Chen Niu took the newspaper, not noticing the heavy expression on Shi Qian’s face as the “messenger” delivered it. His own face lit up with simple, open joy.

He looked toward Lin Nanyin and grinned foolishly.

Lin Nanyin forced herself to return the smile before quickly turning her head away. A simple-minded fellow like him wouldn’t think to thank people—after a brief exchange, Chen Niu directly unfolded the paper and began to read.

The paper was half a page, neatly trimmed.

His eyes skimmed past the bold headline and fell on the line mentioning “abundant harvests.” His brows and eyes filled with delight.

He read on with rapt attention, completely absorbed in the small blocks of printed characters.

Then, with great excitement, he exclaimed, “A twenty percent increase in yield!”

“The average yield per mu has reached over five hundred kilograms!”

The harvest for Shengli Village this year hadn’t yet been tallied, but last year’s average was just over four hundred. According to the article, some plots even reached over six hundred kilograms per mu.

If they could switch to this new seed, wouldn’t two mu of land produce as much as three mu used to?

Across the entire brigade, the total yield could rise by half!

Chen Niu’s words shocked Xu Guozi, who squeezed closer.

“Can it really be that high? Sounds like a scam.”

“It’s not another case of inflated—” Xu Guozi quickly covered her mouth, not finishing the sentence.

Lin Nanyin replied, “It should be real. The promotion area this year is quite large—it’d be hard to fake.”

“And there’s scientific backing for it.”

Xie Guoan, busy teaching most of the time, had little sense of what crop yields meant. His expression was vaguely confused.

Shi Qian observed that among the four of them, only Chen Niu was genuinely thrilled.

But given his background, that was easy to understand.

Of the four, he was the one who had suffered the most. Though only in his early twenties, he was already a seasoned farmer.

Chen Niu stared longingly at the newspaper text, wondering what kind of seed it was, and whether their village might get some too.

“So next year, they’ll keep promoting it, right?” he asked. “Will we get that kind of seed here?”

“Eventually, yes. Good seeds will definitely keep being promoted,” Lin Nanyin nodded.

Better seeds meant higher yields—and at least a few more solid meals each season. Lin Nanyin was already tired of surviving on wild greens in spring and sweet potatoes and pumpkins in autumn.

Seeing her finally approach him of her own accord, Chen Niu tilted his head slightly and asked, “Comrade Lin, may I take this newspaper home to read again?”

Xu Guozi shot him a look and teased, “You really want to read it?”

Shi Qian: “Moo.”

No doubt about it—he really did.

Lin Nanyin nodded. She had, after all, come here just to bring him the paper.

“It’s yours,” she said.

Chen Niu held it as if it were treasure, glancing at her several times before stammering, “Thank you, Comrade Lin.”

Lin Nanyin smiled awkwardly, feeling her task complete, and left first.

Behind her, Xu Guozi sighed, “Why are you so dense? Couldn’t you say a bit more?”

“What should I say?” Chen Niu looked troubled.

Whenever he saw Lin Nanyin, his tongue tied itself in knots—he was terrified of saying the wrong thing.

Besides, he was painfully aware that he wasn’t worthy of her.

Even though Lin Nanyin had come to the countryside, her family was from the city. Her daily life was clearly better than the villagers’.

To Chen Niu, Lin Nanyin was educated, beautiful, kind—practically flawless.

Xu Guozi turned to Xie Guoan. “Teacher Xie?”

Xie Guoan flushed. “Ahem… I’m not much help. Just say what you want, I suppose.”

Chen Niu: …

He decided that since Comrade Lin didn’t seem very eager to talk to him, maybe it was better to stay quiet.

At the beginning, she’d obviously been wary of him—though to be fair, she’d been even colder toward others who’d tried to flirt.

Not that he blamed her. Some men had been downright annoying. One had even tried to pester her shamelessly—until Chen Niu quietly threw a sack over the man one night and gave him a good beating. After that, the nuisance finally stopped.

Things were different now. Lin Nanyin had personally brought him the newspaper. At least that meant she didn’t dislike him anymore.

Seeing no help from his friends, Chen Niu decisively left the two couples behind and went home with Little Niu to study.

In his spare time, he carefully copied parts of the newspaper by hand.

Thinking back to Xu Guozi’s disbelief, he himself still found it remarkable—so he examined the article again and slowly wrote a long letter.

Then he asked Xu Aigang, who was heading out of town, to help buy two sets of stamps.

Shi Qian watched the letter being sent off, wondering if the recipient would ever get it. The address was far too vague.

Just as he was daydreaming, a new task arrived.

“Qian Niuhua, when you head to the fields later, bring the remaining stamps to Comrade Lin,” said Chen Niu.

He slung a cloth bag onto Little Niu’s back and tucked in the stamps and a note.

Shi Qian: “Moo.”

Would there be a delivery fee?

Chen Niu didn’t understand the sound, but he’d grown familiar with the lazy calf and knew work always came with a price. So he promised, “I’ll take you up the mountain another day.”

That would do.

Once again acting as messenger, Shi Qian trotted to the field where Comrade Lin was working.

“Moo.”

I’m here.

“Qian Niuhua.” Lin Nanyin stood up, wiping sweat from her brow, her eyes curving into a smile.

She was always more relaxed and cheerful when dealing with the little animal Shi Qian.

“Moo.”

Got something for you.

Shi Qian turned his body so she could reach the cloth bag.

Lin Nanyin hesitated, then wiped her hands and opened it, finding stamps and a note inside.

The note was short, the handwriting neat and proper—like a child’s handwriting from primary school.

It thanked her for the newspaper and returned a small gift of useful stamps.

Each stamp was worth only a few cents; a set of four wasn’t expensive.

Lin Nanyin put them away, then took a piece of milk candy from her pocket, unwrapped it, and fed it to the little calf. “Good job, Qian Niuhua—here’s your reward.”

Shi Qian happily accepted.

Then Lin Nanyin thought for a moment and tucked two more milk candies into the bag.

Shi Qian was slightly surprised.

Could Chen Niu’s “salted fish method” actually be working?

Or maybe, for someone like Lin Nanyin—who seemed to have a touch of social anxiety—such a quiet, motionless form of “pursuit” was easier to accept.

Or perhaps, she was just being polite.

Love really was a complicated thing. Shi Qian turned to Lin Nanyin and mooed, “Moo moo?”

Who’s that for, huh? Say something.

Lin Nanyin felt like the little cow could actually understand human speech. She couldn’t help but add, as if explaining herself, “For Grandma Chen to try.”

Shi Qian immediately caught the implication—if the grandmother and Shi Qian had both received something, it wouldn’t be right to leave out Chen Niu.

In other words, there was one for Chen Niu too.

A fair exchange.

Shi Qian gave a gossiping “moo” and trotted off to deliver the milk candy to Chen Niu.

Once he received the candy, Chen Niu turned right around and took Shi Qian up the mountain to pick fruits.

But the next time they brought something, they didn’t get any return gifts. Instead, Chen Niu asked Lin Nanyin some questions, got thoroughly confused by her explanations, and ended up receiving two more books.

When Chen Niu came back from consulting her, he became even more studious.

Shi Qian was forced to accelerate his Russian learning and had already memorized quite a few words.

Chen Niu even tried to explain Russian in Russian while teaching Shi Qian.

Shi Qian: …

Be serious, man! I’m a total beginner here!

Half a month later, Chen Niu had devoured all his notes. He began reading that first agricultural book again, eyes full of amazement.

“Grafting… I think I’ve heard of this before, but I didn’t know what it was.”

That was years ago, the year he’d been honored as a model worker and had gone to a meeting with Xu Youguang.

“There are so many technical terms. I can’t even translate this sentence.” Chen Niu clutched his head in pain, brows furrowed.

Shi Qian glanced at the material—stuff he’d already studied—and helped him muddle through with some lucky guesses. Then he “accidentally” flipped open his high school textbook, hinting that Chen Niu could find some answers there, tricking him into self-study.

It worked beautifully. Chen Niu studied so hard for three days straight that he forgot to give Shi Qian his lessons, and even stopped paying attention during the pre-work mobilization meetings.

Then Zhang Peyue knocked on the door. “Chen Niu.”

“Grandma?” Chen Niu closed his book. “What’s wrong?”

It was rare for the old lady to come to him first.

Zhang Peyue said, “Did you get the rope ready? We’re going to plow the fields soon.”

A nose rope made a cow obedient—but it was painful. Even without one, to plow the land you still needed a harness; otherwise, how could the cow pull the heavy plow?

“I adjusted Big Yellow’s harness smaller—it should fit Qian Niuhua.”

But Chen Niu hesitated. “Grandma, do we really have to let Qian Niuhua plow?”

“Yes,” Zhang Peyue said, glancing at the young bull who had just been reading as well. “In the eyes of others, he’s still a cow. Naturally, he has to know a cow’s work.”

They’d discussed it before, and Shi Qian had no objections.

With winter approaching, he’d need to eat more grass to store up energy to grow.

Chen Niu would soon be too busy to gather wild grass for him, so come winter, Shi Qian would need to rely on the production team’s collective fodder. If he didn’t work, the team certainly wouldn’t feed him for free.

Still, Chen Niu couldn’t help but feel sorry. “Qian Niuhua’s still just a calf.”

Having spent a lot of time together, their relationship had grown much closer.

And through that, Chen Niu had learned a lot about Shi Qian’s personality—lazy as a salted fish, greedy and gluttonous.

He knew perfectly well that this little bull wasn’t exactly hardworking.

But plowing was serious, backbreaking work.

When Chen Niu voiced his concern, Shi Qian kicked him squarely on the rear.

“Moo moo.”

Who are you looking down on, huh?

Since he’d already agreed, Shi Qian wasn’t about to go back on his word.

The next day, he dragged the plow into the fields.

In the field next to his, Xu Aigang was teaching another young bull how to plow. Experienced old oxen were handled by others, working efficiently, while the young ones began their training.

Shi Qian’s assigned task wasn’t too heavy.

In the first year, the goal was simply obedience training—to make the young bulls “taste hardship” and understand that the life of a cow meant laborious plowing, before they could learn the finer techniques.

Xu Aigang’s young bull wasn’t very cooperative.

When Shi Qian arrived, the other calf was snorting and glaring at Xu Aigang, probably wondering why the man was being so cruel today.

Xu Aigang just tugged the rope, stepping into the muddy field, struggling along as he began the arduous path of training a plow ox.

The calf had to learn to walk in a straight line first, then how to turn.

One person in front, one behind.

A skilled old ox, though, could be managed by a single person.

Seeing Chen Niu alone with his bull, Xu Aigang—sweating profusely—called out, “Chen Niu, don’t you need another person to help?”

Chen Niu replied, “No need.”

After all, his Qian Niuhua was a prodigy of a bull—he could already do third-grade arithmetic.

Chen Niu was full of confidence. But Shi Qian couldn’t stand the smug look on his face.

And since he’d gotten friendly with Xu Aigang too, he didn’t want the man to feel too defeated by comparison.

So Shi Qian plowed out a five-pointed star.

It was tricky to pull off, and the single-stroke star came out a bit crooked—looking like it might’ve been an accident.

Shi Qian was strong, though, and didn’t find the heavy plow difficult to drag. The furrows he made were deep and clearly visible.

Xu Aigang burst out laughing. “Chen Niu, come on, control your Qian Niuhua! What kind of nonsense shape are you plowing there?”

On the nearby road, a young journalist excitedly raised his camera and, right in front of Xu Youguang, snapped a photo of the star-shaped furrowed field.

Xu Youguang glanced at the giddy young man and thought disdainfully—

What do you even know?

Then he turned to the reporter and said, “Comrade Reporter, why didn’t you say you were coming today? Qian Niuhua’s busy learning to plow right now.”

The reporters were so excited they could hardly contain themselves. Putting down their cameras, one of them said, “It’s fine, I’ll try not to delay your work too much. Looks like Comrade Xiao Niu has also been well influenced by the organization! This is incredible—it must go in the paper!”

Soon after, the people in the field also noticed Xu Youguang and the reporters standing by the roadside.

Two minutes later, Shi Qian finally saw the background of the photo that was going to appear in the newspaper— It turned out to be the crooked five-pointed star Chen Niu had plowed just to tease him.

Then he looked over at Brother Niu, still stubbornly standing there refusing to work.

Shi Qian: …

Brother Niu, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to outshine you.