The cement woven bags were filled, stuffing more than a dozen bags inside.

Once the sandbags were piled up, David Sullivan and Stingy Carter and the others tied them securely with iron wire. Everyone hung ropes on them and, following the outer edge of the riverbank, slowly lowered them down.

Splash—

With the sound of water, the iron cage landed steadily in the designated spot.

“It works!” Brian Sullivan shouted, “Keep going!”

David Sullivan wiped the sweat from his forehead, still wrestling with the iron cage. One sandbag after another was passed up, filling the cage, then sent into the water to block the breach in the riverbank.

After several iron cages were put into the water, several trucks arrived. Dozens of people from Sullivan Village rushed back from the university town construction site, bringing with them crucial disaster relief supplies—gravel and cement woven bags.

They worked busily until a line of light appeared on the horizon. Using the flood-control iron cages as barriers, a thick sandbag embankment was built on the inside of the riverbank, and even the outside had three layers piled up.

With reinforcement inside and out, the chances of problems were greatly reduced.

Leaving enough people to keep watch, Brian Sullivan told everyone to rest quickly, because the water level hadn’t dropped, and there was still a tough battle ahead!

David Sullivan left the riverbank, took off his miner’s helmet, found a bucket to wash his hands, took a bun from the lunchbox delivered by Henry Scott, and sat on a sandbag by the roadside to eat.

Many people around him were either squatting or sitting, wolfing down their food without tasting it. After a night of hard work, their stomachs were already empty.

But compared to the earlier tension, the atmosphere was now relaxed, and even laughter could be heard.

After finishing the bun, David Sullivan wiped his hands on his now almost earth-colored T-shirt and glanced at the light in the east.

It was already past four o’clock!

This section of the riverbank was saved. The flood hadn’t receded yet, and David Sullivan didn’t know what would happen next, but as long as the embankment held, the people of Sullivan Village wouldn’t lose heart. They could stay united, optimistic, and get through this!

A figure appeared beside him: “I heard from your third grandpa. Well done.”

David Sullivan instinctively stood up. “Uncle…”

Jack Sullivan looked serious and got into the truck in front. “Let’s go! Time to haul gravel!”

Brian Sullivan came down from the embankment, stopped, and patted David Sullivan. “You rascal, you’ve grown up. Go back and rest quickly. The water won’t go down anytime soon, and we’ll need the young ones to hold the line.”

David Sullivan nodded slightly.

Just after his third grandpa left, the listless Stingy Carter came down from the embankment, looking back every few steps, as if still looking at the chicken cage under the pile of sandbags. The radio hanging from his wrist was now just static—no more broadcasts.

“The village will reimburse you,” David Sullivan couldn’t help but remind him. “Would third grandpa shortchange you?”

Stingy Carter sighed and suddenly said, “Dongzi, your Uncle Tie misjudged you. Jianjun is a hero, and you’re not bad either.”

David Sullivan could only remain silent. In the future… he couldn’t walk the old path again.

Chapter 4: A Man’s Promise

With daylight fully breaking, most people went home to rest for a while, leaving only a few on duty. David Sullivan didn’t go to the orchard but walked along the riverside road into Sullivan Village.

He wanted to check on the old house first.

The village had typical cement roads. It had rained recently, and in some places, a single step would sink your ankle into the mud.

Taidong Province is a populous province, with its total economic output ranking among the top in the country year after year. Quannan is the provincial capital, and last year it was promoted to a sub-provincial city. Right next to the east side of Quannan’s NS District is Qingzhao County, which has always ranked first among all counties in Quannan, often making it into the national top 100 counties, usually hovering around the eightieth spot.

Even the university town that Taidong Province and Quannan City are developing is located within Qingzhao County.

If things develop normally, in a few years, Qingzhao County will be upgraded to Qingzhao District.

But given the era and the broader social environment, even with Qingzhao County’s economy, paved roads only reached the entrance of each village. The better-off villages could subsidize a bit themselves to build a main road through the village.

Sullivan Village had paved its main street, from the south entrance of the village to the new bridge sluice on the north side of the Qingzhao River. Across the bridge was Majia Village.

This was also the official road of Qingzhao County in ancient times.

Sullivan Village has a long history. The The Sullivan Family family genealogy can be traced back to the early Ming Dynasty, having migrated from the Great Pagoda Tree in Hongtong.

With the passage of time, this official road had long since become a country lane, and the once-prosperous The Sullivan Family market had faded away with the changing times.

The Lü clan gathered in the west of the village. Most of the generation that held up the village, like his uncle, had built new houses on new foundations in the south of the village. Sullivan Street was basically all old houses.

David Sullivan trudged through the muddy road, looking at the blue-brick houses on the old street. If the embankment had broken at dawn, all of this would have been reduced to ruins in the muddy waves.

Reaching the south end of the old street, David Sullivan easily found his family’s old house.

Like most houses on the old street, the old house was built on a foundation of stone slabs, with blue-brick walls and a tiled roof, covered in the marks of time. There was no sense of antiquity, only decay.

Weeds grew on the roof, bending with the wind.

The paint on the main door was peeling, obvious signs of insect damage, but hanging on the door beam was a clean wooden plaque with a red background and yellow characters—Glorious Family!

After silently looking for a while, David Sullivan’s gaze fell on the big lock securing the door ring. Remembering something, he dug out a small piece of broken brick from the left wall, took out a key, and opened the door.

Many people in the countryside did this, mainly because there was nothing worth stealing.

Upon entering, he saw the old screen wall with cracks, tied in several places with thick iron wire, pulled back to the sturdy Chinese toon tree behind.