By the time ticket checking began and passengers were boarding, the Gu family’s representative still hadn’t showed up.
Su Aiguo could wait no longer and finally turned his gaze to Su Nian’an’s face.
Su Nian’an had long expected this outcome and wasn’t surprised in the slightest. “If you don’t hand over my identification papers and letter of introduction right now, the train is going to leave without us.”
Su Aiguo hesitated, half-tempted to buy a ticket himself and escort Su Nian’an to the countryside personally. But train tickets in this era had to be purchased days in advance—there was simply no way to arrange one on such short notice.
“Nian’an,” he said through gritted teeth as departure time drew near, “a person must keep their word.” Reluctantly, he passed her the documents.
Old fox, she thought. Only giving them to me now, when the train’s about to pull out.
“Right now, you have no choice but to trust me.” Su Nian’an met his gaze with a faint, knowing smile.
Seeing her so self-assured, Su Aiguo was seized by an urge to grab her and march straight back home—he’d just send her off himself another day. But before he could speak, Su Nian’an stepped aboard the train, leaving him no time to react.
“Bye-bye now!” she called out through the window, grinning broadly and looking utterly carefree.
She’d done it on purpose. Let him fret over this these past few days—let him lose sleep.
“Su Nian’an! Don’t forget what you promised!” Su Aiguo called after her, his voice edged with alarm. He was already regretting it. He should have hired someone to escort her instead.
“I haven’t forgotten a thing—don’t worry!” she replied, eyes dancing with amusement.
To Su Aiguo, however, her expression looked anything but reassuring—she seemed to be treating the whole thing as a joke. Before he could say another word, a surge of boarding passengers swept her further inside the carriage. Moments later, she was gone from sight. Then the train began to move.
There was nothing left for Su Aiguo to do but wait—wait with a sinking heart, half-convinced she’d vanish the moment his back was turned.
On the Train
Su Nian’an found her assigned seat—only to discover it was already occupied by a middle-aged woman. The woman had a sharp, unkind face; she looked exactly like the sort of person who would refuse to listen to reason.
Su Nian’an sighed inwardly. Traveling on one of these slow, old green trains was exhausting enough—did she really have to deal with this nonsense too?
The woman felt someone watching her. She looked up, saw a delicate, soft-looking young girl, and her expression instantly turned smug and dismissive.
Think you can scare me? Su Nian’an almost laughed aloud.
“Auntie,” she said, stepping forward calmly, “this window seat is mine. Would you please vacate it and let me have my seat?”
The woman gave her a scornful glance. “Whoever gets here first gets the seat! What do I care what it says on your ticket?”
Su Nian’an saw no point in arguing. She turned and went to find a train attendant instead.
The carriage was packed and chaotic—people crowded the aisles, sitting wherever they could. And this wasn’t the only dispute: in this era, most people had little formal education and even less sense of public courtesy. Few cared whether your ticket said “Seat Reserved” or “Standing Only.” Su Nian’an watched a young man and an elderly man shouting at each other over a seat and felt a throbbing headache coming on.
It’s all Su Aiguo’s fault, she thought. If he hadn’t delayed me so long, I wouldn’t be dealing with this.
She finally found an attendant and brought him back. Together they walked over to her seat. “Comrade,” the attendant said to the woman, “your ticket is for standing only. Please give this seat to this young woman—it belongs to her.” He’d seen this kind of thing a hundred times and spoke with practiced patience.
“I won’t!” the woman snapped. “I was here first, so it’s mine!” She glared daggers at Su Nian’an, clearly hoping to frighten the girl into backing down.
As if, Su Nian’an thought. I certainly wasn’t raised to be scared off by glares. And with her current strength, dealing with one unreasonable woman should be no trouble at all. But she preferred to reason first—only use other measures when reason failed.
“Comrade,” the attendant persisted, “please follow the rules. With a standing ticket, you may not occupy a reserved seat.”
“Who’s occupying anything?!” the woman shot back. “She showed up late! I got here early—why shouldn’t I sit? And you—stop meddling! This is between her and me—what business is it of yours?”
It was obvious this woman spent plenty of time quarreling back in her village—and she was very, very good at it.
Su Nian’an said nothing. She walked calmly over to the aisle side, where a boy of about thirteen or fourteen was sitting. Without warning, she lifted him up—smoothly, in one fluid motion—and took his place.
Silence fell across the carriage. Every eye turned toward her. Everyone stared, stunned.
The woman fell silent too, completely caught off guard by this utterly unexpected move. Su Nian’an slowly slid the items on the table over toward the woman, ignoring all the stares. Many people thought she must have lost her mind—what else could explain such behavior?
A few seconds later, the woman recovered her voice. “Young woman—what is the meaning of this?! Why are you pulling people up? That boy was sitting there perfectly well!”
Su Nian’an turned, fixed her with an icy stare, and then smiled. “You took my seat. So naturally, I’ve come to take yours.”
“Th-that… that’s that boy’s seat! How is that mine?!”
Su Nian’an turned her gaze to the young boy she’d just lifted. He was staring at her, face burning bright red.
“Young Comrade,” Su Nian’an said gently, “what do you think about your grandmother taking my seat without permission?”
With that single sentence, she stunned the entire carriage into silence.