“No food, no clothes? The enemy will deliver them to us!  

No guns, no cannons? The enemy will forge them for us— Ah— Ah-choo!”

Song Ruan had already packed all the pots, pans, bowls, and buckets of the Song family into a wooden crate—she’d even taken the empty oil can she’d just used—and stacked them in the living room alongside the tables and chairs. While bundling up her parents’ bedding and clothes in the bedroom, she suddenly sneezed loudly.  

Had someone been talking about her even after she’d time-traveled to the 1970s?  

Lowering her head, she spotted a brown envelope wedged between the bed boards. Opening it, she found yet another stack of cash and promptly stored it away in her space.  

Including the embroidered pouch she’d dug out from the bottom of the sewing box, the rolled-up bills hidden inside a liquor bottle, and the small box she’d found under Song Jiabao’s pillow, she’d gathered a total of 451.8 yuan.  

This family really had their own little stashes of private savings—too bad their hiding skills were terrible. Now, she’d benefit instead.  

After thoroughly patting and knocking around every nook and cranny to ensure no stray money remained, Song Ruan turned her gaze to the larger items she’d packed:  

“System, my space isn’t big enough, and I don’t have the money to upgrade yet. Are you sure there won’t be any negative effects on you if you store these things for me?”

[I already said it’s fine! It’s my break room—I’ll put whatever I want in there. Who’s gonna stop me?]  

“Good. Then I’m taking everything I packed. The beds and cabinets too. Take the window frames and doors—we can chop them up for firewood later. But leave the glass panes for me; I’ll store them in my own space. If I run into any troublemakers, I can smash them over the head with a pane anytime!”

Song Ruan gestured excitedly.  

[Take it, take it all. Who could out-hoard you, you absolute gremlin?]

The system grumbled but obediently followed her instructions, sweeping everything up like a vacuum cleaner.  

By the time the two of them finished their looting spree, the house was stripped bare except for the load-bearing walls.  

After all, Song Ruan had even scraped off the wallpaper—while it couldn’t be reused for decoration, it’d make great kindling!  

The eggshells she’d previously tossed under Song Li’s bed were now plainly visible on the floor. Song Ruan’s eyes gleamed as she evenly stuffed them into the cracks in the walls of every room—August’s sweltering heat would soon make the shells rot and attract bugs. That’d stink the place up nicely!  

At the thought, she sighed regretfully. If only I’d saved a raw egg—the effect would’ve been even better.

After stuffing in the last of the debris, she dusted off her hands and was about to leave when she suddenly remembered something at the door. Pulling out a stick, she rushed back to a mouse hole and jabbed it hard. A gray shadow squeaked in panic and darted out, vanishing through a gap in the door—she’d heard even rats counted as meat in these hard times. No way was she leaving any for them!  

Satisfied, she slung a small bag over her shoulder as a decoy. As she closed the door, she reminded the system: “Oh, and I’m taking that pile of coal behind the door too.”

[…]

Song Ruan dawdled past the neighboring house, her little bag swaying.

Sure enough, as soon as she reached the door, Auntie Zhou, who was tidying up outside, immediately called out to her: “Ruan girl, where are you going with that bag?”  

Song Ruan sniffled: “Auntie, I’m going to the countryside. My train leaves at five tomorrow morning, so I’m heading to the station early to wait.”

“Huh? But don’t you already have a job at the textile factory? Even people with jobs have to go to the countryside now?” Auntie Zhou scurried over, her voice urgent. “Explain it properly to me, girl.”

Her eldest son had just taken over her job—had it all been for nothing?  

“No, it’s my second sister. She didn’t want to go, so she signed me up instead.”

“Your sister’s really something, huh.”  

Thank goodness my youngest is only eight—he wouldn’t pull something like this. 

Auntie Zhou sighed in relief, then perked up with gossipy curiosity.  

“But my parents came up with a plan for me. They said I should get engaged to Director Ma first, then come back after the New Year to get married…”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous!” Auntie Zhou scoffed. “That Director Ma from your dad’s workplace? The one in his forties who’s beaten his wife into the hospital multiple times? You’re better off staying in the countryside!”

“Auntie, you know him?” Song Ruan’s eyes widened in shock.  

“Oh? Your parents didn’t tell you?” Auntie Zhou was delighted by her clueless reaction and slapped her thigh. “My cousin’s neighbor’s sister-in-law used to live next to him. Every day, she’d hear his first wife screaming from the beatings. She ran off without even taking the kid—see what I mean?”  

Gleefully fanning the flames, she added, “Your parents aren’t much better, huh.”

“What?”

Song Ruan looked as if she’d been struck by lightning, her lips trembling wordlessly. Finally, she wiped away bitter tears and opened her bag. Noticing Auntie Zhou’s beady eyes peeking inside, she deliberately rummaged through it more thoroughly, displaying the tattered clothes and thin quilt before finally fishing out a piece of candy from the very bottom.  

“Auntie, I know you mean well. Thank you for the warning. I might not come back, so this candy is for your little Bao—consider it my last gift to him!” 

The candy stirred a flicker of sympathy in Auntie Zhou, who swiftly pocketed it and comforted her: “I know you’re a good kid, Ruan girl. Take care of yourself!”

With tearful eyes, Song Ruan trudged away. Along the way, she passed a few more people. Some, drawn by her red-rimmed eyes, tried to ask her questions, but she kept her head down and didn’t answer. Sure enough, she soon heard Auntie Zhou’s hushed but unmistakably excited voice behind her:  

“What happened to Song Ruan? Oh, you’re asking the right person! Let me tell you, her second sister is really something…”

“Her parents are no good either, blah blah blah…”

“She didn’t pack a thing—just took a couple of rags with her…”

“It’s true! I saw it with my own eyes! She turned her bag inside out—poor thing…” 

Song Ruan’s lips curled up like a smug little cat’s whiskers.  

[Didn’t expect you to have some tricks up your sleeve.]

The system clicked its tongue in admiration.

Song Ruan’s smug little expression froze for a moment before she awkwardly reined it in. “Just some insignificant little tricks, really. Nothing worth mentioning.”

[Who cares if it’s ‘worth mentioning’ or not? What’s that saying again—‘Who cares if the cat’s black or white, as long as it catches mice’?]

The system huffed, then suddenly seemed to realize something, its metaphorical antennae perking up in alarm:  

[Wait, what’s wrong with you? Nothing’s even happened yet, and you’re already self-reflecting? Why are you holding back? We’re the Roast Master System! Act like it!]

[Say it with me: I’m the best in the world, and you should feel honored if I so much as glance your way. The fact that I’ve wasted brain cells on you means your ancestors must’ve piled up eight generations’ worth of good karma.]

Song Ruan: “……”

Thanks for the pep talk, my personal hype machine.

Her train ticket was for five the next morning, and with the sun still high in the sky, it was obviously way too early. Song Ruan had no choice but to find a corner in the station hall, arrange her luggage into a makeshift nest, and curl up inside.  

It was uncomfortable, sure, but there was no helping it. Her “Strength To Topple Mountains” only lasted half a day, and she was afraid Song Guogang might come back in the middle of the night looking for a fight—in which case, she’d be outmatched.  

—If nothing else, her first eighteen years had drilled one lesson into her bones: Always prioritize your own safety.

She buried her head in her knees and dozed off, oblivious to the conversations of passersby or the tearful farewells between other early-arriving educated youths and their families. Amid the bustle, she remained unmoved.  

“Comrades—!” A voice like thunder nearly sent Song Ruan tumbling off her luggage pile.  

“Wha—? Earthquake?!” She jerked upright, startled.  

“Comrades!” A girl with a bowl-cut stood on the steps, radiating fervor. “We too have two hands! We won’t idle in the city! Let us unite to build the countryside together! Develop the frontiers for our motherland! Be Chairman Mao’s lifelong loyal students!”

Her passion was contagious. Many of the previously weeping youths now raised their fists in unison. “Be Chairman Mao’s lifelong loyal students!”

“We are all educated youths—from now on, we are one family, fighting side by side! We must stand united…”

The girl’s voice rang out with stirring conviction, drawing more and more attention. Emboldened, she grew even more impassioned.  

Amid the fervor, Song Ruan calmly shrank further into her little nest. It wasn’t that she didn’t admire people who were passionate, energetic, and articulate—she truly did—but in this era, someone like that was bound to attract trouble.  

All she wanted was to quietly coast along until the college entrance exams resumed. Better living conditions would be nice, of course, but she had zero interest in inviting unnecessary complications.  

Still, the girl’s speech reminded her of something. Song Ruan fished out a copy of Quotations from Chairman Mao from her bag—this weapon of public opinion, this political necessity, had to be mastered.  

As she flipped through it, her mind wandered: I should also get my hands on some law books from this era. I forgot to check at the supply and marketing coop last time. Ugh, still not thorough enough.

As departure time approached, the station grew noticeably more crowded, mostly with young people weighed down by luggage, tearfully saying goodbye to their families.  

Song Ruan, standing alone amid all this sentimentality, felt distinctly out of place. Awkwardly tucking her hands into her sleeves, she glanced around and spotted the educated youth office staff setting up a small registration table at the side of the hall. She quickly squeezed her way over and was promptly adorned with a big red flower by the staff.  

“Hey, this flower’s actually kinda pretty.” Dragging her luggage toward the train, Song Ruan fiddled with the red blossom, admiring it.  

But her good mood didn’t last long.  

The train chugged in at dawn, belching white smoke, its long whistle blaring like a battle horn. Passengers inside surged out like sardines bursting from a can, while those on the platform clenched their jaws and charged forward as if facing some great trial, squeezing their way up with every ounce of effort—even their eyeballs seemed to be straining.  

Without her superhuman strength buff, Song Ruan was like a tiny raft caught in a storm, helplessly tossed between the two opposing waves of people.  

“Ow!” Something sharp pecked her forehead hard. Clutching her head, she looked up to see an old woman wrestling with a burlap sack—a proud rooster poked its head out of a hole in the bag, glaring down at her with disdain.  

“Bok-bok-bok!”  

Wait, people are bringing chickens on board?!

No, more importantly—since when did a chicken dare to bully her?!

She raised a hand to smack the bird, but the crowd behind her suddenly surged forward, sweeping her along like driftwood.  

“Hey—HEY!!” Flailing uselessly—not even a feather grazed her fingers—Song Ruan was carried away like a flustered crab, limbs splayed in protest.  

“Seriously,” she grumbled, wedged between bodies, barely managing to lift her head from the luggage of the person in front of her. “What’s the rush? Do they think boarding first will magically upgrade their hard seat to a soft one?”

The system checked its records:  

[Train tickets in this era don’t have seat numbers—you find a spot after boarding. This isn’t a dedicated youth train, nor is it the starting station. If you’re late, you won’t get an upgrade to a soft seat, but you might get a downgrade to no seat at all. The trip to the Northeast takes three days and three nights. Even a donkey wouldn’t stand that long.]  

[Look over there—some folks are climbing in through the windows.]

“WHAT???”

Horrified, Song Ruan took a deep breath and torpedoed forward, elbowing through the crowd like a rocket.  

“Holy—HOLY SHIT! STOP PUSHING FROM BEHIND!” the man in front of her howled in terror. “I’M ABOUT TO TAKE OFF!”

“Sorry, bro!” With a nimble twist, Song Ruan slipped through a gap and vaulted onto the train. “Really sorry!”