Uncle was very busy with work and often out on assignments. He wouldn’t return until a few days before Cousin’s wedding.

Grandpa was meeting old friends in Chengde. Upon hearing she had arrived, he planned to return to Beijing in a few days. For now, it was unclear when the eldest brother would come back.

Xiuzhu asked, “Auntie, did big brother say when he’s coming back?”

At the mention of her eldest son, Aunt Lin’s face lit up with a smile. She said gently, “He said he’s taking his annual leave in the next few days. He’ll stay home until Xiuli’s wedding before leaving again.”

Uncle Lin had three children—two sons and a daughter.

The eldest son, Lin Yaoyu, was 24 this year. He was an outstanding pilot stationed at the Air Force base in Shanghai. He had a heavy workload and rarely came home.

The daughter, Lin Xiuli, was 20 and worked at a news publishing house. She was set to marry her childhood sweetheart in a month.

The youngest son, Lin Yaowen, was the same age as Xiuzhu—both 18 and about to start their senior year of high school. 

The Lin family could be considered a military family. Grandpa Lin had served as a soldier during the warlord era.

Later, during the resistance war, he fought alongside top leaders and earned numerous merits, though he was now retired.

Uncle Lin held the rank of division-level officer in the military district, while Xiuzhu’s father was a deputy division-level officer stationed long-term in Yucheng.

In Beijing, the Lin family was a well-known and respected name.

Upon hearing that her big brother would be home soon, Xiuzhu was overjoyed. “That’s great! I miss big brother so much.”

“Hmph, my big brother treats you better than his own blood brother,” Lin Yaowen muttered, also looking forward to his brother’s return, though unable to hide his jealousy.

When they were younger and fought, his big brother always sided with Xiuzhu.

Aunt Lin, amused by the children’s chatter, felt much better. She laughed and said, “Alright, once your big brother is back, you can fight for his attention again.”

Hearing the phrase “fight for attention,” Lin Yaowen quickly denied it, “Mom, I’m a man—what am I fighting for attention for?”

…

In the living room, simple dishes were laid out. The warm lighting cast a gentle glow over the dining table, creating a cozy scene of several figures seated together.

Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the Lin household. The atmosphere was harmonious and pleasant.

In the Zhao family courtyard, Bai Huifen was ranting and cursing out loud.

The houses were scattered and messy, and the narrow alleyways were lined with piles of household items.

Summers in Beijing were sweltering, and only in the evening did the temperature drop a little.

The courtyard homes were cramped, and each family had many members, so most people—young and old, men and women—brought out small wooden stools to sit in the courtyard and cool off.

They chatted while knitting sweaters, and children ran about, playing and laughing. It was lively and bustling.

“Why is Old Zhao’s wife arguing with someone again?”

“As long as she’s in our courtyard, there’ll be no peace.”

At the mention of the Zhao family, the women in the yard showed clear disdain.

There wasn’t a single decent person in that household. Old Zhao was ridiculously lazy, drank too much, and beat his wife.

His wife was even more absurd—no matter how terribly her husband treated her, the moment someone else said a word, she’d explode, accusing others of sowing discord and being jealous of her.

She worked like a servant for others every day and still got beaten. What was there to be jealous of?

Their two sons were chips off the old block, neither willing to do a lick of work.

Only the little daughter was somewhat decent—good-looking and capable in both speech and action.

Right now, Bai Huifen was in a foul mood, having just been kicked out by the Lin family without getting a single cent.

That afternoon, she returned home to find her daughter running a high fever and now lying unconscious in bed.

A while back, Old Wang’s family in the backyard had set up a kitchen in the courtyard. The thick cooking smoke, carried by the wind, drifted into her house, choking her constantly.

Standing in the courtyard with her hands on her hips, she shouted angrily at the Wang family, “Damn it, the smoke from your cooking is all blowing into my house—it’s suffocating us inside!”

“My San’ya came down with a high fever this afternoon, and it’s all because of your smoke.”

“Pah! Never heard of smoke causing a fever. What, your daughter’s so precious now? Shameless.”

“This is just how it is in a crowded courtyard like ours. If you’ve got the ability, go live in a high-rise.” The Wang family’s mother-in-law and daughter-in-law weren’t ones to back down either, and had no intention of humoring Bai Huifen.

“I’m starving! Get back in here and cook already!” A man’s gruff voice cursed from inside.

As soon as Bai Huifen heard her husband was hungry, she quickly slinked back inside to cook.

Zhao Heping had lost at cards today. When he found out she’d gone to the Lin family and come back empty-handed, he exploded with curses: “Useless trash! Didn’t bring back a single cent for me.”

“Marrying you was the worst luck of my life.”

In front of her husband, Bai Huifen didn’t dare talk back. Though she felt wronged, she silently went to the kitchen to cook.

But inside, she was seething with hatred toward Bai Huifang and the entire Lin family. If it weren’t for them, she wouldn’t be getting scolded by her husband now.

She was also worried about her daughter, still lying unconscious from the fever. She decided to boil her an egg after finishing the meal.

San’ya looked the most like her father—delicate features and a sweet mouth—and Bai Huifen loved her dearly because of it.

It’s just that the girl had high standards and always wanted the best of everything.

But she indulged her daughter in everything, hoping she could marry someone with good prospects one day and help support the family.

Ideally, she’d marry a high-ranking official—even higher than the Lin family’s, so they won’t be able to act so smug anymore.

At the dinner table, when the others saw that Bai Huifen had only brought out a plate of pickled vegetables and shredded potatoes, they all looked displeased.

The eldest son, Zhao Xiaogang, grumbled, “Mom, there’s not a drop of oil in this—how are we supposed to eat?”

“If you don’t like it, get the hell out!” Zhao Heping was in a foul mood today and annoyed at everyone.

No one at the table dared say anything more. They all lowered their heads and ate quickly, afraid they’d get cursed too.

The meal was thin and watery, gone in no time.

Zhao Xiaogang and his wife were unhappy about the idea of buying a job for his younger brother, Zhao Xiaoqiang.  

His wife shot him a look, and Zhao Xiaogang said to his father, “How about we don’t buy Xiaoqiang a job? Isn’t there recruitment going on? Let him try for that again.”

Zhao Xiaoqiang’s eyes flickered. He thought bitterly to himself that by the time he passed, his brother would probably already be a grandfather.

He looked toward Bai Huifen with a hurt expression, but didn’t say a word.

Bai Huifen saw her precious baby looking so aggrieved and immediately knew her eldest daughter-in-law was behind it.

She pointed at her and started cursing, “You scheming little wench, always up to no good. You think it’s your money? I’ll pay for it!”

The eldest daughter-in-law wasn’t having it. She snapped back sarcastically, “Mom, we’re so poor we eat pickles every meal. Where’s the money going to come from?”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Your aunt will pay. I’ll go get the money from her in a couple days.”

Bai Huifen felt the Lin family should be the ones to pay. They were relatives, and they were well off—what was the big deal about helping her out? It was their obligation.

Zhao Heping, hearing something he liked for once, finally spoke up: “Alright, everyone go back to your rooms. Stop upsetting your mother.”

Hearing this, Bai Huifen was deeply moved. Her husband still cared about her—she hadn’t married the wrong man after all.

Zhao Xiaoyuan lay on the narrow bed. After coming back from the Lin family that afternoon, she had fallen into a fevered sleep. Now, she slowly opened her eyes.

It felt like a thin mist clouded her vision, making everything seem blurry and unreal.

The room was both unfamiliar and familiar. It was small and plain. Besides a wooden trunk, there was only a small wooden table by the bed.

On the table was a calendar, frozen on the date: July 12, 1965.

She sat up and picked up the small mirror on the table, carefully lifting it to look at her face, hardly able to believe it.

She rubbed her temples, closed her eyes, and opened them again. It was still the same room.

She pinched her arm hard. “Hiss—ouch. This isn’t a dream.”