As Li Chenggong walked from one end of the tractor to An Ning's side, she grabbed the edge of the trailer, flipped herself up in a handstand, and landed on her feet atop the pile of sorghum.
From her high vantage point, An Ning completely ignored Li Chenggong and continued stacking the sorghum stalks.
"An Ning, An Ning!"
Li Chenggong tilted his head back and kept shouting for An Ning, his voice growing louder and louder until everyone working in the fields could hear him.
An Ning's patience was gradually wearing thin. She held a sorghum stalk in one hand.
The sorghum stalks had all been cut with sickles, leaving their bases with sharp, slanted points.
An Ning kept her back to Li Chenggong, hoping he would see how unwelcome he was and retreat. But she hadn't expected the man to be so impervious to reason, possessed of a relentless shamelessness.
"An Ning, it's me, Li Chenggong! I even had the matchmaker go to your house to propose a match."
