The stiff red booklet lay heavy in Dai Yunya’s lap, its crimson cover stark against her pale, dirt-smudged tunic. Her fingers, still trembling slightly from the cave-in, traced the raised characters of the official seal. A marriage certificate. Zhenting, standing over her like a mountain, didn’t move. The scent of sulfur and damp earth still clung to the air, mingling with powdered lime from the shattered shaft. “Responsibility?” Yunya’s voice was soft, a little raspy from the dust. She tilted her head, her eyes, usually so serene, held a flicker of mild bewilderment. “You’re an investigator. I thought I helped you bust the smugglers.” He Zhenting’s gaze was unyielding, devoid of the usual strictness she was accustomed to. It held something deeper now, a raw vulnerability she’d glimpsed only fleetingly during their fall. “You claimed we were engaged in front of the brigade cadre. You picked the padlock on my footlocker. You nearly got crushed under timber. Twice. You disrupted a border contraband sting.” His voice was a low rumble, the words clipped and precise, yet lacking their usual bite. He made no mention of hauling her clear of the falling braces or kicking aside the illicit stash for her. He just stood there, waiting. Yunya blinked. “But… I thought you were just a stubborn production captain.” Her lips curved into a slow, sweet smile, edged with a touch of teasing that only he would catch. “You never told me you were an important state official. Isn’t that deception?” Zhenting leaned forward, resting his calloused forearms against his knees. He bent lower, his shadow enveloping her, the faint scent of pine and sweat filling her nostrils. “It was an undercover operation. And now, you’re complicit. You have disrupted my life. My plan was to finish this mission, then return to the Capital to continue my work.” His gaze remained steady against hers. “Now… I have a fiancée. A very lazy fiancée, I suspect.” Yunya’s smile widened, devoid of the slightest remorse. “Is that so? And what does your fiancée gain from this… responsibility?” He offered no grand declarations of love, no flowery promises. Instead, he simply stated, “Security. A permanent residence. And a steady ration of malted milk candies, if you behave.” Her eyes lit up at the last part. “Every month?” “A tin a month,” he conceded, a faint hint of a smile finally softening the corners of his mouth. “Provided you don’t set fire to the brigade office or stir up the youth brigade.” Daodao, who had been listening with one ear cocked, let out a low, rumbling growl of approval, nudging the certificate with his wet nose. Yunya, however, still considered. This wasn't exactly her plan for a quiet, work-free life. Yet an endless stretch of naps on a sunny hill, paired with a man who slipped her sweet treats and shoved aside state contraband to keep her breathing? It had distinct merit. Before she could respond, a shrill, hoarse voice cut through the air. “She’s a criminal! She poisoned me! She should be arrested!” Rong Xueli, her face a patchwork of angry red hives, her hair matted with mud and dust, was being escorted by two uniformed officers. Her clothes were torn, her eyes wild with a desperation far beyond what Yunya had ever seen. She looked less like a proud educated youth and more like a scarecrow come to life. Yunya’s sweet smile returned, laced with a pity so thoroughly unfeigned it was almost chilling. She pulled the tissue Zhenting had given her from her pocket, still clean, and extended it. Xueli flinched as if stung, her eyes wide with unadulterated hatred, before she was pulled away, screaming about injustice. *** The brigade auditorium, usually reserved for grueling criticism sessions or dry agricultural quotas, buzzed with raw curiosity. The brigade party secretary, a withered man named Gu Weimin, stood on the wooden platform, his voice rasping through a dented horn. Beside him sat Zhenting, his jacket brushed clean of clay, looking far too orderly for Mudan. Yunya sat on a hard wooden bench in the front row, Daodao a warm, heavy weight across her feet. Her certificate was now tucked safely into her pocket. “For her vigilance,” Secretary Gu announced, his voice booming across the assembled villagers, “in exposing the cross-border smuggling trench, and for preserving brigade territory, the district bureau assigns Dai Yunya official tenancy over the Whispering Crag! Use rights to the stone outcropping will fall under her household management!” A stunned silence rippled through the hall, quickly followed by a cacophony of gasps and excited murmurs. Yunya, the notorious ‘parasite’ who refused to work, now owned a mountain. A slope packed with cool green stone. She repressed a yawn, feeling a familiar pull toward sleep. It wasn't exactly work, but it was certainly a lot of administrative paperwork she hadn't planned on. “Furthermore,” Secretary Gu continued, tone sharpening, “for dumping toxic defoliant across the East Fields to mask illicit excavation, Rong Xueli is assigned to permanent heavy labor with the soil reclamation crew, effective immediately.” A collective gasp filled the hall. Permanent hard labor in the toxic fields. It meant grueling work under the midday sun with no permit back to the provincial seat. Yunya glanced at the now-empty bench where Xueli had been. Her sweet smile, this time, held a profound satisfaction. The field Xueli had coveted so fiercely, the one she'd fought so hard to steal, was now her eternal prison. Karma, it seemed, preferred slow, agonizing ruin. *** Later that afternoon, the sun was a warm blanket on the newly christened Jade Peak. Yunya, having ignored the excited shouts and curious glances of the villagers, had made her way back to her crag. Daodao was already sound asleep, a contented snore rumbling from his fat belly as he lay sprawled across a newly exposed vein of raw green jade, its cool surface a perfect pillow. Zhenting found her there, meticulously picking a stray weed from a smooth patch of grass. He sat beside her, the formal uniform exchanged for a simple work tunic, though the stern set of his shoulders remained. “So,” he began, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it, “you’ve accepted responsibility?” Yunya looked at him, her eyes half-lidded. “On one condition.” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his gaze. “Oh? What could the wealthiest woman in the county possibly demand?” “You never, ever wake me up before ten in the morning,” she stated, her voice firm, unwavering. “Not for work points, not for state secrets, not for anything. My naps are sacred.” A slow, rare curve softened Zhenting’s lips, breaking through his habitual severity. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, rectangular tin. He opened it, revealing a pyramid of gleaming, premium malted milk candies. He picked one, its paper wrapper still intact, and held it out to her. “Deal,” he said, his voice husky. “Mrs. He.” Yunya took the candy, unwrapping it with deliberate slowness, the sweet, milky aroma filling her senses. She popped it into her mouth, a sigh of pure contentment escaping her lips. She leaned back against the warm rock, closing her eyes, the afternoon glare warming her eyelids. Daodao snored in rhythmic wheezes beside her. This, she decided, was perfection. A routine of leisure, secure rations, and the quiet indulgence of a captain who respected undisturbed rest. Just as she drifted to the precipice of sleep, Zhenting’s voice, a low rumble, tickled her ear. “Sleep well, Mrs. He,” he whispered, a hint of playful mischief in his tone. “Because tonight, you’ll be working overtime.”

Overtime