Volume One, Chapter Twelve: Apples and Melons

Anxious and uneasy, Zhang Shengli had yet to devise a way to distance himself from Zhou Ling, but Zhou Ling, ablaze with enthusiasm, launched an even fiercer assault.

Before noon, Zhou Ling arrived at the township government kitchen, helping Zhang Shengli pick vegetables and peel garlic. She even eagerly served rice to the staff who came for lunch, behaving as if she were one of them.

Zhang Shengli tried to politely decline Zhou Ling’s help, but she insisted with conviction, “I eat at your kitchen, and though my father pays for my meals, it’s still a bother for you all. Helping out a bit is only right!”

Zhang Shengli was left speechless, unable to refute her reasoning, so he had no choice but to let her busy herself in the kitchen.

The staff eating lunch pursed their lips, exchanging ambiguous, knowing smiles, yet none dared make any comments in Zhou Ling’s presence.

After dinner, Zhou Ling carried a large bag of things to Zhang Shengli’s broadcasting room. She produced a pile of daily necessities, and in a nylon mesh bag, several bright red apples.

On the arid, drought-stricken edge of the northwest desert, apples were a rare treasure—there were none for sale in Qinghu Town.

“Where did you get these apples?” Zhang Shengli asked.

“My mother brought them from the city for me. She said the wind and sand in Qinghu are harsh, so I should eat apples to soothe my throat...” Zhou Ling washed two apples, handed one to Zhang Shengli, and smiled, “Here, try it! See how it tastes!”

“Thank you...” Zhang Shengli took the apple but kept his head down, not eating.

“Why aren’t you eating? Is your stomach upset?” Zhou Ling asked curiously.

“No...” Zhang Shengli paused, then gathered his courage, raising his head to look directly at Zhou Ling. “I’m just a temporary cook. Why are you so good to me?”

“I... I...” Zhou Ling hadn’t expected Zhang Shengli to suddenly ask such a sensitive question so seriously. Her cheeks flushed; she hesitated, then said, “I’m new in Qinghu Town, and you’re my only friend. Of course I want to treat you well... Besides, my father always says you have potential, wants to help you enroll in the correspondence college. I’m just trying to help you! By the way, have you thought about registering?”

Quickly shifting the topic, Zhou Ling sought to hide her confusion and embarrassment.

“I haven’t decided yet... I don’t even know where to sign up.” Seeing Zhou Ling dodge the question, Zhang Shengli followed her lead and spoke about the college registration.

“This weekend I’ll take you to the city to sign up. Tomorrow, let’s go to the photo studio and take some pictures!” Zhou Ling made arrangements without waiting for his reply.

“The weekend... I’ll probably have to go home to harvest wheat...” Zhang Shengli said, furrowing his brow in distress.

“The wheat can wait a few days, but registration is a big deal—don’t let it slip!” Zhou Ling insisted, “Saturday we’ll ride in my father’s car home together. You can stay at my place, and Sunday I’ll accompany you to register. Afterwards, I’ll find you some books and study materials, and in the afternoon we’ll ride back in my father’s car.”

“Then I’ll go home and discuss it with my family, and bring my junior high diploma and household registration booklet—they’ll probably be needed for registration?” Zhang Shengli mused.

“Uh... probably, just bring whatever you can,” Zhou Ling waved her hand carelessly. “I know Uncle Liu at the education bureau very well. Even if you’re missing something, you can bring it later!”

“All right, I’ll head home now.”

Zhang Shengli stood up, ready to leave.

“What’s the rush? Today’s only Thursday; we’re not registering until Saturday. You can go home tomorrow to get your things!” Zhou Ling pouted, annoyed. “The apples I brought you aren’t eaten yet. If you leave them until tomorrow they’ll spoil—come on, eat up!”

“Alright...” Zhang Shengli wasn’t really rushing home, but hoping Zhou Ling would leave his broadcasting room soon, so others wouldn’t gossip about them.

But Zhou Ling refused to leave, so Zhang Shengli sat down and began eating the apple.

It was crisp, sweet, and juicy—not only delicious, but full of moisture.

Still, Zhang Shengli felt that these expensive, high-quality apples weren’t as tasty as the honey melons from the sandy fields.

Early the next morning, Zhang Shengli delivered water as usual to the offices and dormitories.

When he reached Huang Shigui’s dormitory, he found Huang brushing his teeth and speaking in a mocking tone, “Little Zhang, I hear Zhou Ling has your broadcasting room fixed up more lavishly than Deputy County Chief Zhou’s office?”

“Uh...” Zhang Shengli paused, ignoring the comment, picked up the kettle, and prepared to leave.

“Stop right there!” Huang Shigui spat out his mouthful of water and angrily called out, “I don’t care about your nonsense, but Township Chief Zhao asked me to pass on a message.”

“Township Chief Zhao sent you? Why didn’t he speak to me directly?” Zhang Shengli turned to ask.

“Hmph! Look at yourself—a temporary cook, and you expect the township chief to talk to you personally?” Huang Shigui sneered. “He wants me to remind you: don’t be like a mouse on the scales, not knowing your own weight! You’re a poor country boy, and yet you have the nerve to covet the county chief’s daughter, sneaking her into your room every night?”

“I never coaxed her; she comes of her own accord. There’s nothing I can do about it,” Zhang Shengli replied calmly, neither proud nor humble.

“Nonsense! If it weren’t for your sweet talk, would Zhou Ling be interested in a country bumpkin like you?” Huang Shigui muttered angrily. “Don’t think Deputy County Chief Zhou has spoken a few good words for you and you can start getting ideas. He’ll soon drop the ‘deputy’ from his title. Do you really think he’ll let his precious daughter marry a temporary cook like you?”

“This is my personal business; none of your concern!” Zhang Shengli snapped.

“What? Are you saying you don’t want to work anymore?”

“Fine, I’ll quit. You don’t scare me! I’ll just go back home and farm—it’s nothing special,” Zhang Shengli said, staring Huang Shigui down.

He’d anticipated Huang Shigui would seize on this pretext, and was already mentally prepared to resign.

“Alright! Finish out this week and then get lost. I’ll find someone else!” Huang Shigui snarled.

“Whatever.” Zhang Shengli tossed the words over his shoulder and strode out, leaving Huang Shigui fuming, unable to recover for a long time.

Friday at noon, after lunch, Zhou Ling pulled Zhang Shengli to Qinghu’s only photo studio to take a passport photo.

“Since we’re here, let’s take a picture together!” Without waiting for permission, Zhou Ling pulled Zhang Shengli onto the bench for a portrait.

Zhang Shengli sat upright, his expression solemn. Zhou Ling, meanwhile, leaned her head toward him, her smile as radiant as spring flowers.

“Make the prints rush order for us—I’ll pick them up tomorrow afternoon!” Zhou Ling told the photographer, paid, and Zhang Shengli said nothing.

After work, Zhang Shengli asked Zhou Ling to help turn off the broadcast, while he rode his bicycle home.

He didn’t mention going to the city to register, only saying that the township was recording his information.

Getting into the correspondence college was no easy feat; whether he could even enroll was uncertain, so it was best not to worry his family.

He asked his mother, Wang Taoxiang, for the household registration booklet and diploma, and told them he’d be working overtime over the weekend and couldn’t help with the wheat harvest.

“Don’t worry about home. Now that you’re working for the state, you have to take orders and do well!” Zhang Yongtai said.

“That’s right. Take your things and hurry on. If you sleep at home tonight, you’ll have to rush back to the township early tomorrow,” Wang Taoxiang added.

“Alright, I’ll head out then.”

Zhang Shengli took the registration booklet and diploma, mounted his bicycle, and rode out of the village; the sky was already pitch black.

“Brother Shengli!”

He saw Li Ying standing beneath a tree at the crossroads, calling to him softly, glancing about shyly, afraid of being seen.