The early morning mist had not yet lifted when Gu Ye led Lin Wan out of the mine’s main gate.
The guard at the gate wasn’t surprised to see Gu Ye, only giving a lingering glance at the rumored fiancée before letting them pass without issue.
Leaving the coal-dusted area behind, Lin Wan took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, feeling a lightness in her chest she hadn’t felt in a long time.
The dirt road leading to the town was uneven. Gu Ye walked with long strides, quickly leaving Lin Wan behind. Only when the surrounding silence grew a bit too pronounced did he glance back and realize she was lagging.
He awkwardly rubbed his nose, earning an eye-roll from Lin Wan.
“You could’ve waited until we reached a proper spot before looking back,” she teased.
“Sorry, I’m used to being alone,” Gu Ye replied.
Before he could finish, a soft, determined hand reached out toward him.
“Hold mine.”
Gu Ye stammered, “Th-this… isn’t proper, is it?”
“What’s improper? You used to take my hand first…” Lin Wan said, her eyes narrowing in that familiar, accusing look of a betrayed lover, as if she could start crying at any moment.
Gu Ye hastily grasped her hand, stiffly and awkwardly.
“Alright,” he said.
The next moment, he felt a few soft fingers slip between his, their roots interlocking perfectly.
He looked up to meet a face full of satisfaction, bright with a joyful smile.
Instinctively, he slowed his pace, matching her stride.
“Being alone isn’t a good habit. From now on, you’ll need a new habit… because from now on, you’ll always be with me.”
Lin Wan casually tossed the words over her shoulder, pressing close to him as her gaze wandered along the path—unaware that Gu Ye’s eyes, triggered by her words, were fixed on her radiant face, unable to look away for a long moment.
In the distance, layers of dark green mountains rose and fell. Dew glistened on the roadside wild grass, everything brimming with a raw, vibrant life.
For Lin Wan, this was the first time since entering the book that she truly “saw” this world—not just running for survival.
She felt an almost greedy freshness at the sight of it all.
After walking for over an hour, the outline of the small town appeared ahead.
Even before entering, the noise of people had already reached them.
Stepping into the market, a mixed scent of earth, livestock, food, and sweat hit her senses.
Lin Wan’s eyes lit up immediately.
The market vividly reflected the traces of the era’s changes.
Along the dirt road, stalls had noticeably increased. Bold farmers and individual vendors displayed eggs, vegetables, and bamboo goods in prominent positions.
At the same time, in front of fixed shops labeled “Supply and Marketing Distribution Point” or “Cooperative,” people still queued with tickets to purchase essential goods like grain, oil, and cloth.
The coexistence of a free market and a planned economy created the unique scene of this period.
“Stay close,” Gu Ye said in a low voice, sidestepping to block a man rushing past with a sack.
Lin Wan nodded, her eyes scanning the surroundings.
She noticed that the market mostly dealt in agricultural products, handicrafts, and everyday small items.
Industrial goods like enamel basins, soap, and matches were mostly still concentrated in the Supply and Marketing shops.
At a small private stall selling pots and pans, Lin Wan released the hand she’d been holding and crouched down.
The stall was small and miscellaneous, clearly an experiment in individual entrepreneurship after the policy eased.
She picked up a sturdy enamel basin, tapped it, and listened.
“How much for this, miss?” she asked, looking up at the vendor.
“One yuan twenty, no ticket needed,” the chubby vendor replied.
In this emerging free market, “tickets” had become a negotiable substitute.
Lin Wan had no concept of the current prices, unsure whether one yuan twenty was expensive or cheap.
She instinctively turned her head to look at Gu Ye for guidance.
He caught her glance and, for some reason, immediately understood. His expression was neutral, only a barely perceptible shake of his head.
Lin Wan instantly caught on and seamlessly switched to a tone of rightful critique:
“One yuan twenty? Miss, the rim is a bit rough here—see this?” she pointed at a tiny, almost invisible spot on the basin’s bottom. “That’s a defect, right? Eight cents, I’ll take it.”
The vendor immediately protested, “Hey, young lady, you can’t haggle like this! My cost is higher than—”
“Then add one cents, nine cents. Fine, I’ll take two,” Lin Wan said decisively, pretending to set them down. “If not, I’ll check the Supply and Marketing shop ahead. They require tickets, but the goods are from official factories.”
Her bargaining was natural, as if she had learned it by observation from a young age.
“Eh eh eh,” the vendor cried, seeing her genuinely preparing to leave. “Alright, just consider it a good luck charm, take them, take them!”
In the end, the enamel basin sold for nine cents each.
Gu Ye, of course, stepped forward to pay, conscientiously carrying the items himself.
His gaze lingered for a moment on her small, triumphant, eager face.
Her quick understanding of market rules and skillful manipulation of the vendor made him realize again that she wasn’t an ordinary village girl.
Yet she also seemed completely fascinated by the market, as if she had never seen such ordinary scenes before.
Following the same method, guided silently by Gu Ye, Lin Wan bought two pieces of fabric: one sky-blue cotton and one warm yellow dacron.
She also picked up daily toiletries, a small packet of vegetable seeds, and some spices…
When Gu Ye saw the spices, he recalled the shed at home and felt a tangible sense of being dominated by the kitchen in the future.
“Rice, flour, meat… and anything else you like,” he said. “Buy some of that too.”
“Oh right, almost forgot,” Lin Wan said, slapping her forehead.
Because cooking wasn’t really her concern, she had instinctively forgotten these items.
Gu Ye… she gave him a knowing glance. He had immediately taken initiative to treat cooking as a matter to handle. A man of action.
Gu Ye silently looked away, feeling mentally exhausted.
The two of them made a full round of the market, buying almost everything they needed.
Throughout, Lin Wan’s bargaining was smooth, with countless reasons, always hitting the vendors’ psychological limits.
At times, Gu Ye even saw in the vendors a familiar reaction to her skill.
Finally, at a private stall selling snacks, she paused at sesame candy wrapped in greaseproof paper.
“Want some?” Gu Ye asked.
Lin Wan felt a little embarrassed, realizing she had already spent quite a bit today. Yet adhering to the mindset of “spending is done, so a little more doesn’t matter,” she nodded.
Gu Ye didn’t need to persuade her—Lin Wan would never deny herself.
He picked up a large bag and bought a pack, handing it to her.
Such snacks in the free market perfectly satisfied the demand for goods outside the planned economy.
Lin Wan unwrapped a piece, carefully licking it first, savoring the sweetness, then took a small bite.
Conscience striking, she offered the greaseproof paper toward Gu Ye: “You eat too.”
Gu Ye was about to refuse,
but Lin Wan grinned, “Don’t force me to feed you in public.”
Seeing the faintly threatening, sparkling eyes, he wisely reached for a small piece.
Lin Wan was satisfied: “That’s right. We share both sweetness and hardship.”
…Share sweetness and hardship?
At that moment, a sudden commotion broke out at the other end of the market. Someone shouted, and the crowd surged in that direction.
Lin Wan stumbled from the push of people. Gu Ye instinctively put his arm around her shoulders, shielding her in front of him.
Amid the chaos, Lin Wan suddenly grabbed his arm, speaking with a quiet certainty:
“Let’s go this way. Don’t go there.”
Gu Ye followed her, guiding her through a less crowded side path.
Sure enough, the commotion was caused by two vegetable carts colliding, blocking the road, and people arguing.
Once out of the crowded crowd, Gu Ye looked down at her with curiosity: “How did you know we could go this way?”
The path was indeed secluded, a choice even he made instinctively.
Lin Wan paused mid-motion, finishing the last bit of sesame candy, then nonchalantly brushed the crumbs from her hands.
Her eyes drifted slightly as she replied vaguely, “I don’t know… just felt like fewer people were that way, just guessed.”
She couldn’t very well explain that, in the original book, to depict Gu Ye’s misadventures after amnesia, there was a scene:
—After his amnesia, on a trip to the market, a small commotion occurred, and a group of thieves stole his money, forcing him to work even harder in the mines just to eat, accidentally becoming a small leader.
At the time, knowing this, she had thought, “What a glutton.”
She didn’t know which market trip it had happened on, only that she remained cautious, and by luck, she had guessed correctly.
Gu Ye observed her slightly flickering eyes and carefully composed side profile.
She seemed full of contradictions: unfamiliar with the environment, ignorant of prices but skilled at bargaining, with a near-instinctive “blind guess” foresight.
And the way she had instinctively relied on him for price judgment looked completely natural, as if in her habitual perception, he knew everything and could be depended upon.
Honestly, Gu Ye was a little curious how he had interacted with people in the past.