The cool evening air brushed against Dai Yunya’s tear-streaked face. He Zhenting waited, unmoving, his gaze firm. The threat in his voice sounded stern, yet his fingers twitched with lingering worry. She knew he wouldn’t actually arrest her, not with the way his calloused hand had trembled slightly when he’d reached for her earlier. But to move into his family compound? That was a complication she had not planned, a proximity that would make her carefully cultivated image as a fragile, lazy girl harder to maintain. Daodao nudged her hand again, his soft fur a warm anchor. Yunya straightened, wiping away the remnants of her performance. “Your home… will it be safe?” she whispered, letting a lingering hint of vulnerability tint her tone. She knew it would be. He Zhenting nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement. “Safer than here. Pack what you need. I’ll send someone to fetch your things.” He didn't wait for a reply, turning to stride back down the crag path, his silhouette swallowed by the deepening twilight. Daodao rumbled, a low, satisfied sound, as if he too understood the strategic advantage. The fat badger trotted ahead, already halfway down the slope, clearly anticipating a new place to nap. An hour later, Yunya found herself in a small, meticulously tidy room in the brigade leader's homestead. The air smelled faintly of aged wood and sun-dried linens. She set her meager belongings on the worn wooden table, feeling the unfamiliar quiet of a home that wasn’t her own. After a quick meal of millet porridge and pickled radishes, eaten in near silence with Zhenting’s stoic aunt, she excused herself. The communal washroom was a small, stone-floored shed behind the main house. Yunya pushed open the heavy wooden door, a faint flicker of lamplight escaping. She paused in the doorway. He Zhenting stood by a low basin, his back to her, a bucket of water steaming beside him. His broad shoulders, typically hidden beneath a thick, dark jacket, were bare, glistening with water and streaks of mud. His lean frame stood taut under the lamplight, but a jagged scar drew her eye, cutting from his left shoulder blade down to his right hip. The mark rose thick and red, puckered at the edges like dragged wire. He tensed, clearly sensing her presence. He didn’t turn, but his voice, when it came, was a low growl. “Can I help you, Dai Yunya?” Her cheeks warmed under the lantern glow. She looked toward the wash basin. “I… I apologize. I didn’t know it was occupied.” She mumbled, fumbling for an excuse. “I just needed to wash my face.” He exhaled slowly, the sound rough. “It’s fine. I’m almost done.” He continued to scrub the remaining mud from his skin, his movements precise and economical. Yunya, despite herself, stole another glance at the scar. The ridge of tissue bore the brutality of shrapnel rather than the honest scrape of a hoe. She quickly splashed water on her face, acutely aware of the raw power radiating from him, the vulnerability of his exposed back and the silent story etched upon it. She slipped past the door frame into the cool night air. The next morning, the Mudan brigade square erupted into shouts. Loud cries rose from the commune members gathered near the well, followed by sharp gasps. Yunya, who had been enjoying a leisurely breakfast with Daodao at her feet, strolled out past the cedar gate with a cup of herbal tea. The sight that greeted her was precisely what she had orchestrated. Rong Xueli lay writhing on the dusty ground, her smooth skin broken by weeping, raw blotches. Hives, red and swollen, erupted across every inch of exposed skin, making her look like she had been stung by a thousand hornets. Her eyes watered with sharp fury. “It’s her! It’s that demoness Dai Yunya!” Xueli shrieked, pointing a trembling, blistered finger at Yunya. “She hexed me! She blighted the East Tract! I warned you all, she’s a parasite, a witch!” Commune workers shuffled backward into the dirt, whispering among themselves. Yunya, however, remained serene. She approached Xueli, her steps light, a sweet, almost pitying smile gracing her lips. “Oh, Sister Xueli, what has happened to you?” Her voice was soft, laced with a perfect blend of sympathy and concern. She knelt beside the suffering girl, extending the cup of tea. “Here, perhaps some water will help.” Xueli slapped the cup away, sending herbal liquid splashing onto the dust. “Don’t touch me! Your evil has poisoned me!” she screamed, her voice cracking. Her face twisted into a mask of abject misery and rage. “This is your doing, Dai Yunya! Your wretched crag, your foul tongue!” Yunya simply shook her head sadly, her smile unwavering. “How could my words hurt you, Sister Xueli? I only wished you well on the lower plots. Perhaps it was the fertilizer? I did notice a strange smell…” she mused innocently, loud enough for the surrounding villagers to hear. Her glance remained clear and cheerful, an expression Daodao ignored as he dozed against her cloth shoes. He Zhenting pushed through the crowd, his face grim. He surveyed Xueli's swollen wrists, then turned straight to Yunya. He voiced no accusation, though his dark eyebrows drew together in a silent prompt. He dispatched a runner for the barefoot doctor, then addressed Yunya in an undertone. “Come with me.” Back in the quiet courtyard behind his timber fence, Zhenting faced her. “The lower plot carries poison,” he said flatly, studying her face. “The doctor believes it’s some kind of chemical irritant.” He paused, then continued, his voice softer, “You warned her about a smell, didn’t you?” Yunya nodded, her gaze demurely cast down. “Only because I genuinely smelled something peculiar. I worried for her, Captain Zhenting.” She looked up, her expression a picture of innocent distress. “But I cannot fathom why she claims I hexed her. I truly just wanted a quiet place to nap.” He Zhenting watched her for a long moment, then released a long breath into the dusty breeze. “You gave up the most fertile land, the chance for a city ticket, for a barren crag… just to nap?” His voice held a hint of disbelief, yet also a strange acceptance. Yunya offered her most earnest, sweet smile. “Yes, Captain Zhenting. I just want to sleep. Hard work is so tiring.” Another sigh escaped him, longer this time, tinged with resignation. He reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small, dented tin. He opened it, revealing a neat stack of individually wrapped malted milk candies. He held it out to her. “Take it. Just… try not to cause any more trouble while you’re napping.” Yunya blinked, genuinely startled by the sweet confection. She plucked two wrapped squares from the tin, savoring the dry, milky scent. “Thank you, Captain Zhenting. You are very kind.” He grunted, a sound that could have been agreement or exasperation. He turned to leave, but stopped short. Daodao, who had been absent for the past hour, waddled into the courtyard, his snout lifted with profound satisfaction. The fat badger’s jaws were clamped firmly around something large and irregular, caked in thick, dark mud, but undeniably smooth and green beneath the grime. It looked like a priceless, Imperial Jade artifact, and heavy boots were marching toward their gate.

Malted Milk and Mud