“Huo Xuan, why have you come back?” Xie Mingzhu asked again.
Huo Xuan was pedaling his bicycle with his head down. At her question, his feet paused for a moment before he replied, “Didn’t I just tell you? I dreamed something happened to you here, so I came over to check on you.”
Xie Mingzhu still felt something was off, but since he wouldn’t elaborate, she didn’t press further.
Seeing that she asked no more, Huo Xuan let out a faint, almost imperceptible sigh of relief.
Before long, the two arrived at the educated youth dormitory.
Most of the educated youth living there had gradually returned to their hometowns in the cities. Xie Mingzhu was the last one left—the only one who had not gone back.
Looking back now, she really must have lost her mind back then.
As she took in the familiar yet strangely unfamiliar surroundings, her feelings grew complicated.
“Keys.”
Huo Xuan’s voice cut through her thoughts. She turned to look at him. “What?”
He pointed behind her and repeated, “The dormitory key?”
Xie Mingzhu blinked twice and instinctively reached into her clothing pockets to search.
After patting every pocket, she found nothing.
So much time had passed that she had completely forgotten where she had put it.
Closing her eyes to think for a moment, she finally remembered: she had left it on the windowsill, tucked beneath a brick.
She was just about to go get it when Huo Xuan stepped ahead of her, lifted the brick, and pulled out the key.
“How did you know it was there?”
Huo Xuan glanced back at her. “You told me before.”
Xie Mingzhu frowned. She didn’t recall ever mentioning that to him.
But seeing how certain he looked, she assumed it had simply slipped her mind after all these years.
After helping her carry her luggage into the room, he picked up a washbasin from the shelf and headed outside.
Xie Mingzhu sat down on her bed and let her eyes wander around the room.
Everything still looked exactly as she remembered. All the other beds had been cleared out, leaving only hers still made up with a sheet.
The earthen walls were covered with various slogans and posters. In the corner sat her large trunk, still waiting to be moved. Near the window stood a wooden table, on which a few books were stacked.
Xie Mingzhu stood up, walked over, and picked up one of them.
It was her high school textbook.
Before she could open it, Huo Xuan walked back in, carrying the filled washbasin.
“Go wash up first,” he said gently.
Xie Mingzhu did as he said and walked over to the washstand. When she caught sight of herself in the small, palm-sized mirror, she froze for a moment.
Her hair was tied up at the back, adorned with a large red silk flower. Her cheeks were daubed with rouge so heavy it was deeper in color than her lipstick—making her look like someone performing in an opera.
Qin Qing had done her makeup, saying this was how brides were styled in the village, that it looked more festive.
Back then, her mind had been full of thoughts about her upcoming marriage to Qin Haoyu. Even though she found the look odd, she had told herself it was just local custom.
Now, looking back, she finally understood why the villagers had stared at her with barely suppressed smiles.
She wet a towel and wiped every trace of makeup from her face. Only then did the reflection in the mirror look like herself again.
Standing beside her with his arms crossed, Huo Xuan commented, “You look much better this way.”
Xie Mingzhu turned to look at him.
Feeling a little flustered under her gaze, Huo Xuan cleared his throat and asked, “Are you hungry? I’ll go make you a bowl of noodles.”
After rushing around all day, her stomach had long been empty. She hadn’t noticed it until now, but the moment he asked, the hunger became unmistakable.
“Yes, I am.”
A faint smile touched Huo Xuan’s lips. “I’ll get dinner started right away. You rest for a bit.”
With that, he lowered his arms, walked over to the washstand, rinsed out her towel, picked up the basin, and turned to leave.
Watching his tall figure, Xie Mingzhu suddenly called out, “Huo Xuan, you’re keeping something from me.”
His footsteps halted. He stared down at the faintly reddened water sloshing in the basin.
After a short pause, he turned back and smiled at her. “Everyone has their secrets. Is it really so strange that I have mine?”
He paused briefly before adding, “Don’t you have secrets too?”
Before Xie Mingzhu could respond, he walked out the door.
“Just rest a little longer. Dinner will be ready soon,” his voice drifted in from outside.
Only after he was gone did Xie Mingzhu look away. She steadied her thoughts, sat back down at the table, and opened the book in her hands.
As she turned the pages, her mind began to wander.
The previous year, the national college entrance examination had been reinstated. Back then, her relationship with Qin Haoyu had not yet grown deep enough to make her give up the exam and stay behind.
She had signed up excitedly. She worked in the production brigade during the day and stayed up late at night reviewing alongside the other educated youths, preparing for this long-awaited chance.
She had always been a top student in school. If their school had had more than one recommended spot, she would have gotten into university right away.
This time, she was fully confident.
When the exam came, she had performed exceptionally well—so well that her score ranked among the highest in the entire county.
But by February of this year, she still had not received an admission notice.
She asked the commune leaders to look into it, only to learn that her application had been rejected at the political review stage.
At the time, she hadn’t suspected anything; she assumed it was because of her father’s past troubles that she had been disqualified.
Only much, much later did she find out the truth: someone had reported her to the commune.
She had always wondered—according to her father’s advice, she had listed only her adoptive family members in the family background section. Since she had been adopted as a child, her political status should never have been an issue.
Looking back now, it was obvious Qin Haoyu must have been involved.
She had accidentally mentioned her true family background to him once, and he was the only one who knew.
If her father’s name had not eventually been cleared and rehabilitated, her adoptive family might have suffered as well.
And the worst part? When she first learned of the report, the very first person she had suspected was Huo Xuan.
He had grown up right beside her; only he knew every detail of her family’s story.
But by the time she realized the truth, she was already married to Qin Haoyu and had left this place. Huo Xuan, too, had vanished without a trace—otherwise, she would have confronted him face to face.
Lost in her memories, she was startled back to reality when Huo Xuan’s voice called out, “What are you daydreaming about?”
Xie Mingzhu blinked, her eyes stinging slightly. She stared blankly at him for a moment before saying softly, “I’m sorry.”
Huo Xuan gave a quiet laugh. “What do you have to apologize to me for?”
“I once thought… that you were the one who reported me to the commune,” she admitted, pushing down the bitterness rising in her chest. “Back then, you were the first person I suspected.”
“I know,” he said simply.