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All day long, Lin Wanjun sat with a scrap of cloth in her hands, stitching away.
Song Zhanjin asked her several times what she was making, but she never answered.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the vast, boundless Gobi Desert spread out before everyone’s eyes. Their destination was drawing near.
When the little girl came over again for food, Lin Wanjun asked her to take off the patched, worn-out coat she was wearing. Then, she sewed a small cloth pouch under one of the patches.
Inside the pouch, she tucked fifty yuan and ten catties’ worth of national grain coupons.
“Don’t tell anyone about this secret, understand?”
Returning the coat to the little girl, Lin Wanjun said, “If fate is unfair, then fight back bravely. The rain will always stop, and the sky will always brighten.”
These were the words Lin Zhaodi had once said that night. Now, Lin Wanjun passed them on to the little girl.
The girl’s dull, despair-filled eyes suddenly lit up with a faint glimmer.
“Jiejie(Big Sister), can I really do that? Mother says girls should just accept their lot.”
Lin Wanjun nodded firmly.
“You can. Everyone is born equal and free. As long as you don’t give up on yourself, not even the heavens have the right to take away your freedom.”
“The pen of fate should be in your own hands. You are the one who writes your own destiny!”
Perhaps the little girl couldn’t fully understand those words just yet, but they would surely plant a seed in her heart.
Given water, that seed would one day take root and sprout, breaking through the darkness to reach for the light, blooming into flowers of destiny.
Song Zhanjin watched as Lin Wanjun finished what she was doing, and watched the little girl leave, her eyes brimming with tears.
This time, he didn’t ask why—because on such a long journey, some answers had already become far too obvious.
The little girl wasn’t alone. The woman who had repeatedly tried to persuade Lin Wanjun to give her money was actually the girl’s family.
If the money and food had been given to the little girl from the start, they never would have ended up in her belly. She was nothing more than a tool for certain people to line their pockets.
Song Zhanjin felt a twinge of shame. He was a former reconnaissance soldier, yet he hadn’t noticed anything amiss in time. Instead, it was Lin Wanjun who had seen through the truth ahead of him.
Pulling out pen and paper, Song Zhanjin quickly scribbled down an address. Then he walked to the connection between the train cars, and in the crowd, he discreetly pressed it into the girl’s hand.
“If you want a different kind of life, go to this address and find us.”
The little girl stared wide-eyed at him, then fixed her gaze on the address written on the paper, as if she were engraving it into her memory.
When the woman holding a baby noticed something was wrong and came over, the girl quickly crumpled the note into a ball and tossed it out the window, her expression turning wooden again— as though nothing had happened at all.
Song Zhanjin returned to his seat, only to be met by Lin Wanjun’s smirk.
“Oh? All better now?”
No need to ask—he knew she was saying he had been suffering from “Stupidity.”
“Mm. With the miraculous hands of Physician Lin, I’ve made a full recovery. If you don’t believe me, test me!”
Lin Wanjun let out a disdainful laugh. “So eager to be humiliated? Do you have some shameful little kink you’re hiding?”
Song Zhanjin’s eyes were burning with fighting spirit as he urged, “Go on! Test me, and you’ll see just how smart I am!”
“Contestant, please listen to the question: Jia, Yi, Bing, and Ding are waiting for the bus. After the bus arrives at the stop, why is only Jia allowed to board?”
“Because Yi, Bing, and Ding didn’t buy tickets!”
“Wrong! Because it’s a bus that only takes Jia.”
…
Song Zhanjin nearly spat out a mouthful of blood. Unconvinced, he demanded another round.
“This time I underestimated you. Come on, give me your best shot!”
Lin Wanjun rolled her eyes again. “Contestant, please listen to the next question: Yi, Bing, and Ding are still waiting for the bus. Another bus arrives. Yi and Bing get on, but Ding doesn’t. Why?”
“Because… Ding’s route isn’t the same?”
“Wrong!”
Lin Wanjun swept him with a look full of contempt and bluntly scolded, “Idiot!”
“What’s the answer? Hurry up and tell me!”
Song Zhanjin was itching with curiosity, and even Song Mingcheng and Li Yuetang were watching eagerly for the answer.
“The answer… you guess.”
Song Zhanjin guessed for a long time but couldn’t get it right. In the end, he gave up, reaching out with a mix of indulgence and helplessness to ruffle the top of Lin Wanjun’s head.
“What kind of nonsense do you keep in that little brain of yours, hmm?”
“Take your claws off, you’re messing up my hair!”
The more she struggled, the more energetic Song Zhanjin became. The two of them ended up in a playful scuffle, drawing laughter from Li Yuetang and his wife across from them.
“How nice,” Li Yuetang sighed with feeling. “Bringing Junjun into our family was the best decision we ever made.”
The train was delayed by more than four hours, and it wasn’t until after three o’clock the next morning that they finally reached the terminal station.
Both Song Zhanjin and Lin Wanjun kept a special eye on the little girl, watching as she lugged a piece of luggage nearly bigger than her own body, stumbling along the platform.
The woman carrying the boy kicked, hit, and cursed at her, several times knocking the girl to the ground.
Lin Wanjun let out a deep sigh, unsure for the moment what more she could do for the poor child.
A person’s fate could never rely solely on others to hold it up—it depended on whether one dared to break free of the cage and risk everything for life.
Following the throng of passengers out of the station, they were met head-on by the wind and sand sweeping across the Gobi Desert.
“They said someone would be here to pick us up. Let’s wait and see.”
Song Mingcheng set his suitcase down and looked around for their contact.
The night wind on the Gobi was chilly. Even with her coat on, Lin Wanjun was shivering, swaying unsteadily under the gusts.
“Here, put this on.”
Song Zhanjin took off his own coat and draped it over her shoulders. The lingering warmth seeped through her back, and suddenly the cold didn’t feel quite so biting.
Suddenly, a voice came from behind them.
“Well, what a coincidence—we meet again!”
Turning around, they saw Shi Kai, carrying a suitcase.
He walked up to Lin Wanjun, and after taking in their many bags and bundles, he could more or less guess the truth.
Eight or nine times out of ten, they had been sent down from the city to undergo re-education. As it happened, so had he.
“Where are you headed? Maybe we’re going the same way?” Shi Kai asked.
Because of Shi Kai’s appearance and name—and their previous experience of saving someone together—Lin Wanjun felt a natural sense of familiarity with him.
“Liulin Farm,” she replied.
Shi Kai’s face lit up. “Just as I guessed—I’m going to Liulin Farm too!”
He introduced himself first, then explained his situation.
“I used to be the deputy director of the provincial hospital. The patient was a so-called capitalist roader who suddenly suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. As a physician, I couldn’t just stand by and watch him die, right? So, under great pressure, I performed the surgery, and after that…”
He paused, then said, “I still don’t know if I was right or wrong. But if I had to choose again, I think I would still do the same.”
Lin Wanjun couldn’t help but think of something her teacher had once said in the real world.
“Medicine knows no borders. A competent physician should rise above the barriers of language, race, and class, upholding the principle of ‘saving the dying and healing the wounded’ for the good of all humankind.”
What Shi Kai had done resonated perfectly with what Teacher Shi had once said.
Lin Wanjun’s gaze toward Shi Kai carried a trace of respect, which made Song Zhanjin feel a twinge of jealousy.
What was this? She was actually looking up to him?
They’d been married for over two months, and not once had his wife looked at him that way. How could some random man steal that moment?
“Wife, we don’t know anyone here. Don’t talk to strangers.”
Song Zhanjin pulled Lin Wanjun into his arms, his possessiveness on full display.
Lin Wanjun shoved him away. Stinky man, get lost!
Sooner or later, you’ll be happily married to your official-match heroine, having children early and living the good life—by then, I’ll be all alone, so I need to secure a way out for myself!
Hmm… Shi Kai was the deputy director of the provincial hospital. That meant he had at least a little influence, right?
If she got on good terms with him, maybe in the future she could work at the provincial hospital and secure herself an iron rice bowl!
With that thought, Lin Wanjun’s gaze toward Shi Kai softened into flattery.
“Teach… Shi Dage, I’ll be counting on you in the future. If I have any medical questions, would it be alright for me to consult you?”
She had almost called him Teacher Shi out of habit, but caught herself in time—Dage sounded much more familiar.
Shi Kai smiled and was just about to respond when Song Zhanjin spoke in a teasing, sarcastic tone.
“An old cucumber painted green, pretending to be young? How old is he, forty? Not much younger than my father. Honestly, you should be calling him ‘Uncle’!”
He deliberately elevated Shi Kai’s seniority so that Lin Wanjun couldn’t even think of anything mischievous.
Song Mingcheng, who also held Shi Kai in high regard, laughed and said, “I’m already forty this year. Shi Yisheng, how old are you?”
“Thirty-seven!”
Hearing this, Song Mingcheng chuckled.
“Well then, by that logic, we’re of the same generation!”
Shi Kai smiled and shook Song Mingcheng’s hand. “Song Dage, I’ll be counting on you in the future!”
Song Zhanjin looked at Lin Wanjun with a playful grin. “Junjun, be good—call him Uncle!”
Lin Wanjun rolled her eyes and was about to reply when a tractor, belching black smoke, rumbled toward them.
The people sent to pick them up had arrived!