Yingtao stared at the unconscious man. His expensive charcoal coat was already acquiring a muddy sheen, a stark contrast to the immaculate tailoring that screamed ‘otherworldly wealth’. He lay utterly still, a silent, pale heap, freezing the breath in her throat. The twins were still napping. If she just… left him there? No, the brigade cadre, Leader Liu, would have questions, and Yingtao’s reputation was already thinner than old rice paper. “Oh dearie me!” she chirped, forcing a smile that felt brittle. “He’s so pale! Maybe he just needs a little… splash of cold water to wake up!” She grabbed the nearest pail, overflowing with murky rain runoff she’d collected for washing clothes. Her eyes darted to the wooden pail hidden behind the chicken coop—a container she’d just filled with potent, mineral-rich spring water from her farming dimension, intended for her wilting cabbage patch. A mischievous glint, quickly suppressed, danced in her eyes. She lifted the rain pail, then, with a dramatic, wobbly stumble that would earn an award in another life, twisted her body. The heavy, space-filled vat slipped from her grasp, arcing through the air. Instead of the murky rain water, a crystal-clear cascade, shimmering faintly under the grey sky, drenched the fallen man head to toe. The man gasped, a shudder ripping through his frame. His eyes, a startlingly dark shade of obsidian, flew open, fixed on her. His ragged breathing smoothed out, a deep, steady rhythm taking hold. Color rushed back to his face, erasing the deathly pallor as if by magic. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking around with a dazed, yet incredibly sharp, gaze. Just then, a shriek pierced the morning air. “Yingtao, you good-for-nothing hussy! What have you done to this rich gentleman?!” Old Madam Wei, her face a mask of avarice, barrelled through the gate, her tattered slippers squelching in the mud. Her eyes, usually narrowed with suspicion, were wide with greed, fixed on the sleek black sedan. “Oh, honored guest! My apologies for my dim-witted daughter-in-law! She’s always been butter-fingered. A little too reckless, if you ask me! Are you hurt? Come, come, let this old woman help you!” She extended a gnarled hand, ready to paw at the man’s expensive coat, her voice dripping with false concern. Yingtao plastered on her most vacant, sunny look. “Mama! I was just trying to help! He looked so hot and bothered!” She took a step back, feigning shock. “Oh, Mama, watch out for that… that tricky patch of mud!” She gestured vaguely. As Old Madam Wei, already reaching for the man, turned her head to follow Yingtao’s gaze, Yingtao’s foot, in another display of award-winning theatricality, ‘slipped’ on a loose stone. Her flailing arm, seemingly by pure accident, smacked Old Madam Wei squarely on the back, right between the shoulder blades. The old woman screeched, lost her footing, and toppled forward with a resounding splash, landing face-first in the very same muck puddle the collective's prized sow had just vacated. A chorus of gasps erupted from the scattering of curious villagers who had gathered, drawn by the black car and the ensuing commotion. At that precise moment, Leader Liu, a stern man with spectacles perched on his nose, rounded the corner of the shared storage shed, his stride purposeful. He paused, his gaze sweeping from the sleek sedan, to the now fully upright, elegantly dressed man, to Old Madam Wei sputtering indignantly in the mud, then finally to Yingtao, who stood with her hands clasped, a picture of innocent, wide-eyed concern. “Leader Liu! Oh, Leader Liu!” Old Madam Wei shrieked, hauling herself out of the mud, her face streaked with grime and fury. “This witch pushed me! She’s trying to hurt our honored guest!” Yingtao’s lower lip trembled, her eyes welling up with perfectly calibrated tears. “Mama, no! I just… I tripped! It was an accident! I was trying to help the nice gentleman, and then I slipped, and then Mama was there, and then… oh dear!” She wrung her hands, a picture of helpless distress. The stranger watched her, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching the corners of his lips. Leader Liu sighed, adjusting his spectacles. He knew Old Madam Wei’s theatrics well. “Old Madam Wei, control yourself! And wipe that mud off your face. What is this commotion? And who is this guest?” He turned to Zongyan, his expression one of cautious respect. Zongyan, his voice surprisingly deep and smooth, replied, “I am Shen Zongyan. I am here to discuss potential investments in the region.” His gaze flickered to Yingtao, a hint of something unreadable in their depths. “And this young woman, despite her… enthusiastic attempts to help, has been quite hospitable.” Old Madam Wei spluttered, but Leader Liu, eager to impress an investor, quickly herded her away, admonishing her for her unseemly behavior. Yingtao watched them go, her bubbly smile still in place, but the glint in her eyes hardened. She needed to know everything brewing in this settlement, every whisper, every scheme. And for that, she needed eyes and ears. Later that afternoon, under the shade of a gnarled jujube tree, Yingtao found Wang Daniu, the valley’s notorious layabout. He was ostensibly napping, a straw hat pulled over his face, but Yingtao knew he was merely avoiding his assigned task of clearing weeds from the communal vegetable patch. A faint snore escaped his lips. “Daniu-ge!” Yingtao chirped, her voice bright enough to cut through the afternoon haze. “Daniu-ge, are you awake?” Daniu stirred, grumbling. “Who’s there? Can’t a man get some peace?” He pushed his hat up, revealing bleary eyes. Yingtao knelt, pulling a small, oil-stained paper package from her basket. The aroma that wafted out was rich, savory, and utterly intoxicating. It was the scent of steamed pork buns, freshly made from her space, plump with succulent, seasoned meat and tender cabbage. The kind of bun that only appeared in dreams during famine times. Wang Daniu’s eyes, once bleary, snapped open, wide and alert. He sniffed the air, his pupils dilating. “What… what is that smell?” “Oh, just a little something I whipped up!” Yingtao said, her smile angelic. “A few extra pork buns. My old mama taught me a special recipe. They’re so delicious, so filling! But they’re a lot of work, you know, Daniu-ge.” She held the package just out of his reach. “I was thinking, it would be wonderful to have someone with keen eyes and sharp ears, someone who knows everything that goes on around our hamlet, to maybe… keep an eye out for me. Just little things, you know? Like if anyone tries to… borrow… my chickens, or if there’s talk of a good patch for wild herbs.” She looked at him expectantly, her gaze innocent but direct. Daniu stared at the buns, his mouth watering. He swallowed hard. “Every rumor, you say? Even who’s saying what about whom?” “Especially that!” Yingtao chirped, pushing the package into his eager hands. “Just a little whisper here and there, Daniu-ge. And I promise, there will always be more of these special buns for my best helper.” Daniu tore into a bun, moaning with delight. The rich pork, the fluffy dough – it was heaven. His loyalty, previously nonexistent, solidified with every bite. “You got it, Yingtao! Old Daniu will be your eyes and ears. Nobody will mess with you without me knowing first!” Back at her shack, Zongyan was already sitting on her low wooden stool, surprisingly comfortable for a man of his stature, sipping tea from a chipped ceramic mug. He observed her as she entered, his dark eyes missing nothing. The twins, Lanhua and Jinhai, were now awake, crawling happily on the dirt floor, playing with a wooden doll, oblivious to the drama unfolding. He watched Yingtao’s transformation from the bubbly, ditsy airhead to the thoughtful woman who had just subtly secured a spy. “You are not as simple as you pretend to be, Wei Yingtao,” Zongyan stated, his voice quiet, yet firm. There was no accusation in his tone, only keen observation. He had seen the deliberate stumble, the calculated tears, the way her eyes, for a brief moment, had held a flicker of ruthless amusement. “And that was no ordinary water.” Yingtao blinked, her innocent smile faltering for a split second before reappearing, wider than before. “Oh, honored visitor! What do you mean? It was just… good old well water! Maybe it had some extra… spring in its step today!” She giggled, a light, airy sound. She picked up Lanhua, tickling her until the baby gurgled with joy, using the child as a shield to hide her composure. She met his gaze, her expression unreadable while she maintained her façade flawlessly. Zongyan merely chuckled, a low, pleasant sound. “Maybe. But I assure you, Wei Yingtao, I am not easily fooled.” His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than strictly necessary, a strange admiration dawning in his eyes. Just then, Lihua strolled in, a saccharine smile on her face. “Cousin Yingtao! I was just passing by and saw the commotion! Is everything alright with our honored guest?” She fussed over Zongyan, straightening a nonexistent wrinkle on his coat. “Oh, Yingtao, I almost forgot! About those extra padded winter coats for you and the twins? I know how forgetful you can be, so I moved them for safekeeping. Don’t worry, I hid your extra winter coats in the commune yard... exactly where no one will look.”

Buns, Bribes, and a Billionaire