The farm’s health clinic, which had been quiet moments before, erupted into a frenzy of panic and commotion.
Chen Zhilu burst in, cradling a frail figure. A slender arm hung limp from the girl’s side, blood dripping steadily from her fingertips.
Behind him, several road construction workers followed, their voices booming through the small clinic. “Doctor! Where’s Dr. Jiang? Someone fell off a cliff—hurry, we need help!”
Jiang Kun, the clinic’s surgeon, specialized in trauma and injuries.
Liu Lili stepped out of the examination room, her own heart racing at the sight of the injured girl. “Dr. Jiang isn’t here. I’m the only one on duty.”
Tao Nanfeng and Qiao Yadong recognized the construction workers’ voices and rushed out.
Tao Nanfeng lingered by the door, her eyes fixed on Xiao Aiyun, while Qiao Yadong hurried to Chen Zhilu’s side. “Who is it? What happened?”
Chen Zhilu’s white undershirt was stained with blood. His face was etched with desperation.
“Ximei,” he choked out. “She was delivering water to the road crew. The ground was slippery… she fell and tumbled down the cliff.”
The frail figure in Chen Zhilu’s arms stirred. She was as thin as a bean sprout, her face deathly pale. Her clothes were torn in several places, exposing the cotton stuffing beneath.
It was Ximei. A gash marred her forehead, her hair was a tangled mess, and she was covered in mud and blood. The sight was gruesome.
One of her legs was twisted at a sickening angle. Chen Zhilu didn’t dare touch it; even the slightest movement made Ximei groan in agony, her pain clearly unbearable.
Qiao Yadong’s face drained of color. “Did she take the Death Road?”
While some of the road crew members sent others to fetch Xiang Bei and Dr. Jiang, the rest carefully placed Ximei on a hospital bed. Once she was settled, they began cursing the damned path.
“That’s the one! A cliff on one side, a rock wall on the other, and the path itself is barely a meter wide. My heart pounds every time I walk that stretch—I’m always terrified I’ll fall.”
“Last year, Xiang Bei had us drive wooden stakes all along the edge to make a guardrail. That helped a bit.”
“The ground was frozen today, and the wind was howling. Ximei’s so thin, she couldn’t hold her own against it. That’s why she fell.”
“Thank God Hehua was with her this time. She’s the one who ran to get us to help bring her up.”
This incident drove home the critical importance of the road project for the educated youth. If the road had been completed, Ximei wouldn’t have fallen. And even if she had, she could have been rushed to Quping Town Central Hospital instead of being left to languish in the farm’s rudimentary health clinic.
Amidst the chaos, Dr. Jiang and Xiang Bei arrived.
After a grim examination, Dr. Jiang’s expression darkened. “The fall was severe. Her tibia is fractured and displaced, and she has a mild concussion. I need to set the bone and apply a cast. Someone get a registration slip and pay the fees immediately.”
Without a word, Xiang Bei paid the bill and assisted the doctor.
Crack.
The sickening sound echoed through the room. Even in her unconscious state, Ximei screamed in agony. Chen Zhilu’s face drained of color, certain the doctor had just snapped her leg.
But Dr. Jiang was a master of his craft. Without any equipment, relying solely on his eyes and hands, he had diagnosed the injury. With a precise push, pull, and twist, he set the displaced bone.
He then applied a cast and wrapped it in gauze. He spent the rest of the morning cleaning her wounds, stitching where necessary, applying antiseptic, and bandaging her injuries.
By noon, the treatment was finally complete.
Xiao Aiyun slowly drifted awake. She found herself in a hospital bed, her hands wrapped in a cotton cap. Standing beside her were Tao Nanfeng and Qiao Yadong.
“I—” Her voice was a raspy whisper.
Seeing Xiao Aiyun finally awake, Tao Nanfeng finally breathed a sigh of relief. She leaned in close. “You’re awake.”
“Thank goodness you’re okay,” Qiao Yadong said, a gentle smile on his face.
To Xiao Aiyun, his smile felt like a warm spring breeze. She lifted her hand, clutching the cotton cap tightly as tears of gratitude filled her eyes. “Thank you. Both of you.”
The army-green cotton cap, lined with brown fur, was thick and warm. She recognized it as Qiao Yadong’s.
Though she’d been half-conscious all day, she hadn’t been completely oblivious. It was just that her mind had felt like a small boat tossed on the waves, too disoriented for her to speak or think.
She remembered everything: Tao Nanfeng carrying her on her back, staying by her side, feeding her water and wiping her brow.
Qiao Yadong waved a hand dismissively. “No need for thanks. Our revolutionary friendship is unbreakable.”
“What are you thanking us for?” Tao Nanfeng said, sitting on the edge of the bed and tucking the blanket in more securely.
“We’re friends.”
Xiao Aiyun squeezed her hand, her gaze full of reliance. “Tao Nanfeng, if you hadn’t carried me to the clinic… You don’t know how much the fever hurt. It felt like my very bones were aching. I just wanted to cry.”
Tao Nanfeng nodded. She knew the agony of a high fever—the way it forced you to curl into a ball on the bed, the pain so relentless that only crying out for “Mom” could offer any solace.
Ever since her mother died when she was seven, Tao Nanfeng had avoided the word “Mom.” Her father had remarried, bringing Feng Qing’e into their home.
Her younger sister, Tao You, had quickly adapted, warmly calling her stepfather, Tao Shouxin, “Dad.” But Tao Nanfeng could only bring herself to call her stepmother “Auntie Feng.”
She and her father had treated Feng Chun’e and Tao You with the utmost kindness and respect, yet they were met with nothing but coldness in return. Tao Nanfeng kept her troubles buried deep, avoiding conflict to spare her father further distress.
On the next bed, Ximei remained unconscious, her body now wracked with nausea. Dr. Jiang frowned, his expression grim.
“Concussion,” he told Xiang Bei. “We can’t treat her here. Get her to the town hospital for an X-ray immediately. We can’t afford any delays.”
Ximei’s father, Fan Wufu, rushed in upon hearing the news. He collapsed to his knees with a heavy thud, kowtowing desperately. “Xiang Bei, please, you have to save her! She’s only twelve! I’ll pay you back for the medical bills, I swear—as soon as I have the money, I’ll pay every cent!”
Xiang Bei helped the man to his feet. Fan Wufu, though only in his forties, looked decades older, his face etched with the premature lines of a lifelong struggle against poverty and hardship.
“Don’t worry, Uncle Fan,” Xiang Bei said. “I’ll save her.”
Though the path between North Slope and South Slope was treacherous and rarely traveled, the villagers shared deep familial ties. In the intricate web of kinship, Xiang Bei owed it to the man to call him “uncle.”
Fan Wufu choked on his words, unable to voice his gratitude. With his gaunt, darkened face streaked with tears, he sank into a crouch in the corner, burying his head in his hands. The weight of guilt and worry aged him another ten years.
Watching the father’s anguish, Tao Nanfeng felt a knot tighten in her chest.
Why did Ximei fall down the cliff?
The answer was simple: she had wanted to thank the road construction team for clearing the new tunnel. She’d gone to bring them the sweetest, purest water from Luohan Spring.
A more contentious person would have been shrieking accusations by now. My Ximei fell because of you! You’ll take responsibility for this!
But Fan Wufu was an honest man. He knew his daughter had been injured while trying to bring the workers water, yet he harbored no resentment. He didn’t even mention the water at all. Instead, he wept with gratitude just because they had come to visit.
The sight left Tao Nanfeng shaken. She had always known people like Feng Chun’e and Tao You—the kind of ungrateful opportunists who took everything and never gave back. But seeing this, she realized that for every such person, there were countless more who met kindness with profound gratitude.
Knowing Fan Wufu’s family was struggling, Tao Nanfeng took out two yuan and pressed them into his hand. “Uncle, please take this. Use it to get Ximei some nutritious food.”
The others, seeing her example, began rummaging through their pockets for spare change. One dime, two dimes, fifty cents, a whole yuan… a handful of crumpled bills and coins were pressed into Fan Wufu’s palms.
Tears streamed down his face as he repeatedly murmured, “You’re all such good people… such good people.”
Xiang Bei arranged for a stretcher, carried by four of the strongest men from the road construction team. With Uncle Fan accompanying them, they set off to carry Ximei down the mountain.
“Look at the sky,” Xiang Bei warned. “It’s going to snow any minute. Hurry back. If the heavy snow seals the mountain… you might not be able to return to the farm until the thaw.”
Tao Nanfeng’s eyes widened, her clear gaze fixed on Xiang Bei. “Seals the mountain?”
Before he could answer, several of the construction workers chimed in.
“You new educated youth don’t know yet, do you? Mount Xiufeng is high. It snows by the end of December. Once it does, the mountain paths become impassable, and you’re trapped up here. That’s what we call ‘the heavy snow sealing the mountain.'”
“Didn’t we tell you to stock up on potatoes and corn? You’ll need rations for the winter when fresh vegetables are scarce.”
“But don’t worry too much,” Xiang Bei added. “The snow isn’t all bad. It’s farm tradition—whenever it snows, they slaughter the pigs and distribute the meat.”
The other educated youth from Jiangcheng, naive to the situation, exchanged excited glances. “Really? We get to eat meat?”
Xiang Bei nodded. “The logistics department has already started preparations.”
He looked at them—mere children, really. They were thrilled by the prospect of meat, but they hadn’t considered how long a dozen or so pigs from the farm could possibly last.
When the food ran low and the bitter cold became unbearable, the winters on Mount Xiufeng would prove to be a true ordeal.
“Can we still work on the road after it snows?” Tao Nanfeng asked.
Xiang Bei shook his head. “No. All work stops. Once the snow hits, you’ll see. The blizzards on the mountain are so fierce you can’t even step outside.”
Tao Nanfeng stared at him, reading the hidden worry in his eyes. If we can’t even leave the house, how bad must the storms be?
The same youth who had just been celebrating the meat distribution now grew tense.
“Will we be trapped indoors?” one asked. “We need to stock up on more firewood.”
“Will the farm still distribute our rice rations on time?”
“The mail carrier won’t be able to make it up the mountain, will they? How will I contact my family?”
“Oh no, I’ve got to get down the mountain and let my parents know. Who knows how long the snow will last? If they don’t hear from me, they won’t even be able to celebrate the Lunar New Year in peace.”
As the other educated youth fretted over their families, Tao Nanfeng bit her lip, her hands clenched tight. Why? Why hadn’t any of her letters received a reply?
What if something has happened to my father?
The more she thought, the more the dread gnawed at her, and her knuckles turned white as she squeezed her hands shut.
Xiang Bei’s gaze fell on Tao Nanfeng’s white-knuckled hands.
After a moment’s thought, he announced, “Alright, everyone. Tomorrow is a day off. You’ll all head to Quping Town together. The post office, the supply and marketing cooperative, the cloth shop… get whatever you need to buy and send whatever letters you need to write. Get it all sorted now.”
He added, “If anyone needs to advance their wages, go to the finance office, fill out a voucher, and bring it to me to sign.”
The educated youth erupted in cheers.
“Great! Director Xiang is the best leader ever!”
“I’ll write home as soon as we get back. I’ll write a long one so my family doesn’t worry.”
“Quick, let’s go get our pay! I’m going to buy sponge cake—oh wait, that won’t keep. I’ll get fabing instead.”
Fabing was a local snack—a leavened flatbread baked hard. Its unique, wheaty-alkaline flavor made it both hearty and incredibly durable for long-term storage.
The gloomy atmosphere, so heavy after Xiao Aiyun’s fever and Ximei’s fall, gradually lifted. Even Xiao Aiyun looked like she wanted to crawl out of her sickbed right then and there to write home.
But Dr. Jiang stopped her.
“You go get my pay advance,” Xiao Aiyun said, her eyes welling up as she squeezed Tao Nanfeng’s hand. “Then bring me some letter paper and a fountain pen. I’ll get the letter ready, and you have to promise me you’ll mail it tomorrow.”
The other homesick educated youth were completely absorbed in the thought of contacting their families.
Liu Lili gave Tao Nanfeng a reassuring smile. “Go ahead, I’ve got this.”
Tao Nanfeng nodded and left, joining the crowd at the finance office to claim her sixteen yuan for the next month’s subsidy. After delivering the paper and pen to Xiao Aiyun, she hurried back to the Zhiqing Settlement.
Li Huilan and Ye Qin were still working, so Tao Nanfeng was alone in their room.
The winter wind howled outside, but a small flame seemed to burn in Tao Nanfeng’s chest. She sat at the table, smoothed out a sheet of letter paper, and dipped her pen into the ink.
Dad, are you doing okay?
The ink blurred on the page. Tao Nanfeng looked up at the wooden window, where the light-colored curtains fluttered gently, as if trying to soothe her.
Dad, I’m doing well here at the farm. The weather’s getting colder and a big snowfall is coming, so I might not be able to write for a while…