CHAPTER 1

Clang… clang… clang…

The green-painted train swayed and rattled along the tracks, winding its way through summer evening breezes, past fields and woods, twisting and turning like a roaming dragon.

This was a train heading north from the southwest, running once every three days. Because the trips were so infrequent, the carriages were crammed full, with people squeezed even into the narrow aisles.

“Hey, you stepped on my foot!”

“We’re nowhere near there yet. It’s still a long haul to the capital.”

“Hungry? It’s dinner time already. Just eat the flatbread.”

Car Six of the green train was a hard-seat carriage. From the southwest to the capital, it took three days and two nights. Crowded with people, the seats were old and lumpy. After just half a day, people’s backsides were sore, their calves swollen. Many had brought food in their bundles, and under the summer heat, the smells fermented and mingled in the air. After enduring two days and one night, everyone looked tired and worn.

Bundles and bags were piled high. Men and women dressed in coarse black, gray, and dark blue cloth bustled about, trying to cobble together a dinner to quiet their stomachs.

Su Yin took out a piece of cornbread with wild greens from her rough cloth bundle, held an old chipped enamel cup in her hands, and sipped water between bites until she finished her meal.

All she owned in the world was twenty-six yuan and fifty cents. The train ticket had cost eleven yuan and thirty cents. Her savings were nearly gone—she had to spend carefully.

“Comrade, is that all you’re eating? Want a piece of tugela?”

The middle-aged woman across from her leaned over warmly, palm open to reveal a small cloth bag. Inside lay some yellowish-brown cakes that looked hard and dry.

“No, thank you, Auntie. It’s hot, I don’t have much of an appetite. I’m full.”

“Heh.” The woman pulled her hand back, muttering under her breath, “You young women these days, all with bird-like stomachs. Good thing you’re in the countryside—saves on rations…”

Su Yin didn’t respond.

This was her first time on a train, her first time leaving home. She gazed out the window at the fields of wheat flashing past in a blur of green, the evening breeze carrying in a breath of coolness that eased the stuffy heat inside the carriage.

Two days ago, she had said goodbye to her grandaunt before leaving home. The old woman, well-versed in the ways of the world despite never having left He Ping County her whole life, had held Su Yin’s hand and given her a long list of instructions—especially to avoid talking to strangers at the station or on the train, lest she get lured away by traffickers.

These days, such incidents were common, and Su Yin had heard enough stories to be cautious. She only hoped she could arrive safely in the capital.

But once she got there… what kind of life would she face?

Leaving home so suddenly—would her third uncle and aunt be cursing her to high heaven?

It had all started three months ago.

After her grandfather passed away from illness, Su Yin was left with no one. Her father had been drafted years ago, then disappeared without a trace. At first, everyone held out hope. But after the war ended, some said her father had died a hero in battle, others whispered that he had been a coward who deserted. With such talk flying around, the Su family never received a martyr’s pension. Her mother struggled on for a year before remarrying, and for over a decade, she never returned. Su Yin and her grandfather had lived alone together—until, just like that, she was left completely on her own.

The moment her grandfather was gone, her third uncle and aunt rushed over for the funeral. Normally, they were nowhere to be seen, but now they came running, eager and determined.

Su Yin knew exactly what they were after—nothing more than to see if there was anything of value left in the house. With her grandfather gone, what could a lone orphan like her possibly do?

But in the end, she really was too inexperienced. Her third uncle and aunt weren’t just after money—they had even set their sights on her.

Half a month ago, a high fever had caused her to have a long, vivid dream. In that dream, she learned that she was living inside a book. She saw her whole life, summed up in just a few hundred words.

Because her family was poor, and her gravely ill grandfather was worried about his granddaughter’s future, he had written to an old comrade-in-arms in Beijing before his death, entrusting Su Yin to their care. But Su Yin had hesitated at the thought of suddenly moving thousands of miles away to live with complete strangers. In that moment of hesitation, her third uncle and aunt made their move—they arranged to marry her off to the son of the militia company commander in Heping County.

In the book, Su Yin learned of this plan and wanted to run away. But at that time, going anywhere required an introduction letter. She was just a lonely orphan—where could she run to? On top of that, some local thugs were already eyeing her covetously. In the end, her third uncle and aunt coaxed and tricked her into marrying.

After marriage, her days were filled with beatings and scolding. A year and a half later, when news came that the college entrance exam was to be reinstated, she wanted to sign up. But her husband in the book tore up her registration form. In the struggle, she fell, disfiguring her face.

The book never mentioned what happened to her afterward, but it was unlikely to have been anything good.

And the only reason she was even mentioned at all was because she happened to be the childhood fiancée of the male lead’s uncle. Her life story was briefly skimmed over in the background introduction, just another cannon-fodder female supporting role.

When the fever broke and she woke from the dream, Su Yin didn’t quite believe such absurd things could be real. But one by one, several events played out exactly as they had in the book. In the end, she sent a telegram to her grandfather’s old comrade in Beijing, got hold of an introduction letter, secretly bought a train ticket, and boarded a train heading for Beijing.

It was now July 1976. According to the book, there was still more than a year before the college entrance exam would be restored. Determined, Su Yin had decided to seek shelter. As long as she could make it through this year, get into university, she could start a new life.

Besides, the book had mentioned that her beauty drew too much attention. Her third uncle and aunt wanted to curry favor with the militia company commander, and the local thugs were also watching her. Staying there any longer would only lead to trouble—leaving was her only choice.

As night fell, Su Yin pulled her thoughts back, hugged her bundle, leaned against the window frame, and closed her eyes to rest.

When she opened them again, daylight was streaming in. Su Yin didn’t have a watch, but looking out the window at the rising sun, she guessed it must be around seven or eight o’clock.

“Finally! Just another seven or eight hours and I’ll be home!”

Not far away, a few men and women in worn military uniforms were chatting with bright smiles. Though they looked tired, they carried themselves well—not quite like farmers toiling in the fields year-round, yet less polished than city folks.

“I haven’t been back in years since becoming a zhiqing. Finally, I can go home this time!”

In the past two years, zhiqing with the right connections had been gradually returning to the city. As long as a workplace in the city was willing to take them in, they could submit a report to return. But city jobs were scarce—it wasn’t easy.

“What job did your family arrange for you?”

“I’ll be a sales clerk at the supply and marketing cooperative. What about you?”

“I’m at the steel factory.”

“I’m in the food factory—my mom gave me her job.”

Whether in a state-run factory or the supply and marketing cooperative, these were enviable iron rice bowl jobs, eating from the state’s pot. While farmers still labored tirelessly in the fields, those with city jobs could already earn dozens of yuan a month—how lucky they were.

The train carriage was lively. Everyone chatted away—zhiqing and fellow travelers bound for Beijing discussing the recent policies for zhiqing returning to the city. Su Yin listened quietly, holding her enamel mug as she got up to fetch water.

The hot water station was crowded, with a long line. Someone tapped her lightly on the back. She turned around to see the young woman who had said earlier she’d be working at the supply and marketing cooperative, smiling brightly at her.

“Comrade, are you also a zhiqing? Heading back to the city?”

Su Yin shook her head. “No, I’m going to Beijing… to visit relatives.”

“Ah?! I thought you were from Beijing! You really can’t tell…” The young woman’s face was round, her smile showing two dimples, giving her a warm, friendly look. “My name’s Song Yuan. I’m from Beijing. I just thought, with your looks, you must be a city person!”

She wasn’t wrong. Though Su Yin’s clothes were old—a grey plaid shirt faded from many washes—her delicate beauty shone through. With her rosy lips and white teeth, Song Yuan had never seen anyone so beautiful. At first glance, she’d thought Su Yin was a zhiqing returning home.

They each filled their mugs and walked back to the carriage, chatting along the way. Song Yuan was talkative, and when she learned her cousin also had the surname Su, she said it was fate.

“When you get to Beijing, we should meet up if you have time. I’ll be working at the southern district supply and marketing cooperative.”

“Alright.”

One worried about feeling unfamiliar with her hometown after so many years, while the other was carried along by her warmth, lowering her guard and chatting a bit more.

As they talked, the carriage gradually grew restless. With a long whistle, the green train slowed, pulling into the station.

Beijing—the destination of so many dreams—was finally here!

Some passengers clambered straight out of the windows. Su Yin simply clutched her coarse cloth bundle tightly, letting herself be carried along by the crowd onto the platform.

She glanced around. The Beijing train station was far bigger than the one in Heping County. The grounds were spacious, the white walls painted with bright red slogans—“Boost Production, Raise Morale, Promote Unity.” People bustled about in work uniforms or green military attire, their expressions spirited and purposeful.

Everything was different from the small county town in the southwest.

“Comrade Su Yin?” A middle-aged man in a crisp green military uniform stepped forward, asking tentatively.

“Uncle Liu?” The voice was somewhat familiar.

“That’s right. I’m Liu Maoyuan, sent by the old master to pick you up. We spoke on the phone.”

“Hello, Uncle Liu.” Su Yin showed him her introduction letter, then glanced at the letter from her grandfather he held, making sure she wasn’t mistaken.

Liu Maoyuan had been ordered to pick up a young woman—someone the old master had personally chosen as his granddaughter-in-law. He had only been told she’d grown up in the countryside. Who would have thought that, in person, she’d be such a strikingly beautiful young woman?

And when he thought about the old master’s grandson’s strong, upright looks… well, if nothing else, the pair would be well matched in appearance.

The old master’s orderly had come to meet Su Yin. They met on the platform, then got into a small sedan together.

Su Yin clutched her bundle tightly in her arms. She didn’t have much at home, let alone anything valuable—just a few changes of clothes, some books, her grandfather’s old army photos, and a few local specialties.

Inside the stately Red Flag sedan, Su Yin sat upright, hands folded neatly in her lap, though her heart was far from calm. Watching the blur of green shadows from trees flash past the window, she couldn’t help thinking about the events in the book and turning over her plans for the future.

Her grandfather had entrusted her to an old comrade-in-arms for two reasons. First, the man owed him his life, and for the sake of his granddaughter, Grandpa had swallowed his pride to beg for her shelter. Second, the two old men had once arranged a childhood engagement between their not-yet-born grandchildren.

Su Yin knew full well that she was here to seek a year and a half of protection—just long enough to quietly make it through the college entrance exams. As for anything else, her childhood fiancé—none other than the book’s male lead’s fearsome uncle, Gu Cheng’an—was said to be arrogant, ill-tempered, and to utterly despise arranged marriages. He was the last person she intended to provoke.

“Cheng’an!”

The sedan came to a sudden stop. At the wheel, Liu Maoyuan looked out the window and called to a young man pedaling toward them on a 28-bar bicycle.

Cheng’an? Gu Cheng’an?

Su Yin’s heart gave a jolt. Had she really just run into her supposed fiancé?

She lifted her head and glanced through the rear window. The glass blocked her view, letting her see only the vague outlines of seven or eight young men outside. The car’s roof cut off her line of sight above their necks. All of them were astride bicycles, watching in this direction.

She had once tried a 28-bar bike when studying in the county—it was a struggle just to mount it. But the one in front sat there lazily, long legs stretched with ease, one black cloth shoe barely touching the ground. His voice came low and casual.

“Uncle Liu, off running errands for my grandpa again?”