“There are people in the mountains?” Yang Dai was a little surprised, her drowsiness fading.
“The traces aren’t obvious, but there are definitely people moving around,” Han Lin said firmly, certain that there were quite a few of them. Their activity must be limited and extremely cautious, which was why they left so few signs.
At first, when Han Lin noticed it, he thought maybe others in the brigade were also sneaking into the mountains. After all, no matter the rules, filling one’s stomach came first.
But the more often he went, the more he sensed something was off.
And with Father and Mother Han forbidding him again that evening from going up the mountain, Han Lin became increasingly convinced the traces weren’t left by Huangzhuang Brigade folk.
There really were people active in the mountains.
“I’ll check again when I have time.” Han Lin decided to keep observing. He didn’t believe what his parents had said.
The next morning, he went to the old house and left with Father Han for the County Housing Bureau.
Yang Dai stayed home, restless. Her manuscript had been sent out some time ago, and she figured a reply should be arriving soon.
“Yang Dai, Comrade Yang Dai, your letter!” the postman’s voice came from outside.
Yang Dai dropped everything, hurriedly pushed open the door, and ran out.
“Comrade, sign here.” The postman handed her the envelope, showed her where to sign, then waved and left.
Feeling the thickness of the envelope, Yang Dai’s heart sank.
She had asked about the process before.
If her submission was accepted, the newspaper would keep the manuscript and send back the prize—industrial coupons, which Yang Dai had her eye on.
If it was rejected, the newspaper would return the manuscript with notes on its shortcomings.
Without even opening it, she could tell from the thickness that it was probably the manuscript being sent back, not coupons. Her mood soured.
She tossed the envelope onto the table—out of sight, out of mind—then picked up a basin to wash clothes.
After fetching water, she scrubbed away but couldn’t help thinking of the washing machines at the county department store.
She had a coupon for one, but she still couldn’t buy it.
A washing machine cost more than a bicycle, and she didn’t even dare buy a bicycle yet. The washing machine was out of reach.
And according to the store clerks, it needed to be connected to water pipes. It used both water and electricity, and her house had neither.
Since crossing over, Yang Dai hadn’t even seen a water pipe.
Huangzhuang Brigade drew its water from wells—six of them in total for the whole brigade. Everyone fetched water daily.
That didn’t bother Yang Dai much, since she didn’t fetch water herself. Even in the Duke of Cheng’s household, they’d used well water. The difference was that the duke’s family had its own well in the courtyard, while here the villagers had to share.
But after hearing about tap water, her curiosity burned.
People said you only had to turn a tap and water would flow out. She longed to see it.
She beat the clothes twice more, then her eyes fell on the envelope again. Drying her hands, she thought: whatever the result, at least she got a reply. She ought to look.
She tore it open. Inside was a newspaper.
Peering further, she found coupons.
Holding her breath, she quickly unfolded the paper.
It wasn’t a rejection—it was a sample issue of the newspaper.
Her face broke into a bright smile. She stared at the page again and again, never tiring of it.
In her past life, many praised her as gifted and talented.
But despite all the praise, she had never published her own work.
The crown princess of Great Qing was not supposed to flaunt herself. Her writing was never meant for the public eye.
Now, with no dynasty and no status to shackle her, her dream had come true.
She laid the newspaper on the table, reading it over and over, then carefully tucked away the coupons.
Unlike the tickets Han Lin had scavenged, these carried special meaning. She cherished them all the more.
Even the laundry she had begrudged moments earlier she now took up with energy, scrubbing with soap.
Han Lin spent the whole day working in the county. On his way home, enduring his father’s scolding, he bought six buns—two for Father Han, and four to bring home.
As soon as he opened the door, he saw the sheets and clothes fluttering in the yard and knew Yang Dai must be in a good mood.
She had never washed clothes before crossing over, but here she had no choice. Every time she did it reluctantly. Most of the laundry was Han Lin’s job.
But he was clumsy, and since he didn’t want Mother Han constantly coming over, he had to work full shifts every day. His rushed laundry was always sloppy.
Yang Dai had intended not to interfere. At the start, she and Han Lin had agreed: she provided the dowry, and since wages alone wouldn’t sustain them, her money would inevitably be used bit by bit. Their deal was that she’d provide funds, and he’d provide labor.
It was a fine plan, but reality was harsh.
Han Lin’s strength made him good at sweeping and wiping, but his cooking and laundry never met her standards.
Even when she stood beside him, recipe in hand, guiding each step, his stir-fries turned out mediocre.
For her own palate and stomach, she had reluctantly taken back the cooking.
And laundry was no different. Two washes from him, and good fabric was torn or ruined.
So she only washed her own clothes, leaving bedding and sheets for him.
But today she had even washed the sheets herself—clear proof she was truly in high spirits.
“You’re back?” Yang Dai sipped tea at the table, a book beside her.
She had heard him coming, but she wouldn’t let him see her excitement.
Han Lin set down the buns. “They’re still hot. Eat while they’re warm—I’ll cook the porridge.”
His gaze swept her face, and he noticed the newspaper on the table. But he didn’t dwell on it. After a day’s work, filling his stomach was the priority.
And Yang Dai reading newspapers wasn’t unusual—she had read every scrap of paper used to paste their walls.
Yang Dai watched him turn away, pressing her lips together, unable to concentrate on her book anymore. She put everything away.
When dinner was ready, they sat down.
“The dishes taste good today. Eat more,” Han Lin said, using public chopsticks to add food to her bowl.
But he was puzzled.
When he came home, she had looked happy. Now, half an hour later, she seemed indifferent.
He thought it over while adding another bite for her. This was, in fact, one of his best meals yet.
The buns he’d bought from the state restaurant were tasty, and he had even added peanuts to the porridge to make it richer.
Yet Yang Dai had no appetite.
“This time at the Housing Bureau, pay is settled daily. After a month, there’s also a ticket subsidy. Then I’ll buy a stove and coal from the supply and marketing cooperative,” Han Lin said, changing the subject to something cheerful.
Buying a stove was bound to please her.
The weather was getting hotter. By summer, if they still had to cook with open fire, he knew Yang Dai wouldn’t even want to step into the kitchen.
“Once we get the stove, we should buy a bicycle too. Riding will be so convenient,” Yang Dai said, her spirits lifting. Ever since trying it, she had loved riding.
But the last bike wasn’t hers—she couldn’t borrow it forever.
Before, they hadn’t dared buy much, afraid of standing out.
But now Han Lin had temporary work at the Housing Bureau, and she had her manuscripts bringing in tickets.
However little it was, they had legitimate reasons for their income.
So if they bought something big, people would at worst call them spendthrifts, not dig deeper.
“Once I finish the month at the Housing Bureau, I’ll ask the brigade about getting electricity. Then we can fix up the house.” Han Lin saw her beginning to picture the future, so he spoke of it.
That really was his plan, though things had to move slowly.
“After this month, I’ll also see if I can find a way to get a permanent job,” he added. The difference between rural and urban household registrations had hit him hard.
Among the workers, the temporary laborers like him were paid daily with small ticket supplements.
But the city construction workers earned far more, both in wages and coupons. He couldn’t help comparing.
Yang Dai agreed, though she knew it wouldn’t be easy. It would take time.
After dinner, she remembered the mother and son in the hospital. “When we have time, let’s visit them.”
Comrade Li An from the Agricultural Machinery Station hadn’t spelled it out, but he’d implied enough.
She figured it was best to follow through with kindness—who knew what ties might be built.
Han Lin agreed. His eyes then fell on the newspaper by her pillow.
He glanced casually—then, reading it, couldn’t help but laugh.
“When I get a break from the Housing Bureau, let’s go to the county photo studio.”