Chapter 2: News of the Housing Allocation

In the canteen, Lin Yingxian and Jiang Lixia were discussing what dishes to get.

Jiang Lixia glanced at the stir-fry counter. “Yingxian, I want scallion beef.” Beef wasn’t often served at the canteen, and any dish with beef was usually snatched up in seconds.

Lin Yingxian’s mouth watered at the sight of the glossy, fragrant scallion beef. “I want it too. Let’s get that. I’ll grab a portion of Di San Xian.”

The two of them often ate lunch together, each buying one dish and sharing. If one bought the meat dish today, the other would do it tomorrow. It was a fair and balanced arrangement.

Once they’d gotten their food, they found seats and began eating.

Lin Yingxian didn’t touch the eggplant in the Di San Xian. She preferred the potatoes. To her, eggplant soaked up too much oil and had a soft, mushy texture—like biting into fatty pork without any lean meat. She couldn’t handle it.

But Jiang Lixia loved eggplant. She thought the oily, tender pieces were delicious. She wasn’t fond of potatoes—she’d eaten too many during the famine years as a child and had grown sick of them.

Di San Xian always had at least one ingredient each of them didn’t like, but they kept ordering it anyway because they could each enjoy the part they liked best using just one meal ticket.

While eating, Jiang Lixia quietly shared some news with Lin Yingxian:
“The new staff housing block that the pharmaceutical factory and the research institute are building together is already halfway done. I heard the housing allocation plan is on the agenda now. I’ve seen the blueprints—it’s nothing like the tube-shaped buildings we live in. Once it’s done, those apartments will be bright and spacious.”

There was a trace of envy in her tone, not knowing who would be lucky enough to move into those homes.

“What are the requirements to get one?” Lin Yingxian asked eagerly. She longed for a place of her own—even just a single private room would be a dream come true. Her family lived in a tube building too. Six people crammed into a space barely over ten square meters: her parents, older brother and sister-in-law, herself, and her third sister. Her brother and his wife had been married for two years but hadn’t dared have a child—there just wasn’t enough room. The housing conditions were typical for the 1970s.

“I’m not really sure. The leadership hasn’t revealed anything yet. But going by how other factories do it, it’s usually based on at least ten years of work experience, and married workers with families get priority. You and I still have to hang in there for eight more years just to qualify. And who knows when the next allocation will even happen once we do.”

Times weren’t prosperous, and construction projects like residential buildings took huge resources. Even though the pharmaceutical factory had money, it belonged to the state—it had to be handed over to the central budget and couldn’t be freely spent.

The old staff housing was already packed to capacity and couldn’t meet the demand. Seizing the opportunity when the research institute began building, the factory submitted an application to build new housing alongside them. The higher-ups approved the plan, but since finances were tight, they instructed the factory and institute to build together to save money.

The pharmaceutical factory’s approach enraged the research institute’s director, who cursed them for being devious—taking advantage of the research institute and damaging its interests. To appease the anger and avoid souring the cooperation between the two units, the pharmaceutical factory took the initiative to undertake the construction of the new employee housing, providing both manpower and resources. In the end, the housing units were evenly divided, and the two sides reconciled.

Even though the next round of housing allocation might be far in the future, Lin Yingxian still wanted to give it a try, despite knowing that with no partner and too little seniority, her chances of getting a unit this time were close to zero. Still, she yearned for a place of her own—at least a room where she could have some privacy. She didn’t want to keep living in the cramped and crowded tube-style apartment with the original body’s family. Lin Yingxian was emotionally detached and a self-serving person at heart…

That evening after work, Lin Yingxian rode her bicycle home. As soon as she arrived downstairs at the textile factory’s family housing, her third sister Lin Yingwan came down to meet her.

Seeing this, Lin Yingxian immediately guessed that something had happened upstairs that concerned her. She and Lin Yingwan weren’t close—there was no way Lin Yingwan would come down to meet her without a reason.

Walking up to the bicycle, Lin Yingwan said, “Lin Yingxian, lend me your bike for the whole day tomorrow. I need to go out.”

The Lin family owned only two bicycles. One was Lin Yingxian’s eldest brother Lin Yingwei’s, bought when he got married. The other was the Phoenix brand bicycle Lin Yingxian was riding now. Including the money and the ticket she privately acquired to buy it, the bike had cost over 200 yuan—equivalent to several months of Lin Yingwan’s salary.

Lin Yingwan had always wanted a bicycle, but it was just wishful thinking. No matter how much their parents favored her, they wouldn’t spend more than 200 yuan on a bike for her.

She often tried to borrow Lin Yingxian’s bike, but was usually rejected. She had only managed to borrow it successfully a few times.

“I’m not lending you my bike,” Lin Yingxian refused flatly as she crouched down to lock it.

Lin Yingwan knew that without offering some kind of reward, Lin Yingxian would never lend her the bike. “I’m not asking for it for free. Do you know who’s waiting for you upstairs?”

Lin Yingxian looked up. “Who?”

Lin Yingwan said with obvious schadenfreude, “Your fiancé from the countryside—a problematic intellectual youth with a tainted class background. If you lend me the bike for a month, I’ll help you break off that engagement.”

Before her grandmother passed away, she had told her children about a promise she made with her close friend: they had exchanged tokens and agreed their grandchildren would marry. But the friends lost contact. Years later, they briefly reconnected by mail and hoped to fulfill the engagement through their grandchildren.

Lin Grandma had been the daughter of a fallen capitalist. Her close friend likely had the same class status. None of the children wanted this engagement. If not for their father’s martyr status and their mother’s outstanding work record that turned them into a “red-rooted” revolutionary worker family, they might’ve been discriminated against.

The children refused to accept the engagement, and Grandma Lin was so angry that she nearly passed away on the spot, cursing them bitterly. In the end, Uncle Min and Aunt Yan pushed the responsibility onto their most obedient sister—Lin Mother. Forced by circumstances, Lin Mother agreed to the engagement, and Grandma Lin passed away peacefully.

People always bully the weak, and Lin Mother, the softest target, assigned the engagement to Lin Yingxian, who had just returned from the countryside. Lin Yingxian had been sent away when she was only a year old. Just a year later, Lin Mother had given birth to Lin Yingwan and couldn’t manage two infants. Grandma Lin had refused to help, insisting she would only care for her grandsons.

Left with no other choice, Lin Mother sent Lin Yingxian to her in-laws in a far-off rural area. The journey was long, and Lin Father and Lin Mother rarely visited. At first, they missed her dearly, sending letters and baby supplies regularly. But over time, their interest faded. Eventually, they only occasionally asked about her in letters. If not for the money they sent monthly to support her, people would’ve assumed Lin Yingxian had been completely abandoned.