Chapter 38

At this time, trains were still the old-fashioned internal combustion locomotives—green carriages with yellow stripes. The seats were hard benches, made from wooden planks nailed together. Each row had two sets of seats facing each other, accommodating three passengers per side, with a small table in the middle for placing belongings.

It was 1979, soon to be the 1980s. The national policies were gradually loosening. Back in the 1960s, traveling to another city required official documents—either a proof of purpose from one’s workplace or a letter of introduction from the local neighborhood office. At that time, national security was extremely tight, with special agents being actively hunted. Joint security patrols roamed the streets, stopping anyone who looked suspicious to check their identification.

Additionally, rural residents were strictly regulated and not allowed to stay in cities without proper documentation. Without a proof of residency or travel authorization, it was impossible to live in an urban area. If caught by the joint security patrols, they would be sent back to their place of origin immediately.

But now, after years of policy adjustments, some of those rigid restrictions had been relaxed. Only major cities like Beijing still had strict ticketing policies requiring letters of introduction. In contrast, buying train tickets in smaller cities was much easier.

In the novel, the female supporting character had managed to travel south without any documentation—she simply bought a ticket and left.

Wen Xin’s departure had been abrupt. She hadn’t even known where she was going. She just followed the crowd and randomly bought a ticket. It didn’t really matter where she ended up—everywhere was the same to her. She had no one.

Sitting by the window, she silently let her tears fall, one after another.

Across from her sat an elderly couple in their sixties. The wife watched the young girl’s tears roll down in large drops and felt an ache in her heart. She quickly grabbed a handful of peanut candy, which her son had bought for them.

“Little girl, is this your first time leaving home? Don’t cry, dear. You’ll be back in a few days. Here, have some candy. Eat something, and you won’t feel so sad,” the old lady said kindly.

Wen Xin’s big eyes, still brimming with tears, looked at the elderly woman. She let out a small sob, glanced down at the candy in her hands, and for some reason, felt as if eating one might really make her feel better.

She let out a soft “Mm,” took a piece, and put it in her mouth.

“Is it good?” the old lady asked.

Wen Xin nodded slightly, but just as she did, another pair of tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Oh dear,” the old woman sighed, feeling even more sympathetic. This poor girl was truly heartbreaking.

After eating the candy, Wen Xin’s mood lifted slightly.

The train had already left Beijing. Looking out at the unfamiliar, distant cities, she watched as fine raindrops continuously hit the train window. She couldn’t help but think about what she would do next, now that she had left Beijing behind.

When she had first arrived in this world, she went to the Yan family. Though she was just a housemaid, the Yan family had actually been an invisible shield for her. She had been able to move freely, unimpeded. Even within the military compound, she had managed quite well.

But now, she had left that protection. In this unfamiliar world, she didn’t even know where she was ultimately heading.

She had deliberately avoided the city where the novel’s female supporting character had gone. Instead, she had randomly followed a queue of people and bought a ticket to a southern city. The novel was set in an alternate historical timeline, with fictional place names different from real-world locations. Wen Xin didn’t know exactly where she should go—she only had a rough idea of the major southern cities.

Nearby, a couple traveling to visit relatives had filled the space under their seats with large bags and parcels. A three- or four-year-old child sat beside them, looking longingly at the candy Wen Xin had received.

“You little rascal! Always wanting to eat whatever you see others eating. Do you think there’s candy for you? We don’t have any!” The mother scolded the child, giving them a light slap. The child pouted, eyes welling up with tears.

The elderly woman across from them quickly handed over two more pieces of candy.

The child’s mother accepted them with a smile. “Thank you! This little one just loves to snack.”

Wen Xin wiped her tears and glanced at the woman and child, then at the elderly couple across from her. Thinking about how they had comforted her just moments ago, she suddenly felt a natural sense of warmth toward them.

“Auntie, thank you,” Wen Xin said, her eyes still slightly red, but now carrying a sweet smile.

The old woman smiled kindly. “No need to thank me, dear. My youngest son bought these for us, but my husband and I don’t really like sweets. If you want more, take a couple more pieces.”

Wen Xin quickly shook her head. “No, I’ve had enough.”

The old woman looked at Wen Xin—her neat white blouse, blue trousers, and two small braids. Her delicate, fair face was so tiny, and her big eyes, still slightly red from crying, made her look like a little rabbit. The way she had sobbed just now had been truly pitiful.

The elderly woman had always wanted a daughter but had only given birth to two sons. Her eldest had passed away, and her younger son was still serving in the military. If she had been blessed with a daughter like Wen Xin, how wonderful that would have been. But fate had not been kind to her—she had never had a daughter in her lifetime.

The train carriage was crowded, filled with people traveling for family visits or business trips. Bags and luggage were crammed into every available space. Outside, the rain continued to fall, and the windows remained shut, making the summer air inside hot and stifling. The noise was overwhelming, and the smell was far from pleasant.

It was now midday. Train attendants were moving up and down the aisles, pushing carts filled with food. Train tickets only cost around three to five yuan at this time, and a meal on board was less than a yuan.

Wen Xin, having left in a hurry, hadn’t brought any food with her. Seeing the food cart approach, she quickly got up to buy something.

The train meals were simple but filling, though slightly more expensive than usual. One of the items for sale was freshly baked sesame cakes, made from wheat flour and sugar, wrapped in brown paper. They cost 40 cents each, with six in a pack.

There were also aluminum lunch boxes filled with steaming white rice, topped with stir-fried vegetables—something like modern-day rice bowls. That day’s dish was stir-fried cabbage with pork, glistening with oil and smelling delicious.

Having left in a hurry, Wen Xin hadn’t had time to prepare any food for the journey. She bought one lunch box, a pack of sesame cakes, and five tea eggs, spending less than five yuan in total.

Carrying her food back to her seat, Wen Xin noticed that next to the elderly couple sat a young man. She handed him a tea egg, hoping to swap seats so she could sit beside the old lady. The young man blushed and quickly waved his hands, refusing the tea egg. Without hesitation, he stood up and switched seats with her.

Wen Xin eagerly took the seat next to the elderly lady. She was naturally sociable and generous, offering food to the old couple. Her warmth made it difficult for them to refuse, so they each took half of the tea egg and pastry she handed over. In return, they shared some of the dried fruits and candies their son had bought for them. Wen Xin didn’t hold back either—she accepted their treats with a smile, her eyes still red from crying.

Though her heart was heavy, she knew she had to stay alert in this unfamiliar environment. She needed to start planning for her future. Without an certification letter, things wouldn’t be easy. While government policies had loosened, and local security patrols no longer aggressively checked travelers, an introduction letter was still essential for staying in guesthouses, finding work, and applying for residency or food rationing.

At this time, there were no commercial hotels, only state-run guesthouses. Wen Xin had discreetly inquired while living in the military compound and learned that some guesthouses didn’t require an introduction letter. However, they were often in unsafe areas, housing all sorts of people—including thieves and fugitives. As a lone young woman, she couldn’t risk staying in such places.

This meant she needed to find a reliable place to live. For most people, arriving in a city without a certification letter meant having no shelter, no job prospects, and no food rations. Unless someone took them in, they wouldn’t last long.

Wen Xin’s biggest problem now was finding a place to stay.

Nibbling on her sweet pastry, she ate her meal while sniffing back tears, deep in thought. This era was unkind to someone like her, who had crossed into it from another time. Her top priority was securing a place to live.

The aroma of tea eggs and pastries quickly spread through the cramped train compartment. Across from her, the woman holding a child kept stealing glances in her direction.

Many passengers on the train were traveling for work or business. Some could afford the train’s meal service, but the majority were ordinary working-class people. Many earned as little as ten yuan a month, making the 80-cent boxed meals unaffordable. Most passengers brought their own food—corn cakes and pickled vegetables—paired with hot water to make do.

Compared to them, Wen Xin’s five-yuan meal was extravagant. Anyone who saw it would think she had no sense of frugality.

The woman across from her suddenly pinched her child, making the child cry. “Why are you crying? The pastries and eggs belong to the lady, not you,” she scolded.

It was an obvious ploy to get food. Wen Xin rolled her eyes and continued eating, tucking away the rest of her food. The train ride would last two days—she needed to ration her provisions.

After finishing her meal, she cozied up to the elderly woman, holding her arm affectionately.

“Grandma, where are you heading?” she asked sweetly.

“We’re going back home to Longcheng,” the old lady replied. “Our youngest son is stationed in the military in Beijing. We visited him for a couple of days in the family quarters and are now heading home.”

A soldier? Wen Xin’s eyes lit up. Perhaps because of Yan Zeyang’s influence, she had developed an instinctive trust in soldiers from this era—assuming they were all good people. And if their son was a soldier, his parents were probably decent people, too.

Longcheng? It was a coastal city in the south, a bustling metropolis.

Her train ticket happened to pass through Longcheng. Instead of picking a random city, why not follow this elderly couple there? If she could get along with them during these two days, they might help her find a place to stay. Being in a city with familiar faces would certainly make things easier.

Wen Xin wiped her eyes and finally managed a small smile. Perhaps she had found a solution to her housing problem.

“Look, this is my son,” the old lady suddenly said, pulling out a photograph. “He had this picture taken just for us, so we can look at it whenever we miss him.”

It was a black-and-white photo typical of the era, showing a young soldier in uniform, grinning with bright white teeth.

Wen Xin took a closer look—why did he seem so familiar? But then again, all soldiers in uniform looked alike.

She nodded. “Mm, he looks very sharp.” And his teeth were really white.

Throughout the journey, Wen Xin was exceptionally considerate toward the elderly couple. When she wanted to win someone over, she could make them feel as comfortable as a spring breeze. Even Yan Zeyang, as intimidating as he was, eventually softened under her charm.

She chatted effortlessly, saying all the right things to please them. The elderly lady was so taken with her that she even suggested recognizing her as a goddaughter. At night, she even covered Wen Xin with an extra layer of clothing while she slept.

The old man also warmed up to her, always smiling when he looked at her. Wen Xin had won them over completely.

Meanwhile, the woman across from them watched in disbelief. Wen Xin treated the elderly couple like her own family—offering them food and drinks, fetching water, and even massaging the old lady’s shoulders. She seemed to be their real daughter.

Two full days passed, and on the third afternoon, the train finally pulled into the station.

Carrying her bag and suitcase, Wen Xin carefully followed the elderly couple off the train, stepping into Longcheng—a misty, rain-washed city by the sea.

…

Meanwhile, in Beijing…

Yan Zeyang had been hospitalized for half a month due to his leg injury. His meals were taken care of—not by He Wenyan, but by the orderly assigned by his father, as well as the hospital director’s daughter, Dong Yao, who brought him soup and food three times a day.

At noon, sunlight streamed warmly into the hospital room. Yan Zeyang sat on the hospital bed, expressionless, reading a military book. He had been staring at the same page for a long time without turning it.

At that moment, military doctor Dong Yao entered the hospital room, dressed in a crisp shirt and military trousers beneath her white coat. Her slightly curled long hair added a touch of modern sophistication to her otherwise military-like demeanor. Carrying a meal box, she walked in with a smile and said, “Commander Yan, how are you feeling today? Is your leg still hurting? I made pig liver soup—it’s great for wound recovery. I personally prepared it, so please do me the honor of trying some.”