As she bent over to plant rice seedlings, the stray hairs on her forehead were soaked with sweat and stuck to her scabbed wounds.

"Lin Zhiqing, your ridge is crooked!"

Old Liu, the scorekeeper, with a pipe in his mouth, kicked the rice seedlings she had just planted with his toe.

Zi Xi wiped away her sweat, but then heard a soft click behind her.

Turning around, I saw Ji Yanchen squatting at the end of the field ridge, whittling something with a sickle.

When he saw her looking at him, he immediately turned his face away, leaving only a tense profile.

The midday sun was the most intense. Zi Xi's vision blurred, and blisters formed on her palms as she gripped the hoe.

Suddenly, she noticed that her kettle had been filled up without her noticing, and a fresh mint leaf was still hanging from the spout.

"This is……"

Zi Xi looked up and saw Ji Yanchen silently helping her tidy up the scattered seedlings.

He worked with great efficiency, his rough fingers moving among the seedlings, and in no time he had finished patching up the half-row she had missed.

Noticing her gaze, he quickly disappeared into the reeds like a startled wild animal, leaving only a few deep footprints on the ridge.

By the time she finished work in the evening, Zixi's legs were so sore that she could barely walk.

She dragged her tired body back into the house, only to find a neatly bundled pile of firewood in front of the door, with a simple wooden rake on top. The handle had been carefully polished and wrapped with non-slip cloth strips.

She suddenly remembered the clicking sound from midday.

The doors and windows of the neighboring mud house remained tightly shut, but a faint kerosene lamp shone through the gaps in the window panels.

Zi Xi gently put down the basket of eggs and knocked on the door three times.

"Comrade Ji, Comrade Ji! I..."

Hurried footsteps came from inside the door, followed by a long silence.

Finally, a hand with distinct knuckles reached out from the crack in the door and swiftly snatched the basket away.

Under the moonlight, Zi Xi saw the new wound on the back of that hand, still covered with wood shavings that hadn't been wiped clean.

The next morning, her hoe was gone, replaced by a brand new hoe by the edge of the field.

Zi Xi couldn't help but smile, her eyes crinkling as she looked at the small raspberry flower carved on the wooden handle.

*

Zi Xi discovered that her fountain pen was missing.

That fountain pen was the only keepsake her father left her, with a line of small words engraved on the cap: "To my stars".

She clearly remembered putting her diary on the wooden box after writing it that night, but when she woke up in the morning, the box was empty.

I should have put it in the little garden.

She searched the entire house, under the bed, in the corners, and even in the cracks of the stove, but found nothing.

"Did it fall outside?"

She put on her cotton-padded coat and pushed open the door. The cold wind blew in, carrying snowflakes, making her shiver.

There was no one in the courtyard, only Ji Yanchen's dilapidated house next door was quiet, the windows still nailed with wooden boards, like an airtight cage.

She sighed and was about to turn around when she caught a glimpse of a metallic sheen peeking out from under the threshold. Her fountain pen lay there quietly, its body polished to a shine, and even the ink had been refilled.

Zi Xi squatted down, her fingertips touching the cold metal, and a strange feeling welled up in her heart.

Is this one of the perks of having a neighbor who is a "snail boy" (a term used to describe someone who is overly fond of children)?

This wasn't the first time. Ever since moving into this dilapidated house, Zi Xi had noticed that her things would mysteriously disappear for a while, only to quickly reappear in their place.

The wooden comb she casually tossed by the well would appear on the windowsill the next day, the broken hairs tangled between the comb teeth neatly cleaned.

The cloth shoes, soaked by snowmelt, dried overnight, and the soles were even lined with a layer of new straw.

Even the red ribbon that she accidentally left on the edge of the field when she went to work would one morning be tied to the fence in front of her door with a clumsy bow.

The villagers all said that Ji Yanchen was crazy, but how could such a crazy person be like a snail-like boy, remembering things for her that she herself couldn't remember every day?

He's not crazy, he's a lucky charm!