Chapter 11: The Black Market

After returning to her room, Anran was suddenly hit by a craving for fried chicken and cola. She pulled the food out from her space, popped on her headphones, selected a funny movie, and indulged in a delicious little feast.

Lying on her bed afterward, Anran felt as if she’d just briefly stepped back into her previous life. She couldn’t help but wonder—if her parents knew she had died, would they grieve? Or perhaps feel relieved?

“Maybe my bond with my parents was just too shallow in that life…” she mused. Still, she knew she was luckier than most. With her personal dimension as a backup, she’d never have to worry about food or survival.

Lost in thought, she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

---

In the days that followed, life fell into a rhythm of hard labor under the blazing sun. Anran was convinced she’d gotten tanner. Finally, a break arrived, and with it came the plan to visit the town. Everyone was excited—especially Anran. She had her own agenda: to check out the legendary black market.

At the village entrance, a crowd had already gathered. The ox cart was crammed with people, and Old Wang, the cart driver, frowned with concern, clearly worried the overloaded cart would exhaust the old ox.

There was no helping it—overloading was dangerous. They’d have to walk. But with cheerful conversation and laughter, the group didn’t find the distance too bad. Before long, they’d arrived at the town.

The last time Anran came for market day, she hadn’t had the chance to really explore. The town itself was small but surprisingly well-equipped: restaurants, bookstores, a cinema, and a supply and marketing co-op were all present.

She decided to check out the state-owned restaurant first—to sample the food of this era.

When she asked the others where they wanted to go, most replied that they were heading straight to the co-op. That meant Anran would be eating alone.

Inside the restaurant, it wasn’t too busy—probably because it wasn’t mealtime. She walked over to the blackboard menu near the counter to see what was available.

A server lazily glanced up at her without saying anything. Today’s specials were braised pork and pickled cabbage dumplings.

Anran’s eyes lit up. With a little wave of her hand, she declared:

“Hi there, I’ll have one order of braised pork and a plate of the dumplings, please.”

The server sluggishly jotted it down, then quoted the price:

“Waste and corruption are great crimes. That’ll be eight yuan and two jin of ration coupons.”

Anran narrowed her eyes. Was that a dig at her ordering too much? Hmph. “She clearly has no idea how much I can eat.”

After paying, she found a seat. As she sat down, she thought, “I should really buy a book of revolutionary quotations. Gotta memorize those—it’s inconvenient not to be able to recite them when buying stuff.”

Before long, her food was ready. The female server rolled her eyes as she shouted,
“Come get your food!”

Anran had read in novels that service in this era was notoriously bad, but she’d always thought that was an exaggeration. “Guess not.”

As she retrieved her food, she made sure to roll her eyes too—back turned, of course.

A soft laugh came from nearby.
“Pfft…”

She glanced over and saw two soldiers sitting together. She caught sight of the military uniforms and quickly looked away—because the scent of the braised pork had just hit her full force, warm and rich, winding right into her nose.

Back at her table, she couldn’t wait any longer and took a bite.

“Mmmmmm! So good!”

It was better than any braised pork she’d ever had in her past life—maybe because the pork back then wasn’t nearly as flavorful. She was squealing with joy on the inside like a prairie dog.

The dumplings were great too—fermented pickled cabbage with just the right sourness. Absolutely spot-on. She cleaned her plate.

All in all, a very satisfying visit to the state restaurant.

Before leaving, Anran glanced again at the soldiers’ table—only to find it empty. “Must’ve left already.”

She had no idea that she had just unknowingly crossed paths with the male lead of the novel—and missed him entirely, thanks to being too focused on braised pork.

---

Feeling pleasantly full, Anran wandered the streets at a relaxed pace, like an old grandpa enjoying a slow stroll. After buying some books at the bookstore, she started wondering, “Where’s the black market anyway?”

Without realizing it, she’d wandered into a quiet, hidden alley.

A thin, shifty-looking man was glancing around nervously. That was her clue. “Looks like I found the place.”

She ducked into a nearby empty alleyway. After checking that no one was around, she entered her space.

It was time to disguise herself.

She began by darkening her skin tone with foundation, thickened her brows, and stared at her baby-fat cheeks in the mirror. “Gotta hit the contour hard,” she told herself. She dabbed and blended some more.

Once she was satisfied, she tied up her long hair, stuffed it under a cap pulled low over her face, and changed into a set of old, worn-out clothes.

The transformation was complete.

Looking in the mirror now was a dark, skinny boy—no one familiar would recognize her at a glance.

Anran grinned, proud of her disguise. “Good thing I made time to learn this skill, even if my talent points are all over the place.”

She packed the items she wanted to trade—just in case—and waited until the coast was clear. From inside the space, she could see the outside world. Once it was safe, she emerged with her basket.

She made her way to the black market entrance. Before she could even get close, a loud voice barked:

“What do you want?”

Anran replied quietly,
“I’m here to trade.”

The man scanned her up and down, then eyed her basket.

“One mao for guarding fee,” he said.

She paid and entered the market.

The scene inside was subdued. There weren’t many people, and those who were there kept their voices low—like ghosts whispering in the night. Sellers displayed samples of their goods at the front, while keeping their full baskets strapped to their backs—ready to run at a moment’s notice in case of a surprise raid.

Anran browsed from end to end. Most stalls were selling grain, along with pastries, candies, and flawed fabric.

One stall caught her eye.

An older woman sat silently behind a jewelry box—but no one was stopping by. In times like these, when people struggled just to eat, who had the money for jewelry? The woman kept her head down, her expression sorrowful.

Anran stepped forward and asked softly,
“Auntie, may I take a look?”

The woman nodded without speaking.

Anran opened the jewelry box—and was stunned.

Inside was a deep green jade bracelet, the color of imperial jade—even more translucent than the one her grandmother had passed down. There were also a few smaller pieces of jewelry, clearly carved from the same stone.

Closing the box, Anran asked gently,
“How would you like to trade?”

The woman’s voice was hoarse,
“Young man, I’ll only take fine grains. My old man doesn’t have long… before he goes, he just wants one last taste of fine food.”

The pain and dignity on the woman’s face stirred something in Anran’s heart. She reminded her of her grandmother. After a moment’s pause, Anran responded:

“Alright. I’ll give you 50 jin of rice, 50 jin of flour, 1 jin of oil, and 1 jin of brown sugar—in exchange for this set.”

The woman’s eyes widened.
“That’s too much, far too much. Young man, this stuff isn’t worth that much anymore.”

“Just accept it,” Anran said gently. “Write down your address. I didn’t bring everything with me—I’ll go get it and deliver it myself.”

After memorizing the address, she exited the black market.

She found a quiet alley and re-entered her space. There, she loaded everything into a basket—including a little extra: some pork belly and eggs.

“A bracelet like that would cost a fortune in the 21st century,” she thought. “This is a crazy bargain.”

She made a mental note: from now on, she’d make a point to help this old lady out more often—perhaps send extra food every now and then.