Gu Shunhua made another trip to the Educated Youth Office. But once again, they told her to wait—too many educated youths were returning to the city, and a long queue was already backed up. There were indeed some job openings, mostly manual labor for construction teams, but after glancing at her, they concluded she likely wasn’t suited for that kind of work.
She asked about the specifics and found they were right—not much pay, exhausting hours, and the site was far away, meaning she’d have to leave early and return late. The children would need someone to watch them.
On top of that, she was still busy dividing up the briquettes and collecting materials for the house. These tasks alone were enough to keep her fully occupied. She simply couldn’t afford to work on a construction site—caring for her two children and managing all this was already more than enough. For now, she’d have to keep waiting for a better opportunity.
As for the briquettes, after a few days in the sun, they were finally drying out. They had produced just over a thousand of them. A few were tested—burned cleanly, without harsh smoke, and held up well. One more day in the sun, and they’d be ready to distribute.
In the end, about 500 briquettes would be split among the families in the courtyard—roughly fifty per household. The remaining 500 would go to Gu Shunhua. She’d keep 300 for herself and share the other 200 with her fellow educated youth—Wang Xinrui, Lei Yongquan, Chang Hui, and a few others. It was a good excuse to gather again.
She still remembered the names mentioned in that book—those fellow zhiqing labeled as a nest of snakes and rats, described as blindly loyal to her, willing to help her no matter what. Even if the book only brushed past them vaguely, she had remembered their names.
These past few days, she kept thinking about that one fleeting mention of Langfang. The book had only referred to it once—from Chen Lu’s visit there to see someone. The author had written the scene with vivid realism, as if it really happened. Yet no explanation was ever given for why the male lead was in Langfang or how it came about.
But now, living through it, these once illogical fragments suddenly made sense.
In reality, Ren Jingnian had been transferred to Langfang—and everything now lined up.
And Lei Yongquan? That unruly, flirtatious second-generation playboy—why would he help her when she was down and out? It was absurd in the novel, mocked as a ridiculous alliance. But in real life, it was entirely believable. It was the kind of shared hardship only someone who had lived through it could understand.
She began to suspect that the book’s broken, incomplete plot points and strange inconsistencies might actually be clues—keys to changing her fate.
That Sunday, no one had to work. After a breakfast of mung bean milk, she tidied up the house, dressed Manman neatly, braided Duoduo’s hair, and was about to head to Old Master Pan’s to discuss the briquette distribution. But just as she stepped out, Feng Xian’er and Chen Lu arrived.
Feng Xian’er started talking as soon as she entered. “This was such a big deal—why didn’t you say anything to us? Yaotang could’ve helped haul coal! He’s not doing much anyway. He could’ve pitched in for the sake of the neighborhood!”
Then she added, “We’ve been fretting over running out of briquettes—it’s so cold at night our noses drip! But now it’s fine. This is our own supply—we should take care of our own first!”
All the while, she kept glancing at Gu Shunhua.
After all that had happened recently, Chen Cuiyue had started to look at her daughter in a new light.
Same daughter—but somehow different. This daughter had brought back a whole ton of coal, had won the admiration of the entire courtyard, even earned the support of Old Master Pan. She had brought real honor to the Gu family name.
And her daughter had become decisive. Chen Cuiyue could tell—her own chattering didn’t have the same effect anymore. A few sharp replies from Shunhua would leave her at a loss for words.
So now she didn’t dare say too much. She just waited for her daughter to respond.
Gu Shunhua slid the chamber pot under the bed, washed her hands, and smiled. “Auntie, you came by—please, sit. Have you eaten?”
She didn’t even acknowledge Feng Xian’er’s earlier remarks.
Chen Lu sat quietly on the side, feeling increasingly uneasy.
Ever since Gu Shunhua had brought her two children back to the capital, everything had started to go wrong. At first, Chen Lu had believed that even if things wavered slightly, the story would still return to its original track. Maybe the child wouldn’t get registered and would be sent back to Inner Mongolia in the end. Everything would fall into place.
All she had to do was wait here—wait for Ren Jingnian to come back from the north, wait for him to see Shunhua’s cold-hearted ways, become disappointed, and then she would swoop in. With her gentle heart and sweet demeanor, she’d touch him. He would see her in a new light. When his career blossomed, his heart would belong to her—her and only her.
But now—Gu Shunhua had somehow managed to register the children.
Once the household registration was in place, the kids couldn’t be sent away anymore. Gu Shunhua couldn’t abandon her children—only her husband.
And worst of all, she didn’t even seem interested in remarriage. Instead, she was running around hauling coal!
That coal—surely it had come from Ren Jingnian’s help.
None of this had ever been in the plot. Chen Lu wasn’t some historian or expert in Beijing folk customs. At most, she vaguely remembered the general era of the Reform and Opening, remembered that Beijing household registration was valuable, that real estate would rise—but she didn’t know the details.
Her writing reflected that. This part of the novel had always been weak—a shallow arc about Gu Shunhua remarrying and casting Ren Jingnian aside. That was it.
Now, even though she lived in this era, her knowledge extended only as far as what happened around her. Briquette distribution? House permits? Building regulations? Her parents never taught her that. Before transmigrating, she never experienced it. There was no way she could know all this out of thin air.
So everything Gu Shunhua was doing now—she was utterly baffled.
She even began to doubt herself. Was this book’s world really following her plot, or had it begun to drift back toward actual history?
And this Gu Shunhua—how had she broken free from the plotline and forged a path of her own?
Clearly, everyone else was still bound by the story’s framework. Even Ren Jingnian—yes, he had looked at her with some disdain, but hadn’t he still, by some twist of fate, handed her that peeled apple?
Chen Lu sat quietly, watching Gu Shunhua closely.
She knew she had to stay calm now—not act rashly. Wait for Ren Jingnian to arrive. Once the male lead took the stage, maybe everything would fall into place.
Feng Xian’er, on the other hand, couldn’t hold it in. She forced a smile and said, “Shunhua, how about this? I’ll ask your uncle to come help move the coal tomorrow. You turned the chunks into briquettes, right? Wasn’t really necessary, was it? That’s too much trouble. Back in the day, the old boss of Ruifuxiang burned coal chunks directly—the house was warm as spring! We kids used to go collect coal cinders from their place—that was real prestige!”
Gu Shunhua laughed. “Mom, you see? Auntie really is someone from a grand household—so different from our little family. The old boss of Ruifuxiang, that’s no ordinary person. Only Auntie could compare to them. As for us, we’re counting our coal by the handful—we have no choice but to turn it into briquettes!”
Ruifuxiang was a famous silk and satin shop, founded during the Guangxu reign of the Qing dynasty. It was one of Beijing’s iconic brands. As the saying went, “A hat from Majuyuan, clothes from Ruifuxiang, and shoes from Neiliansheng.” Ruifuxiang held a place among the big three.
It was just down the alley from them, a short turn away.
Hearing this, Chen Cuiyue couldn’t help agreeing. Her sister-in-law was really just putting on airs—over a few lumps of coal, no less! Since when did they compare themselves to the Meng family of Ruifuxiang?
She chimed in, “Xian’er, our family’s the kind that collects coal cinders, not throws them away. Let’s not talk like that—it’s embarrassing.”
Collecting coal cinders meant scrounging leftover bits from rich households. When large families burned coal, some wouldn’t be fully consumed. The leftover ashes would be dumped, and poorer families—often sending their children—would pick through the waste to salvage usable fuel. Sometimes, they’d even trade it for cornbread if they were desperate.
Feng Xian’er didn’t expect that kind of response and looked embarrassed. “You’re right. I was just making conversation. It’s so cold lately—last night Yaotang’s nose was running from the chill. I told him he’s an idiot—we have coal, and he’s still freezing! Sis, tell me—am I wrong for being upset?”
Gu Shunhua paused in surprise. “Auntie, what do you mean by that?”
Feng Xian’er frowned. Hadn’t she made herself clear?
As an elder, she didn’t want to say it directly. She shot a look at Chen Lu, but the girl seemed lost in thought.
Left with no choice, Feng Xian’er braced herself. “Shunhua, since we have coal, why not let me take some back with me?”
Gu Shunhua smiled. “Oh, Auntie! Why didn’t you say so sooner?”
“…What? You mean it’s too late now?”
Gu Shunhua said, “Well, of course. Everything has to follow the proper order. These briquettes—I’ve already promised them all away. Not a single one left!”
As she spoke, she turned to Chen Cuiyue and added, “Mom, really—you should’ve mentioned it earlier. Now I didn’t even save a single briquette for Auntie, what a shame! Just too late now—we’ll have to wait until next time.”
Chen Cuiyue’s eyes widened. She didn’t mention it? She did mention it!
And how could there not be a single one left? She opened her mouth, “Shunhua, count it again—there’s definitely some left over. At least let your uncle have a few. If he freezes and gets sick, who’s going to take the blame for that?”
Gu Shunhua replied, “Absolutely not. These briquettes were calculated to the last piece—how many for each household. Later they have to sign off on my house permit. If even one briquette is missing, and I can’t get this house built, who’s going to be responsible? And even if there are extras, they’re meant to repay debts—debts for people helping me get the children’s registration, helping me with all sorts of things. That kind of favor? Not even ten jin of pork belly would be enough. I’m counting on these briquettes to repay every bit.”
As soon as she mentioned the house, Chen Cuiyue fell silent. That hit her right where it hurt. She wanted that house built too—once it was done, the kids would stay close, and there’d be no need to give up the family house. They’d only have to worry about the two sons.
This was serious business—Chen Cuiyue knew how to weigh priorities.
Feng Xian’er snapped, “Fine, so you want to build a house, but do you really need to fuss over one measly briquette?”
Gu Shunhua didn’t want to argue. She turned to her mother and said, “Mom, I’m going to tend to the kids. You can explain it to Auntie. This stuff’s complicated, and I’m young—I don’t know how to say it right.”
With that, she picked up her child and walked straight into the outer room, leaving Chen Cuiyue to deal with the mother and daughter pair.
Feng Xian’er was fuming. Chen Cuiyue quickly tried to smooth things over. “Oh, this child—speaks without thinking. Xian’er, don’t take it to heart.”
Feng Xian’er sulked. “It’s not whether I take it to heart—it’s about Yaotang. He’s shivering in the cold! If you can live with that, then fine—let your brother freeze!”
With that, she got up, swung around, and lifted the heavy cotton curtain. “I’m going home!”
Chen Lu, meanwhile, had been watching the whole scene with narrowed eyes, her doubts growing deeper. She now fully realized—Gu Shunhua was no longer someone to mess with. She quickly offered a light smile to console Chen Cuiyue, then quietly left as well.
Once outside, she frowned and kept walking, mind spinning.
Back in her own time, she had seen Gu Shunhua only once—at a company party. Long black hair, elegant gown, standing on Ren Jingnian’s arm. Everyone said the chairman’s wife was poised, well-kept, and envied her good fortune.
But who Gu Shunhua really was, she didn’t know. To her, she was just the woman clinging to Ren Jingnian. She had felt disgusted—what charm could someone that age possibly have? So she casually wrote her out of the story, tossed her aside.
She never imagined this woman would escape the script and start forging her own path.
Chen Lu’s face darkened as she walked, her thoughts adrift. Then she looked up—and spotted Su Jianping.
She hesitated, but in the end, she walked over.
Because after all, it was her story to direct.
————————————
Chen Cuiyue watched her sister-in-law leave and couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling. She didn’t know if it was guilt or something else—but whatever it was, it didn’t sit right with her.
So she headed to the outer room to speak with Gu Shunhua, hoping to bring up the matter again.
But Gu Shunhua was dressing the children. Upon seeing her, she spoke flatly, “Mom, if you want to show deference to them at every turn, I won’t say a word. But I owe them nothing. So don’t ask me to give in. If I give in and end up with no house to live in, then I’ll just move in with them, eat their food. Or maybe you can let me have your house instead. Forget about taking care of my brothers then. Right now, I have nothing—this tiny bit I’ve scraped together was all from my own effort. If anyone dares try to snatch it from me, they’ll see—I’m not afraid to go down swinging.”
She spoke slowly, deliberately—but the tone was sharp.
If this had happened before, Chen Cuiyue would’ve scolded her daughter. But now, she didn’t dare.
Out in the world, if you could get your hands on a cart of coal, people would respect you. And her daughter—her daughter had brought honor to their family. Besides, with this kind of temperament, it was clear she wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
Still, thinking about her brother’s family, and especially about Chen Lu—how she was still freezing—Chen Cuiyue couldn’t help but sigh.
Once Gu Shunhua had finished bundling up the children, she led them into the front room. Breakfast that morning had been made by Gu Quanfu: mung bean milk and fried dough rings—an old-fashioned local meal.
Gu Yuehua sipped his bean milk in silence, then suddenly asked, “Where’s Mom? Haven’t seen her.”
Gu Shunhua looked puzzled. “No idea. Auntie came over earlier asking for briquettes—I didn’t say anything. Mom didn’t say much either. Not sure where she went now.”
Then she seemed to realize, “She probably went to Uncle’s. Auntie came by asking for coal today.”
Gu Yuehua’s brows furrowed at once. “Coal briquettes? Them? After we’ve been running ourselves ragged for days, barely stopping to catch our breath—they just show up now that it’s all ready and expect a share? The nerve! They can go sit in the cold!”
Gu Shunhua laughed at his indignation. “Look at you, all fired up. Why do you care so much? What you should be thinking about is whether you’re going to take the college entrance exam. If you are, better sign up soon.”
Just as Gu Yuehua was riled up, the question hit him like a bucket of cold water. He deflated.
He sighed, “Sis, you know me. I’m lazy. Just thinking about taking the exam gives me a headache.”
Gu Shunhua said, “No one gets through life just lying around waiting for comfort. If you don’t plan for the future, you’ll suffer sooner than you think. If you don’t push yourself now, you’ll spend your life breaking your back for a living. At best, when Dad and Mom retire, you’ll take over their jobs. Do you think you’ll be chopping vegetables in a kitchen, or sewing in a factory?”
Gu Yuehua’s face darkened. Truth be told, he wasn’t confident he could manage either job. And then there was their older brother—once he came back, he’d need work too. With a brother and a sister ahead of him, there was no guarantee he’d even get a shot at the family job.
Gu Shunhua continued, “Just listen to me. Give it your all and try for college. Even a technical school would give you a better future. It’s better than wasting away like you are now—what good will that do you?”
If her younger brother managed to get into university, she knew how valuable that would be. Maybe decades later, a college degree wouldn’t mean much—but now, it was gold. Getting a placement in a government work unit was a guaranteed path. Even if future layoffs came—well, that was years away.
And the knowledge and experience he’d gain from college—that would be his for life. No one could take that from him.
Gu Yuehua was starting to be moved. He sighed again. “You’re right, Sis. But I didn’t study well back then—I was always slacking off. I don’t even know if I can pass. I just worry I’ll try my best and still fail. All that effort for nothing.”
Gu Shunhua said, “Even if you fail, it’s better than not trying at all. What else are you doing with your time?”
Gu Yuehua thought for a moment. “Alright, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll go buy some textbooks and start studying. But don’t tell anyone, okay? If it doesn’t work out, I don’t want anyone knowing—”
He scratched his head, a little sheepish.
But Gu Shunhua understood perfectly and smiled. “Got it. We’ll study in secret. When you pass, it’ll be a glorious surprise!”
Gu Yuehua laughed. “You make it sound so easy.”
After chatting for a while, she went to see Old Master Pan to discuss how to handle briquette distribution. Then she left the children with Granny Tong and headed out.
Her first stop was Lei Yongquan’s house—and his home was no ordinary one. He lived in a full courtyard house, a proper siheyuan, with its own gate and walls. The kind of home Gu Shunhua would call the residence of a “compound kid.”
Back in their childhood, kids from compounds and kids from hutongs were like two different species. They didn’t play together. No real feud—just one look and a fight could break out.
But that was all in the past. Lei Yongquan had gone to Inner Mongolia with them. And once they all suffered together, those compound/hutong lines faded. They were “sent-down youth” now—zhiqing—and that bonded them tighter than any childhood rivalry.
As she entered Lei Yongquan’s compound, the gatekeeper made her wait while he announced her. Only after approval was she let in.
Inside, she saw Lei Yongquan practicing ba duan jin beneath a Chinese toon tree in the courtyard. It was a bright winter day, sky clear and crisp, and the traditional courtyard echoed with quiet grace. Lei Yongquan wore a snow-white padded robe with toggles and moved with vigor, his body flowing through the elegant motions of the form. It was, admittedly, quite a sight.
That was just how he was. You could call him dashing and refined—or say he was a total show-off. Back in Inner Mongolia, hardship cramped his style. But once the reforms kicked in, he was probably the type to change girlfriends every few months.
Halfway through the routine, he stopped and saw her. “Shunhua! You’re here? Why didn’t you say something first?”
Gu Shunhua laughed. “Yongquan, now that you’re back in the capital, I hardly recognize you. Look at that robe—must be from Ruifuxiang, right?”
It had to be said—Lei Yongquan was a class apart from the others. These days, everyone wore work uniforms, preferably made from coarse labor cloth. Aside from that, the trendiest attire was guofang lü—army green uniforms. People loved them. Walk into a shop wearing one, and even the salesclerks treated you with more respect.
But Lei Yongquan? He didn’t care about any of that. He still wore his old-fashioned cross-collar robes.
If it had been the old Gu Shunhua, she might not have understood. But now she did. This was what people called taste—a kind of cultivated style that transcended working-class fashion.
Lei Yongquan didn’t mind the comment. He chuckled. “Just threw on whatever was at home. Who pays attention to that stuff? I heard you were back and wanted to plan a get-together for all of us. Looks like you beat me to it.”
Gu Shunhua told him about the briquettes.
She hadn’t really expected anything from him—especially not after seeing the grandeur of his home. Had she known how well-off he was now, she might not have come at all. Clearly, someone living like this didn’t need coal.
In the future, he’d become a major figure in business. When she fell ill, he would even help her find an overseas specialist.
As expected, Lei Yongquan replied, “Thanks for thinking of me, Shunhua. But we’ve got plenty of briquettes for now. You should go check with Changhui and the others.”
Gu Shunhua smiled. “Figured as much. Guess this visit was a waste.”
“Don’t tease me,” he said. “Look at me—still idle, no job, nowhere to go.”
“You? Finding a job should be easy. Just pick one,” she replied lightly.
In a family like his, with ties in all the right places, getting placed back in a work unit was nothing.
Lei Yongquan led her inside and poured her some tea. “No rush. I’m thinking of taking the college entrance exam. Bit old for it now, but might as well try.”
Gu Shunhua held her cup and looked around his house—traditional armchairs, an Eight Immortals table, and even a sofa and television set.
“You’ve got a TV?” she asked, surprised. “Is that imported?”
He nodded. “It is.”
He turned it on. After some static fuzz, a picture came through—Beijing’s local news.
“Well, this is a first for me,” she said, amazed.
Lei Yongquan grinned. “I’m just coasting on the family’s support, that’s all.”
As they chatted over tea, she asked him about the college prep materials he was using. Lei Yongquan had always been generous—never the secretive type. Without hesitation, he went into the inner room and returned with a large stack.
“Here, everything’s in here. Take a look. See anything you want?”
Her eyes lit up. “These aren’t easy to find on the market!”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You want them? I’ll make copies. Look at you—you’re practically drooling. Someone might think I offered you a plate of sweets.”
She eagerly nodded. “Yes, please!”
As he gathered the materials, he asked casually, “These for Ren Jingnian?”
“He’s studying for the exam,” she replied. “And my younger brother too. I’m hoping he’ll give it a try. I’ve got to prepare ahead.”
She took the opportunity to bring up the bricks she needed for building her house.
“You’re asking the right person,” said Lei Yongquan. “I can help you with that. But you’ll have to wait a bit—depends on when they become available. You’re smart to start building now. Housing’s only going to get tighter over the next couple of years. Right now, the Housing Bureau isn’t too strict—strike while the iron’s hot, secure the land.”
“Mm, I’ll follow your advice. I’ll leave the brick matter in your hands.”
She understood that Lei Yongquan’s future in real estate wasn’t just luck—it was insight. He had a keen sense for timing and policy. In this, she knew, her background as a hutong kid couldn’t compare.
It was only because she had knowledge of the book’s contents that she could even grasp the deeper meaning behind his words.
Lei Yongquan said earnestly, “Shunhua, we’ve been through a lot together—eight years out there. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll help. Just say the word. No need to be polite with me, got it?”
Gu Shunhua felt genuinely touched and nodded.
Moved though she was, she also understood something clearly: in Inner Mongolia, they had been zhiqing—sent-down youth, living as equals, sharing meals from the same pot. But now, back in the capital, things were different. Their family backgrounds had come back into play. Even if the old friends didn’t mind and were willing to help, each request she made was a chip off that shared history. Ask too often, and the friendship would begin to wear thin.
So unless absolutely necessary, she wouldn’t ask. His willingness was enough—she was grateful.
As they chatted, Lei Yongquan mentioned that once Ren Jingnian returned to the capital after the New Year, they should organize a reunion for their old zhiqing group.
As they spoke, Gu Shunhua suddenly thought of Changhui and gave him a sidelong glance. “So… what’s going on between you and Changhui?”
Lei Yongquan had been all smiles just a moment ago, but at the mention of her, his grin disappeared. “Nothing. It’s just how things are.”
Gu Shunhua frowned slightly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but we’ve all been through a lot together. We know each other well. I really hope things work out between you two. If there’s anything that can be overlooked, try to let it go.”
She said this for good reason—according to the book, Changhui had ended up marrying someone randomly and lived a hard life. As for Lei Yongquan, while the novel didn’t spell it out, she vaguely remembered he’d faced regrets of his own. As he got older, he fell into a life of excess, got into a car accident, and—if she’d interpreted the hints correctly—might’ve even done time in prison.
She didn’t know yet how to change all that, but she wanted to try, starting with a gentle nudge.
After all, first loves are the most precious. If they could be salvaged, perhaps everything else might follow a different path too.
Lei Yongquan pressed his lips together, a trace of bitterness at the corner of his mouth. “Shunhua, life was hard back in Inner Mongolia, but we were carefree. There was nothing to think about. Things are different now that we’re back.”
Gu Shunhua understood. Changhui came from a modest family. Lei Yongquan didn’t. Now that they’d returned, the gap between their worlds was real.
As she left, light snow had begun to fall. Lei Yongquan offered to walk her home, but she declined. There was a bus, and it wasn’t far. Still, he brought her a green oilcloth umbrella and found her a large canvas tote, carefully placing the two sets of study materials inside.
With the big canvas bag in hand and the oilcloth umbrella overhead, snowflakes collecting softly on its surface, she arrived at Changhui’s home.
Changhui lived in Xinjiekou, in a rundown, low-slung flat no better than Shunhua’s.
When she entered, Changhui was doing laundry, her hands red and raw from the cold like two carrots.
Gu Shunhua explained the coal briquette situation. Changhui was overjoyed, rubbing her hands together. “Just what I needed! You’ve saved me right in the nick of time!”
They chatted for a while, and naturally, Lei Yongquan came up.
“You know,” said Gu Shunhua, “your situation’s tough right now. Why not ask Lei Yongquan for help? He might lend a hand.”
In her heart, she assumed they were still close. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to ask.
But the moment she mentioned him, Changhui’s expression cooled. “What a waste. We’re not the same kind of people. I don’t think about him anymore.”
Shunhua was caught off guard. She hadn’t expected Changhui to be so detached, as if he were a stranger.
She wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. In that moment, she realized—maybe for Changhui, not ending up with Lei Yongquan was already painful enough. Asking for help from someone she once loved might be even harder.
A girl has her pride. When life’s already knocked her down, how could she go and beg the man who once turned away?
So instead, Gu Shunhua shifted the topic and made light conversation, gave her address, and told her to come by later to pick up the briquettes.
She then stopped by Wang Xinrui’s place. Wang didn’t stand on ceremony—they settled the details and agreed he’d come by that afternoon.
With her errands done, Gu Shunhua found Old Master Pan. It was around noon, and the whole courtyard had gathered. Time to distribute the briquettes—fifty per household. The atmosphere was lively, like New Year’s Eve.
Wang Xinrui and Changhui’s family arrived with flatbed carts, each taking seventy briquettes. A true haul.
By the time they were done, the rest—more than three hundred—were neatly stacked in the shed beside the front room. She covered them with straw mats, then an oilcloth, weighted down with a few clumps of earth. Come wind or snow, they’d be safe.
At last, she could breathe easy.
Next, she planned to find a kindergarten for the kids. Once they were enrolled, she could start looking for work.
Even if the Educated Youth Office didn’t have anything, she had to find temp work at the very least. Hard or tiring—it didn’t matter. She couldn’t just sit around and wait for things to run dry.
Ren Jingnian seemed dependable for now, but she couldn’t pin her hopes on him alone. Mountains crumble. People walk away. The only one you can count on is yourself.
With all that done, she rushed to the post office—sent a set of materials to Ren Jingnian and handed the other to Gu Yuehua.
Yuehua was stunned. “Sis, where did you get these? This is gold!”
“One of my fellow educated youths. Her dad’s a deputy principal, her mom works in a government bureau, and her grandpa’s a big deal. They’ve got the connections. Don’t worry about the details. I’ve brought the materials—just study hard. If you can make it into university, great. Even a technical school would be a win.”
Yuehua pulled a face. “You’ve pushed me to the edge now. Guess I’ve got no choice—duck to water, whether I like it or not.”
Shunhua laughed.
To be honest, she wasn’t much for academics herself. Formulas and theorems made her dizzy. But her brother? He was sharp. If she pushed him a little, he might really make something of himself.
She’d gotten a glimpse of the future. With that edge, she had to help her family claw their way toward a better life.
As the siblings were chatting, Duoduo came toddling in. “Mama! Coal balls! Coal balls!”
She’d been born frail. Behind in speech and movement. Still only spoke in single words.
Shunhua didn’t think much of it. “We’ve divvied them up. Once we’ve got the stove going, we’ll have coal balls to burn too.”
Old Master Gu Quanfu was already helping her build a traditional white enamel stove. It’d be done tomorrow.
But Duoduo was anxious. Her little hands flailed, forehead beading with sweat. Then she finally clenched her fists and blurted, voice high and sharp, “Grandma! Coal balls! Grandma’s taking coal balls!”
Yuehua’s expression darkened instantly. “Wait—what?”
Shunhua caught on too. They shared a glance and dashed out.
And there she was—Feng Xian’er, right by the outer room, holding a huge bamboo tray already filled with two neat stacks of coal briquettes—seven or eight per stack.
Yuehua exploded. “You shameless bitch, what the hell do you think you’re doing!?”
That word was vicious, especially in Beijing slang. It wasn’t something you said to your elders. But Yuehua’s temper got the better of him.
Shunhua’s face went cold. She strode forward. “I was wondering what kind of thief would steal coal in broad daylight. Turns out it’s just Auntie.”
The insult was plain—she all but called her shameless to her face.
Feng Xian’er flushed, but thinking of the coal, she forced a smile. “Oh, Shunhua, I just came to grab a few. We’ve run out at home.”
“Grab a few?” Shunhua sneered. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
Feng Xian’er arched a brow. “I told your mom. She didn’t say anything. It’s just a few pieces—why are you making such a fuss? Your folks said it was fine.”
Shunhua chuckled. “Auntie, this is my coal. I hauled it back myself. My mom doesn’t get to make that call.”
Feng Xian’er was about to argue when Chen Cuiyue came running up. “All this noise over some coal? If your aunt wants it, let her take it! Shunhua, you’re grown now—how can you still be so thoughtless!”
Normally, she wouldn’t have dared scold her daughter. Not anymore—Shunhua had brought pride to the family. But now, in front of everyone, Feng Xian’er was being humiliated. She couldn’t just stand by.
Shunhua only smiled.
Then she lifted her foot—and stomped down on the coal in the tray.
These were honeycomb briquettes, full of holes. One stomp, and they crumbled to pieces.
Neighbors peered from their windows. Some came out of their homes.
And right before their eyes, Gu Shunhua crushed the coal.
Every single one of them gaped. This woman wasn’t kidding around.
She really went and stomped them to dust.
Author’s Note:
Crushed or not, coal is still coal… You can still burn it.
But what matters is Auntie’s spirit, okay? (^o^)/~
Don’t worry—next chapter, Mama Gu awakens!
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