Ordinary People

The wind was scorching, the soil crimson, and the sky a faded shade of blue.

This was Camp No. 3, established by the "Horizon Foundation" in the Sahel region.

At the moment, the biggest crisis in the camp was the broken water pump—out of service for three days already.

Three days meant the only source of clean water for over 500 people had been cut off.

The air was thick with restlessness and unease.

And something else—the growing stench of despair.

Lu Qianqian stood in front of the broken pump.

She wore a wide-brimmed sun hat, a pair of worn work pants, and a simple long-sleeved sunshirt.

The arrogance of a privileged young lady from Jingzhou had long vanished from her eyes, replaced only by calm and focus.

Wrench in hand, she inspected each component alongside the camp’s local engineer.

Sweat soaked through the back of her shirt, grease smeared her hands.

This wasn’t the first time she’d done this kind of work.

Ji Wushuang stood a short distance behind her, maintaining a vigilant stance.

Water shortages bred chaos most easily.

If there was no breakthrough in half a day, Ji Wushuang would forcibly escort Lu Qianqian out of Camp No. 3 and back to the safe zone.

They couldn’t wait until desperation set in to evacuate.

"No good," the local engineer said, shaking his head helplessly.

"The core drive shaft is broken. We can’t fix it."

Lu Qianqian set down the wrench and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of black grease.

"When’s the next supply convoy due?" she asked.

"According to schedule, next week," Ji Wushuang replied.

After a pause, she added,

"But the roads are bad. It might be delayed."

Next week was too long.

The camp’s stock of bottled water would last three days at most.

And that was prioritized for children and the sick.

Lu Qianqian fell silent.

Her gaze drifted to the women and children in the distance, clutching empty buckets as they waited in silence.

Their eyes, like the parched land around them, seemed on the verge of withering.

In the office towers of Jingzhou, people debated artificial intelligence, trillion-dollar corporations, and the stars beyond.

Here, a drive shaft worth a few hundred yuan could determine the fate of hundreds.

They had to call headquarters for help.

Deploy a helicopter to airdrop parts and water.

The cost would be high, but human lives had no price.

Lu Qianqian picked up the satellite phone.

Just then, a plume of dust rose on the horizon—a jeep speeding toward the camp.

Ji Wushuang’s body tensed instantly. She pulled Lu Qianqian behind cover, her hand moving to the holster at her waist.

In this region, there were government troops, rebel forces, and countless bandits who robbed to survive.

Any unfamiliar vehicle could mean danger.

The camp’s security team tightened their grips on their aged rifles.

The jeep drew closer.

Finally, they could see—it wasn’t a military vehicle or a bandit’s pickup.

Just an ordinary jeep, the white flag of the Horizon Foundation fixed to its roof.

Lu Qianqian and Ji Wushuang froze. This wasn’t part of the plan.

The jeep stopped at the camp’s entrance.

The door opened, and a fully armed security officer stepped out first—standard protocol for the foundation in these regions.

Then, an average-built man from Xia descended from the driver’s seat.

He wore quick-dry outdoor gear, sunglasses, his appearance dust-streaked and weary.

He removed the sunglasses, revealing an utterly ordinary face.

When his eyes landed on Ji Wushuang, a tired but deeply relieved smile spread across his face.

"Wushuang."

Ji Wushuang stood completely stunned. The ice and vigilance in her expression melted away.

An indescribable emotion surged in her chest.

"Chen Lei?" Her voice carried a tremble she hadn’t even noticed herself.

"What are you doing here?"

Chen Lei—Ji Wushuang’s husband.

An ordinary man who’d spent ten years as a field engineer at a state-owned enterprise.

Average in looks, unremarkable in experience.

He’d barely left his hometown from birth through school to work.

Yet this ordinary man had crossed half the planet to get here.

Chen Lei strode over and pulled his wife into a firm embrace.

"I missed you," he said simply.

"Took a long leave from work to come see you."

He released her, then turned to Lu Qianqian.

"Ms. Lu, hello. I’m Chen Lei." He extended his hand.

Lu Qianqian shook it—a calloused but strong grip.

"Hello, Mr. Chen. Welcome."

"I heard from Wushuang that you’re short on engineers."

Chen Lei gestured to the broken pump.

"Thought I’d see if I could help."

He said it casually, as if he hadn’t traversed continents and risked his life in a warzone.

As if he’d just dropped by after work to fix a neighbor’s pipe.

Ji Wushuang looked at her husband, her eyes suddenly burning.

When she’d left Jingzhou, he hadn’t said a word—just helped her pack.

She’d thought he didn’t understand.

Didn’t understand why she’d give up a stable life to follow Lu Qianqian to a place like this.

Now she knew.

He understood everything.

He’d just been supporting her, following her, in his own way.

This man of few words had expressed all his love and courage through action.

Chen Lei wasted no time on further talk.

He opened the jeep’s trunk.

It was packed with professional toolkits and precision spare parts.

"Before coming, I studied the models and blueprints of the pumps you use here," he said, pulling out tools.

"Figured there’d be something I could do."

He crouched by the pump and began methodically inspecting it, his movements practiced and efficient.

Half an hour later, Chen Lei looked up.

"It’s fixable," he said matter-of-factly.

"The spare shaft I brought can be adapted. Needs some grinding on the joint and a custom sleeve. Give me three hours."

In that moment, Ji Wushuang thought her husband was glowing.

A light of reason that could transform despair back into hope.

For the next three hours, Chen Lei worked like a tireless machine.

Cutting, grinding, welding—sparks flying.

The local engineer assisted, handing him tools, moving materials, wiping sweat.

The entire camp gathered at a distance, watching in silence.

They watched this engineer from Xia who’d descended from the sky.

Watched as he used cold, lifeless metal to save their lives.

By evening, the setting sun bathed the land in gold.

Chen Lei tightened the last screw.

He stood, wiping grease from his face.

"Done."

He pressed the start button. The pump rumbled to life.

Seconds later, a stream of slightly murky water flowed from the outlet.

The camp erupted in thunderous cheers.

Children shrieked and dashed toward the water, letting the cool rush drench them.

The women wept with joy, clasping their hands together and bowing repeatedly in the direction of Lu Qianqian and Chen Lei.

Meanwhile, Chen Lei was having the sweat and grime on his face gently wiped away by Ji Wushuang with a towel.

For the first time, Lu Qianqian saw this side of her long-time companion, Wushuang-jie—a tenderness she hadn’t witnessed before.

Chen Lei gazed at the cheering crowd, his face breaking into a warm, humble smile.

Lu Qianqian smiled too.

Perhaps this was what it meant—an ordinary person, using their skill and kindness, to bring even the smallest yet tangible change to a broken world.