CHAPTER 7 

From a young age, the only person Gu Cheng’an had ever feared was his grandfather—but he was also the boldest of the Gu clan. Even as a child, he’d dared to “pluck the tiger’s whiskers” when the old man was in a temper.

One moment he could make the old man blow his beard and glare, the next he could coax him into laughing.

Now, being told to marry a stranger? He couldn’t be more unwilling. His peers might submit to the pressure, but him? Never.

Still, he couldn’t outright embarrass the old man. He’d planned to take Su Yin out, then find his cousin Gu Chenghui to accompany her so he could slip away.

Who knew she’d speak up before he even had the chance?

Hearing her tone, it almost sounded like she couldn’t wait for Su Yin to leave…

Glancing at the man who had just spoken, Su Yin met Gu Cheng’an’s gaze.
The first thing he noticed was her pale, oval face, the fine downy fuzz on her skin faintly visible under the light. Only her rose-colored lips moved, opening and closing as she spoke—her voice softer than any girl in the compound, crisp and clear, rather like that little bird on the tree branch during yesterday’s card game.

“Comrade Gu Cheng’an, would that be alright?”

“Alright.” It was rare for someone to show such tact. Gu Cheng’an’s mood instantly improved—finally, a sensible person.
“But don’t go wandering around and getting yourself into trouble. If something happens, the old man won’t let me off.”

“Of course not. I’m just going to the post office to send a letter to my relatives.”

Gu Cheng’an made no comment, simply gave her directions. After a moment’s thought, he slipped her the ration coupons needed for the state-run restaurant the old man favored. Then, remembering her circumstances, he pulled two yuan from his own pocket and shoved it all into her hands before she could refuse. Without another word, he turned and went off to find Han Qingwen.

Han Qingwen’s father was a political instructor in the military district; he and Gu Cheng’an had grown up together. Two years older, Han had already started working as a propaganda officer at a food factory. Compared to the workers on the production line, his office job was far more comfortable.

That day, the air was heavy despite the absence of sun. Just back from his grandmother’s place, Han Qingwen was unfastening the top button of his green military jacket when he spotted Gu Cheng’an striding toward him.

“I saw the paper,” Gu Cheng’an said, his long steps carrying a gust of wind with them.

“Where’d you get it? I went all the way to the East City post office to buy a copy the other day. Meant to show you, but I ended up at my grandma’s for a few days and never got the chance.” Han Qingwen frowned.

That issue of the provincial daily had sold out quickly—it reported on the newest policy for sending educated youth back to the cities. By the time they’d gone looking, there wasn’t a copy to be found.

Years ago, urban families with children who weren’t yet working had sent them “up to the mountains and down to the countryside.” Ten years had passed, and now every educated youth wanted to return to the city. Families were pulling strings, spending money to get their children jobs—no wonder the paper had sold like hotcakes.

“Someone at our place got the last copy.” Gu Cheng’an spoke quickly. “I read it. The winds are really changing.”

Han Qingwen’s eyes lit up. “How so?”

He’d read it himself, but hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

Leaning against the wall, Gu Cheng’an tilted his head slightly—tall enough that even a small shift brought him down toward his friend’s ear. “They’ve started promoting large-scale pig farming—its techniques and benefits.”

“What’s wrong with pig farming?” He Songping had just wandered up to the Han place and caught sight of the two talking in hushed tones.

He sidled closer, catching a fragment of conversation. His mouth twisted—what, were these two compound brats thinking of raising pigs?

“Cheng’an, you into that sort of thing now?”

Gu Cheng’an flicked him on the forehead and chuckled. “Use your head…” Then, turning back, he said, “My guess? They’ll start encouraging private farming. Collective labor won’t last another two years.”

“You serious? How can you tell?” He Songping looked skeptical. His mother’s family was still farming up in the northeast, earning work points like always.

“Enough of your nonsense,” Han Qingwen said, clapping a hand over his mouth. “I think Cheng’an’s right. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Just wait.” Gu Cheng’an glanced up at the sky. The heavy clouds that had blotted out the sun were breaking apart, spilling streaks of golden light.

——

Not long after leaving the military district family compound, a thin wash of gold filtered through the air, catching on Su Yin’s lashes like the shadow of a crow’s wing.

The sky, gloomy only moments ago, had turned bright without warning.

She raised a hand to shade her brow and quickened her pace.

When she reached the post office, she spent one cent on a yellow-brown envelope, then three more on a Year of the Dragon stamp, carefully affixing it before slipping her manuscript inside and sending it off.

She didn’t know if it would be accepted, but she’d already sunk several dimes into the project. Running the numbers in her head, she could only hope for the best.

Su Yin had attended high school in Heping County, where her best subject was Chinese. Year after year, she’d ranked first in the grade for composition. She had a bit of faith in her chances at earning some manuscript fees.

With the important task done, she made her way to the supply and marketing cooperative. Last time she’d been in a hurry, but today she had time to chat with Song Yuan—the educated youth she’d met on the train, now working there.

After all, she was new here. There were questions she couldn’t exactly ask the Gu family, but Song Yuan could fill in the gaps.

The South City cooperative did a decent business, especially in the mornings when people lined up to snatch the latest fabrics. By noon, the crowds had thinned.

Song Yuan gave her a quick rundown of the area: the big state-owned factories, the two prestigious schools, and the maze of courtyard houses and communal dorms.

Su Yin asked about the local cinemas, prompting Song Yuan to assume she wanted to see a film. It turned out she didn’t.

“Then where do your relatives live?” Song Yuan asked. She was a naturally sociable girl, and Su Yin’s looks made her even more inclined to warm up to her—she’d always had a weakness for pretty things.

“The Third Military District.”

“The military district? Wow, soldiers are amazing.”

They chatted until Song Yuan’s lunch break, when the two headed to the state-run restaurant. Su Yin used the ration coupons Gu Cheng’an had pressed into her hand, along with the matching ticket and eight cents, to buy a bowl of plain noodle soup.

Song Yuan, already earning her own wages, splurged a little—adding a ladle of minced pork to her soup for an extra five cents.

The city’s state-run restaurant noodles were made from fine wheat flour, fragrant and chewy, served in a broth simmered from pork bones until rich and golden.

Su Yin ate slowly, each bite reminding her of her grandfather, who had loved noodles more than anything. A dull ache rose in her chest.

“Are you going to stay at your relatives’ place from now on?” Song Yuan asked.

Su Yin shook her head, pushing the grief aside. “Not for long. I’ll be leaving soon.”

She couldn’t possibly impose on them forever.

“I get it—you came here to find a husband, didn’t you?” Song Yuan had seen plenty like her: villagers who came to the city to stay with relatives, then married a local man. That way, they could transfer their household registration and grain rations, maybe even land a job, and life would be completely different.

“Do you want me to introduce you to someone?” Song Yuan, remembering the bitter days of planting rice seedlings in the countryside, kept encouraging Su Yin to stay. “You mustn’t go back. Working the fields is too exhausting—just stay here in the city.”

Su Yin thought the same, but she wasn’t about to marry just anyone. As for her plan, well… now wasn’t the right time to say it out loud.

“I understand. Thank you.” Song Yuan truly meant well for her. Thinking of the college entrance exams that would be reinstated at the end of next year, Su Yin hinted, “Are you still reading these days?”

“No. I work every day. Besides, what’s the use of reading? I stopped after high school since there’s no college entrance exam anymore. I actually used to get pretty good grades—once even dreamed of becoming a university student.”

“Maybe there’ll be a chance in the future. If you have time, you should still read. It never hurts.”

Su Yin dropped the hint, but she wasn’t sure if Song Yuan took it to heart. The two parted ways after lunch.

In the afternoon, Su Yin strolled over to the nearby Xinhua Bookstore, hoping to find some high school review materials. But since the exams had been abolished, such books were pitifully scarce. After a round through the shelves, she got the picture. Seeing the sun already dipping toward the west, she headed back to the Gu household.

—

Gu Cheng’an arrived home right on time. That afternoon, he and Han Qingwen had been tinkering with a radio. They’d taken it apart and studied it for ages but couldn’t quite put it back together, so they’d given up.

Stepping into the living room, Gu Cheng’an immediately heard the old man chatting with Su Yin.

One asked, the other answered—it was all very harmonious.

Old Master Gu: “Did Cheng’an take you out for a stroll today?”

Su Yin nodded obediently. “Yes.”

“Where’d you go?”

“This morning we went to the Xinhua Bookstore, then Yonghua Street, and we passed by Jing University. The campus is so grand. At noon, we went to the state-run restaurant…” She glanced at the old man, then added, “We had minced pork noodles—one bowl cost [ticket amount].”

“In the afternoon you went to the movies?” The old man nodded and continued questioning.

“Yes. It was my first time in an actual cinema—it’s so different from open-air screenings. The film was great, about fighting the Japanese. After that, Cheng’an-ge dropped me off at the compound gate and went to meet his friend.”

Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, Gu Cheng’an listened to the seemingly quiet and well-behaved young woman spin her story without batting an eye. Her skill in making things up was no worse than his own. Tsk, tsk… looks like he’d underestimated her.

Old Master Gu’s eagle-sharp gaze turned toward Su Yin. She almost slipped up but steadied herself, hearing him say, “You’re not lying to me, are you? This brat was really so well-behaved today, taking you out to play?”

“Yes, Grandpa Gu. How could I dare lie to you?” Su Yin smiled sweetly, determined not to cause trouble for this future business tycoon.

“Hahahahaha…” The old man burst out laughing at something in her words. After a while, he turned to his grandson standing in the doorway. “What are you doing loitering there?”

“Grandpa, I’m just being respectful—not daring to interrupt you.”

“What she said—true or false?”

Standing up straight, Gu Cheng’an saluted. “Of course it’s true! Comrade Su Yin is pure and upright—she doesn’t know how to lie. Even if I wanted to trick you, she wouldn’t go along with it. Reporting to the leader, I completed my mission perfectly today.”

That “doesn’t know how to lie” part nearly made Su Yin blush.

“Hmph.” The old man snorted, though there was no anger in his face, and strolled off leisurely toward the kitchen.

Now only the two of them remained in the living room, facing each other. Su Yin could feel a sharp gaze boring into her.

“I’ve discovered something—you’re actually pretty good at making things up.” Gu Cheng’an lounged lazily on the sofa, looking at her like it was the first time he’d truly seen her.

Su Yin: “…”