Back when she was still at the coal mine in Inner Mongolia, Gu Shunhua had watched wave after wave of fellow educated youth return to the city. Not a moment passed without her longing to go back herself—she had wished she could sprout wings and fly home. But now that she had indeed returned, seeing the coal from the mine arrive here in the city, she found herself… nostalgic.
After all, it was a place where she had spent eight whole years. How could she not feel something?
Gu Yuehua patted the burlap sack by his feet. “Elder Sister, this was from that driver comrade. He said he brought it over for you—looks like it’s vegetables inside!”
One glance and Gu Shunhua already knew. “Sugar beets. We’ll divide them up when we get back.”
At that, the group turned around and made their way back into the courtyard. The hutong was narrow, and this time of day saw schoolchildren coming home, workers getting off shift, and elderly men carrying folding stools. Passing through wasn’t easy—they had to pause constantly to give way—but thankfully, they finally made it to the entrance of the shared courtyard compound.
Gu Shunhua and the others went ahead to open the gate and call people out.
But just as they stepped inside, they heard Qiao Xiuya still chattering on:
“Just wait and see! I’m saying it now—moving coal isn’t as easy as it sounds. Who knows what might’ve happened? Maybe that coal never even left Inner Mongolia, maybe someone’s just playing her for a fool. Or maybe it was intercepted halfway through—hauling coal isn’t some child’s game! And a whole ton, no less? She says it like it’s nothing—just haul it in, just like that? Hired two mule carts? Hah! What’s next, the harness breaks and the donkey runs circles for nothing? And look at her, flaunting it like she owns a coal factory!”
As she spoke, she noticed something strange. The people in front of her were all looking—at her, and then behind her.
Sensing something, she turned around and found herself face-to-face with Gu Shunhua and a few others.
Guduo’er was fuming inside. Her temper flared. “Aunt Qiao, what exactly are you so worried about? Why is it that nothing good ever comes out of your mouth?”
Gu Shunhua smiled slightly. “Aunt Qiao’s just concerned for us. At a time like this, instead of cooking or tidying up her own home, she’s standing here, worrying about our affairs. She’s watching closely, just to see whether we can actually get that coal. In all my three years of hauling manure, I’ve never met someone as generous as you, Aunt Qiao. Thank you so much!”
Her face bore a smile, and her tone was gentle, even respectful in phrasing. But the words themselves—“three years of hauling manure and never seen the likes of you”—carried all the sting of calling her a dung beetle in disguise.
Qiao Xiuya had always held herself as a figure of authority in the compound, and never before had anyone spoken to her like this in front of others. Her face flushed with rage, she raised her voice, calling out to Chen Cuiyue, “Cuiyue, just look at your daughter! Acting all high and mighty—what happened to our Four-Nine City1 traditions? We need to have a serious talk today! What kind of talk is that?”
But at that very moment, the loud braying of mules sounded from outside. Old Pan’s voice rang out: “Coal’s here!”
His drawn-out shout, mingled with the mule driver’s “Hyah—!”, stirred a wave of excitement.
“The coal’s here? She really brought it?”
“Quick, look! The coal’s really here!”
“Coal from Inner Mongolia has arrived!”
In an instant, everything else was forgotten. People rushed out the courtyard. Even Chen Cuiyue, caught up in the moment, hurried to see the coal—no time to care whether her daughter’s words had been too sharp.
Qiao Xiuya had just been gearing up for a dramatic showdown, only for everyone to scatter before she could unleash her fury. No one was left to listen.
Furious, she stomped her foot. “Hey! Hey! What is this nonsense!”
The residents all surged toward the coal cart. Some had already pulled away the straw mat covering the load, inspecting it under the moonlight. Smiles split their faces wide—it really was good coal.
Glossy black chunks, dense and hard—perfect for burning, with real firepower.
Everyone buzzed excitedly, voices overlapping. Despite the late hour and biting cold, just seeing those bright coal lumps warmed their hearts.
Old Pan and Old Liu directed the unloading. Everyone helped move the coal, grunting with effort. Even the children bounced around cheerfully to lend a hand. One thousand kilos of coal were soon neatly stacked in a corner of the compound and covered with straw mats. Job well done.
That night, the residents were all in high spirits. After dinner, they gathered at Gu Shunhua’s home to discuss plans.
Gu Quanfu and Chen Cuiyue rolled the bedding aside—every inch of the bed was taken up with people sitting and chatting.
They discussed how to haul loess, how to make coal briquettes—debating every detail with enthusiasm.
After some back-and-forth calculations, they estimated they’d still need a bit of startup capital—around three to five yuan. Gu Shunhua insisted that, since she had secured the bulk of the coal, she would cover those extra costs. Everyone else would only need to contribute for the briquette materials.
Old Pan was quick to object. “How could we let that happen? Just getting us this coal was already a huge favor. Even if you only gave each family a few chunks, that’d still be a blessing!”
For an entire winter—four months—each family might only get 240 briquettes. Now each family would receive fifty. That’s an extra two weeks’ worth of fuel.
These days, even buying a crumb of pastry meant queuing for hours—fifty coal briquettes were more valuable than meat pies falling from the sky!
Coal briquettes might only cost a few cents each, but the issue wasn’t the price—it was the quota. Each household had a strict limit. Even if you had money, you couldn’t buy more.
But Gu Shunhua didn’t want to take advantage of anyone. “I need coal anyway. I’d have had to make the trip myself. The extras came along the way—it didn’t take much extra effort. Besides, you all helped bring it in. Otherwise, I would’ve had to drag it here by myself.”
In the end, it was Auntie Huo who laughed and said, “We’re all old neighbors. Let’s not get hung up on this. As for the loess, we’ll haul it ourselves. We’ve got the manpower—it’s just a matter of borrowing a cart and feeding the mules some fodder. We’ll all pitch in. If we start nickel-and-diming everything, how are we supposed to live as a community?”
Everyone laughed at that. She was right—what mattered most now was working together to get the job done. With coal briquettes, they wouldn’t have to be so stingy with heat at night. At least their homes would be warmer.
Gu Yuehua chimed in, “That comrade, Gao Jun—he’s a good man. When he gave me that bag of sugar beets, he said the coal came from their mine. They’ve been making deliveries here and there, and if there’s another shipment to the capital, he could help us again. He said there’s no need to stand on ceremony!”
Old Pan added, “That Gao Jun really is a fine comrade. He even helped us unload and stack the coal. Said he’s known Shunhua for years, used to eat from the same pot. Told us to just speak up if we ever needed anything.”
Everyone was delighted to hear it. Though they didn’t want to trouble him too often, just having that connection gave them a sense of hope.
Yongzi, nearby, added, “Last time I ran into that loafer from Qianmen—he’s got connections and can get coal slag. I asked him for some help, but he got all full of himself. Acts like he’s royalty now. We can’t even get close. Smiles when he sees me, but never mentions the coal again.”
Old Pan shook his head. “Can’t you see? He’s waiting for you to bribe him. You’re a grown man—you still don’t know how to read someone’s expression?”
Laughter erupted again. Amid the jokes, their joy deepened. Fifty coal briquettes—something others might grovel and beg for—had come to them freely. It truly felt like a great windfall.
“Really, we owe this all to Shunhua!”
As people said this, Chen Cuiyue beamed with pride. Usually overlooked in the compound, today she was basking in glory thanks to her daughter.
Granny Tong chimed in, “Say, Cuiyue, look at our Shunhua—raising two kids on her own, not easy. What about expanding that outer room of yours? If it’s doable, Shunhua could live a little more comfortably!”
Chen Cuiyue hadn’t expected Granny Tong to bring that up. She hesitated. “Huh? Expand… how?”
“Weren’t we just saying she’d build directly in the earthquake shelter outside? How come now it’s turned into an expansion? That’s not the same at all—that outer room was part of her plan.”
Old Pan spoke up, “Shunhua’s back in our courtyard with two kids after a divorce. That makes her one of us. I say, we need to help her find a place to settle down properly. What do you all think?”
Old Pan held high esteem and weight in the courtyard. More than that, everyone genuinely appreciated what Gu Shunhua had done. Hearing this, the crowd began offering ideas in earnest.
One person suggested, “That earthquake shelter next to your place—why not just build a house there?”
Gu Shunhua was just about to respond when Granny Tong chuckled and said, “Ah… I’m just afraid the Su family won’t agree to that.”
But as soon as she said that, Auntie Huo let out a cold laugh. “They won’t agree? And why not? That house of theirs—don’t even get me started. Didn’t they quietly shift it westward back then? Always grabbing for more. Everyone here kept quiet out of neighborly goodwill. Now Shunhua wants a spot to build and somehow that’s a problem?”
Old Pan nodded. “Let’s do this—Shunhua can just go ahead and build a proper room where the earthquake shelter is. That’ll be her place to settle down.”
Everyone was on board. People started enthusiastically pitching in ideas. Some even volunteered: “I can help with plastering!”
Seeing everyone discussing with such fervor, Gu Shunhua let out a soft sigh, then said, “Old neighbors, let me speak plainly. I’ve returned to the capital now, and I’m here to stay in our courtyard. My two kids will be rooted here in the future. This isn’t a temporary situation. I do need a place—not asking for much—just a roof over our heads to shield us from wind and rain. A few days ago, I checked with the Housing Bureau—they said they had no objection. So it really depends on what our courtyard folks think. Since the topic has come up today, I’ll be straightforward—I want to build a house, and I hope you’ll all be willing to sign off on it.”
As soon as she said that, Old Pan stood up. “Don’t worry, Shunhua. Your business is everyone’s business here. If it’s signatures you need, I’ll go around myself. Anyone who doesn’t agree can come and reason it out with me!”
Old Pan had been quite the formidable figure in his youth, and now that same fire rose in him. His stance made it clear: he would see that house built no matter what.
No one objected. Everyone said there was no problem. All that was left was to speak with Qiao Xiuya.
It was getting late. Gu Shunhua brought out the sugar beets and shared them around. “These come from the foot of the Yin Mountains. Eat them soon.”
Auntie Huo laughed. “Last time, Yongzi brought some back and we got a bit. But we didn’t really know how to cook it. Never had this kind of vegetable before.”
Gu Shunhua explained, “Nothing fancy—you can stir-fry it or pickle it. It’s called sugar beet. Stir-fried, it has a faint sweetness. But when washing, don’t scrub the stems or leaves—ruins the taste. Even the roots are edible if cleaned properly.”
She taught everyone how to prepare it, distributed the beets, and only after things were evenly divided did the crowd begin to disperse.
After the neighbors had gone, Gu Yuehua sighed. “Sis, you’ve only been back a few days and it seems like everyone already respects you. I’ve never seen Old Pan go to bat for someone like this—you’re the first!”
Chen Cuiyue was pleased, pride showing in her voice. “With Old Pan taking the lead, the house is as good as settled. The Su family won’t dare say a word! This coal shipment of yours really won over the neighbors’ hearts!”
But Gu Shunhua didn’t respond. Holding her two children, she made her way to the outer room to sleep. Before leaving, she glanced at Gu Yuehua and said, “Why don’t you focus on your college entrance exams instead?”
Gu Yuehua deflated instantly. Of all the pots to lift, she just had to pick that one.
Over the next two days, Old Pan led a group of young men—those without jobs—to haul loess.
Once upon a time, hauling loess had been an actual trade. People would cart pushcarts out dozens of miles beyond the city to dig up yellow earth, then sell it in town—one or two yuan per cartload. That was how the poor scraped out a living.
Now everything was rationed. No one sold loess anymore, and you couldn’t even buy it if you wanted to. So they had no choice but to do it themselves—self-reliance, as they said—going south of the city to dig their own.
Old Pan had connections. He quickly secured two rubber-wheeled carts and led Gu Shunhua and others southward. Just past the Dajing Glazed Archway was a stretch of open land. No one managed it. There, they set to digging with iron spades.
They hauled two cartloads back and, after unloading, prepared to make the briquettes.
Gu Yuehua knew this work well and threw himself into it. Yongzi and the others copied him. The courtyard buzzed with activity.
For two days straight, they broke up the coal chunks, added water and loess, kneaded the mix, and blended in powdered coal—finally ready to make briquettes.
Gu Yuehua borrowed five honeycomb briquette molds from a nearby coal plant. The molds had a handle on top and a base below. Once the mixture was ready, they packed it in and pressed down on the handle—voilà, one honeycomb briquette.
It was actually kind of fun. Four or five people busied themselves turning out briquettes while the courtyard children watched in fascination. Soon, every corner of the courtyard was packed with neat rows of honeycomb briquettes.
Old Pan hollered, “Watch your step, everyone! Don’t go crushing our briquettes!”
Laughter rang out. “Of course not!”
Gu Shunhua had already done the math—each household would get about fifty briquettes. At just 2.6 cents each, it was cheaper than the government’s rationed supply—and didn’t require tickets or count against your quota. It was basically free.
That thought moved everyone deeply. They eagerly waited for the briquettes to dry so they could finally receive their share.
At the same time, Gu Shunhua drafted a formal request, asking for everyone’s agreement to let her build a small room on a specific spot. Old Pan wrote it out for her.
He was the first to sign, and naturally everyone followed suit.
Had this happened earlier, there might’ve been hesitation—after all, a shared courtyard meant a mix of opinions. But now, no one needed convincing. People rolled up their sleeves to sign. Those who couldn’t write stamped their thumbprints.
Everyone saw clearly—Gu Shunhua had endured eight long years in Inner Mongolia and had useful contacts at the mine. Who knew what else she might help bring in later?
The neighbors from the next courtyard were already coming around, asking, “Where did your Gu Shunhua get that coal? Who’s her connection? Think she could help us too?”
Normally, they were all friendly neighbors. But when it came to this, no one said a word. To them, Gu Shunhua wasn’t just any resident—she was a real pillar of the courtyard now. Letting outsiders benefit? Not a chance. Better to keep such treasures at home.
So everyone was eager to get her properly settled. Giving her a little spot for a house? That was the least they could do.
In no time at all, everyone had signed—everyone except the Su family.
That evening, Gu Shunhua brought a handful of sugar beets to Qiao Xiuya’s house. “Aunt Qiao, have a taste. These are sugar beets from Inner Mongolia—good stir-fried or cold-dressed.”
Truth was, Qiao Xiuya had already noticed everyone else getting their share of the beets. She’d been itching for hers. But she still had to put on airs and replied deliberately, “Oh no, we don’t know how to cook that. No use taking it.”
She said that, but her eyes were fixed on the beets, waiting for Gu Shunhua to coax her into accepting. That way, she could maintain her dignity and then reluctantly accept.
But Gu Shunhua wasn’t going to play along. She kept it cordial just for appearance’s sake, making it clear to everyone she wasn’t picking a fight. She simply replied, “You’re right, Aunt Qiao—you’re a lady of taste. These things aren’t worth your trouble. I’ll bring you something nicer next time.”
With that, she turned and left with the sugar beets in hand.
Qiao Xiuya: “…?”
She stood rooted to the spot, still not quite understanding what had just happened. How could that girl be so lacking in manners? Couldn’t she have at least tried to coax her, said something polite? Honestly!
From the side, Auntie Huo let out a snort of laughter. “Oh, Xiuya, you know how Shunhua is—straightforward to a fault. She doesn’t go in for all that scheming. If you wanted some, just say so! Why go around in circles?”
Qiao Xiuya’s face flushed deep red. “Who wants it anyway? It’s just sugar beets. What could possibly be so delicious about them?”
But no sooner had she said this than several neighbors popped their heads out.
“This sugar beet’s actually really good! We didn’t stir-fry ours—we made a cold dish. The stems are crunchy and fragrant, the root sweet, and the leaves soft like spinach. We minced garlic for the dressing—it’s surprisingly flavorful!”
Another chimed in, “Really? We stir-fried ours. You know, here in Beijing we don’t get much variety in the winter—just cabbage and potatoes over and over. It’s rare to get something fresh. My kid was so excited, couldn’t wait to eat!”
Soon, everyone was chiming in, sharing how they cooked theirs and what it tasted like. It wasn’t as if they had anything pressing to do—just neighbors chatting over something new and curious. Other families were starting to cook, too; the sounds of spatulas, sizzling oil, and kitchen chatter mingled with that faint, sweet aroma drifting through the air. It was enough to make anyone’s mouth water.
Qiao Xiuya took a deep breath, the bitterness in her heart swelling. Without another word, she turned and went inside.
Teeth clenched, she thought, Fine. Tonight we’ll eat something really good. Let’s see if these paupers still think sugar beets are such a prize.
And sure enough, over the next two days, she went out and got herself something fancy—two jin of pork head meat, stewed into a rich broth. But after the pot started simmering and the aroma drifted out, no one showed any particular envy. That only made the food taste bland to her.
She kept a close eye on things. Everyone seemed focused on the coal briquettes—rushing about, working together. And the more she watched, the more grievances she stacked up in her mind: Just look—someone stepped on the edge of my laundry while passing through. And those briquettes—they’re everywhere! I can’t even hang my clothes properly anymore!
It was true that the shared courtyard was tiny. Once the briquettes were set out to dry, there was barely any room left to walk. Still, everyone understood the situation—who didn’t need to compromise now and then in a place like this?
Even her usual allies avoided taking her side. If she tried to grumble about Gu Shunhua, they’d just play dumb: “Shunhua? Isn’t she nice? Such a good girl.”
No one said more than that, which left Qiao Xiuya with no outlet for her frustration.
But she eventually stopped complaining and began scheming instead. She figured: I’ve suffered so much because of these coal briquettes. I didn’t take any—that must count for something, right? Shouldn’t I get something in return?
So she thought: What if I used that as leverage to build a house? I’ll say I endured all this for everyone’s sake—then who could object if I want to expand?
Over dinner, she began testing the waters.
“Damang, does your unit still give out movie tickets? If so, I could distribute a few around the courtyard. And Jianping, if you have any good stuff on hand, keep an eye out for me. I’m thinking I’ll bring up the idea of building soon. Everyone’s in a good mood now—this is the time to act.”
Su Yinghong frowned. “Mom, why didn’t you take the coal briquettes? Fifty of them! You just had to keep up appearances and suffer for it. Now our family’s the only one without any. When I go out, people ask what’s wrong with you!”
Qiao Xiuya glared at her daughter in disgust. “Is anyone asking for your opinion?”
Yinghong flung her chopsticks down. “Hmph! I’m done eating.”
With that, she stormed off to her room.
Qiao Xiuya threw down her own chopsticks in anger. Su Damang gave her a pointed look. “Enough. Don’t make a scene. Do you want everyone to laugh at us?”
“Like they’re not already laughing?” she snapped. “I’ve spent my life working hard to earn respect, and now I’m being humiliated because of her!”
Truth be told, she rarely liked bringing up her daughter. The last time she had tried to arrange a match between Su Yinghong and Gu Shunhua, and Shunhua had brought up Yinghong… she’d nearly exploded. Because her daughter had become a quan’er2—a street girl, a disgrace.
Quan’er was a slang term that had emerged in recent years. In essence, it meant “female hooligan.”
Su Yinghong was two years younger than Gu Shunhua. When the wave of educated youth went to the countryside, Shunhua had gone with them. Yinghong, still too young at the time, finished middle school and had no intention of studying further. The adults were too busy with political movements at work to supervise her.
She was pretty, and she’d learned some dancing at the youth center. Soon enough, she was sneaking out, learning to smoke, dancing at underground venues, skating at Shichahai, and mingling with street thugs.
By the time Su Jianping realized what his sister had become—one of the very people their family had always looked down on—it was too late. Scolding didn’t work, beatings didn’t help. She’d sneak out the first chance she got.
Eventually, they had no choice. They asked Old Pan from the compound to go deal with those thugs—and he did, thoroughly. After that scene, the connection between Su Yinghong and those boys was cut off.
But ever since then, Su Yinghong’s temper had only grown worse. Best not to provoke her—she’d bite back without hesitation.
She was afraid of nothing and no one.
Just as it seemed like Qiao Xiuya and Su Damang were about to erupt into a full-blown argument, Su Jianping furrowed his brow and muttered, “Better think about the house instead. Now’s the time to finalize it.”
Lately, his heart had been heavy—restless in a way he couldn’t shake.
So much so that even Qiao Xiuya’s usual antics and the courtyard’s coal frenzy left him disinterested.
It gnawed at him.
He knew those briquettes had come from Gu Shunhua’s ex. She had even registered the children’s household registration under that man’s name—they were his flesh and blood.
Su Jianping had feelings for her, but the kids… no matter how he looked at it, he couldn’t accept it.
And more than that, it was clear now: Gu Shunhua didn’t look at him the same way anymore.
What happened to her in the countryside? She used to be such a gentle girl. Now she’d turned into a shrew.
His eyes drifted to the chopsticks thrown across the table and his wayward sister. He let out a dry, sarcastic laugh.
Women… every single one of them. What have they become? His sister had been a sweet, innocent girl once, too.
After dinner, the sun was still out for once, and the neighbors used the chance to air out their quilts. Some gathered by the steps to chat—mainly still about the coal briquettes.
Qiao Xiuya sighed. Coal briquettes again. There’s just no escaping them.
Seeing the crowd, she brought out a handful of roasted peanuts and offered them around. With everyone in a good mood, they chatted easily. Qiao Xiuya even praised the briquettes, and as expected, people warmed up to her again—smiles and laughter all around.
Still, she stewed inside. All this fuss over a few pitch-black lumps of coal? Really?
She forced herself to stay friendly and chat a while longer. Then she casually said, “Speaking of which, there’s still some open space in our courtyard, right? That earthquake shelter next to our place—it’d be perfect for a new room, don’t you think?”
Everyone nodded. “Right! It’s a great time to build. We were just talking about that!”
Her heart lifted. “So everyone thinks that spot’s a good idea, yes?”
More nods. “Of course! That earthquake shelter’s such an eyesore. If you built a proper room, the place would look neat and tidy.”
Qiao Xiuya beamed. “Well, that’s wonderful! I was just thinking—”
But she didn’t get to finish. Old Pan walked over with a piece of paper. “Ah! Almost forgot about you. Damang’s wife—come take a look at this. Sign your name here. Thumbprint’s fine too.”
Old Pan was the kind of man who carried authority. He placed the paper squarely in front of her, leaving no room for refusal.
Qiao Xiuya blinked. “Sign what? What is this?”
“Take a look,” he said. “You’ll see.”
She wouldn’t dare clash with Old Pan directly. So she looked down—and the more she read, the more confused she became.
“A house?”
Her head snapped up in disbelief.
Voices rose around her:
“Yeah! That earthquake shelter next to your place. They’re planning to let Shunhua build there.”
Granny Tong, sun-warmed and stroking her cat, said lazily, “Weren’t you just saying how great that would be? Everyone agrees!”
People nodded all around her. “Exactly—we were just saying so.”
That was when it hit her like a thunderclap.
So the entire courtyard knew. Everyone—except her. They’d dug the hole and now wanted her to jump in. No one said a word to her—and now she’s expected to sign? On what basis?
She gripped the paper tightly, scanning the rows of signatures and red thumbprints, her chest tightening.
“What is this supposed to mean?” she asked, voice sharp.
Old Pan answered coolly, “Well, Shunhua doesn’t have a proper place to live. Three people crammed together—something had to be done. That spot was sitting empty anyway. Why not give her a roof over her head?”
Granny Tong smiled. “Everyone else in the courtyard signed already. You’re the only one left. But we all know you’re a reasonable person, Xiuya. You’d never wish hardship on someone else, right?”
Laughter bubbled around her. “Exactly! Didn’t she just say herself the shelter would be perfect for a house?”
Qiao Xiuya fumed. Yes, she had said that—but about her own house, not Gu Shunhua’s! What kind of setup was this?
She didn’t want to sign.
Old Pan saw the look on her face and knew what was going through her mind. But he didn’t care.
He was the kind of man who broke wind and cracked floorboards doing it—and he had already figured out the dynamics of the Su household.
So he simply bellowed, “Damang! Come here, sign this!”
Su Damang, who had been washing dishes, rushed over.
Old Pan had once saved his life. That alone meant he’d do anything Old Pan asked. No questions.
Old Pan didn’t mince words—he explained the situation, and though Damang hesitated, one look at Qiao Xiuya’s sour face and he knew she wouldn’t approve.
But with Old Pan pressuring him, he gave a quick nod. “Alright. I’ll sign.”
He wiped his hands on his apron and signed his name without another word.
Qiao Xiuya watched, furious. Her liver hurt from how angry she was.
She let out a cold laugh, looked at the coal briquettes, looked at the people in the courtyard, then looked at that earthquake shelter.
So this is it, she thought. The whole courtyard joined forces to gang up on me!
And this is supposed to be a socialist society! Where’s the justice in that?!
Author’s Note:
This is socialism, isn’t it? Shouldn’t meat pies be falling from the sky?
Bad mood today. Blew through my entire draft stash in these two mega-chapters. And tomorrow’s update? No clue yet!
- Four-Nine City refers to old Beijing, traditionally seen as the central urban area renowned for its etiquette and refined customs. The name comes from a colloquial saying: “four gates in the inner city, nine gates in the outer city”, which gave rise to the nickname Sijiucheng (Four-Nine City). The inner city was historically divided into four quadrants—east, west, south, and north—and was the political and cultural heart of the capital. The area south of the inner city was known as the outer city, which developed later and was considered less prestigious. ↩︎
- The term quān’er was a Beijing slang used from the 1960s onward to refer to delinquent or rebellious girls who associated with street gangs, smoked, skipped school, and engaged in socially frowned-upon behavior. Though it literally means “circle,” it implied a “bad crowd” or disreputable clique, often used disparagingly by older generations. ↩︎