Song Jinyue glanced at the old man, then withdrew her gaze.
The older comrade was reminding him—those who could afford sleeper berths in this era were never ordinary; they all had connections.
At their age, getting a sleeper berth relied on past achievements.
As for the young…
If it wasn’t family background, then relying on one’s own ability at such a young age—that was even more intimidating.
The old man sat back down.
No one spoke again, and the compartment fell silent.
The older comrade from the upper bunk climbed down.
When he saw Song Jinyue’s appearance, he paused for a moment and sighed softly. “Sigh… there’s some truth in those words, but they were a bit harsh.”
Song Jinyue: “…”
Well.
Sometimes, beauty itself could be a kind of mistake.
The older comrade shifted his gaze to the old man lying on the bunk with his eyes open. “Old comrade, you…”
The old man snapped, “What?”
“Can I sit on your bunk?”
“No.”
“Alright.” The older comrade didn’t get angry—instead, he smiled. “Then I’ll just stand for a while.”
The old man froze, clearly not expecting that response.
The older comrade continued smiling. “I’ll stand and talk. That won’t disturb you, right? You’re clearly not sleeping with your eyes open.”
The old man snorted. “You’ve already chased my sleep away.”
“Then that’s perfect,” the older comrade said. “Why not sit up and chat? Didn’t the young comrade in the middle bunk say she couldn’t sleep at night after sleeping too much during the day?”
The old man closed his eyes. “That’s you people. I can sleep.”
“Alright then.”
The older comrade turned to Song Jinyue, his tone gentle. “Young comrade, where are you from?”
Before she could answer, he added, “Wait—I remember, you boarded in Jiangcheng, right?”
“Yes!” Zhenzhu spoke up. “I can testify!”
Sister Chen glanced at Zhenzhu helplessly.
This girl—just got scolded earlier and still couldn’t behave.
Her gaze carried both exasperation and fondness.
Song Jinyue replied, “Yes.”
The older comrade asked again, “Where are you headed?”
“Pingcheng.”
“Pingcheng?” he repeated, puzzled.
“Yes.”
Sister Chen suddenly felt something shift in the upper bunk above her when the word “Pingcheng” was spoken.
But she clearly remembered—there hadn’t been anyone up there.
She leaned out, trying to look up, but couldn’t see.
She turned to Zhenzhu. “Zhenzhu.”
Zhenzhu looked over. “What is it, Sister Chen?”
“Is there someone above me?”
Zhenzhu glanced up. “Yes.”
Sister Chen frowned.
She distinctly remembered that when they boarded, the upper bunk was empty, neatly arranged.
And after that, aside from Song Jinyue, she hadn’t seen anyone else board.
Strange.
As she wondered, the older comrade’s voice came from below. “There’s always been someone.”
Her heart skipped. “Always?”
He added, “Not when you boarded.”
She let out a breath of relief.
Then another question arose—
If the person boarded later, how had she not noticed at all?
“When did they get on?” she asked.
“Late last night,” the older comrade replied. “Boarded at Jincheng. A young man—well-built.”
Sister Chen smiled. “I knew it.”
The older comrade smiled back. “Comrade Chen, where are you taking the young reporter?”
“To Shanghai.”
“Shanghai?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes.”
“Which newspaper are you from?”
Before Sister Chen could answer, Zhenzhu jumped in, “I don’t dare say. I’m afraid of being reported.”
The old man, who had been pretending to rest, immediately got agitated again. “You—!”
Zhenzhu pouted. “See? I didn’t even name anyone, and someone’s already taking it personally.”
The old man was furious.
Just then, a familiar stream of foreign chatter approached—loud and getting closer.
The foreigners had returned.
The older comrade looked at Song Jinyue. “They’re back.”
As he spoke, he stepped toward the compartment entrance and gave her a look.
Understanding, Song Jinyue lay down, turning inward.
The older comrade stood at the doorway, watching five foreigners approach.
Four of them chatted and laughed. One of them peered into each compartment as they passed, as if searching for someone.
Closer and closer.
Kwek reached their compartment, glanced in—didn’t see her—and moved on.
But strangely—
After walking through the entire carriage and returning to their private soft-sleeper compartment, he still hadn’t found that hateful woman.
Worse—
His friends had all been deceived by her!
He clenched his fists.
He had to find her.
The older comrade watched them enter their compartment and close the door.
Only then did he turn back. “They’ve gone back.”
Song Jinyue got up and thanked him.
He smiled but said nothing.
…
That night—
Song Jinyue was awakened by loud chatter, laughter, and noise.
She opened her eyes.
It was those foreigners again.
Even from several compartments away, their shouting could be heard clearly.
Another burst of howling laughter echoed.
Footsteps sounded outside, along with muttered curses.
“Damn those foreigners… tonight I’ll show them what happens when you push too far!”
Footsteps and attempts to calm things down passed by the compartment.
Listening, Song Jinyue quietly got up, put on her shoes, and stepped out.
As soon as she left, Zhenzhu climbed down from the middle bunk and followed quietly.
At the same time, the man in the upper right bunk—who had been sleeping all day—slowly opened his eyes.
…
Song Jinyue moved toward the source of the noise.
The closer she got, the louder it became.
She saw that it came from a separate carriage section, divided by a door.
A man stood at the entrance.
Several people from the hard-sleeper carriage surrounded him, urging him to go in and translate—to tell the foreigners to stop shouting so everyone could sleep.
From their conversation, it was clear he was the translator.
He complained bitterly—he had gone in several times, but the foreigners wouldn’t listen.
And more importantly, these people were here for research and investment—they couldn’t be offended.
As Song Jinyue listened, someone suddenly tapped her shoulder.
She turned—it was Zhenzhu.
Before she could speak, Zhenzhu whispered, “Comrade Song, these foreigners are unbearable. We have to think of a way to deal with them!”
Song Jinyue raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a plan?”
Zhenzhu shook her head. “No.”
Then added, “But you probably do.”
Song Jinyue asked, “You’re a reporter—do you have a camera?”
Zhenzhu nodded. “Yes, a small one.”
“Go get it.”
“Okay!”
Soon, Zhenzhu returned with the camera.
At the compartment door, things were about to escalate.
Just then—
The door opened.
Kwek stepped out.
His gaze immediately locked onto Song Jinyue behind the crowd.
His eyes flickered.
He raised his hand and pointed.
“Let her come over!”