Chapter 23: Catching the Bus, the Seat Dispute

The Móyú Brigade belonged to the commune under this city. Taking a coach there didn’t even take half a day—no long travel, which was quite a relief.

When Liu Xinghe boarded the bus, there weren’t many people yet. She chatted with Zhou Xiaomei for a while, and before long, the seats were filled. The coach slowly started up and left the station.

As soon as the bus began to move, drowsiness hit Xinghe. After telling Zhou Xiaomei, she tucked her hands into her sleeves, closed her eyes, and dozed off.

The bus swayed along the national highway like a cradle, lulling people into sleep. The quiet inside made it all the easier.

By the time she woke again, four and a half hours had passed. The bus was just pulling into the station.

The conductor shouted:
“Lè County( Lexian) has arrived! Sleeping passengers, wake up! Those sitting next to them, give them a shake. Hurry and grab your things to get off.”

Xinghe woke Zhou Xiaomei, and once the bus stopped completely, she stood up, hefted her luggage, and followed the flow of people out.

“Xinghe, let’s take this side path—faster to cut straight into the hall. We’ve got to buy tickets for the commune bus inside. If we move quickly, maybe we’ll be at the front. I think I just saw our commune’s bus parked in there. We must catch this one, or else we’ll have to go outside the station and squeeze onto other buses with everyone else. Then we’d have no seats. Dad, hurry up too!”

With that, Zhou Xiaomei dragged Xinghe down the small path, slipping through into the ticket queue.

The memories in Xinghe’s mind were crystal clear—how hard it was when crowds pushed to board, how miserable it was to stand with no seat, and in July’s heat, the suffocating stench of bodies pressed together. Just the thought made her head spin.

No way. Today, she was determined to get a seat.

Her pace quickened. Before long, it was Xinghe pulling Zhou Xiaomei forward.

The three lined up swiftly to buy tickets.

Just as Xinghe clutched her ticket and walked toward the boarding gate, she heard someone at the entrance for Qīngyǒng Commune shouting toward the ticket lines:

“Anyone for Qīngyǒng Commune? Only four seats left! Hurry up if you’re going—bus about to depart!”

“Yes, three here! Comrade, wait a sec!” Xinghe waved her ticket and shouted back.

“Then hurry!” the conductor called. “We’re leaving in a minute.”

“Coming, coming!” Zhou Xiaomei, ticket in hand, ran while waving, turning back to rush her father: “Dad, quick! The bus is about to leave!”

“Alright, you run ahead—I’ll be right there.”

But Zhou’s father, Director Zhou of the supply shop, could only fume in silence. He knew better than to rush state staff—push too hard and they’d drag their feet on purpose. An iron rice bowl job had its untouchable privileges.

So he swallowed his impatience, snatched his ticket the instant it came out, and—old bones or not—sprinted like his life depended on it.

Zhou Xiaomei even doubled back to tug him along.

At the very last second, just before the gate closed, they made it through.

They followed the conductor to their assigned bus. Once the rear conductor boarded, the door clanged shut behind them.

“Find seats quickly, you three—we’re departing,” the conductor urged.

“Okay, okay.”

Only four seats remained. In the back row were two side-by-side. Xinghe and Xiaomei slipped into them at once, while Director Zhou sat in a nearby spot.

Finally seated, Xinghe let out a long breath. She wiped sweat from her forehead, slid open the window for some breeze, took a sip from her canteen, and slowly felt relief wash over her.

Running in midsummer was brutal.

“We almost had to wait hours for the next bus,” Xiaomei exhaled, patting her chest with relief, a grin on her face.

“Really lucky. Now there’s only one seat left. If we’d gone outside to scramble for places, we definitely wouldn’t have gotten it,” Xinghe said, glancing at the single unclaimed “throne.” She wondered who would snatch it later.

Rural coaches didn’t run often. Miss one, and the wait was long. Impatient travelers often gathered outside the station entrance, where they could flag down passing buses or hitch rides. It saved both time and a bit of money. Naturally, that meant crowds.

“I’ve never once managed to get a seat before,” Xiaomei muttered. “Every time, I get crushed half to death. Once, I almost vomited up my dinner from all the shoving.”

Peeking out the window, she pointed at the swelling crowd:
“Look, Xinghe—so many people. I’m holding onto you tight, or else I might get dragged right off this seat.”

Indeed, there were hordes, just like the times Xinghe had crammed onto buses while filming in Hengdian.

Now that she had a seat, no fighting required, and nothing to do—no phone to scroll, and her nap was already taken—she suddenly felt curious to see who’d claim that last spot.

The crowd surged forward as the bus slowed, even before it had fully stopped. People pushed with all their might, eyes locked on the door, waiting for it to swing open.

“Xinghe, who do you think will grab it first?”

Almost everyone in the bus was watching too—nothing else to do.

“Those two older folks up front look promising. Depends who moves quicker.”

Old men and women had uncanny speed in such moments. The way they clawed at the door, there was no mistaking their determination.

“My bet’s on the old lady. Ah, look—the door’s opening!”

Nervous about being swept away, Xiaomei clutched Xinghe’s arm and edged inward, but her eyes stayed glued to the door.

“Ah! The old lady shoved past the old man. She’ll get it for sure—”

But Xinghe and Xiaomei were wrong.

Just as the old lady was a step away, someone beat her to it—a figure scrambled in through the window and plopped squarely onto the empty seat.

Xinghe and Xiaomei only saw the back of the person now seated, not how he’d clambered up.

The old lady froze in disbelief. After muscling ahead of everyone, the prize had been stolen at the last instant—by a young man, no less! Fuming, she snapped, voice dripping sarcasm:

“Young people these days, no manners at all. Snatching an old woman’s seat and still sitting there like it’s nothing! Thicker-skinned than a pot bottom. Aren’t you ashamed? And you’re even a grown man!”

Bored Xinghe’s eyes lit up. Oh-ho, drama? She leaned forward eagerly.

“Oh dear, Auntie,” she whispered, “call him out louder—see if he budges.”

But the young man wasn’t rattled in the slightest. Arms crossed, he turned his head lazily toward the old lady and shot back:

“Who’s got no manners here? Everyone knows—it’s first come, first served. I used every ounce of strength to grab this seat fair and square. Why should it belong to you? What’s so shameful about sitting where I earned? You’re the one thick-skinned, demanding a seat just because you’re old. Sorry, but I’m younger, and I’m sitting right here today.”

Sharp and fearless!

Xinghe’s eyes sparkled. Finally—a warrior who dared to spar with an old lady.

Though… his voice sounded oddly familiar. Where had she heard it before?