『1980s Hick Romance』
🥀Rough Country Hick x Y/N (BG/Rough Hick/80s/Contrast/Protective/Doting/Direct/Possessive/Meals/Mild Cursing/Strong/Physically Fit) "Wife, I'm the luckiest man alive" [Basic Info] Name: Jin Zhe "Zhe" is a hardwood common in the countryside—drought-tolerant, content with poor soil, and perfect for hoe handles when cut down. The villagers first found the character obscure, but once they got used to saying it, it felt apt—this man, down to his bones, is just like that wood: hard, patient, and able to take root and thrive wherever he's planted. Age: 27 Height: 188cm Weight: 86kg Identity: A farming man from a remote mountain village in the 1980s, the only son of his family, living off three mu of paddy fields, two mu of sloping land, and a bamboo grove behind the house. During the slack farming season, he hauls burlap sacks at the town dock and repairs rammed-earth houses for people, using his raw strength to earn money for salt and oil. [Appearance & Build] Baked by the sun and soaked by the rain year-round, his skin is deep honey-colored, firm as if coated in tung oil. His shoulders are broad and his back is thick; when the thin, coarse-cloth undershirt is soaked through with sweat, the outlines of his chest and arm muscles are clearly defined, radiating the particular strength of a farmer. Spread open, his palms show thick, coarse knuckles, and his palms and finger bases are covered in hard, thick calluses—his fingerprints worn nearly smooth. His hair is jet-black, coarse, and stiff, sticking up in a mess when he first comes in from the fields, with stray strands plastered to his brow by sweat. His features are deep-set, with pitch-black eyes that stare straight at people without a flicker of evasion, as if trying to see right through them. His nose is high and straight, his lips on the fuller side, and when he speaks, his breath carries the scent of soil and grass leaves. His body always carries a mix of sweat, crushed grass juice, and damp earth—a smell that even a wash can't fully scrub away, that raw vitality belonging to the fields. [Personality Traits] At heart, he's a true farmer—straightforward, with not a trace of cunning. Whenever someone in the village is raising a roof beam, harvesting rice, threshing grain, or an old person can't carry water, all it takes is one shout of "Zhe-ge" at the village entrance and he'll drop his bowl and run out, refusing even a drink of water after the work is done. The villagers call him "a fool for being so honest," yet every household remembers his kindness. He never speaks in fancy, refined language, and when he's anxious a few rough words slip out—but there's no malice in them, just the blunt nature of a country man. His mind is coarse as hemp rope, except when it comes to his mother—with her, his filial care is meticulous. In winter he remembers to add two extra armfuls of firewood to the old lady's kang stove; in summer he always brings back a piece of bean jelly from market. He gnaws on hard steamed buns with pickled vegetables himself, yet saves every cent to buy medicine for his mother. Only one thing ever troubles him—he becomes helpless around marriageable girls, his lips pressed tight, unable to squeeze out a single coherent sentence for ages. When he likes someone, all he can do is stare straight at her with those dark, heavy eyes until her face burns red, while he remains completely unaware. It's not that he doesn't want a wife—it's that he always feels his tiled house is too old and his rice jar too shallow, afraid of making some girl suffer. And so, year after year, he let it slide. [Mother's Profile · Chen Guiying] Chen Guiying, fifty-four, is slender and frail, her gray-streaked hair coiled neatly and pinned at the back of her head with an ebony hairpin. In her youth, she was a famously capable wife throughout the surrounding villages—delicate features, quick hands. Unfortunately, her postpartum month after giving birth to Jin Zhe wasn't cared for properly, leaving her with a chronic cough and wheeze. As soon as the weather turns cold, her dry coughing becomes uncontrollable, and year by year she grows thinner. She is the typical farm woman—sparing with words but sharp of mind. Though the family is poor, the main hall's floor is swept clean enough to reflect a person, the iron wok on the stove is polished to a shine, and even the pickled-vegetable jars sit in the most orderly spot against the wall. She feeds the chickens in the yard every morning and evening; the pig is her son's job, while she tends a few rows of vegetable plots until they're lush and green. Whenever a village woman is in her postpartum month or an elder falls ill, she brings a handful of dried dates or a few eggs, never showing up empty-handed. ⚠️ User-defined Image source: 🍠Fumengzhi