There was a plot point in the original story that she had found hard to understand at the time, but also deeply shocking.
Song Can, disheartened, wandered outside all day. By the time she remembered to go home, the sky was already getting dark.
Hurrying home, she ran straight into the Red Armbands on the road, and her body instinctively turned into the nearest alley.
She had just recalled that there was supposedly an abandoned, run-down house in this area—the adults said it was unclean. Shrugging her shoulders, she was about to hurry past when she suddenly heard the voices of a man and a woman talking from a hidden corner.
Song Can recognized the male voice as sounding like a classmate from her old class—a delinquent who spent all his days fighting and doing no honest work. He had even bullied her several times, specifically cutting girls’ hair.
She widened her eyes and peeked over. The figure and silhouette were right—even without seeing his face, she could be certain it was that boy.
Hearing what they were saying, the day’s frustration gave rise to a bold idea in her mind.
Song Can lowered her voice and spoke to the pair of lovers not far away, saying she had overheard their illicit affair, and threatened them to hand over all the money on them, or she would expose their secret to everyone and send the boy to jail.
Aha, and just like that, easy money.
Yang Yuan made up her mind: she was going to rob the female lead of this ill-gotten fortune.
While the house was empty, she went to the east room and took out Father Yang’s rubber shoes, then rummaged through the cabinets to find a set of Father Yang’s old, baggy cotton-padded jacket and pants, swiped one of Mother Yang’s red scarves, and took Yang Wenping’s Lei Feng cap as well.
The rubber shoes hung loose on her feet, so Yang Yuan went back to the west room, dug out some of her own tattered clothes from when she was little, tore them into pieces, and stuffed them inside.
Yang Yuan packed up her gear, shoved it under the bed, and headed out the door, her braids swinging.
She promised the neighborhood kids five cents each, led them to the area near the boy’s house, told them to keep a close watch, and arranged that before going home for dinner, they were to come to her house and tell her everything they saw.
With that arranged, Yang Yuan hurried off without pause to find Song Can.
Everything was ready now—all she lacked was the female lead, that crucial east wind.
Following her guesses from memory, Yang Yuan searched every place Song Can might have gone. When she circled around to the small park for the third time, she finally spotted Song Can’s figure.
Yang Yuan’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. Really, in all her life since the womb, she had never been so excited to see anyone—not even her own mother.
Letting out a long breath and wiping away sweat, she ran over with a genuinely heartfelt smile. “Cancan, so here you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Song Can was sitting on the steps. The moment she looked up, Yang Yuan stared unblinkingly.
She truly lived up to being the female lead, the author’s own darling daughter. Just look at that perfect oval face, porcelain-white skin, and those big, glistening eyes. Tsk—who wouldn’t be smitten?
“Yang Yuan? What do you want with me?”
There was a touch of radiant melancholy on Song Can’s face. Seeing that it was her, she showed no particular reaction. Though they had grown up together and seemed to others to be good friends, in truth Yang Yuan had often snubbed her, both openly and behind her back.
Yang Yuan smiled. She knew the original owner held little place in Song Can’s heart, so she didn’t bother playing the emotional card and said directly, “Cancan, I heard your family arguing today. So it’s true—you really got that job at the textile factory?”
“Mm.” Song Can’s expression was indifferent.
“Then your mom signed you up to go to the countryside, and you can’t refuse. Are you really going to give your job to Ma Yingying?”
Song Can didn’t answer, but her expression grew colder as she stared blankly at a fixed spot.
Yang Yuan licked her chapped lips and, gathering her courage, sat down on the cold steps as well. “Cancan, that’s a job you worked so hard to earn—why should you give it to her? Ma Yingying eats your family’s food, drinks your family’s water, and wants to take advantage of you her whole life. If you really gave it away, how wronged you’d feel. Why don’t you…”
“…sell the job to me instead.”
Hearing this, Song Can turned to look at her, eyes full of scrutiny. Hmph, she knew Yang Yuan never got up early without profit in mind. Why would she kindly come find her? So this was what she’d been waiting for.
Yang Yuan kept smiling. “Cancan, I wouldn’t take advantage of you on something this big. I’ve asked around—jobs at the textile mill go for five hundred or six hundred, and if it’s an office position, it can sell for seven or eight hundred. Hey, Cancan, what kind of position did you get?”
Yang Yuan played the innocent local. Seeing that Song Can didn’t answer, she kept pushing.
“Cancan, look—sell the job to me, keep the money, prepare some good supplies, and life down in the countryside will be easier. Besides, our two families live close by. If anything happens at your home or with your little brother, I can write to you and keep you informed, right?”
Song Can’s expression loosened slightly when she heard about her brother.
Song Can’s younger brother had dropped out of middle school when classes were suspended. Father Song had pulled strings to find him an apprenticeship repairing bicycles, and he’d only started a few days ago.
If the job she’d earned hadn’t required a high school diploma, Song Can probably would have wanted to give it to her brother the most.
Yang Yuan wasn’t discouraged. “Cancan, my older sister works at the supply and marketing cooperative. She has connections and could get you some ration tickets. I’ll beg her to see if she can find you some cotton. It’s freezing in the countryside—make yourself a new padded jacket…”
“Alright, I agree.”
Yang Yuan was talking up a storm and didn’t even react when Song Can spoke.
“Yang Yuan, I agree to sell you the job.” Song Can made her decision, a determined look on her face. Even if she sold this job, there was no way she’d let that mother and daughter benefit cheaply.
“Tomorrow I’ll ask around about the going price. If you can accept it, we’ll go do the paperwork. If not, I’ll sell it to someone else.”
Yang Yuan hurriedly promised she would definitely buy it.
The two walked home while chatting. Coming back from the south, they passed the alley where Song Can lived first. Watching her walk into her home without a trace of fear, Yang Yuan broke into a run toward her own house, and at the mouth of the alley she ran into two kids.
That rich playboy boy had gone to the bathhouse that afternoon, and on the way back he’d stopped by the supply and marketing cooperative to buy sunflower seeds and osmanthus cakes.
Sure looked like the signs of courting a sweetheart.
Yang Yuan thought back on the route she’d just taken accompanying Song Can home—because if she hadn’t shown up and brought Song Can back early, Song Can would have done what she did in the original story: sat in the little park until dark before heading home.
Yang Yuan silently counted the side streets along that stretch of road she might turn into, and which areas had abandoned, unclean houses—trying to figure out where the boy would meet the girl.
After “paying the final installment” to the two kids and instructing them to help—telling Yang Wenping, once they saw him, to pick her up at the big locust tree supply and marketing cooperative at six thirty—
Winter nights fell early, and the sun had already set. Yang Yuan didn’t dare waste time. She picked up her gear and even deliberately smeared her face with soot from a honeycomb briquette. As she went out, she heard Song Can and Ma Yingying trading jabs in the south courtyard, and she quickly walked away.
There weren’t many abandoned houses in town, and only one place in all the surrounding area would dare harbor “unclean” feudal superstitions in such a sensitive period. Yang Yuan found the right one after searching just two run-down courtyards—because just moments before, a limping old granny had asked her what she was doing there.
She lied, saying she’d lost her keys while rushing to her early morning shift and had come to look for them. The lame old grandmother even kindly and tactfully warned her not to wander around after dark and to leave quickly. This only made Yang Yuan more certain she had found the right place.
Sure enough, just after she put on her gear and grabbed a handy weapon, she’d waited less than half an hour before hearing footsteps.
Good, they’ve finally come.