Chapter 114

The day the rural assignment notice arrived at the Johnson household, Emily Johnson wept bitterly. She clung to her mother’s wrist, pleading, "Mom, I don’t want to go!"

Mrs. Fan wiped her daughter’s tears but gently pried her fingers loose. "Sweetheart, this is just how things are now..."

Her suitcase was packed with brand-new polyester blouses and vanishing cream, but Emily’s heart was filled with resentment. By the time she stood at the entrance of the youth camp, mud splattered her skirt, making her look like a distressed canary.

"Well, well, the city princess has arrived," sneered Sophia Green, a fellow educated youth, eyeing Emily’s delicate complexion. "With skin that soft, how many work points do you think you’ll earn?"

The male youths, however, rushed to carry her luggage. As Emily lowered her lashes to thank them, she didn’t notice Michael Stone’s intense gaze fixed on her from the distant field ridge—where he had been watching her for three straight days.

"Let me help." On their fifth "chance" encounter, Michael took the water bucket from her hands without waiting for a reply. Emily looked up at him. Sweat glistened on his sun-bronzed skin, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"Marry me, and you won’t have to work the fields," he said under the sunset. For a moment, Emily thought she saw starlight flickering in his eyes.

On their wedding night, she realized she’d been deceived. Michael wasn’t the production team accountant—just an ordinary laborer. Yet he pressed her against the bed, his breath hot against her skin. "I keep my word. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to the team leader about reassignment."

In the kitchen, Elizabeth Stone banged pots loudly. "Since when do wives act so high and mighty?" William’s wife, Patricia, added with a sneer, "A hen that doesn’t lay eggs still thinks she’s a phoenix!"

The day they divided the family property, Emily was sick to her stomach. Mary Stone took her pulse and suddenly beamed. "Emily, dear, you’re pregnant!"

Michael built a thatched cottage overnight. Watching his sturdy silhouette gilded by moonlight, Emily suddenly thought maybe the countryside wasn’t so bad after all.

"So..." Emily now pinched his earlobe. "You planned this from the start?"

Michael pulled her closer, nuzzling the faint osmanthus scent in her hair. "The moment I saw you standing at the village entrance with your suitcase, I’d already picked out names for our grandchildren."

"Silver-tongued devil!"

"Every word true."

"Love at first sight?"

"I couldn’t help myself."

Emily suddenly pushed him away as if waking from a dream. Something was wrong. She was supposed to return to the city for college entrance exams—why was she dwelling on these old memories? Outside, the cicadas’ shrill cries grew piercing. She didn’t see the shadow flicker in Michael’s eyes.

Twirling a loose strand of her hair, he thought to himself: This time, no matter what, I won’t let her fly away.