Gu Shunhua dashed toward the bus stop, panic tightening her chest. When the bus finally arrived, she jumped on, and it rumbled all the way to the train station. There, by sheer luck, one of the only two weekly trains was just about to depart—traveling from the capital to Baotou, with a transfer to Liuzhao Station.
She rushed to the counter, bought a ticket, and squeezed into the train just before the doors closed. The rhythmic clatter of wheels hitting steel rails finally allowed her a moment of relief.
But once she exhaled, her thoughts came flooding back, turbulent and relentless.
Her ex-husband, Ren Jingnian, was the male lead of that cursed book—the one destined to build a great future. And she didn’t doubt it for a second.
She had joined the Inner Mongolia Production and Construction Corps at fifteen. He was only sixteen then, but had already graduated high school back in his hometown. He wasn’t just smart—he was extraordinarily capable. At the Corps headquarters, whenever a repair was needed—be it a car, a tractor, or a water pump—it was always him who got the job done.
After marrying Ren Jingnian, she discovered he had a passion for books and newspapers. No one knew how he got them, but he always managed to find something to read—even English texts she couldn’t understand, he read them fluently. Most of the time, it was about physics or circuitry—things that gave her a headache just from looking at the covers.
When word came that the national college entrance exam would resume, they hadn’t planned to apply. But seeing others succeed made them consider it. Unfortunately, torrential rains flooded the coal mine that year, and they missed the exam entirely. This year, though, Ren Jingnian was determined. He believed in himself—and she believed in him too.
A man like that would surely soar once he entered university. She wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he achieved everything the book claimed he would.
But that same man… would fall in love with her cousin, Chen Lu?
The truth was, their marriage had been a loving one. Life in the Corps was hard, but Ren Jingnian always treated her with tenderness. Just to earn the extra thirty cents a day in coal mine subsidies, he’d volunteered himself. And when someone at headquarters gave him an apple as thanks for a repair, he didn’t eat it. He kept it in his pocket overnight, and brought it back to her the next day—warm from his body.
So now, the idea that he had feelings for Chen Lu? That he’d pushed for divorce with ulterior motives? That had to be nonsense. After all, the two barely even knew each other.
But as her thoughts spiraled, a memory surfaced. That time in her family home—Chen Lu had been sitting on the kang bed-stove. Ren Jingnian came in with a mesh bag full of apples. Chen Lu asked for one. Gu Shunhua had been busy cooking. And Ren Jingnian? He peeled the apple and handed it to Chen Lu.
She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But now?
Now it seemed all too familiar.
Just like the book.
Was that the moment it all began?
Blood rushed to her head. As she replayed the divorce again and again, a question took root in her mind:
Had they already been involved all along?
Wuyuan County belonged to the Bayannur League, and Liuzhao Station—where she got off—was a minor third-class stop. It paused for just one minute. Gu Shunhua seized that brief moment to disembark and push through the thinning darkness.
Dawn was only just breaking. Mist clung to the air in pale sheets. She pulled her scarf tighter, wrapped her military-issued coat close, slung her bag over her back, and followed the small crowd out of the station.
It was a small station, yes—but passenger traffic had never waned in recent years. From the desolate desert lands to the bustling capital, it was a lifeline for educated youth like her.
Her coal mine, Sanjianfang, lay more than a hundred li from Wuyuan County. She needed to catch a ride with the repair company trucks hauling sugar beets to the train station.
This year’s beet harvest at the Corps had been excellent. Everyone was working overtime to transport the crops here.
Outside the station, the narrow alleys were lined with run-down single-story houses. Someone had lit a coal stove by the roadside, a pot steaming on top.
The scent of steamed buns drifted toward her.
She hesitated. Then pulled out her food coupons and what little cash remained—and bought two buns.
They burned her tongue, but tasted warm and rich.
She devoured them ravenously. The warmth restored a bit of strength, and she shouldered her bag once again in search of a ride. The Corps vehicles from the mechanical repair company always departed before dawn. The first batch usually passed through around this time.
As luck would have it, a few trucks soon pulled up. She didn’t recognize any of the drivers, but one glance at her clothing was all it took—they said nothing, just gestured for her to hop on.
The Construction Corps had always been managed like the military. Her thick cotton coat had been issued back then. In the capital, people might think it looked provincial. But here in Bayannur, everyone from the Corps recognized it as their own.
Even though the Corps had been disbanded, the people still remained.
The drivers were kind. Seeing that she was a woman, pale and exhausted, one of them offered her the front passenger seat and climbed into the open truck bed himself.
Grateful, she didn’t argue. After a night of nonstop travel, now returning the way she came, she was simply too tired.
The truck rumbled down the dirt road. Gu Shunhua turned her head, staring through the glass at the wilderness beyond.
The Yin Mountains loomed in the distance. The desert was bleak and vast. Northern winds howled, lifting dust and sand into the air, slamming it against the windows like a storm of earth, turning the world outside into a blur of yellow and gray.
And in that wind and dust, she thought of her future.
And her children’s future.
Before she left the Corps, Ren Jingnian had gone to a man named Feng Fugui at the Civil Affairs Bureau. They were acquaintances. Feng brought her a form to fill out, still smelling of fresh ink. It required her personal information, plus agreements on asset division and child custody.
As for assets—after years of hardship, all they had were a few meager savings. There was nothing worth dividing. And because she wanted to return to the city, she couldn’t bring the children. So custody went to Ren Jingnian.
In the end, she left with nothing. She walked away from her family thinking everything was temporary—that she would still reclaim it all.
Looking back now, she realized how naïve that was.
Perhaps Ren Jingnian never expected her to come back.
He had already peeled apples for someone else.
Gu Shunhua raised her numb hand and adjusted her scarf.
The cold was brutal. Her breath turned to frost, moisture freezing onto the fabric.
She tugged the scarf tighter for comfort, but her mind was made up.
She would go back.
She’d find that man Feng Fugui.
She’d make him amend the divorce form.
Whether in the capital or in the Inner Mongolia Corps, even if she had to beg in the streets—she would take her children with her.
Let the so-called male and female leads enjoy their poetic romance—
But her children?
They would not suffer for it.
By the time the truck arrived at the repair unit, it was midday. But her home, the coal mine where she and her children lived, was still over ten li away.
She refused the driver’s offer to take her farther.
She stepped down, adjusted her coat, and began to walk.
The wind pierced her clothes. Even with her heavy hat and cotton coat, the chill sank in. Her legs were stiff from cold, her stomach hollow and aching.
It had been more than a day. She had eaten nothing but two buns.
Gritting her teeth, she marched forward, whispering to herself:
“Tired? Think of the twenty-five thousand li Long March.
Worn out? Remember the old revolutionaries before us.”
She had recited those words to herself countless times. At last—just as the sky was beginning to dim—Gu Shunhua arrived at the Sanjianfang Coal Mine.
Beside the mine stood a cluster of some thirty earthen houses where veterans and workers lived with their families. They were nestled together on the southern edge of the pit.
By now, smoke was rising from stoves across the settlement as dinner preparations began. Gu Shunhua quickened her pace. As she approached the wall of hay bales that marked their small yard, she saw her son, Manman, holding a stick, trying to chase the chickens back into the coop before nightfall. Her daughter, Duoduo, was “helping”—or more accurately, bouncing around and causing chaos.
The little girl was bundled in a red padded jacket, her round little body waddling as her twin braids flopped from side to side.
A soft, plump child—still far too young to understand the world.
Gu Shunhua’s eyes welled up. She thought of the book. Of Duoduo’s jealous, twisted face. Of Manman’s cold, rejecting eyes.
Her heart clenched.
What kind of wretched book does that to children like these?!
Just as that thought surged through her, Duoduo happened to turn and saw her. The moment she did, her face lit up and she sprang into the air with joy.
“Mama-mama-mama-mama-mama—!”
Though she was said to be three, she hadn’t quite reached that age. Her words still slurred, and “Mama” came out in a long chain of excited babble. Seeing Gu Shunhua so suddenly had overwhelmed her with happiness, and all she could do was call out in a breathless string.
Manman, though the same age, was far more sensible. He continued coaxing the chickens as he called out,
“Mom went back to the capital. Once she settles in, she’ll come back for us—”
But halfway through his sentence, he froze.
Something felt wrong.
Duoduo, meanwhile, had already launched herself like a bouncing ball, stumbling and crawling straight into Gu Shunhua’s arms.
“Mama!”
Tears spilled from Gu Shunhua’s eyes as she clutched her daughter tight.
“Duoduo, my sweet girl—Mama will never leave you again, not for the rest of my life!”
Manman, seeing his mother, couldn’t hold back anymore either. He rushed forward, and she gathered both children into her arms, embracing them tightly, desperately.
Duoduo burst into loud sobs in her mother’s arms, and Manman wiped at his eyes, struggling not to cry—but failing. Gu Shunhua broke down completely.
These were her children. Her babies.
Soft, warm, innocent.
And yet their lives—their lives!—had been ruined by a cursed book!
At that moment, Ren Jingnian stepped out from the kitchen.
He wore an apron and sleeve protectors. One hand held a cooking spatula; the other was dusted in flour.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw her—clearly startled.
“You’re back already?”
It had only been four days since she left.
But to Gu Shunhua, it felt like a lifetime had passed between them.
The tenderness she once felt, the reliance—it had all vanished.
Now, she looked at him with nothing but guarded wariness.
She clutched her children close, raised her eyes, and said,
“I’ve changed my mind. About the divorce.”
Ren Jingnian looked at her, his expression unreadable. After a long pause, he said quietly,
“Shunhua… without the divorce, you couldn’t have returned to the city. That’s why we agreed to it, didn’t we?”
His voice was firm, yet gentle.
Once, upon hearing those words, Gu Shunhua would’ve run into his arms, believing in him completely.
But now—
She gave a faint smile.
“I don’t regret the divorce. I regret how we divided the assets and the children.”
Ren Jingnian lifted an eyebrow, confused.
She met his gaze and said calmly,
“You can keep the assets. But the children are mine.”