Gu Shunhua had just washed up and was about to lie down when Ren Jingnian brought over a steamer basket. Inside were seven or eight freshly made youmian rolls.1 She looked at him, puzzled. He set the basket down in front of her. “You didn’t eat enough at dinner, did you?” Her nose stung with emotion. She had spent the entire journey hungry, and at dinner he had only prepared food based on a headcount, not counting her. She had barely eaten a few bites. Now, taking one of the rolls in her hand, she bit into it. It was still warm.
Before joining the Corps in Inner Mongolia, she had never eaten this type of noodle. At first, she wasn’t used to it—but now she loved the taste. “Forty li for youmian, thirty for cake, twenty for buckwheat to starve you to the bone,” went the saying. Youmian was hearty and filling, a local staple in the Hetao region. They had relied on it to survive during the hardest years.
She bowed her head and ate, bite after bite. When she finished, Ren Jingnian handed her a bowl of reheated soy broth from dinner. She took it and drank it down in one go. After rinsing her mouth and adding coal to the stove, she sealed the firebox, and the two of them climbed onto the kang to rest.
Last year, five people from the Corps had died of gas poisoning. Since then, Ren Jingnian had been extra cautious. He only kept fires burning in the outer room. The two rooms were separated by a curtain—enough to let heat through but prevent accidents. It was dark inside—completely dark. The cold wind still howled outside the windows, but inside the children slept soundly, even letting out the occasional tiny snore.
In the pitch dark, she felt a hand reaching for hers. When their fingers touched, she understood the unspoken meaning. It was the silent rhythm of years spent as husband and wife—something she had once found familiar and comforting. But now, she recoiled slightly. She remembered the apple he had peeled for Chen Lu. She remembered the way Chen Lu had smiled and said to her, “Brother-in-law is so nice. The apple is sweet too!”
She hadn’t thought much of it then. But now… it felt off.
If the events of the novel were still just possibilities, that apple had certainly been real. And in the book, even years later, Chen Lu would recall that moment, saying, “The apple you peeled for me back then was the sweetest I’ve ever tasted in my life.”
So she didn’t move. She lay still, eyes closed, pretending to sleep. But Ren Jingnian gently tugged her hand, shifted toward her, and pressed up against her. His hot breath hovered over her face.
She held her breath.
He wrapped his arms around her, pressed a kiss to her cheek, then whispered into her ear, “If you don’t want to go back to the capital alone, then let’s go together.” She listened in silence and thought to herself, You’re not part of my plan. But she said nothing. Nothing had happened yet—or at least, there was no proof. She couldn’t condemn him, only guard herself.
He kissed her ear again and said, “Go to sleep.” Only then did she relax. He didn’t try to make her fulfill her marital duties.
The next morning, Gu Shunhua woke early. Ren Jingnian was no longer on the kang. She dressed and stepped outside. A soft morning mist blanketed the yard, and chimney smoke curled into the sky. The scent of burning wood drifted through the cold, dry air, adding a trace of warmth to the wintry dawn.
In the kitchen, a faint flame licked the cold stove. Ren Jingnian must’ve just lit it. She sat down and started pumping the bellows. “You’re up early,” she said casually. He scooped water from the vat, breaking the thin layer of ice on top. He didn’t answer. But she realized—these past few days while she’d been gone, he had cared for both children alone while still going to work. He must have been waking early every morning to cook the day’s meals.
Her heart ached. She began to hate herself—for being so eager to return to the city, for leaving the children behind in such harsh conditions. Thinking back, the whole thing felt surreal, like her mind had been clouded by something. All she could think at the time was: I must go back to the capital. I must go back.
If she had kept down that path, it was likely things would have unfolded exactly as they had in the book.
So really, she bore responsibility too. Even the future “change of heart” described in the novel might have stemmed, in part, from her own heartless abandonment.
The thought filled her with guilt. But she didn’t want to think about what might come later. Not now.
They cooked breakfast together—gangsi noodles, made from cornmeal. First soaked, then steamed, then soaked again. Once cooked, the noodles were golden and chewy. With a chili sauce, they tasted surprisingly good.
But with two young children at home, they usually steamed the noodles until soft, then mixed in finely chopped meat, a splash of sesame oil, and a bit of soy sauce and vinegar.
There wasn’t much meat. It was a rare treat reserved for the children. Gu Shunhua and Ren Jingnian never ate it themselves.
When the meal was nearly ready, Gu Shunhua heard movement from the bedroom. She went to check on the kids—just in time to see Manman, barefoot and wrapped in a towel blanket, stumbling out half-asleep. He hadn’t even fully woken up yet.
The moment he saw her, his eyes lit up. “Mama!”
“How are you running around without shoes? You’re not even dressed!” The coal stove in the bedroom had long gone out. The room was cold.
Manman just grinned. “Shoes! I’m getting them!” His bare feet slapped against the cold floor as he scampered happily back to the kang to get dressed.
Seeing that smile, Gu Shunhua suddenly realized—he must have woken up and found her gone, and rushed out in fear that she had left again.
She hurried inside. Manman was struggling to get his chubby little legs into his cotton pants. Duoduo had also woken up, her tiny head poking out of the quilt like a little bird, eyes blinking sleepily at her mother.
Gu Shunhua smiled, helped Manman into his pants, and pulled Duoduo up as well, tugging her cotton jacket and trousers from beneath the blankets and dressing her carefully.
The children were almost three, but small for their age—especially Duoduo, who could easily be mistaken for two. Life at the mine was hard. There were no supplements, not even basic staples like vinegar or oil unless delivered by coal trucks from the valley. Anything more was out of the question.
She ached for them. She wanted them to drink fresh milk delivered every morning. She wanted them to eat nourishing food. She wanted them to grow just a little plumper. She wanted them to see the world beyond this barren place.
After dressing the children, Gu Shunhua helped them eat. During the meal, both were so excited they competed to sit beside her—one on each side, in the end. After breakfast, Ren Jingnian drove the coal truck and took them down the mountain. Though the area was no longer officially called the “Corps Headquarters” since the disbanding of the Inner Mongolia Construction Corps, people still referred to it that way. Anything official still had to be handled there.
They first went to the civil affairs office to find Feng Fugui. After Gu Shunhua explained the situation, Feng Fugui stomped his foot. “What do you mean? This isn’t something to joke about!” Gu Shunhua was about to respond, but Ren Jingnian pulled Feng aside and whispered something to him. No one knew what was said, but Feng looked conflicted. After a moment, he said, “So you’re still divorcing, but just want the kids assigned to Shunhua instead?”
Gu Shunhua nodded. “Yes. I want custody of the children. I’d like a new divorce agreement with that stated clearly.” She knew there was no precedent for this. At the time, no educated youth had ever taken children back to the city with them. Before, she wouldn’t have even dared think of such a thing. But now, with the entire plot of that novel burned into her mind, she had seen the shape of history. Compared to that vast arc, this tiny roadblock meant nothing to her anymore.
There’s always a way, she thought. Let’s fix the agreement, bring the children to the capital. Even if I have to cling on and refuse to leave, I’ll get them in. No matter how hard it is now, it won’t matter later.
Feng considered. “Alright, I’ll speak with the bureau chief and see if we can issue a new agreement. But I’m just saying I’ll try—no promises.” Gu Shunhua was deeply grateful.
Feng returned soon after, looked around, and then lowered his voice. They could issue a new agreement—but it would have to be done at night. The fewer people who knew, the better. Both Gu Shunhua and Ren Jingnian understood immediately. If someone was willing to help, it wasn’t illegal—but it wasn’t exactly aboveboard either. Best to keep it quiet.
They didn’t linger. After thanking Feng, they left. But the weather was bitter, and there wasn’t anywhere warm to go. After a simple meal, Ren Jingnian gritted his teeth and decided to check into a guesthouse. At least that way the children could rest comfortably.
To the children, the guesthouse was a whole new world. They clambered up and down, giggling and playing joyfully. Gu Shunhua and Ren Jingnian sat in silence—she in the chair by the window, he near the bed. She was determined to bring the children back to the capital. As for Ren Jingnian… she had no plans. No energy for plans. In the book, it had seemed that he and Chen Lu only got together because she had abandoned him first—or at least, that’s how it appeared on the surface.
In theory, she should want to win him back—keep him from falling into Chen Lu’s hands. But Gu Shunhua didn’t have the strength. Her mind was only on her children.
It was Ren Jingnian who spoke first. “Can you really manage, taking both kids to the capital alone?” From Liuzhao Station to the capital, she’d need to transfer in Baotou. And that train usually had no seats. It was standing room only. A woman with two three-year-olds—it was going to be brutal.
Gu Shunhua replied, “You’ll just need to get us onto the train at the station. That should be enough. The kids can walk now. Manman’s strong—he runs fast. Duoduo’s too skinny, doesn’t have much strength, but she won’t need to be carried the whole way.”
Ren Jingnian nodded. “Alright.” His eyes drifted to the children, who were tumbling around on the bed. He really wanted to go with them to the capital—just to make sure they arrived safely. But as a divorced father, joining them might only complicate things.
Divorce was a sensitive matter. If the capital authorities questioned it, or worse, refused to register the children, his presence might only make things harder. Besides, taking time off from the mine would require an excuse—and he couldn’t get that many days off. If word got out that they had divorced in order to return to the city, the entire plan could collapse.
Gu Shunhua seemed to understand too. She said nothing, but her thoughts wandered to Chen Lu. I’ll take the kids and stay in the capital, no matter what. I’ve already changed my fate. But what about them? Will Chen Lu and Ren Jingnian still fall in love anyway?
She looked up at him. “Hey, let me ask you something.” “Hm?” he replied. Just as she opened her mouth, there was a knock at the door.
Ren Jingnian immediately grew alert. He peeked through and saw it was Feng Fugui. Only then did he open the door quickly and let him in. Feng was holding a fresh copy of the divorce agreement. “Hurry up and fill this out. I need to turn it in.”
Author’s Note:
Around 1970, many educated youth from Beijing joined construction corps across the country. By the late 1970s, there was a massive wave of returnees to the capital. This novel is set against that backdrop of Corps youth returning to the city.
Let me sip some delicious milk, and then I’ll go send lucky red envelopes to the sweethearts who commented on the last chapter! Keep leaving your thoughts—this chapter still counts!
- Youmian Wowo, also known as Youmian Kaolaolao (steamed oat-flour rolls with various condiments). The food looks like a honeycomb with well-arranged bucket shapes.
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