Large snowflakes drifted down, and through the flurry, Gu Shunhua saw Su Jianping’s face—utterly stricken with fear. That face, which would one day belong to the vice director of the Power Supply Bureau, now looked as though he had seen a ghost.
Gu Shunhua smiled slightly and turned to Director Sun. “Uncle Sun, Brother Jianping and I grew up in the same courtyard. I’ve always called him brother, and we’ve been very close. He’s just a kind soul—knew I had two children and was struggling to get our household registration sorted, so he said he’d help me look into it. I told him there was no need—it’s a small matter, and since we’re all family, I’d just ask you myself. But he insisted on coming along and speaking on my behalf. I’m sorry for the trouble, Uncle Sun.”
Then she turned her eyes to Su Jianping. “Brother Jianping, you even brought boots? You never mentioned that! You’re just too considerate—worried I’d feel guilty about the expense, huh?”
Su Jianping was still in shock, confused and unsure of what had just happened. But with Gu Shunhua speaking so directly, what else could he say? He could only nod stiffly and mutter, “It’s nothing… just a small thing…”
Gu Shunhua looked at Director Sun. “Brother Jianping is just too kind!”
Director Sun finally understood the situation a little better.
They didn’t live far apart—just a few hutongs away—and word about people’s affairs always got around.
He looked from Su Jianping to Gu Shunhua. “So you two grew up together, childhood friends. Of course you’d want to help each other out. That’s normal.”
But in his mind, he thought: This Su Jianping, isn’t he supposed to write reports at the Power Supply Bureau? How can he be so clumsy with words? After rambling on and on, he hadn’t explained a thing. Now here comes Gu Shunhua, says a few lines, and everything’s perfectly clear.
He sighed and said, “Jianping, Shunhua, to be honest, this matter really isn’t easy to handle. There’s no regulation for it, and no precedent either. If I make an exception, I’ll be responsible for it. But Shunhua has two children—I was thinking about it earlier today and mentioned it to my niece. She felt bad too and told me that if I could help, I should. So I figured I’d try to make an exception. And now here you are, coming to see me on a snowy night—it’s not easy, truly.”
Gu Shunhua understood immediately—he was agreeing to help.
But as a bureau director, he had to say it in a roundabout way. What he meant was that he would process her case not because of the bribe, but because his niece brought it up and he personally felt sympathy for her—hence, he was making a special exception. This was all about protecting the “official procedure.”
And he subtly made it clear that it wasn’t easy for him to help—that doing so came with some risk.
And Gu Shunhua understood that well. After all, the worst of those ten years had only just passed, and many things were still being figured out. No one wanted to take responsibility for something that might cause trouble.
She bowed her head in gratitude. “Uncle Sun, I’m just a divorced woman with two kids, coming back from the Inner Mongolia Corps. I’ve burned my bridges—if I can’t get our household registered here in the capital, we’ve got nowhere to go. I know this isn’t an easy ask, and I truly thank you for bearing the risk. If you can make this happen, I’ll never forget your kindness.”
Su Jianping, still dazed, nodded like a fool. “Yes, yes… exactly.”
Just then, someone in the courtyard called for Director Sun.
“I’ve got to head in—it’s dinner time,” he said.
He looked down at the boots in his hands and smiled. “You can keep these. Such nice boots! You should wear them yourself—don’t freeze your feet in this weather. Come on, take them.”
He tried to hand them back to Su Jianping.
By now, Su Jianping had recovered a little and realized that things weren’t going his way. Gritting his teeth, he reached out to take them.
But Director Sun hadn’t really meant to return them—it was just a polite gesture. When Su Jianping actually tried to take them, Director Sun froze for a second.
What’s this guy doing?
Gu Shunhua watched this play out and sneered inwardly. You think you’re taking the boots back after giving them away? Dream on, you bastard.
She reached out and pushed the boots toward Director Sun. “Director, please keep them. Don’t be a stranger.”
Director Sun chuckled and accepted the boots.
Gu Shunhua tugged on Su Jianping’s arm. “Come on, Brother Jianping, let’s go.”
Director Sun waved them off, then turned and walked back inside, boots in hand, clearly satisfied. GGu Shunhua and Su Jianping walked back together.
Gu Shunhua didn’t want to fall out with Su Jianping completely. After all, they lived in the same courtyard, and any conflict would make future interactions awkward. She also had plans to build a house, and maintaining a cordial relationship was beneficial.
For now, she chose not to confront him directly, keeping this incident as leverage for the future.
She appeared touched. “I didn’t expect you to go to such lengths for me, Brother Jianping. Thank you for your help.”
Su Jianping felt like swallowing bitter medicine. The boots were labor protection items from his unit, usually given to electricians working outdoors. He had received them recently due to his fieldwork for writing reports. Now, they were gone, and he had inadvertently helped Gu Shunhua with her household registration.
Earlier, he had been too stunned to react, but now, realizing the situation, he felt foolish and regretted not holding onto the boots.
Gu Shunhua enjoyed his regretful expression. She returned to the doorway where she had left the meat and fish, picked them up, and said with a smile, “I had prepared these as gifts for Director Sun, but since you helped me, I can save them for our family. Thank you, Brother Jianping. When I cook the meat, I’ll bring you a bowl.”
Su Jianping glanced at the meat and fish, thinking they were essentially exchanged for his boots. His heart ached, but he couldn’t say anything. Causing a scene might affect his future prospects. He forced a smile. “Sure, sure.”
Gu Shunhua knew he wouldn’t dare make a fuss and felt relieved. Securing the household registration was crucial, and she didn’t want to offend anyone before it was finalized. Of course, it would be best to make him suffer a bit more.
As they walked, she noticed the wind blowing snow into a small whirlpool by the roadside, reminding her of a dog feces pit.
An idea struck her. “Brother Jianping, be careful. Walk this way.”
Su Jianping, lost in thought about the boots, didn’t pay attention and stepped forward instinctively.
Gu Shunhua, walking beside him, even held his arm affectionately. “Brother Jianping, be careful not to slip. The snow is heavy today.”
After a few steps, as expected, Su Jianping stepped into the pit and fell with a splash.
Gu Shunhua exclaimed, “Brother Jianping, what happened? Oh no!”
She cried out, “Brother Jianping, your face… it smells so bad!”
Su Jianping was overwhelmed by the stench. Instinctively, he wiped his face, only to find it covered in dog feces. He nearly vomited on the spot.
———
Gu Shunhua didn’t go straight home. She first went to Wang Xinrui’s house and gave them the meat. Then, carrying the fish, she returned home. By then, her parents had returned, and dinner was nearly ready. She handed the fish to her mother. “Mom, I went to Xinrui’s house today. Her dad got this bighead carp from the Miyun Reservoir. It’s fresh. Let’s cook it tonight.”
Yuehua, seeing the fish, drooled and called out to Gu Quanfeng, “Dad, you cook it. Don’t let me ruin such a good fish!”
Chen Cuiyue looked at the fish, recognizing its quality. “Why did you take this from someone else’s house?”
Gu Yuehua laughed. “Since we have it, let’s eat it.”
Gu Quanfeng also glanced at it. “It must weigh around four jin. It’s a good fish.”
Gu Quanfu had declared it a good fish—and if he said it, then it was undoubtedly true. Without delay, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work. Everyone held off on eating, waiting eagerly for the fish to be served.
Gu Shunhua, worried that the children might be hungry, broke off a bit of cornbread for them to nibble on.
Since there were children at the table, the dish couldn’t be spicy, and they also wanted something quick. So he made braised bighead carp.
After cleaning the fish thoroughly, he rubbed a bit of Erguotou liquor over both sides, sprinkled on some coarse salt, and then swiftly heated up oil in the wok, frying the fish until both sides were golden brown. Then he removed it from the pan.
In went scallions, ginger, and garlic, sizzling in the hot oil. The aroma quickly filled the warm, cramped room. The two children peeked toward the kitchen with eager eyes, and even Gu Shunhua found herself salivating.
It smelled amazing.
In times of scarcity, with limited rations and tight finances, people’s bodies craved oil and fat. In the bitter cold of winter, even the sound of sizzling oil awakened the appetite—let alone the sight of a rich, fatty, fresh fish, especially one cooked by Gu Quanfu himself.
Back in the old days, only Cixi and the young emperor would have been lucky enough to eat food of this caliber!
Everyone in the household was delighted. Gu Shunhua, thinking back on it, felt even more relieved. She had nearly given this fish away—but thanks to that little maneuver with Su Jianping, and at the cost of his boots, she got to keep it. Her heart was content, and the aroma of the fish all the more tempting.
After bringing out the fragrance from the scallions, ginger, and garlic, Gu Quanfu poured in two bowls of water, added some salt and light soy sauce, then brought it to a boil over high heat. Once boiling, he placed the fish head back in and covered the wok.
The coal stove glowed under the blackened bottom of the pot, and the water inside bubbled and boiled. The rich aroma drifted across the courtyard—other neighbors began poking their heads out to see.
Someone called out, “Uncle Gu must be cooking something special to welcome his daughter home!”
Gu Quanfu, still feeling somewhat guilty for how he had treated his daughter, kept quiet.
Outside, the snow continued to fall.
Finally, the braised fish was ready. When the door opened, a few snowflakes floated in and melted instantly in the steam rising from the pot.
The fish was plated—the rich, glossy sauce glistening under the warm, yellow light. The tender, fatty meat of the bighead carp shimmered invitingly. Everyone swallowed involuntarily.
Chen Cuiyue beamed, her eyes creased with joy. “Come on, eat! Eat!”
It had been cooked in a hurry, but the result was a thick, savory sauce clinging to crispy golden skin, with melt-in-your-mouth flesh beneath. One bite, and you’d want to devour it whole.
Gu Shunhua, exhausted from rushing about in the wind and snow, was cold, hungry, and worn out. But now, with the matter of household registration seemingly resolved, she finally felt at ease. She tasted a piece herself, then gently fed her children bites of the tender meat. Watching their little faces light up in satisfaction, she felt a deep, indescribable contentment.
Ever since recovering the memories from that book, awakening to the truth, she had been racing against time—rushing back to the Inner Mongolia Corps, revising the divorce agreement, returning to the capital with two children, and begging from door to door to get their registration processed.
Now, it seemed the household registration was secured. She had gotten her revenge on Su Jianping. And now, on this snowy night, sitting around the stove with her family, eating braised bighead carp—she felt a happiness so intense, it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
Author’s Notes:
- In reality, the household registration process requires the Educated Youth Office to collect the documents and report them. One has to wait over a month before receiving notification to proceed. We’ve simplified this in the story.
- Bàngzi = corn. Bàngzi zhōu refers to corn porridge.
- Miyun Reservoir is on the outskirts of Beijing. It was built in the 1960s. Around the 1980s, local farmers began raising fish in net cages. The fish the heroine eats is from Miyun Reservoir.
- Lǎolao (姥姥): Literally “maternal grandmother.” In northern slang, it means: “In your dreams!” (i.e., don’t even think about it).