Warm sunlight filtered through the leaves of the giant oak tree, dappling the faces of the women gathered beneath its shade. Laughter, light and easy, punctuated the rhythmic crackle of walnut shells underfoot. Sue Ning sat among them, a cup of freshly brewed tea warming her hands, a genuine smile playing on her lips. For the first time since her arrival, the tension in her shoulders had eased. Only moments ago, Mrs. Liu had recounted a hilarious tale about her eldest son chasing a runaway piglet through the fields, ending with both of them tumbling into the irrigation ditch. The women had roared with mirth, their eyes crinkling at the corners, and Sue Ning had found herself laughing along, a genuine, unforced sound. She felt the shift in their perception. No longer was she the enigmatic city girl, a stranger dropped into their midst. Wu Yu’s simple words had worked wonders, weaving Sue Ning back into the familiar fabric of their community. They had gossiped about the harvests, shared recipes for pickling vegetables, and lamented the lack of good fabric in the village store. Sue Ning listened intently, absorbing every detail, every nuance of their lives. Each piece of information was a thread, a potential tool for her grand design. Her gaze swept over the women: robust, hardworking, their hands calloused, their faces etched with sun and wind. Yet, there was an undeniable strength, a resilient spirit that bound them together. She admired it, even as her own purpose remained separate, cold, and calculating. Suddenly, a distant rumble cut through the lazy afternoon chatter. Heads lifted, conversation dying down like a flickering flame. The sound grew louder, the distinct chugging of the village’s old cart, usually reserved for hauling supplies or the occasional trip to the county town. “Someone’s coming,” Mrs. Wang murmured, shielding her eyes against the glare. Her brow furrowed, a hint of concern in her tone. Unexpected visitors were rare, and usually signified something important, or troubling. Dust billowed up from the lane, a dirty brown cloud announcing the cart’s approach. It rounded the bend, the two stocky oxen straining against their yoke, their hooves kicking up more grit. Everyone watched, silent now, their walnuts forgotten. Driving the cart was the village chief, his face a thundercloud. Beside him, his son, a gangly youth barely old enough to shave, gripped the reins, his own expression grim. The air crackled with unspoken tension. Behind them, crammed into the cart’s bed, were figures. Too many figures. Ten, by Sue Ning’s quick count. Young faces, pale and bewildered, covered in a fine layer of dust. Their clothes, though rumpled, spoke of city origins: finer fabrics, less practical cuts than what the villagers wore. They were new educated youths. Four girls, their hair tied back with simple ribbons, looking apprehensive. Six boys, their shoulders slumped, their eyes wide with uncertainty. They hopped down awkwardly as the cart finally shuddered to a halt, coughing on the dust they’d stirred. All the wives glanced at each other, a silent communication passing between them. A collective sigh, almost imperceptible, seemed to ripple through the group. More mouths to feed, more adjustments to make. It was always a burden, though one the village bore out of duty. “Chief Li!” Mrs. Liu called out, her voice a little too bright. Other greetings followed, a chorus of polite but wary salutations. The chief, Li Hong, grunted in response, his frown deepening. He looked utterly exhausted. His gaze swept over the women, lingering for a moment on Sue Ning, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he returned to his pressing frustration. He cleared his throat, a dry, rasping sound. “These are the new batch of educated youths,” he announced, his voice rough. He gestured vaguely at the dusty young people, who stood in a dejected huddle, looking like lost sheep. “Ten of them. Ten!” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Apparently, we were assigned this many because, compared to the neighboring villages, we only had one batch that came six months ago. The other chiefs… they pulled one over on me, I tell you!” Li Hong grumbled under his breath, his words a barely audible string of complaints about bureaucratic inefficiency and cunning neighbors. His face was blotchy with anger, a vein throbbing in his temple. He had clearly argued, fought, but to no avail. He paced a short circle in the dust. “They say our village has ‘ample capacity’ and ‘exemplary community spirit.’ Exemplary community spirit, my foot! It’s just more work for everyone, more mouths to feed, more beds to find.” His son, who had quietly tied the oxen to the post, kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with the villagers. He knew better than to interrupt his father’s tirade. The educated youths shifted uncomfortably, hearing the chief’s thinly veiled resentment. Their faces, already pale, seemed to drain of even more color. The initial apprehension in their eyes was replaced by a dawning comprehension of the difficult reception they were receiving. Sue Ning watched them, a detached observer. They were soft, these city children. Their hands were smooth, their posture lacked the grounded resilience of the villagers. They would struggle. She knew their type; eager for a new experience, yet utterly unprepared for the harsh realities of rural life. She saw the women exchange another set of glances. Who would house them? Who would teach them the ropes? The last batch had been difficult enough, city sensibilities clashing daily with village customs. One of the younger girls, no older than sixteen, coughed, a thin, reedy sound. Her eyes darted nervously between the chief and the stony-faced village women. This was not the heroic welcome in the countryside they had been promised. “They’ll need to be settled at the Educated Youth Point,” the chief finally stated, his voice tight with lingering irritation. “Someone needs to take them there, show them the ropes. Explain… everything.” He looked around, his gaze challenging, daring anyone to refuse. Silence stretched, heavy and awkward. No one volunteered. The women looked at their feet, adjusted their aprons, or pretended to be fascinated by a distant bird. It was a chore, a burden, and no one wanted it. Sue Ning, however, saw an opportunity. A small, perfectly timed intervention. This was a chance to solidify her position, to appear indispensable, to earn the chief’s trust, and perhaps, the quiet gratitude of the other wives. She took a slow, deliberate breath. This wasn't about genuine helpfulness, not entirely. It was about strategic positioning. Every action, every word, had to serve her larger goal. The image she projected was crucial, especially now, in front of the village patriarch. Her mind raced. Guiding them herself would give her an initial advantage. She could gauge their personalities, identify potential allies or weaknesses. She could subtly influence their first impressions of the village, and by extension, of its key figures. She needed to be seen as reliable, capable, a woman who seamlessly bridged the gap between the city and the village. Her recent integration with the wives was a strong foundation. This would be the capstone. Seizing the moment, Sue Ning stood up, brushing the stray walnut shells from her apron with a fluid, graceful motion. Her movement was soft, unassuming, yet it drew every eye. With a gentle smile that perfectly balanced city politeness and village obedience, she offered to guide the newly arrived educated youths to the Educated Youth Point. Her voice was calm, clear, a soothing balm in the tense atmosphere. The village chief, visibly relieved to have the troublesome task taken off his hands, thanked her warmly, his earlier scowl softening into an expression of profound gratitude. He praised her dependability in front of the gathered wives, his words ringing through the quiet afternoon air. Another layer of the imaginary wall crumbled; she was no longer just a returning local girl but a trusted pillar of the community. --- But as Sue Ning walked away from the giant oak tree, her helpful facade instantly melted into a calculating chill. Leading the group of complaining, soft-handed city youths down the dusty lane, her gaze didn’t wander toward their destination. Instead, it locked onto a familiar figure working near the edge of the fields. It was Li Wei. He was wiping the sweat from his brow, his broad shoulders glistening under the afternoon sun, but the moment her shadow crossed his path, his movements stuttered. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and for a fleeting second, his expression wasn’t one of casual recognition—it was entirely haunted by the phantom scent of jasmine from that night. Sue Ning offered him a small, perfectly demure nod as she passed, but beneath her sleeves, her fingers twitched as a cold, mechanical chime echoed sharply inside her mind. [System Notification: Target’s subconscious anchor successfully triggered. Chaos percentage rising. Reclaiming sequence initialized.] She didn’t need to look back to know the web was tightening; the hunt had officially begun.

Volunteering at the Educated Youth Point