn’t you ride this to the meeting?” she asked as she got on.
“Can’t park the funeral home bike casually.”
“There are rules for that too?” She paused. “Then isn’t it rude to park it outside a porridge shop?”
“Stop, stop,” she corrected herself.
He parked.
“I like walking,” she muttered as she got off.
He followed behind, smiling faintly. “If we’ve already disturbed things, just apologize.”
She understood he was joking and pressed her palms together dramatically. “Sorry, sorry. I’m not very sensible.”
Then she got back on.
At dinner, she got curious and asked if he’d ever seen anything supernatural.
He looked at her like she was an idiot. “Never.”
“What about cases where someone was about to be cremated and then suddenly woke up—”
“Impossible. Once it reaches the furnace, there’s no chance.”
He explained calmly: there had been cases where someone opened their eyes during preparation, but once it reached the cremation stage, survival was virtually impossible.
“That’s still scary,” she said. “The people who handle it must be terrified.”
Then she added, more seriously:
“When I was a kid, I had an aunt who was very weak. One day she suddenly went mad, crying that she wanted to go home, that she missed her children. She started talking about things that belonged to someone else in our village—someone who had already died in an accident.”
“No one could hold her down. She was incredibly strong. Later, an old woman came—touched her somewhere—and she just fainted. When she woke up, she remembered nothing.”
“I believe in science,” Zhuang Jie said quietly. “But I also believe there are things science can’t explain.”
“I believe that too,” Chen Maidong said. “People should always have reverence.”
“I have a friend who said she saw her mother—not as a ghost in white, but dressed exactly like she was when she was alive. So all those movie ghost stories are fake.”
Chen Maidong lowered his head and kept eating porridge.
Zhuang Jie watched him for a while, then took a sip of porridge. “Actually, you’re pretty attractive. You shouldn’t still be single.”
“Don’t lower your standards just because of your job,” she added. “The right person will accept you. If they don’t, changing yourself won’t help.”
He looked at her.
“What are you spacing out for?” she said. “You’re a bit rough, but your direction is good.”
“Reformed bad boy, huh.”
“Why are you single?” he suddenly asked.
“I?” She smiled. “Because I can’t have what I want.”
He replied, “But you said you liked me the day before yesterday.”
Zhuang Jie laughed loudly.
He kept eating, not responding.
Later, in the cinema, he suddenly asked, “Did he dislike your leg?”
“Who?”
“The person you can’t have.”
She thought for a moment. “Mostly… he loved himself eighty percent, and me twenty.”
“How much did you want him to love you?”
“Five is passing. Seven is ideal.”
He didn’t ask further.
After the movie, she waved goodbye outside the theater, humming the theme song:
“I and my motherland… are inseparable…”
She forgot the lyrics halfway through.
“Zhuang Jie,” Chen Maidong called.
She turned back. “What?”
“The number I just used on your phone—it’s mine. Same for WeChat.”
“Got it. I’ll contact you later.”
“When are you going back to Shanghai?”
“The tenth.”
“Safe travels,” he said.
“Thanks.” She frowned slightly. “Don’t say that randomly. It sounds kind of ominous.”
She saved his WeChat remark as: Five-Good Youth.
He saved hers as: Zhuang Jie.
That night, she carefully reviewed the village promotional materials, edited the yam page, added comparisons and selling points, then saved the document—planning to send it to a potential buyer the next day.
Yawning, she went downstairs and ran into Liao Tao and He Zhangyue returning from the factory.
It was almost midnight.
Liao Tao asked what the town head had said. Zhuang Jie summarized it.
Liao Tao snorted. “So that’s it. Just trying to remind all you golden birds who flew out of the chicken coop not to forget your roots.”
He Zhangyue suddenly said, “Do you smell something? Did the goose shit again?”
Zhuang Jie sniffed.
There was a smell.
Yesterday the goose had indeed defecated—right on her bedroom mat during the day. It had disgusted her so much she still remembered it clearly.
They searched the living room for goose droppings. Liao Tao accidentally stepped in something, lost her temper, threw her shoe aside, and stormed upstairs to Zhuang Jian’s room, grabbing the goose by the neck and tossing it into the yard.
Zhuang Jian heard the goose’s scream and came down, then—when Liao Tao wasn’t looking—hugged the goose back into her room.
After that, she went downstairs and washed Liao Tao’s shoes.
Zhuang Jie, meanwhile, stood there watching the chaos unfold.
