The green train had clattered and clacked all the way, and finally came to a stop. Su Yun’s rear end had gone completely numb from sitting so long, and her whole body felt stiff.
She squeezed off the train with the crowd, everyone carrying bags and bundles. Outside, staff from the local Educated Youth Office were waiting and quickly began directing the educated youth from the rear carriages to move out.
Those assigned to other counties had already gotten off at the two previous stops.
This was the last stop in Yang City — Qingfeng County, now renamed Qingfeng Commune.
Still, most villagers in the production brigades habitually called it Qingfeng County, saying they were “going up to the county” rather than “going to the commune.”
At this point, the educated youth were like chicks following a hen — filing in a long line behind the staff members as they walked toward the open area outside the station.
“Comrades, listen up…”
“We’re going to call roll now! When your name is called, come to the front!”
One of the staff members stood on a stool with a simple megaphone and shouted over the noise.
It was chaotic — Qingfeng Commune had eight production brigades, each assigned six people this year.
Nearly fifty chattering young people stood below, lugging bags and bundles, still chatting away!
“Ahem… Xiaobao Brigade, come over here first!”
“Li Qiangguo, Sun Wei, Lu Jun…”
“Come over when your name’s called! Sun Wei! Why are there two Sun Weis? Which one is from Shanghai?”
“…”
Those called first were from brigades that had sent people ahead. After roll call, they took their educated youth away.
Some rode ox-carts, some rode mule-carts. The most impressive was Qingshan Brigade, which sent a tractor — Li Xiaoyan climbed onto that one, as she’d been assigned there.
She looked reluctant to leave, and Su Yun understood — Li Xiaoyan was socially anxious. She’d just gotten comfortable with them and now had to start over with new people. It was only natural.
Just then, another tractor rolled up — it looked a bit beat-up and made a deafening rumbling noise that shook Su Yun’s head.
“Shangxi Brigade is here! Listen for your names!”
“Li Jianjun, An Qin, Liu Huan, Tao Yining, Gu Beihai, Su Yun!”
“All of you, come over and get on! Toss your stuff in first, then climb up yourselves!”
After standing for half an hour, the Shangxi Brigade people had finally arrived!
Su Yun quickly threw her bundles into the trailer and scrambled up using both hands and feet.
At this point, dignity was out the window — the trailer was too high to climb gracefully.
After getting up, she helped pull Liu Huan up. Liu Huan was still wearing her buraji dress, which made climbing difficult.
“Regretting it now? I told you to change, but you didn’t listen,” Su Yun said, settling onto her quilt roll and starting to tease her.
“I should’ve listened to you. How am I supposed to get down when we arrive?” Liu Huan drooped her brows in genuine regret.
Su Yun had told her yesterday that the dress would be impractical, suggesting she change when washing up. But Liu Huan found the train toilet too smelly and hadn’t bothered.
Now she was stuck — getting up was one thing, but jumping down later while worrying about her dress flipping up was another.
“Sit tight! We’re about to move! Everyone hold on!”
The tractor driver’s words had barely faded when a jolt sent Su Yun bouncing into the air.
Li Jianjun hadn’t even sat down properly and went tumbling off his bundle into the trailer bed.
The others wanted to laugh, but the tractor rattled violently and the road was bumpy.
Now they had no time to mock anyone — they all held on tight, afraid of being thrown off.
Su Yun and Liu Huan locked arms tightly, while An Qin grabbed Su Yun’s other hand.
It took a while before everyone got used to the ride.
Finally, Su Yun had a moment to look up and size up the “female lead,” Tao Yining.
She had a face shape similar to Su’s second sister — an oval face with slender brows, large eyes, a small mouth, and a nose bridge higher than most people’s. By this era’s standards, she was definitely a beauty.
Of course, to Su Yun, who came from a modern perspective, An Qin’s type of beauty was still more striking.
But in this era, Tao Yining’s looks fit the popular standard of beauty perfectly, whereas An Qin might be secretly called a “vixen” and ostracized by many women for her appearance.
The female lead was wearing a crisp white shirt and a black long skirt — from knowing the plot, Su Yun knew she’d gotten them from her stepsister.
She must have nimble fingers — her hair was braided into two beautiful fishtail braids. At that moment, she too was gripping the side of the trailer, sizing up the other educated youth.
Just then, she turned her head and looked over. Their eyes met, and they nodded at each other in greeting.
Su Yun wasn’t intimidated. So what if she was the female lead? If she were a supporting female character, she might be worried — but she wasn’t even a background extra.
The original owner had died before going to the countryside, so she hadn’t even existed in the book.
Now that Su Yun knew the plot inside out, all she had to do was steer clear of the male and female leads and stay out of their love-hate drama.
Unless they provoked her, she’d just sit back, watch the show, and add a little flavor to her farming life.
That said — in the original plot, since the original owner wasn’t there, the one assigned to Shangxi Brigade with the female lead was another female educated youth.
That girl had been a small cannon fodder who stirred things up early on.
Now, thanks to Su Yun’s butterfly effect, she’d been sent to another brigade, saving the female lead a lot of trouble!
Su Yun’s gaze shifted to the two male educated youth.
The one who’d just fallen over was Li Jianjun — a square-jawed man with thick eyebrows and big eyes, much like the female lead, he had the kind of looks that were very popular in this era.
He wore short sleeves and long pants, with an even wheat-colored complexion and a sturdy build, probably over 180 cm tall.
Don’t underestimate that height — in this era, most people ate poorly and many couldn’t even get enough food. Without adequate nutrition from childhood, a man over 170 cm was already considered decently tall.
Most women were around 140–150 cm; 160 cm was tall.
Even in the north, 180 cm was no small height at the time — genetics didn’t matter if you didn’t have the nutrition to grow.
So tall people back then generally came from relatively well-off families — at least ones that could afford enough to eat.
As for the other male educated youth, Gu Beihai — his looks certainly matched his name.
He had narrow, elongated eyes with inner double eyelids, thick brows that tilted slightly upward, a tall nose bridge starting high at the brow, and thin lips.
His features were sharp and striking — clearly not someone to mess with. Yet he wore a loose white shirt, black trousers, and leather shoes, putting on the air of a frail scholar.
The whole vibe he gave Su Yun was: A husky wearing glasses — quit pretending to be all refined!
However, with that presence, he’d absolutely rock a military uniform or a proper outfit!
In the book, neither of these two had much to do with the male and female leads. Li Jianjun was just a good-natured peacemaker who always smoothed things over.
Gu Beihai, on the other hand, was aloof and kept to himself, with his only close contact being the good-natured Li Jianjun.
And in his second year in the countryside, he found a way out — he landed a job as a driver at Qingfeng Commune’s machinery factory, transforming from an educated youth into a city dweller with a steady job.
In the original book, this caused a stir across the whole brigade, especially among the educated youth in neighboring brigades — everyone wanted to know how he’d managed it.
From his clothes and demeanor, Su Yun guessed he had strong connections behind him, and he probably already knew how to drive.
In those days, knowing how to drive was a highly valued skill!
Even learning to drive required connections — you’d have to bring gifts to apprentice yourself to a master, spend a year learning repair work, and wash the master’s car every day.
Only when the master felt you were ready would they teach you to drive. Then you’d ride along with the master’s truck for another year or two before you could take the wheel on your own.
There was even a popular saying at the time:
One honk of the horn, ten thousand taels of gold; one turn of the wheel, not even a county magistrate would trade!
That just goes to show how desirable and respected the driver profession was back then.
No wonder everyone envied him when he became a driver!