Zhaonü sat indifferently beneath the spring sun， her face pale. All around the village were tall dark mountains， sun skipping over the ridges， illuminating verdant fields and golden yellow rapeseed flowers， along with their father heading for the wheat fields， a shoulder pole of dung creaking across his shoulders， the light blue cloth around his chest soaked with sweat. Madam said， "Zhaonü， you've finished senior high， and it's coming on two years since you came home. Maintaining a house is something you should do for yourself."
Turning her head， Zhaonü said， one word at a time， "Madam， I'm going to find the Village Head."
Madam was flabbergasted.
"What's the use of getting the Village Head？"
"Zhaonü's right，" Yingnü said. "The village lacks someone who can be a teacher."
Madam hadn't thought of this. She fell into contemplation， the sun adding something to her wrinkles.
"Zhaonü， you know people of our family have courage."
Zhaonü said she knew.
Madam then said， "We've never had to go begging for a handout."
"I'm not going to beg，" she said. "I only want what I deserve."
At midday the farmers headed dispiritedly home， where the smoke winded its way up from the chimneys.
Madam squinted and watched Zhaonü's frail silhouette pass across the rapeseed flowers， light hands swinging at her side as she disappeared into the distance.
Madam took a nap. Just as the rest of the farmers were finishing lunch and each going down to the fields， she saw Zhaonü returning between the paddy fields， white flower-patterned blouse clinging tight around her body， fine beads of sweat on her nose， cheeks red.
Madam understood. Supporting herself as she rose， she called Yingnü to bring a glass of tea.
"Life needn't be difficult， Zhaonü—you don't have to be so stubborn."
"I'm going to town tomorrow，" Zhaonü said， wiping away the sweat.
"To town？"
"To find the Chief."
Suddenly Father stood before her.
"You think it'll be that easy， eh？" He said， taking the pole of manure from his shoulders.
On the fifth day of the lunar calendar month， Father took Zhaonü and Yingnü to the markets in town， the girls attracting attention as if he was carrying two flowers in his kerchief. Father soaked up the envious gazes， walking solemnly with his hands behind his back.
Luckily， just as they reached the flagstone entrances of market， they heard people greeting the Chief one after another， as the crowd splitted into two sides， leaving a path in the middle.
Father stopped and called out to the Chief. Like a chicken pecking at rice， the Chief looked up and down the stalls lining on either side of the street， bobbing his head as people called， hands clasped tight behind his back.
Zhaonü looked at him first time. He seemed to be in his thirties and wore a deep yellow uniform. His hair was carefully combed， parted in the middle， exposing a thin， pale scalp. But what stood out on his thin face were a pair of bookish spectacles—like a school teacher. Father watched the Chief for some time as he went into the distance， sighing， "Zhu Guocai—such a man！"
In private， Father， like the other residents of Dragon Boat Village， would mention the Chief by his name rather than his title with a sense of intimate affection in the voice.
Father said the Chief was a "somebody" . His family used to be unfortunate. His four brothers only knew how to work themselves to death， but the Chief was smart， and studied， and so he became who he was today. He is in charge of some seven or eight thousand people. Isn't that something？
"Seven or eight thousand. Do you think …"
"Father， you don't need to say anything. I'm going to go anyway，" Zhaonü said.
Madam sighed.
Yingnü put her arm around her sister's shoulders， breathing warm air onto Zhaonü's face and said， "I'll go with you."
The next day they went， exactly as they said. The miles vanishing like a wisp of smoke as they arrived in town. The town government lay in a two-storey building of earthen walls and black tiles， towering coldly over the town， like a man with yellow face crouching expressionlessly on the hills behind the town.
Zhaonü and Yingnü were sweaty and damp as they entered the building. A spicy smell assailed their nostrils. The dusky halls were piled with dark plastic bags full of ammonium fertiliser. They heard someone shouting that the meeting has begun， and then people came out from the rooms on either side of the corridor in twos and threes， carrying stationery and teacups， and began to head upstairs. The Chief flashed by in the passage， face taut.
Mustering courage， Zhaonü called out to him.
He did not turn around.
"Yingnü， do you think he heard？"
Yingnü cocked her head and looked at the gaudy family planning propaganda adorning the corridor walls.
"Maybe not， but still—you've got a voice like a mosquito's buzz. It's pretty hard to hear."
"Rubbish， I called him pretty loudly！"
Yingnü just smiled.
A moment passed. Upstairs， the rustle of feet and voices fell to silence， and only the sound of the Chief speaking was audible， slow but indistinct， its modulation like the waters of Dragon Boat River， a slow forward movement.
Yingnü grew impatient of listening.
"Zhaonü， my legs are sore. Why don't we just hang out in the town and come back later？"
Zhaonü hesitated a moment.
"What if they were to finish just as we left？"