She bought several sets of each. Since the padded jackets, trousers, wool sweaters and trousers were out of season, the shopkeeper fetched them from his warehouse.
She also bought several bundles of wool, all in shades of gray.
Six quilts went into her cart, along with several sets of sheetings and quilt covers.
For footwear, she picked up two pairs of work shoes and two pairs of rubber rain boots.
Passing a shoe shop, she stepped inside. The leather shoes were sturdy and well-made, plain in design—nothing flashy, just the sort of thing one might wear in that era without drawing attention. She selected five pairs.
Everything was loaded into the van, and as she had done that morning, she drove to a quiet spot and transferred the goods into her space. Her next stop was the supermarket.
She wanted to stock up on snacks. Then it struck her—she hadn’t bought candy yet. Sweets would be precious and hard to come by in that time. She found the candy section, took one look at the price tags, and promptly changed her mind. She had planned to buy White Rabbit Creamy Candy and fruit drops, but the prices were far higher than she had expected.
She’d do her shopping online instead. On a popular e-commerce app, she ordered 50 jin of creamy candy and 50 jin of fruit drops, plus 50 jin of red jujubes, shipping everything to her apartment address.
She would have to head back soon; her monthly salary hadn’t been paid yet. Checking the calendar, it was due in just a couple of days.
From official flagship stores, she reordered her usual skincare products and shampoo. She also bought a supply of plain, clear bottles with no labels or packaging. Modern bottles were far too colorful and ornate—she could pour her supplies into these plain containers later, so they would attract less notice.
She also ordered two vintage-style flashlights and a pack of twenty batteries to go with them. When the site recommended old-fashioned metal thermoses, she realized she had overlooked those as well—and promptly added two to her cart.
Leaving the supermarket, she drove toward the family cemetery to visit her grandparents’ graves.
As she passed through the town center, she spotted a stall selling stoves and kettles. She pulled over and bought two solid-fuel stoves, matching kettles, a wok, and a large pot for cooking porridge. She asked the vendor where she could buy coal briquettes, followed his directions, and purchased a supply. Locally, they were simply called “coal balls”—honeycomb briquettes, the kind with holes through the center.
Walking along the street, she found an old-fashioned bakery and bought ten jin of traditional sponge cake. She also picked up two enamel basins in the classic Red Double Happiness design and a few matching enamel mugs.
Further on, a shop sold fried dough twists—she took ten jin. She then bought the customary offerings for grave-sweeping and made her way out to the cemetery.
After speaking quietly for a while at her grandparents’ resting place, she walked to the old family home. Standing before the dilapidated cottage, long empty and falling into disrepair, a pang of sadness rose in her chest.
She did not linger in melancholy. Instead, she walked to the woodlot behind the house and gathered an armful of dry kindling. The stoves would need dry tinder to get started. She did not take too much—just enough to tide her over at first.
By the time she returned to the county seat, dusk had fallen. Lying on her hotel bed, she mentally inventoried her purchases—and realized with a start: medicine! She immediately added “common medicines” to her to-buy list for tomorrow morning.
The next day.
First thing, she collected the steamed buns, fried dough sticks, and pan-fried buns she had ordered, loaded them into the van, and headed to the pharmacy. She bought a full stock of everyday remedies: cold and fever medicines, aids for indigestion and diarrhea, anti-inflammatory drugs, cough and lung formulas, plus Yunnan Baiyao and other trauma medicines.
When she checked her bank balance afterward, she gasped. After all that spending, barely five thousand yuan remained.
She proceeded to the market and spent 300 yuan on steamed buns—three large wicker baskets full, enough to last her a very long time. There was little else she needed to buy locally.
Transferring everything into her space, she checked the time. Only 11:00 a.m. Her bus ticket back wasn’t until the afternoon. She had hours to spare—too many to waste!
She walked to the food street and bought several servings of every specialty snack. At each tea shop along the way, she ordered their signature milk tea. Then she stopped at a burger shop and ordered one hundred full burger meals.
From various restaurants, she placed large orders for prepared dishes: clay-pot chicken, dry-pot duck, dry-pot shrimp, crayfish, grilled skewers, barbecued meat, grilled fish, beer-braised duck, spiced ribs… she ordered a little of everything. By the time she finished, her remaining savings had dwindled to 800 yuan.
She skipped lunch—she was already full from tasting snacks. She carried the rest of the food out to the van and stowed it all safely in her space.
Her salary would arrive in two days. Once it did, she would pick up fruit and desserts, and her supplies would be nearly complete. Oh—and she still needed self-defense gear and stainless steel mess tins. She marked those down online, ready to order the moment her paycheck cleared.
When it was time, she returned the rental van and boarded her bus. She arrived back at her city apartment shortly after 10:00 p.m.
The first thing she did upon walking through the door was wash up and collapse into bed. The trip had been utterly exhausting.
After her shower, however, the worst of her fatigue had passed. She sat on the sofa, retrieved a few snacks from her space, and ate a light meal. Then she set about organizing everything inside her space. She assembled the storage shelves, arranged all her supplies by category—food, tools, medicine, clothing—so that she could find anything at a glance later.
Once organized, she used her rice cooker to steam a fresh batch of rice. As it cooked, she realized she had no large containers to hold it. Her plan was simple: while she still had the means here, she would prepare as much cooked food as possible and store it in the space. If she really was heading into that era, she would need to blend in, keep a low profile, and avoid standing out—only then could she live safely and well.
She knew roughly what life was like in the 1960s and 70s. Controls were strict, rules were rigid, and keeping quiet and unobtrusive was the wisest way to avoid hardship.
While the rice steamed, she ordered a dozen large stainless steel basins online, perfect for storing cooked food. Then she retrieved her cured sausages and began boiling and steaming them all. These were strong-smelling foods—if she were to cook them openly in that era, the scent alone would draw attention and questions.
Her grandmother had told her stories: back then, supplies were scarce. Most people barely had enough grain to eat, let alone meat. Even in her own childhood, far later and better supplied, the aroma of meat cooking would draw half the village to the door. In the 60s and 70s, money alone often could not buy things—ration tickets were required, because the country simply did not have enough to go around. Part of the harvest and production was exported to repay foreign debts, leaving less for domestic use. That was why everything was rationed.
When the rice finished cooking, she left it warm in the pot. She would buy a basin first thing in the morning. She fished out the steamed sausages and set them aside to cool. Tomorrow she would slice them and pack them away. Once the sausages were cleared, she set another batch to cook.