Chapter 14: The Fragile Flower

Behind her, the nurse watching Song Jinxi’s retreating figure couldn’t hold back two streams of tears. She let out a long sigh:
“If someone had helped me back then… maybe I would’ve met the right person sooner. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to suffer so much. Maybe… I could’ve had a sweet little baby too.”

What the nurse didn’t know was—that baby she thought she could never have was already on its way.

The gift Song Jinxi had given her? Fruit from her space. Healing her hidden internal injuries was nothing for it. Resolving all the baggage from her past? Not even worth mentioning.

Maybe this was the karmic reward for a good deed—helping another woman like herself escape a cage of suffering. The heavens couldn’t bear to see her hurt any longer, so they gifted her hope.

By the time Song Jinxi arrived at the train station, it was already 8:30 a.m.

Most of the youth assigned to the countryside had already arrived. Registration was underway—people were being checked in, given red flowers to pin on, names were being called out.

These were still the “good” days for the educated youth. It was only July of 1960. Give it a few more years, and things would look very different. Nothing like the current situation.

Song Jinxi had no one to see her off. She went straight to the train car, found her seat, and sat down.

Across from her, two girls had already taken their seats. She had just barely settled in when a soft voice piped up beside her:
“Hello, comrade. Would you mind…?”

“No.”

The girl’s expression shifted, clearly caught off guard. But instead of getting mad, she batted her eyes and let a few tears roll down her cheeks as she said sweetly:
“It’s just… I’m not feeling very well. I get carsick easily. That’s why I wanted to sit by the window, for some fresh air…”

Song Jinxi acted like she didn’t hear a thing.

Girl, please.

She was already worn out—she’d been run ragged these past few days. The effects of the tonic she took last night had worn off, and she’d just finished a full internal healing session. She was exhausted. No time or energy to entertain this little white lotus routine.

But sometimes it’s not about whether you want to avoid drama—drama finds you.

A guy nearby suddenly jumped in:
“Hey! Why are you being so harsh? It’s just a seat. Would it kill you to show a little kindness? We’re all comrades here. We should be helping each other! With that kind of attitude, you don’t even deserve to be one of us!”

Song Jinxi glanced at him.
Oh, that guy. She had noticed him earlier when she boarded. Pretending to read a book… which he hadn’t turned a page in for over ten minutes. Might as well have started from making the paper, it’d be more believable.

She shot back:

“If you’re so chill about it, why don’t you switch seats with her? Yours is right by the window! What’s wrong? Not willing? Weren’t you just going on about helping each other? Talk about slapping yourself in the face. And by the way—saying that to a girl who looks about eight years old? Real classy. Honestly, it’s you I don’t want to be grouped with.”

The other girl across from them had clearly been itching to jump in but hadn’t found the right moment. Now that Song Jinxi looked at her directly, she knew—this was her moment to shine.

“Exactly! If you’re fine switching, then switch! Always so generous with other people’s stuff. Seats are assigned. That’s the rule. No rules, no order. And then people like you come in breaking the rules, preaching about kindness and cooperation—what a joke.

And you! What’s with the tears? This comrade didn’t hit you, didn’t curse at you, just said no. But you’re crying like you’ve been deeply wronged!”

Song Jinxi nodded thoughtfully, then looked the girl up and down and added:

“Right? And you’ve been standing there for ages without collapsing. You sure you’re that fragile? You think just ’cause I look young and shy, I’ll be easy to guilt-trip? What, you throw a few tears every time things don’t go your way? That how you get through life? Crying like a cat peeing?”