Chen Cuiyue got up and brought over the freshly toasted slices of steamed bun. One side of each bun slice had turned a golden yellow. She dusted off the ash from the stove and smeared a bit of fermented bean curd on top before handing them to the two children. “Eat up. Once you’re done, drink plenty of water.”
The children took the food and looked at it. Duoduo softly said, “Grandma, you eat.”
She tried to give it back to her.
Chen Cuiyue laughed, clearly touched. “What a sweet child! You two eat, there’s more.”
Gu Shunhua added, “Go on, eat.”
The children looked at their mother before finally nibbling on the food. The first bite was hard to chew—crispy and crumbly. Manman quickly cupped his hands under his mouth to catch the falling crumbs and stuffed them back in. The slices really were crispy, and the fermented bean curd added even more flavor. Bite after bite, they quickly finished, licking their lips and corners of their mouths for the remaining bits.
Chen Cuiyue then served them some thin cornmeal porridge and said, “Tomorrow morning, I’ll make mung bean juice for you.”
Mung bean juice with fried dough rings—a classic Beijing breakfast. The Gu family’s mung bean juice was homemade, authentic to the core.
Once everyone had eaten, Gu Shunhua helped Chen Cuiyue wash the dishes while Gu Yuehua sat at the edge of the bed playing with the children. He had a gentle face and a playful manner, quickly making the little ones giggle in their soft, childish voices—so much that even Gu Quanfeng couldn’t help but smile.
After washing the dishes, Gu Shunhua went out to empty the trash. In the alleyway, this was called dumping the dirty soil—mostly coal ash and cinders. According to the old hutong rules, household waste wasn’t allowed to stay overnight. It had to be dumped before ten.
She held her breath as she emptied the ash, then returned, washed up, and sat by the stove with the children.
Chen Cuiyue was actually troubled. The eldest son, Gu Zhenhua, had also married in the countryside. Fortunately, his wife, Huang Shuqin, was from the capital, so both were eligible to return. Their documents were being processed, but they wouldn’t make it back before the New Year.
He was twenty-five and still childless, which made Chen Cuiyue mutter under her breath.
She also worried about where they’d live once they returned—and what would happen when they had children. As she looked at the two kids now, she couldn’t help but fret. The children were lovable, yes—but also a burden. Eventually, both sons would marry, and her daughter was already living here with two children in tow. How would they manage in such a cramped home? You couldn’t exactly hang people from the walls!
But Gu Yuehua wasn’t thinking of that at all. He was happily playing with the kids.
Gu Shunhua understood her mother’s worries, but she already had a plan—just needed to wait for the hukou to be settled.
After chatting for a while, Gu Shunhua gathered the children and got ready for bed.
Gu Yuehua offered, “It’s cold out there. Sis, you sleep in the back room, and I’ll take the outer room.”
The back room had been built properly in the old days—thick walls, sturdy bricks, wind-resistant. The outer room was a makeshift addition, barely enough to block wind and rain.
But Gu Shunhua replied, “It’s fine. We’ve got thick quilts. This is already warmer than Inner Mongolia.”
She stopped him from insisting, took the kids, and shut the door firmly.
Gu Yuehua scratched his head. “My sister is odd. Prefers the cold room over the warm one!”
But Shunhua had her reasons. She knew her mother’s intentions, knew the future plans for her brothers. If she took the good room now, it would be awkward to give it up later.
She didn’t feel bitter about it. She was used to it.
Her mother didn’t not love her—there were just others ahead in line.
She filled a basin, washed the kids’ hands and faces, then their feet, and used the leftover water to wash herself. After pouring the water into the night pot, she got ready to sleep.
Just before getting into bed, she remembered the bundle from Grandma Tong. She opened it up to add another layer for the children. It was so cold—every layer helped.
As she shook it open, Duoduo’s sharp eyes spotted something. “Mama, handkerchief!”
Inside was indeed a blue handkerchief.
Gu Shunhua’s heart stirred. She opened it and found three ten-yuan bills and ten jin of grain coupons.
She thought back to the way Grandma Tong had handed her the bundle and realized the old woman had hidden the money and coupons inside.
She carefully wrapped them up again, intending to return them tomorrow.
She didn’t lack money, but the gesture warmed her deeply. Grandma Tong, unmarried her whole life, had truly loved her like a granddaughter.
Lying in bed with one child on each arm, she began to lull them to sleep.
But the little ones couldn’t quite doze off and whispered:
“Mama, when is Daddy coming?”
“Mama, the toasted bun was yummy. Duoduo liked it.”
“Mama, we’re not going back, right?”
“Mama, I like Uncle!”
Beijing’s winter nights were bitterly cold. With the twelfth lunar month approaching, their three-ping* home was battered by icy wind and snow. The thin walls seemed like they might collapse under the pressure.
Shunhua shivered, tightened the quilt around the children, and huddled close.
“Sleep now. We’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
Leaving Wang Xinrui’s shared courtyard, a gust of wind laced with leftover snow whipped across her face like sharp needles, piercingly cold. The ground was frozen stiff beneath her feet—stepping on it felt like treading on ice.
Gu Shunhua tightened her scarf around her face and pulled on her padded wool hat. It helped keep out the cold—and also made her less recognizable if anyone happened to pass by.
After all, delivering a gift to the Educated Youth Office Director wasn’t exactly something to brag about. Better to keep it discreet.
Sun Jiayang’s third uncle lived not far from Baishun Hutong, just west of Liulichang. There was a narrow alley leading from Dashilan that cut through directly.
Clutching the straw rope tightly in her frozen fingers, Gu Shunhua pressed forward against the wind and snow, trudging step by step. At one point she nearly stepped into a ditch, only to realize—on closer inspection—that it was a dog latrine.
She carefully sidestepped it and kept going, head lowered.
As she passed through Liulichang, she thought back: in the old days, this place was where glazed tiles were fired—the very ones used on the roofs of the Forbidden City and Beihai Park. Later, street vendors began setting up stalls here to sell used books. Back in the Qing Dynasty, even scholars compiling the Siku Quanshu would come to browse for rare volumes. Over time, the secondhand book stalls evolved into today’s antiques market. And now, even in this wind and snow, she could still make out a few old porters—known as ban-ye—lurking in search of work.
One of them spotted her and waved, pointing toward his wooden cart, offering her a lift.
But Gu Shunhua naturally couldn’t afford it—she shook her head and waved him off.
The man looked a little disappointed, then slowly pedaled his cart away.
Just a few steps later, Gu Shunhua noticed that same cart coming back—this time with a passenger bundled up in a sheepskin hat.
She squinted.
That was… Su Jianping?
What on earth was he doing out in this cold, in the dark, braving wind and snow?
She grew wary. The alley was narrow and snow-covered. Hugging the wall, she ducked into a shadowy doorway, making herself invisible to the unobservant eye.
The cart creaked along the snowy path, its wheels crunching over ice. Snowflakes drifted down silently. Su Jianping’s scarf covered half his face, shielding his view. He clearly hadn’t seen her.
Once the cart passed, Gu Shunhua picked up her pace, gripping the rope tightly and trailing behind at a careful distance.
The cart wasn’t moving quickly, so she managed to keep up.
When the cart turned into a smaller lane, she grew even more suspicious. Wasn’t this the very direction she was heading? What were the chances he would take the same route, on a snowy night like this?
Her vigilance heightened. She stuck to the shadows, slipping behind doors and alcoves whenever needed.
Back in the Inner Mongolia Corps, she had endured eight long years of hard labor. Coal digging, earth shoveling—no task had been too rough. They used women like men, and thanks to that training, her body was agile, her instincts sharp.
She tailed him silently.
Eventually, she watched as Su Jianping got off the cart and handed the porter some money, telling him to go on ahead.
Peeking at the house number from her hiding spot, Gu Shunhua quickly realized—it was the home of Director Sun from the Educated Youth Office.
And in Su Jianping’s hand?
A pair of tall leather boots?
Gu Shunhua’s eyes narrowed. Something was definitely off.
Checking the surroundings and seeing no one else, she carefully set her parcel of fish and pork on a stone stool beside the doorway.
Then she slipped behind the doorframe, watching intently.
Su Jianping knocked on the door. After a moment, someone shouted grumpily from inside, “Who is it?”
He laughed sheepishly and replied that he was looking for Director Sun.
After a brief pause, the door opened.
Gu Shunhua could vaguely make out the figure—yes, that was Sun himself.
The two men exchanged a few words. Clearly, they were familiar with each other. Then Su Jianping handed over the boots, saying they were labor protection gear from his unit—top-quality, fur-lined, and genuine leather.
Real leather boots were rare these days. Most men wore synthetic shoes; even Su Jianping’s leather loafers were a rarity. These boots were on another level entirely.
Director Sun hesitated for a moment, then accepted them.
They chatted a bit longer. Then Su Jianping brought up Gu Shunhua’s name—mentioning her two children, and how difficult it would be to secure their household registration.
Director Sun gave the boots a second look—solid quality, definitely a good deal. Supply Bureau gear really was top-tier.
He sighed and said, “It’s not easy on our end either, but since Comrade Su is making the request, I—”
But Su Jianping interrupted: “Director Sun, honestly, about those kids… Whether it gets done or not, I mean, bringing the kids back might not even be a good idea. After all, she’s a divorced woman with two children—quite a burden, really—”
That was it.
Those words sent a cold chill straight down Gu Shunhua’s spine.
You bastard.
We grew up in the same courtyard. Even if I never liked you, did you really have to stoop so low?
Trying to split me from my children, make me jump through hoops for nothing—how could you be this cruel?
Grinding her teeth, she stepped out from the shadows.
At that moment, Su Jianping was still mumbling to Director Sun, trying to hedge his words. After all, it wasn’t common to bribe someone into not helping. It was a bizarre request.
Director Sun looked puzzled.
And just then, Gu Shunhua appeared.
She stepped right in front of the two men, brushed the snow from her brow, and smiled sweetly.
“Brother Jianping, I told you—I could handle Director Sun myself. Why go to so much trouble on my behalf?”
Director Sun blinked in surprise, completely bewildered.
Su Jianping, however, looked like he’d seen a ghost—his eyes wide in shock.
How had she shown up?
What had she heard?
And what exactly did she mean by that?