Interstellar to 80s: A Scientist's Farming Mission

"Aaaah—Oww—my nose! What kind of driving is that!"

The creepy old man wailed, but the bus driver ignored him completely, yelling back even louder, "Don’t you know to hold on tight? For an old man, you sure don’t know how to ride a bus."

The driver’s domineering attitude left the old man speechless.

He was a public employee, and back then, that meant you could be just this brazen.

Besides, the driver had been operating the bus normally. No one else on the entire bus had fallen except for the old man. What could he do but suck it up?

The old man clutched his nose and suddenly turned his attention to An Ning.

"Hey, girlie, give me a hand."

Perhaps it was the thought of touching her soft, young hand, but the old man’s anger instantly dissolved into anticipation.

’Lecherous old fool!’

That was the only thought in An Ning’s mind.

’Still, I should help him...’

"Here, here, let me help you."

An Ning looked just like a naive college student, innocent of the world’s ways. Her face was full of enthusiasm as she extended her hand, acting as if helping others was her life’s mission.

"Agh! What was that? It stabbed me!"

The old man let out another yelp. An Ning stared at her own hand, looking helpless, and said in a panicked, worried voice, "Oh, I forgot! I was mending my gloves and forgot to take the needles out."

Sure enough, An Ning, in her gloves, had three embroidery needles hidden in her palm, which were now lodged firmly in the old man’s hand.

"Um, mister... could you give me my needles back? They cost several cents each, you know."

An Ning’s tone was the very picture of sincerity. The old man, wheezing, pointed a trembling hand at her and choked out, "You’ll pay for this!"

"Huh? That doesn’t seem right. You want to pay *me*? Why? Is there something wrong with your blood?"

"Oh my god!"

An Ning feigned terror, trying to recoil, but there was nowhere to go.

"Is it contagious? I don’t want the needles back, you can have them! Honestly..."

An Ning’s words trailed off suggestively, making the old man so angry he felt faint. ’Is this girl a complete moron?!’

"I meant—a set-up—BAM!"

Before the old man could finish his sentence, the bus screeched to a halt, and he went down again.

Same spot, same motion, but with even more force.

This time, the bridge of the old man’s nose looked slightly caved in. It was probably broken.

"This is the stop! Get off now!"

The bus pulled up to another stop. An Ning waved to the old man. "I don’t need the needles back. You take care now."

As she said "take care," An Ning patted the old man’s shoulder with her gloved hand, leaving a few more embroidery needles behind.

"Agh! You—you—WHAM!"

Before the old man could finish his cry, the bus lurched forward again, and he slammed right back into the central support pole.

This time, he seemed to have knocked himself silly. He was seeing stars, completely dazed and confused.

The other passengers instinctively cleared a small space around the old man. They would rather step on each other’s feet than get close to this unlucky fellow with the unknown, contagious disease.

The old man had to suffer the humiliation in silence. He wasn’t seen on the bus again for a long, long time.

Meanwhile, An Ning, having gotten off the bus, was in a cheerful mood as she walked the last stretch of her journey to pick up Xiao Lang.

Coincidentally, she ran into Yu Zheng walking Xiao Lang halfway there.

Yu Zheng trailed behind Xiao Lang, muttering, "My little ancestor, are we done with our walk yet?"

Xiao Lang’s answer was a haughty little glance over his shoulder before he continued to strut forward, head high and chest puffed out.

Seeing how humbled Yu Zheng looked, An Ning couldn’t help but wonder what on earth Xiao Lang had put him through.

"Xiao Lang!"

At her call, Yu Zheng felt the leash suddenly go taut in his hand. It slipped from his grasp as the creature on the other end shot forward.

Yu Zheng remained where he was, not bothering to chase. He was just wondering, ’What kind of breed is this... wolf, anyway?’

Xiao Lang barreled into An Ning’s arms, his eyes glancing at her leg, the one that was no longer in a cast.

"Heh, see? I’m all better. Aren’t you happy?"

Xiao Lang completely ignored her, simply finding a comfortable position in her arms and settling down.

"Hey, what do you think you’re doing? I’m not carrying you all the way home."

No matter what An Ning said, Xiao Lang went limp like a pile of mud, stubbornly refusing to get down.

"You’re so lazy."

Though she complained, An Ning started walking with him in her arms. She waved to Yu Zheng, ready to head home.

"I’ll walk you back."

"No need. It’ll be good exercise for my leg."

Carrying Xiao Lang, An Ning said goodbye to Yu Zheng and started for home. She passed a few small food stalls along the way and bought a few things, saving herself the trouble of making dinner that evening.

Time flew by, and soon it was the night of the New Year’s Gala.

Over the past two days, more and more rumors had spread about An Ning’s performance being terrible, that she had pulled strings to get in, and that she was a bully. Those who wanted to believe, did. Those who didn’t, didn’t.

The New Year’s Gala was scheduled to start at seven in the evening and end at nine.

An Ning wasn’t worried. She spent her time at the opera house, practicing her erhu and suona duet.

At the opera house, An Ning and Jiang Xia played together with a decent sense of harmony, but in truth, neither of them was particularly skilled.

After they finished a piece, the master who was teaching them asked with brutal honesty, "Your school has so many people from all over the country. Couldn’t they really not find any other act?"

The old man’s question was a dagger to An Ning’s heart.

"Uncle Hu, you’re being a little *too*... honest."

Mr. Hu Sr., the erhu instructor, stroked his beard. "I can’t help it. I’ve spent too much time with you. Bad habits rub off."

An Ning’s eyes widened. She pointed a finger at her own chest. "*I’m* the ink?"

Jiang Xia chimed in from the side, "Or the ’black’ part."

"Hahahahahaha!"

Amid the uproarious laughter, there was also a hint of bittersweet reluctance.

Everyone had enjoyed the time Jiang Xia and An Ning had spent learning there. Most importantly, the two of them paid.

"The thing is... I haven’t earned enough money from you yet. But with your skill level, I’m genuinely too embarrassed to let you keep paying for lessons."

Mr. Hu Sr. sighed dramatically. "After all this time, I really have nothing to show for my teaching."

Mr. Hu Sr. had his own roundabout way of saying the two had no talent, but Jiang Xia and An Ning never got angry. This was just part of their daily routine.

You make fun of me for being terrible, and I’ll make fun of you for being broke.

Their back-and-forth banter had forged a friendship that transcended their age difference.

"It’s so lively in here."

A melodious voice, silent footsteps. Without even looking, they knew it was the opera house’s famous star, Haitang.

Haitang had already removed his stage makeup. He wore a white Tang-style jacket over a long, traditional gown, with black cloth shoes on his feet. He looked like a well-read young gentleman from the Republican era.

Everyone exchanged greetings and chatted pleasantly.

When it was time, An Ning and Jiang Xia picked up their instruments and left.

Mr. Hu Sr., the erhu master, saw Haitang still staring after them. He clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If you like her, go after her."

"You’re joking, sir."

"What’s there to joke about? You, you rascal, not a single honest word ever comes out of your mouth. That girl, An Ning—who wouldn’t like her!"

Mr. Hu Sr. grumbled, but Haitang just smiled faintly. "Some feelings don’t need to be worn on one’s sleeve."

Haitang left. Mr. Hu Sr. sighed but didn’t dare meddle any further.

’Besides,’ he thought, ’that Jiang Xia is more than meets the eye.’

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