Three days later, the postman rode up on a green bicycle, weaving along the dirt roads of Xiangyang Village, his bell jingling cheerfully all the way.
A group of village children trotted along behind him; when they saw him stop at Ye Qingyan’s gate, they scattered in a flash.
The postman held a parcel in his hand and knocked on the door.
Ye Qingyan came to open it. “Comrade Ye Qingyan, I presume?” the postman said politely. “There’s a parcel addressed to you. Please sign here.”
“Certainly, thank you.” After signing the form, she took the parcel from him.
She turned and walked back inside with it.
Ji Qiuyun was standing by the bamboo pole hanging laundry. Spotting the parcel in Ye Qingyan’s hands, she asked curiously, “Who sent this, I wonder?”
Ye Qingyan shook her head. “I have no idea.”
She had a hunch, though. She’d only shared her address with one person recently—this parcel was almost certainly from Pei Ze.
When she opened it and saw the letter inside, her guess was confirmed.
It really was from Pei Ze.
Alongside the letter and dozens of ration coupons, he’d sent her canned beef and White Rabbit Creamy Candy.
Ye Qingyan sat down at the table, unfolded the letter, and began to read:
Comrade Ye Qingyan,
I hope this letter finds you well.
First of all, thank you for placing your trust in a stranger. To prove worthy of that trust, I sorted out the coupons and sent them to you immediately upon my return to the barracks.
I hope this shows my sincerity. Should you come across any more ginseng, I would be grateful if you would notify me first.
If my reply is delayed, you may reach me at the barracks by telephone: 8326xx.
I noticed you buying high school textbooks at the bookstore the other day—are you planning to sit for next year’s college entrance examination?
Whatever the case, I wish you every success.
Please give my regards to your family.
Respectfully,
Salute.
Pei Ze
November 8th
A faint smile touched Ye Qingyan’s lips. Last time he’d asked for her address; this time, he’d left her his phone number. Was he truly only interested in the ginseng?
Ji Qiuyun walked in and caught sight of the canned beef and candy on the table. She couldn’t help asking, “Qingyan—what does the letter say? Who on earth sent all this?”
Ye Qingyan folded the letter neatly and slipped it back into its envelope. “It’s from that soldier who bought our ginseng. He wrote that if we find any more in future, we should get in touch with him.”
“Oh, him.” Ji Qiuyun nodded. “You said his name was Pei… what was it again?”
“Pei Ze.”
“That’s right, Pei Ze. What a generous man! Sending us canned beef and candy like this.” Ji Qiuyun’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He wouldn’t have taken a fancy to her niece, would he?
“I couldn’t say—he didn’t mention anything like that in the letter,” Ye Qingyan replied after a moment’s thought. “But courtesy goes both ways. I ought to send him something in return.”
Ye Qingyan had never liked owing anyone favours. Besides, she and Pei Ze had met only once—calling them acquaintances was already stretching it.
“You’re quite right,” said Ji Qiuyun. “We should send him a gift back.”
With the bicycle coupon now in hand, Ye Qingyan headed to the commune’s department store the very next day. She handed over the coupon, paid 150 yuan, and finally brought her new bicycle home.
It was a classic heavy-duty model—the kind known as a “28-inch frame”—tall, with a sturdy black crossbar. Ye Qingyan rode it for some distance before she grew accustomed to its size.
As she cycled back into the village, heads turned wherever she went. Curiosity was rife, yet no one dared approach her home. Instead, they gathered in small groups and gossiped—until the story had grown completely out of proportion. Before long, everyone was saying Ye Qingyan had found herself a wealthy fiancé, and the bicycle was his betrothal gift to her family.
When word reached Zhao Mei, she stormed straight out to confront the gossiping women and set them straight.
“Listen to me, all of you!” she declared. “Qingyan bought that bicycle with money our family lent her—and we got the coupon too. What of it? Have you all got a problem with that?”
“Spare me your baseless chatter! If I hear one more word of nonsense, I’ll tear your lying mouths apart!”
Widow Lin rolled her eyes. “No one’s arguing with you spoiling your niece, Zhao Mei. But Ji Qiuyun and her daughter still owe the production brigade money, don’t they? Why haven’t you helped them pay off their debts?”
The brigade’s funds were collective property. At Widow Lin’s words, the crowd chimed in:
“Goodness, that girl certainly lives in a world of her own—borrowing money to buy a bicycle while still in debt to the brigade!”
“Exactly. It’s really not proper behaviour.”
“She is quite the looker, though… who knows, she might just land herself a good marriage. That little debt’s nothing in the grand scheme of things.”
“Hah! With her spending habits? I doubt any family would take her as a daughter-in-law.”
The murmurs rose from all sides, making Zhao Mei burn with anger. She shouted above the noise: “Everyone, quiet down—just listen to me!”
When the crowd fell silent, she continued: “The debt owed by Ji Qiuyun and her daughter? Our family has already paid it off on their behalf.”
“Is that true?”
“Ji Dehua must be doing very well for himself… a bicycle plus clearing their debts? That’s over two hundred yuan in all!”
“He’s always off working at the commune—must be earning a pretty penny.”
“What are you all gathering around for?” called out the brigade chief, Liu Hong, stepping forward with his hands clasped behind his back. “Zhao Mei is telling the truth. The debt owed by Ji Qiuyun and her daughter has been paid in full. And let me warn you all—stop spreading baseless rumours and ruining that young girl’s good name. Are you all really so bored?!”
In truth, the money for the debt had come from Ye Qingyan herself—she’d simply asked Ji Dehua to handle the formalities on her behalf.
Between Zhao Mei’s clarification and the brigade chief’s warning, the villagers fell silent and dared not gossip further.
With the bicycle matter settled, Ye Qingyan learned the location of the black market from Ji Qiming and decided to pay it a visit. Before setting off, she disguised herself carefully—her striking features were too recognisable, and she did not want to draw unwanted attention.
The black market was much like the street markets she had known in her past life: every vendor was sharp and alert, ready to gather their goods and flee at the first sign of the patrols.
Ye Qingyan wandered the market for some time but could not find what she was looking for. She had not held out much hope—it was not an easy thing to come by.
As she turned to leave, a tall, lean young man stepped up to her and asked quietly, “Miss… what is it you’re looking for?”
“I doubt you’d have what I need,” she replied.
“Tell me anyway.”
“Sheeting,” Ye Qingyan said. “Plastic sheeting, preferably thin and flexible.”
At this, the man smiled broadly. “What luck—I happen to have exactly that. Thin plastic sheeting is rare; you don’t come across it every day.”
Ye Qingyan studied him for a moment. “Where did you get it?”
“The textile factory ordered a batch, but it turned out too thin for their needs—useless for their purposes. They’re selling it off to recover some of their costs.” He gestured. “The stock is right nearby. Would you like to see it?”
“Lead the way.” Ye Qingyan followed him cautiously, winding through narrow alleyways until they reached a modest, unassuming house.
Inside a room, five rolls of thin plastic sheeting lay stacked. After a little haggling, they agreed on a price of 10 yuan per roll. She bought all five, paying a total of 50 yuan.
The man helped her carry the rolls out and secure them to the bicycle’s rear rack. “The name’s Jiang Yuan,” he said. “Next time you need something, come find me. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” Ye Qingyan said gratefully. She pushed off along the road back to Xiangyang Village, the five heavy rolls shifting unsteadily behind her. The ropes could not hold them securely, so she guided the bicycle with one hand and steadied the sheeting with the other all the way home.