Lin Wan walked to the chest of drawers and pulled open the bottom drawer. In her memory, the family’s money and ration coupons were always kept here, wrapped in a piece of blue cloth.
She took out the cloth bundle and opened it.
Inside were several messy stacks of cash. The largest bill was five yuan; most were small notes and coins. Grain coupons, cloth coupons, oil coupons, and meat coupons were each tied together with rubber bands. She quickly counted them: a total of 143 yuan, 7 jiao, and 2 fen in cash; 28 and a half jin of grain coupons; 7 chi of cloth coupons; plus various other ration tickets.
For this era, it wasn’t a large amount, but it was still the savings a worker’s family had accumulated over many years.
Lin Wan did not hesitate. She counted out one hundred yuan, then took fourteen jin of grain coupons, three chi of cloth coupons, and some of the other tickets. She didn’t take everything—there still had to be enough left for the family to survive. She wasn’t trying to drive them to ruin; she was only taking the share that rightfully belonged to her.
In the original owner’s eighteen years of life, the labor she had contributed to this family was worth far more than this.
She carefully wrapped up the remaining money and coupons and put them back where they belonged, while hiding her own share close to her body.
Then she headed toward the kitchen—or rather, a cooking stove set up in the hallway. Lifting the rice jar lid, she found less than half a jar of coarse rice. Beside it, the flour sack still held five or six jin of cornmeal. In the corner were a few potatoes and half a cabbage.
Lin Wan found an old cloth sack and filled it with three jin of coarse rice, two jin of cornmeal, and two potatoes. The pots and bowls were shared property, so she couldn’t take those. But at the very back of the cabinet, she spotted a rusty little iron pot and a large enamel mug with chipped edges—things the family no longer used and planned to sell as scrap.
“These will do,” she murmured, packing them away as well.
After finishing everything, Lin Wan returned to her tiny room and began packing her belongings.
The original owner’s clothes were pitifully few: two patched-up work uniforms (one she was wearing, one in the box), one pair of pants, one autumn undershirt, two pairs of socks, and a thin quilt. Altogether, everything she owned could fit into a single bundle.
She dragged out the broken wooden trunk from under the bed and opened it. Inside, besides a few old clothes, were high school textbooks, a stub of a pencil, and half-used notebooks. At the very bottom lay a small object wrapped in a handkerchief.
Lin Wan unfolded the cloth. Inside was a faded red-star badge.
Memories flooded back—this was an award the original owner had received in elementary school for participating in an activity. In her entire eighteen years of life, it was one of the very few things that had truly belonged to her alone.
Lin Wan held the badge tightly in her hand. The cold metal gradually warmed against her palm.
“I’ll live well,” Lin Wan whispered softly. “For both of us.”
She carefully put the badge away, then began organizing her thoughts.
Tomorrow, people from the Educated Youth Office would come. She had to take the initiative before then. If she passively waited for assignment, who knew where she would be sent? By volunteering first, she could at least express a preference—and she knew that during this period, the Educated Youth Office would usually consider the wishes of students who volunteered enthusiastically, as long as conditions allowed.
“I’ll go this afternoon,” Lin Wan decided.
She changed into the slightly better work uniform from the trunk—though it merely had two fewer patches—combed her hair neatly, and practiced expressions in front of the cracked mirror. She couldn’t appear too shrewd; she needed to fit the image of a “positive and enthusiastic educated youth” of this era, but her eyes also had to show determination.
At noon, her mother, Wang Xiuqin, came home to cook. Seeing her out of bed, she curled her lip.
“Feeling better? Then hurry up and help out. Wash these vegetables.”
Lin Wan silently accepted the wilted greens and crouched by the basin outside the door to clean them.
“Mom,” she suddenly said in a calm voice, “I want to go ask the neighborhood office about the countryside assignment this afternoon.”
Wang Xiuqin was sticking corn cakes onto the side of the pot. Hearing this, she turned around in surprise.
“Ask what? Isn’t it already decided?”
“I want to know roughly when I’ll leave and where I’ll be sent, so I can prepare in advance.” Lin Wan kept her head lowered so her expression couldn’t be seen. “After all, I’m going to support national development. I want to show a positive attitude.”
Those words struck right at Wang Xiuqin’s heart. Her expression softened.
“Now that sounds more reasonable. Fine, go ask this afternoon. Come back and tell me.”
After a pause, she added—rarely showing concern—
“Once you know for sure, the family can prepare some things for you too.”
Prepare what? Lin Wan sneered inwardly. In her memories, after the original owner learned she was being sent down to the countryside, her parents had only said, “The family is struggling, you’ll have to overcome difficulties yourself.” They hadn’t even intended to give her a decent quilt.
But none of this showed on her face. She merely answered softly, “Okay.”
At lunchtime, her father, Lin Jianguo, and eldest brother, Lin Chaoyang, returned home.
There were four dishes and one soup: stir-fried cabbage, shredded pickled vegetables, sliced potatoes, and a small dish of scrambled eggs—the only dish with meat or protein—plus a basin of cornmeal porridge.
Naturally, the eggs were placed in front of her father and elder brother, while the younger twin siblings also received a little. In front of Lin Wan were only cabbage and pickles, and even her porridge was the thinnest bowl.
Throughout the meal, no one asked whether she had recovered from her illness. Her father talked about factory matters while eating, with her brother chiming in from time to time. Her mother picked food for the younger children, telling them to eat more so they could grow.
Lin Wan quietly drank her porridge and observed the family.