The tractor rumbled through the streets of Harbin. Russian-style buildings lined both sides of the road, mixed with rows of dull gray single-story houses. There were few pedestrians, though the occasional bicycle passed by. The scent of dalieba—Harbin’s famous Russian-style bread—hung in the air, a smell unique to the city.
Once they left the urban district, the scenery suddenly opened up.
An endless stretch of black soil spread across the horizon, with rolling mountain silhouettes in the distance. The fields were still covered with patches of melting snow—black and white intertwined in uneven patterns. Tall poplar trees stood along the roadside, their bare branches reaching toward the sky. Every now and then they passed a village, where smoke curled from the chimneys of low earthen houses.
The tractor jolted steadily along the dirt road. It wasn’t fast, but it was stable. The rhythmic puttering of the engine mixed with the sound of the wind, oddly reassuring.
“We’ve still got another three hours to go,” Lu Xiangjun shouted from the back of the trailer, afraid they wouldn’t hear him. “Our production brigade is thirty li from the county seat, and the road’s rough. If you’re hungry, hold on a little longer. There’ll be food once we arrive.”
“Brother Lu,” Zhao Jianguo from Shanghai asked, “where will we stay after we get there?”
“We cleared out two rooms for you,” Lu Xiangjun replied. “One for the male educated youths, one for the females. They’re right next to the brigade office—used to be storage rooms, but we cleaned them up. The heated brick beds are already warmed, so you won’t freeze.”
At the mention of heated kang beds, several of the youths visibly relaxed. They had long heard about the bitter cold of Northeast China. Without a heated kang, they had no idea how they would survive the nights.
Lin Wan listened quietly, her gaze sweeping across the passing landscape. This land felt deeply familiar to her— in her previous life, she had traveled countless times along roads just like these, visiting the most remote villages and meeting the most down-to-earth farmers. Even through the lingering snow, she could almost smell the fertile scent unique to the black soil.
“Is that the Songhua River?” Zhou Xiaomei asked, pointing toward a silvery-white ribbon in the distance.
“Yep, one of its tributaries,” Lu Xiangjun answered. “Our brigade’s fields are right by the river, so there’s plenty of water. That’s why our harvests are good—drought or flood, we still get crops.”
The tractor kept moving forward. After about another hour and a half, Lu Xiangjun suddenly pointed ahead.
“Look—that’s our Xiangyang Brigade!”
Everyone lifted their heads to look.
Across the broad plain stood dozens of scattered houses. Most were made of packed earth, though some had tiled roofs, clearly belonging to better-off families. Neatly arranged farmland surrounded the village, the ridges straight and orderly. At the village entrance stood a huge old elm tree, and beneath it seemed to sit a stone mill. People could be seen walking along the village paths, while a few chickens scratched around for food.
As the tractor drew closer, Lin Wan noticed that although the village roads were dirt paths, they were smooth and wide. Many courtyard walls were neatly built, and stacks of firewood inside the yards were arranged in tidy squares. This really didn’t look like a poor village.
The tractor stopped beneath the old elm tree at the village entrance.
Quite a few villagers had already gathered around, mostly elderly people and children, curiously sizing up the educated youths sitting in the trailer. Several children pointed excitedly at the tractor and shouted.
Lu Guangcai climbed down from the driver’s seat and removed his dog-fur hat, revealing short graying hair. Clearing his throat, he called out in a booming voice:
“Folks, these are the educated youths assigned to our brigade this year! Let’s welcome them!”
Sparse applause followed.
Lu Xiangjun jumped down from the trailer and helped the youths climb off. Lin Wan was the last to descend. Once steady on her feet, she instinctively brushed the dust off her clothes before lifting her eyes to look at the place where she would now live.
The village was cleaner than she had imagined. Though the roads were dirt, there was little visible trash. The houses were old, but the windowpanes had been scrubbed spotless. In many courtyards, strings of corn cobs and red chili peppers hung drying, giving the place a strong sense of everyday life.
“Come on, let’s head to the brigade office first,” Lu Guangcai said, taking the lead.
The educated youths followed behind him with their luggage. Lin Wan noticed that Lu Guangcai walked with his back perfectly straight and his steps firm and steady—the bearing of someone with a military background. Earlier, she had caught sight of what looked like part of a military uniform beneath his padded jacket.
The brigade office was a row of five brick houses with gray-tiled roofs, considered quite impressive in the village. A wooden sign hung outside:
“Xiangyang Brigade Revolutionary Committee, Hongqi Commune.”
“Put your luggage here for now.” Lu Guangcai pushed open the doors to the two western rooms. “The women will stay in this room, the men next door. The kang beds are already heated. Get yourselves settled, and the dining hall will have food ready soon.”
Inside the women’s room was a large kang bed against the wall, big enough for four or five people. Fresh reed mats had been laid across it. Several quilts were stacked in the corner—old, but freshly washed. There was also an old table, two chairs, and on the windowsill sat a chipped enamel mug with a few dried branches stuck inside.
“This is better than I expected,” said Sun Xiuying from Jinan, a brisk and straightforward girl. She tossed her luggage onto the kang. “There’s even a heated bed.”
Zhou Xiaomei also relaxed a little and began unpacking her things.
Lin Wan chose the spot by the window—it had better ventilation and more light. She placed her luggage on the kang but didn’t open it right away. Instead, she walked over to the window and looked outside.
In the courtyard of the brigade office, Lu Guangcai and Lu Xiangjun were talking with several men who looked like cadres. Lu Xiangjun gestured animatedly while Lu Guangcai nodded from time to time. The sunlight shone over them, and the tractor cast a long shadow across the ground.
Just then, Lu Xiangjun suddenly turned his head and glanced toward their room. His gaze lingered on Lin Wan for a brief moment before shifting away.
Lin Wan froze slightly.
There was nothing particularly meaningful in his gaze. It felt more like… observation? Evaluation?
She remembered how, on the train, she had repeatedly planned out her future. If she truly had to remain in the countryside, then the best option would be to marry into a local family and put down roots completely. And choosing the right husband was crucial—he needed to be a good person, come from a harmonious family, and ideally have some standing in the village.
The production team leader’s son…?
Lin Wan shook her head and pushed the thought aside for the moment. It was still too early to think about such things. First, she needed to secure her footing.
“Lin Wan, aren’t you unpacking?” Zhou Xiaomei asked.
“I am.”
Lin Wan turned around and began untying the hemp rope around her bundle.
Her hand brushed against the edge of the small iron pot, and its cold touch steadied her heart.
No matter what the future held, at least for now, she had stepped onto this familiar black soil once more.
Here there were fertile fields, broad rivers, and villages with smoke curling from their chimneys.
And there was also a new beginning.
Outside the window, Lu Xiangjun was speaking softly to his father.
“…That female educated youth from Beijing, the one called Lin Wan—she seems pretty steady, not delicate or spoiled.”
Lu Guangcai took a puff from his pipe. “We’ll observe her for a while first. As long as they’re willing to work hard, our production team welcomes them.”
“The way she climbed onto the truck earlier was pretty nimble,” Lu Xiangjun added casually.
Lu Guangcai glanced at his son but said nothing. He merely looked toward the house where the educated youths were staying, his expression thoughtful.
Evenings came early in Northeast China. Though it was only a little past six, the sky had already begun turning blue-gray with dusk. More cooking smoke drifted above the village, and the air was filled with the mixed smells of burning firewood and boiling food.
Clang, clang, clang—the signal for dinner rang out.
Lin Wan tied her scarf securely and followed the other educated youths out of the house. She took a deep breath of the icy air, feeling a cool freshness fill her lungs.