The setting sun painted the horizon with fiery hues, and the waves reflected golden glimmers as Qin Yao stood in line for a ticket check to board the ship. She gazed at the distant sea, her heart silently lamenting.

It was said that this journey would take about twenty-four to thirty hours, with the exact arrival time uncertain.

She had never experienced such a long sea voyage. The mere thought of it made her scalp tingle, tempting her to back out.

Couldn’t she just turn around and head back to Beijing?

“Let’s go.” Gu Cheng carried her luggage and urged her forward. Aside from them, the ticket line included a group of educated youth from Yangcheng. Young men and women were tearfully bidding farewell to their families.

Once their tickets were checked, Gu Cheng led the way onto the ship. Qin Yao, lagging behind, called out, “Hey!” but was forced to follow.

Standing on the deck, she felt her entire body moving rhythmically. It wasn’t a violent rocking but a gentle sway, as if the waves were cradling the ship in a soothing rhythm, much like the notes of a soft violin melody.

The sensation came and went. The more she focused on it, the more noticeable it became, accompanied by a faint sense of weightlessness.

“Wait for me.” Qin Yao steadied herself by holding onto Gu Cheng’s arm as they headed toward the cabin together.

The cabin was sparsely furnished with rows of fixed benches. Qin Yao and Gu Cheng sat side by side, placing their luggage nearby.

“First time on a ship?” Gu Cheng asked.

“Yeah,” Qin Yao replied softly.

They were alone in the cabin. Outside, the educated youth remained on the deck, waving tearful goodbyes to their loved ones onshore in a cacophony of emotions.

The dim light of the cabin was softened by the glow of the sunset streaming through the windows. It illuminated Gu Cheng’s face as he sat lazily on the bench. He wore light yellow trousers and a white shirt with the collar unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

According to him, he worked for the island’s fishing company.

In the early 1970s, fishing companies were state-owned. From this perspective, he was a formal employee with a stable job, but his daily work required him to go out to sea frequently and he could not go home for many days.

“Here, eat this.” Qin Yao opened a wax paper package and pushed it toward Gu Cheng. Inside were honey-coated walnut kernels, their golden-brown hue glistening. Her family had packed them for her before she left. The nuts were plump, coated in honey, and irresistibly sweet.

While others who transmigrated to the 1970s struggled to find food, she had an abundance of snacks.

These honey-coated walnuts were made by her father, a chef, using top-quality walnuts and natural wild honey—pure, unpolluted treats.

They were also a hindrance to her weight loss goals.

She decided she’d finish all these snacks before starting her diet. Otherwise, it would all go to waste.

These delicious snacks cannot be wasted, but at the same time, she cannot be a spendthrift and give them away to others for free.

Gu Cheng served as her porter, and she felt it wasn’t a bad deal for him.

“I don’t need it,” Gu Cheng said, glancing at the sweet-smelling walnuts. He couldn’t help thinking that it was no wonder this chubby girl had managed to eat her way to this size.

Just as he turned his face away, the chubby girl found an opening and stuffed a walnut into his mouth.

The corners of Gu Cheng’s mouth curled up slightly.

Outside, the farewell ceremony had concluded, and everyone else had returned to the cabin. Qin Yao decisively packed up her snacks and stuffed them into her bag. Watching her efficiency, Gu Cheng’s mood lifted.

Qin Yao was surrounded by a few young educated youth, all around her age. After the ship set sail, some of them turned on flashlights and suggested organizing an “activity” to pass the time.

“Let’s all get to know each other,” one suggested.

“It’s a long trip; we won’t arrive until tomorrow. We need something to kill the boredom,” added another.

“Anyone with a talent—singing, reciting—step up and show us what you’ve got.”

…

After a lively discussion, they decided on a talent competition on the ship. Qin Yao eagerly joined the conversation and even volunteered to be the host.

“I’ll host! I’ve hosted several events at school before,” she said confidently. Qin Yao was preparing for her life on the island, planning to expand her network among the educated youth for more opportunities and information.

The bespectacled young man who had started the commotion, Xu Wei, asked her, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Qin Yao,” she replied.

“Your voice is lovely, sweet like honey. You must be from Jiangsu or Zhejiang. Your accent sounds like you’re from Hucheng,” Xu Wei said.

Qin Yao shook her head. “No, I came from Beijing.”

“Oh,” Xu Wei responded, intrigued.

The conversation between Qin Yao and Xu Wei quickly warmed up, and she even changed seats to sit closer to him. She asked him about life as an educated youth and middle schools in the 1970s.

Meanwhile, Zhou Liang, who was sitting with Xu Wei, moved to Gu Cheng’s side. As he rubbed his arms and felt an unexpected chill, he glanced at Gu Cheng, only to feel colder.

Gu Cheng’s face was partly hidden in the shadows, but his sharp brows and piercing eyes stood out. His high nose resembled a military blade, and though his mouth held nothing, his teeth clicked together rhythmically.

With a cold laugh, Gu Cheng thought to himself that this girl, who he assumed would cling to him relentlessly, turned out to be just as warm and enthusiastic toward everyone.

Closing his eyes, Gu Cheng tried to block out all thoughts related to Qin Yao, but her sweet voice kept drifting into his ears.

The chubby girl’s voice was truly sweet, soft and melodic, though some words were indistinct and sounded endearingly gentle.

As Xu Wei had noted, she didn’t sound like a native of Beijing at all.

“Really? Is that how it is? Then, does your school also…”

Qin Yao’s inquisitive tone filled the cabin. Sitting up straight, Gu Cheng crossed his arms, his sharp eyes now open. While the others didn’t notice anything unusual in her questions, he sensed a deeper issue.

Her curiosity and innocence seemed genuine, yet it felt like she was probing for information.

Why? Was she sent to gather intelligence by someone?

Although her personal details and background check had been flawless, Gu Cheng couldn’t dismiss the possibility that she might have encountered someone during her journey or been enticed by promises of benefits to dig for information.

Many ordinary people unknowingly became spies or informants under the lure of high rewards.

“Next, we have Comrade Zeng Hong’s harmonica performance. Let’s enjoy the piece Farewell,” announced Qin Yao.

The room filled with cheerful chatter and laughter. Accompanying Zeng Hong’s harmonica, Qin Yao even sang a song, earning enthusiastic applause from the crowd.

Despite her 140-pound frame, Qin Yao radiated confidence and easily won everyone’s favor.

Seizing the opportunity, Qin Yao secretly checked Xu Wei’s affection level toward her.

[Affection Level: 50 (He finds you very likable.)]

Qin Yao nodded in satisfaction. Through experimentation, she realized it was easy to raise someone’s favorability level to 60, but beyond that, the difficulty increased exponentially.

The favoribility system was at least helpful, allowing her to gauge who harbored malice toward her.

“Qin Yao, how much do you weigh? You look twice the size of Lily,” a girl in the third row named Tian Shuyun asked maliciously.

Tian Shuyun, displeased with Qin Yao’s animated conversations with the young men, secretly mocked her for being so heavy yet still so brazen.

Qin Yao’s face wasn’t unattractive, but her features and figure seemed like an ordinary girl’s magnified several times over.

Without hesitation, Qin Yao replied, “One hundred and forty pounds.”

Gasps erupted around her.

“My goodness, 140 pounds! That’s almost twice my weight,” someone exclaimed.

“She’s heavier than most of the men here,” another chimed in.

Some of the thinner girls weighed barely seventy to eighty pounds. Qin Yao’s weight truly stood out.

A short, skinny young man in the fourth row sneered, “At 140 pounds, you’re practically a pig. In the village, pigs reach 140 or 150 pounds before they’re sent to slaughter. With such an appetite, who would dare marry you in the future?”

The room fell silent, amplifying his sharp, mocking voice.

“Why don’t we give you a nickname? Let’s call you ‘Zhuangzhuang’^[1]Strong One,” he added.

His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and others laughed hesitantly.

Xu Wei tried to intervene. “That’s not very appropriate.”

But Tian Shuyun chimed in with a laugh. “Zhuangzhuang? That’s a cute name. It suits her well. I’m sure she doesn’t mind. After all, we’re all young; who would take it seriously?”

“Zhuangzhuang, isn’t it adorable? Let’s call her that,” Tian Shuyun added with feigned innocence.

Qin Yao forced a smile, but deep inside, she finally understood why some people resorted to extreme measures to lose weight.

Because of being overweight, it was easier to become a target of malicious attacks and ridicule. People would openly give you nicknames under the guise of joking. If you showed displeasure, they’d accuse you of being overly sensitive.

A series of mocking chants of “Zhuangzhuang” echoed around, mixed with a clear “Yaoyao.” Qin Yao turned her head and sure enough, heard Gu Cheng call her “Yaoyao.”

His voice was low and magnetic, carrying a distinct masculine charm. As he spoke, his Adam’s apple bobbed slightly.

Qin Yao glanced at him, locking eyes for a moment.

“Yaoyao,” Gu Cheng said again as he stood up. Among all the men in the cabin, he was undoubtedly the tallest. With a flashlight shining in the corner, his shadow stretched long, like that of a giant.

Walking toward the young man who had started the nicknames, Gu Cheng leaned one arm on the chair back, towering over the youth. With no mercy, he mocked, “Are you a man? So short and skinny? You look like a radish head. How about we call you ‘Aideng^[2]Short Stool.Here, “矮” (ǎi) means “short” or “low,” and “凳” (dèng) refers to a “stool” or “bench.” The nickname … Continue reading’ instead?”

“You—!” The short man was instantly furious. Unable to accept such a humiliating nickname, he clenched his fists. Had it been anyone else saying this, he would have thrown a punch.

Yet standing before him, Gu Cheng, though lean, was tall with a well-proportioned frame. His exposed arms showcased solid, sleek muscles.

As tension thickened between them, Xu Wei, anxious, turned to Qin Yao. “Comrade Qin, he’s your companion. Could you step in and mediate?”

Qin Yao rose, walking toward the third row under Xu Wei’s gaze. Looking at Tian Shuyun, she declared firmly, “You’re ugly inside and out. How about calling you ‘Chouchou^[3]In this context, “Chouchou” (丑丑) is a playful nickname derived from the word “chǒu” (丑), meaning “ugly” or “unattractive” in Chinese. By adding … Continue reading’? It sounds better than ‘ugly monster,’ don’t you think?”

“‘Chouchou,’ isn’t it adorable?” she added with a smile.

Tian Shuyun was stunned, then angrily retorted, “You’re the ugly one!”

Xu Wei’s eyes widened in disbelief. Instead of resolving the situation, she had fanned the flames.

Qin Yao tugged on Gu Cheng’s sleeve playfully and asked, “Don’t you think she’s ugly?”

Gu Cheng straightened up, replying nonchalantly, “They’re all ugly—ugly inside and out.”

Laughter broke out around them, followed by whispered comments:

“Ugly people always stir up trouble. They deserve the nicknames.”

“They’ll only realize how it feels when they get called names. Let’s keep calling him ‘Aideng’ so he doesn’t nickname others again.”

“That woman thinks ‘Zhuangzhuang’ sounds cute, so let’s call her ‘Zhuangzhuang’.” 

The short man and Tian Shuyun’s faces turned crimson, burning with embarrassment and humiliation as the mocking continued.

Qin Yao and Gu Cheng returned to their seats.

The boat swayed slightly. Gu Cheng walked steadily, clearly accustomed to being on board, while Qin Yao nearly stumbled when she sat down. Gu Cheng reached out to steady her.

Once seated, Qin Yao looked at the young man beside her with a smile. His profile, partially obscured by shadows, still revealed a sharp and handsome jawline.

This young man from the fishing company seemed kind-hearted and approachable.

Qin Yao took out a light pink handkerchief from her bag and handed it to him. Gu Cheng raised an eyebrow, visibly surprised.

“Thank you for what you just did. Let’s be friends from now on,” Qin Yao said with a smile, blinking playfully.

In the 1970s, exchanging handkerchiefs was a common gesture of friendship, especially among students saying goodbye.

Though they hadn’t reached the island yet, Qin Yao had decided to befriend Gu Cheng. She even considered him as a potential marriage candidate. Handsome, kind, and an employee of the fishing company—a state-owned enterprise—he seemed to have excellent qualifications.

Fishing wasn’t a bad way to make a living; there was potential for prosperity.

Gu Cheng accepted the handkerchief. When Qin Yao asked for the fishing company’s address to visit him later, he wrote it down casually and handed it to her with a faint smile.

From behind, Tian Shuyun overheard their conversation and sneered upon learning that Gu Cheng was merely a fisherman. She turned to a stranger nearby and boasted, “I’m different from you all. I’m not here as a sent-down youth. I’m visiting my distant cousin, who married a naval officer. When I arrive, she plans to introduce me to someone.”

Her words piqued the curiosity of the other female youth, who eagerly questioned her for details.

Listening to this, Qin Yao couldn’t help but feel a subtle sense of irony.

Could this be the control group^[4]In Chinese novels, “control group” isn’t a common cultural term, but it can be used metaphorically. It might refer to a character or group used for comparison to highlight … Continue reading for her as the ultimate best friend?