"Is this human nature?" Lai Zi pondered these two words carefully. "Are you sure it's not just being a scumbag?"
Cough cough...
These words made Jiang Nuan choke.
“Of course not,” she explained hastily. “The deeper the hatred, the harsher the criticism; the greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment. People have too high standards for good people, and when they turn bad, they can’t bear the gap.”
“I still can’t be a good person,” Lai Zi concluded earnestly. “Living in the eyes of others all the time is too tiring.”
I wonder how many things he would have to do that he doesn't want to do. If he became that kind of person, I wonder if he would just vomit to death.
“Yes,” Jiang Nuan nodded in agreement, “You’re doing quite well now. As long as this labor service isn’t too difficult and they’re lenient with you occasionally, the villagers will change their opinion of you.”
The people of Huangjiakou are more pragmatic than simple.
They have their own set of survival wisdom; they know what kind of bargains they can and cannot take, who they can and cannot offend, and they have a certain sense of right and wrong.
Lai Zi was someone the village dared not offend to begin with, and now that he had become a yamen runner, the village would only be more wary of him and would tolerate him even more.
However, this matter has no downsides and seems to be fine now, but it's uncertain whether it will backfire in the future. After all, everyone has their limits.
“Okay,” Lai Zi nodded, “I know what to do.”
In the afternoon, Huang Qing, who was working, kept looking in Lai Zi's direction.
"Qing-ge, what are you looking at?" Huang Hai came over. "Things are different now. Even if you can't stand Lai Zi, you can't act impulsively."
He's a constable, the kind who can arrest people.
Huang Hai was terribly panicked. His mother, with her loose tongue, had been spreading all the village's messy affairs over and over again, especially about Lai Zi.
Now that they've turned their fortunes around, who knows how they might retaliate.
“Who said I can’t stand him?” Huang Qing glanced at him indifferently. “I just find it a little strange.”
"What's so strange?" Huang Hai asked, puzzled. "I think it's great. There's no scoundrel watching me with a cold face. I feel so relaxed."
“I was wondering about that,” Huang Qing shook his head. “It’s really strange. Why isn’t he watching us anymore? Look, he’s leaning against the tree with his eyes half-closed, completely ignoring us.”
"Are you crazy?" Huang Hai pouted. "Without his sinister gaze, the mountain pressing down on me has disappeared. I feel like the shovel in my hand has become lighter. What's wrong with that?"
"Fool," Huang Qing snorted, "You wouldn't understand even if I told you. Get to work and stop talking nonsense."
Perhaps because the chicken was so good, the young men from Huangjiakou finished their work before dusk and walked back arm in arm.
"Brother Qing," Huang Hai smacked his lips, savoring the chicken from lunch, "this year's corvée labor was worth it. The work wasn't heavy, and the food was good."
“That was before the official road was built,” Huang Qing rolled his eyes at him. “When the official road is built, you will know how bitter the corvée labor is.”
“I’ve done it,” a slightly older man in the crowd said. “It involved digging soil, chopping firewood, and mixing glutinous rice mortar. After a day of that, I was so tired that I didn’t even want to move my fingers.”
"It's really tiring when you're ramming the stones. You have to carry stones that weigh hundreds of kilograms and smash them down one after another. After just half a day, you're so tired that you can't even stand up."
"Don't worry," Huang Qing reassured, "The clan said they'll have people take turns, so we can get some rest and not break our bodies. In any case, no one will die this year."
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