Li Yichen woke each morning to the sounds of the countryside: roosters crowing, wind rustling through the bamboo, and the faint splash of the river winding past the village. The small yard outside the house smelled of damp earth and herbs; his aunt, Wang Shulan, was already up, sweeping the dirt path and coaxing the younger children awake.
He stretched, feeling the ache in his muscles from yesterday's chores. Though he was twenty, he worked alongside his cousins, carrying water, repairing fences, and sometimes hauling produce to the market in Chenjia Town, a half-hour walk from their home. Life was simple, but it demanded effort.
Li Yichen's mother had died when he was a newborn. Wang Shulan had taken him in without question, raising him alongside her three children. The eldest, Chen Mingyu, was seventeen—practical, serious, and already shouldering responsibilities heavier than his age allowed. Then there were Chen Meixiu and Chen Meilan, still children at fourteen and twelve, curious and playful, often leaving Li Yichen to chase after their mischievous antics. And finally, his young cousin Liangliang, only eight, small but surprisingly brave.
Despite the close family, Yichen carried a restless energy. He was physically strong, intelligent, and curious, but his life in the countryside left him yearning for more. Farming and hauling were necessary, but they were not enough. His body was hardened by labor, but his mind craved challenge.
Mornings often began with a trip to the river. Yichen and the children loved to swim, especially when the heat pressed down on the village. The river's current was mild most days, but it demanded respect. Yichen knew the dangers, yet the laughter of his cousins made caution easy to forget.
"Yichen, race me to the willow tree!" Liangliang shouted one morning, splashing water at him.
"Not today," Yichen replied with a grin, pretending to be too tired to run. But when Mingyu and the girls joined in, he relented. They laughed and pushed each other, the water splashing and sparkling under the morning sun.
Afterward, they would haul baskets of vegetables to the Chenjia County Market, selling whatever they could spare from their small fields: corn, cabbages, tomatoes. The economy of the 1990s was fragile but growing. A basket of corn could fetch 3 yuan, a small bundle of tomatoes 2 yuan, and four freshly fried dumplings cost about 20 cents at a roadside stall. Yichen learned to calculate profits quickly, knowing that a single 1-yuan coin could stretch for necessities or save for emergencies.
His aunt often reminded him, "Yichen, one day you will need to handle more than chores. Keep your mind sharp. Observe the city merchants, note how they sell. Learn while you work."
He obeyed, watching carefully, comparing prices, noting which goods sold fastest, and imagining how trade could expand beyond their little farm. Even in youth, he thought like a businessman in miniature.
Yet, for all his practicality, Yichen carried a sense of recklessness. He was confident in his swimming, bold in the fields, and fearless with the children. He never considered the limits of his body—until the day the river proved him wrong.
The memory came unbidden: laughter echoing across the water, the girls shrieking as Liangliang splashed, Mingyu cautioning him, and his own pride pushing him further than he should have gone.
He remembered the sharp shock of cold water, the current tugging at him, and the sudden panic when his lungs refused to fill. Liangliang's small voice ran through his memory: "Help! Uncle! Uncle! He's sinking!"
By the time he surfaced, his aunt and neighbors were running, and the young nurse Zhou Wenqing, visiting her parents in the village, had been the one to pull him fully to safety. Without her steady hands, he might not have survived.
Li Yichen lay back in the memory, feeling the pulse of gratitude mixed with shame. He had been careless. He had tested his luck too boldly. But that accident also revealed his character: brave, impulsive, and protective of those he loved. He had grown up responsible yet adventurous, capable of thinking quickly and taking initiative when the situation demanded it.
Evenings were quieter. After chores, they gathered around a small wooden table in the house, sharing the modest meals of rice, vegetables, and occasionally fish. One yuan could stretch to a pair of shoes for Mingyu, or a few dumplings for the younger children. Every coin was precious, yet laughter and conversation filled the gaps where money could not.
"Yichen," Wang Shulan said one evening as he polished tools for the next day's work, "remember to help Liangliang with his reading tomorrow. And keep an eye on Meixiu and Meilan near the river."
"I will," he replied, smiling faintly. "I'll make sure no one gets into trouble."
She studied him, a trace of worry in her eyes. "Don't forget yourself, either. You are strong, but even strong boys can get swept away."
He laughed softly, a little bitterly, thinking about the near-tragedy at the river. "I won't forget, Aunt. I'll be careful… mostly."
The words were said lightly, but the determination behind them was real. Li Yichen had survived once. He would not be careless again.
As night fell over the small village, the stars rising over Yuxi County, he felt the weight of responsibility settle on him—not as a burden, but as a quiet fuel. Life here was hard. Resources were scarce. The economy was tight. But he had family, he had strength, and he had knowledge of the world around him.
In the gentle glow of lantern light, Li Yichen closed his eyes, already imagining tomorrow: the river, the fields, the market stalls, and the small victories of every yuan earned. Every decision mattered. Every act of caution or bravery shaped the life he had—a life he now knew could end in a single mistake.