As Lu Jinxia passed through the kitchen, she said: “Mother, open the window when you stir-fry—it’s choking in here.”
“It is open—can’t you see?” Wang Xiulan replied without turning her head.
Lu Jinxia leaned in and saw the window was indeed ajar a crack. She pushed it wider, then stepped forward to hand her mother a plate.
“Why are you home so late?” Wang Xiulan asked.
“Factory meeting.”
“Another meeting? Your factory certainly holds a great many meetings.”
Lu Jinxia let the remark pass. She washed her hands and went to her room to change clothes.
When she returned, Lu Jianguo was already seated at the table, reading the newspaper. He looked up as she came out. “Jinxia… your friend Shu He came by this afternoon. She left something for you. I’ve put it on your desk.”
Lu Jinxia went to her room and found a paper-wrapped parcel on her table. Inside lay a length of navy-blue corduroy—thick, soft, and smooth to the touch. Tucked beneath it was a note: “Set aside just for you. Give me the money and cloth coupons later. — Shu He.”
She smiled, folded the cloth neatly, and stored it away in her chest.
At dinner, Lu Weidong was in noticeably high spirits. He finished two bowls of rice and helped himself to half a bowl more. Wang Xiulan watched him with delight. “Slow down, son—no one is going to snatch it from you.”
Lu Weidong chuckled but said nothing. Lu Lichun wore a scowl throughout, her chopsticks prodding absently at the rice in her bowl. Lu Jinxia ate her fill as usual, set down her bowl, said “I’m done,” and withdrew to her room.
She reviewed the day’s events in her mind. Director Sun Deming’s praise had not been empty words—he had taken note of her. When the next permanent posts were allotted, her chances looked promising.
From her private stores she retrieved the wooden box and examined the money and coupons within. Coupons were few; money was the greater part. Of the twenty Great Unity banknotes she had laid aside—200 yuan in all—she had spent a little. Later, when the household bought essentials like brown sugar and red dates, she had drawn them from her own stockpile instead. The money and coupons set aside for those purchases had been steadily returned to her, restoring the full 200 yuan. As for the coupons used for sugar and dates, she had traded others with Li Shu He for types she herself would find useful.
Four months of work had passed, and she had little need to spend. Most of her outlay went toward occasional meals at state-run restaurants—not every month, but now and then. After contributing three yuan for household expenses, she still retained fifteen yuan. Five yuan could sustain her for two months—since she needed little else, having stockpiled nearly everything she required. In four months she had saved fifty yuan. Together with the original two hundred, her savings stood at two hundred and fifty yuan.
Lu Jinxia gazed at the sum, then silently withdrew five yuan, setting it apart. The remaining two hundred and forty-five yuan she resolved not to touch.
Lu Weidong and Zhao Guixiang still met occasionally on weekends to see films. Meanwhile, Zhao Guixiang’s younger brother, Zhao Shuanzi, had failed to secure work. The neighbourhood authorities had already begun pressing him to report for rural service. Unwilling to let their son suffer hardship in the countryside, the Zhaos had found a way—they had substituted Zhao Guixiang’s name in place of Zhao Shuanzi’s on the list.
The two families had already agreed the marriage would take place by year’s end. Yet to spare their son, the Zhao parents had decided their daughter must be the one to make the sacrifice. They had kept the matter carefully hidden. But as the saying goes: Good news rarely travels far; bad news flies a thousand li. A secret kept by only one person is the only true secret—and this one was never destined to stay hidden for long.
At lunchtime in the canteen, Liu Xiaomei came over with her lunchbox, leaning in with a conspiratorial hush. “Jinxia… may I ask you something?”
“What is it?”
“Is your eldest brother engaged to Zhao Guixiang—the eldest daughter of the Zhao family at the brickworks? Are they to be married by the end of the year?”
Lu Jinxia’s chopsticks paused mid-air. She glanced across. “Who told you this?”
“My cousin—she works in the workshop office, remember? She speaks with everyone all day—nothing escapes her.” Liu Xiaomei glanced left and right, lowering her voice further. “She was having lunch yesterday with someone from the Youth Resettlement Office… and heard something. Something that concerns your family.”
Lu Jinxia set down her chopsticks and looked at her. Liu Xiaomei leaned closer, speaking almost in a whisper: “The Zhaos have replaced Zhao Shuanzi’s name with Zhao Guixiang’s. On this batch of rural assignment lists… it’s Zhao Guixiang’s name that has been submitted.”
Lu Jinxia’s brow furrowed. “Zhao Shuanzi? Her younger brother?”
“That’s right. He graduated this year, and the neighbourhood committee has been pressing him to leave. His parents couldn’t bear sending their son… so they found a way to swap the names. My cousin says this sort of thing has become common lately—families with both sons and daughters often do the same. They submit the daughter’s name… so the son stays behind.”
Lu Jinxia fell silent, her mind racing. The Zhaos had earlier used the marriage as leverage to force the Lu family into surrendering a job—precisely to keep Zhao Shuanzi from being sent away. Having failed to obtain the job, they had simply pushed their daughter in his place. The critical question: did Zhao Guixiang know?
“Are you certain this is true?” she asked.
“My cousin heard it with her own ears—how could it be false?” Liu Xiaomei replied. “And the officials said the list is final. They leave next week.”
Lu Jinxia was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Xiaomei… thank you for telling me.”
“Think nothing of it—we’re friends.” Liu Xiaomei waved it off. “Tell your family straight away, though. Don’t let them be caught completely unaware.”
Lu Jinxia murmured “I will,” finished the last few mouthfuls of her meal, and had already reached a decision. Her duty was simply to pass the word. What her family chose to do with it was their concern. She had no intention of worrying over Lu Weidong’s fate. Each person bore their own destiny. She had delivered the message—and that was loyalty enough.
That evening she worked overtime. When she finally arrived home, everyone was gathered indoors. Lu Jianguo read the newspaper; Wang Xiulan stitched shoe-soles; Lu Lichun pared an apple nearby; and Lu Weidong, having just washed his feet, was pulling on his shoes.
Lu Jinxia washed her hands, sat down at the table, sipped from her teacup, and said: “Eldest Brother… I have something to tell you.”
Lu Weidong looked up. “What is it?”
“A colleague’s cousin works in the workshop office. Yesterday she ate with someone from the Youth Resettlement Office… and heard something.” She paused briefly. “The Zhaos have replaced Zhao Shuanzi’s name with Zhao Guixiang’s. On this season’s rural assignment list… it is Zhao Guixiang who has been registered.”
The moment the words fell, the room fell utterly still. Wang Xiulan’s needle paused in mid-stitch. Lu Jianguo lowered his newspaper. Lu Lichun’s knife stopped shaving the apple. Lu Weidong’s face shifted from confusion to stunned disbelief.
“What did you say?” His voice cracked.
“The Zhaos have submitted Zhao Guixiang’s name… to go to the countryside in her brother’s place,” Lu Jinxia repeated calmly, her tone as casual as if remarking upon the day’s canteen menu. “She leaves next week. I cannot vouch for the absolute certainty… but you would do well to ask around and confirm.”
“That cannot be true!” Lu Weidong shot abruptly to his feet. “Guixiang would have told me! She has said nothing of this at all!”