They had been born in the shadow of the desolate Yin Mountains and raised on the edge of a barren coal mine—what could they possibly know of the wider world? Two tiny children, eyes clear and glistening with timid uncertainty, even each strand of hair seemed to carry the weight of caution.
Gu Shunhua thought of the events described in the book—how Manman would grow cold and indifferent, how Duoduo would spiral into hysteria. Who could imagine that these two fragile, pitiful little ones before her would one day become those people?
Children were like blank sheets of paper—whatever colors appeared on them depended entirely on the hands that painted.
At that moment, Gu Shunhua wished she could spread her wings and shield them completely, to guard them in the warmth of her palms.
But she reined in those emotions. Sitting calmly on the edge of the bed, she gathered the children into her arms and smiled. “Why would you say that? Look, you two came, and your grandparents were so happy—they gave you cookies and even made malted milk for you. Everyone likes you.”
Duoduo pouted, blinking, and whispered, “But… but…”
She wasn’t one to speak much, and even now, after repeating “but” a few times, she still hadn’t managed to express what she meant. At three years old, some children weren’t even speaking in full sentences yet—and Duoduo had always been a quiet child.
Gu Shunhua said gently, “Just now, Mama brought eggs to make you some egg pancakes, but Grandma snatched them up—she wants to fry golden, fluffy egg pancakes for you herself.”
Upon hearing about those golden egg pancakes, Duoduo licked her lips cautiously. Her mouth was watering.
They’d had some biscuits, but they were still a bit hungry.
Manman then asked, “Mama, where are we going to live?”
Gu Shunhua replied, “Of course we’re staying here, at your grandparents’ house. See that room behind the main one? It’s small, but the three of us can fit just fine.”
Manman nodded. “Okay.”
Gu Shunhua reached out and gently smoothed Manman’s hair.
His hair was black and shiny, with a slight wave. The fringe curled slightly over his clean white forehead, making his bright eyes seem even more endearing.
Then she pulled Duoduo’s soft little body closer and said, “We’ve moved here from the Corps, and life will be hard for a while. But this is the capital—and staying here will be good for your future. The beginning might be tough, but once we settle in, Mama will find a way to give you a good life. You’ll live in a spacious house, drink milk, eat meat, and even go to kindergarten.”
Kindergarten?
Duoduo’s eyes lit up.
There were more than thirty households near the mine, a few of them with children. One of Duoduo’s playmates, a six-year-old, had often spoken about kindergarten—how wonderful it was. Duoduo had always listened with envy.
Gu Shunhua smiled. “That’s right. Mama will send you to kindergarten in the future.”
Kindergartens were usually run by factories and intended for the children of workers. They were affordable—just two or three yuan per month. Anyone could afford that. But if you weren’t part of the factory system, it became expensive: thirteen yuan per child, including three meals a day. For two children, that meant twenty-six yuan—a significant cost.
Her household registration hadn’t been transferred yet, and she had no job lined up, so she didn’t dare think too far ahead. Still, with the knowledge of what was to come in the next two or three decades, she had a plan. As long as she fought hard, there was no reason she couldn’t earn a living.
She would work hard. She had to. To send her children to kindergarten. To give them what other children had.
Upon hearing they could attend kindergarten, both Manman and Duoduo looked hopeful. Their moods clearly brightened.
Just then, Chen Cuiyue entered, holding a small bamboo tray. On it lay steaming egg pancakes made from white flour, their crisp edges curling up slightly. The surface was golden, though the egg hadn’t spread evenly—small patches of white, half-set egg whites still gleamed here and there. One look and you could practically smell the tenderness.
Though Chen Cuiyue still ached at parting with eggs, she genuinely adored the children. Smiling warmly, she said, “Eat while it’s hot.”
Her tone was motherly and gentle, and only then did the children fully relax.
The egg pancakes were hot, so Gu Shunhua picked up the chopsticks, tearing small pieces to feed them. Chen Cuiyue helped too, fetching hot water for them.
The children’s mouths were full of warm food. They glanced at Gu Shunhua, then at Chen Cuiyue, and smiled.
Seeing how lovable they were, Chen Cuiyue said, “Call me Grandma.”
In their sweet little voices, the children chirped, “Grandma!”
Chen Cuiyue beamed. “These two little ones really know how to win hearts.”
With her smiling like that, the children completely let their guard down. After eating and drinking their fill, they began rubbing their eyes.
The train from Baotou to the capital had been a last-minute addition—one of the lowest-priority routes. It had to yield to every other train on the track, so the trip had taken a full day and night. They had no seats, only a cramped spot in the corridor, constantly being jostled by food carts and passengers heading to the restroom or hot water tap. There was no way to sleep well. Now, finally home and fed, exhaustion took over.
Seeing this, Chen Cuiyue said, “We’re living in the front room. The back room was cleaned up for your brother and his wife—they’re coming back to the capital soon too. Yuehua’s in the outer room now, but if you’re staying…”
She trailed off, clearly hesitating.
Gu Shunhua understood immediately.
The original twelve-square-meter room had been split in two—front and back. The so-called “outer room” was the tiny three-square-meter add-on built behind the house.
Clearly, Chen Cuiyue wanted her to stay in the outer room.
And truthfully, that was what Gu Shunhua had intended. “We’ll stay in the outer room. Let Yuehua squeeze into the front for now.”
Chen Cuiyue let out a breath of relief. “Alright, let the kids sleep first. They can barely keep their eyes open.”
Gu Shunhua nodded. She and her mother each carried one child to the outer room.
The outer room was shorter than the main house—barely two meters high. A tall man would have to stoop to enter. It was roughly a square meter in size. A makeshift bed built from bricks and planks took up most of the space, leaving just enough room to squeeze around it.
But for Gu Shunhua, having a roof over their heads and a dry place to sleep was more than enough.
Once the children were tucked into bed, they quickly drifted off. After all, they were still young.
Chen Cuiyue looked on and sighed. “You were just talking about kindergarten—kindergarten isn’t that easy to get into.”
Gu Shunhua didn’t want to argue. “Mom, where there’s a will, there’s a way. One step at a time—we’ll figure it out.”
She had her reasons for saying that. Even without a job or access to a work-unit kindergarten, she figured she could afford the twenty-six yuan monthly fee for private childcare.
She had about a thousand yuan saved. Two children, twenty-six yuan per month for full-day care and meals. If she lived frugally—fifteen yuan a month for herself—that would be about forty yuan total per month. That meant her savings could stretch nearly two years.
And it wasn’t as if she’d sit idle for two years. She’d find work, even if it was just odd jobs.
The world was about to change drastically. Anyone willing to work hard would find a way to earn a living.
And compared to her children’s emotional well-being, what was a thousand yuan, really?
Chen Cuiyue wanted to say more, but Gu Shunhua cut her off: “Mom, I’m going to the Educated Youth Office to ask about the process.”
Chen Cuiyue replied, “Fine, go try. You’ve always been so stubborn—never learn until you hit a wall! Your father and I are heading to work. We’ll talk more when we’re back.”
Gu Shunhua didn’t respond.
She simply didn’t have the energy to argue.
The children had fallen asleep, and truth be told, she was exhausted too. But sleep wasn’t an option—not now, not with so much at stake. She had to get to the Educated Youth Office immediately and find out how to resolve the matter of her household registration.
Of course, this wasn’t the kind of issue that could be fixed in a single visit. But she was mentally prepared for a drawn-out struggle. If it came to it, she’d cry right there in the office.
It wasn’t her fault that her children couldn’t return to the capital. It wasn’t the fault of anyone in the capital either. It was the fault of the times. And she was determined to set it right.
So she didn’t waste a single glance on anything else. She tidied her things, ran a comb through her hair, splashed cold water on her face to clear her mind, grabbed the necessary documents, and stepped out the door.
The moment she did, she ran into Qiao Xiuya, who was carrying a shoulder bag and clearly on her way to work.
Of all people, it had to be her.
Qiao Xiuya, still sore from the embarrassment of the other day, seemed eager to reclaim her dignity. She deliberately raised her voice, saying, “Shunhua, take my advice—send those children back. As long as you’re dragging them around, there’s no way you’re getting that household registration!”
Gu Shunhua cast her a glance and replied with a smile, “Thank you for your concern, Aunt Qiao.”
Children raised in a hutong learned early to speak politely. Courteous words came easily—but whether she meant them or not was another matter entirely.
Qiao Xiuya clicked her tongue. “You’re just too stubborn. One day, you’re going to pay for it.”
Gu Shunhua replied lightly, “Looks like it’s time for work—don’t let me delay you, Aunt Qiao. I’ll be back soon.”
With that, she walked off without another word.
Qiao Xiuya stood there, fuming. The girl’s answers didn’t even match the topic—just completely offbeat! Watching her disappear down the alley, she sneered, “That girl—completely out of line! No manners at all. All the old customs of our hutong, gone! And she thinks that’s great?”
With that, she looked around at a few others also heading off to work and hurried over to gossip. She had to get the word out—everyone just wait and see. Get her registration? Not a chance.
Gu Shunhua soon arrived at the Educated Youth Office.
This office held power over the fate of every returning educated youth. Without their official return certificate and a household registration approval from the Educated Youth Office, no one could complete the process at the local police station.
A small crowd had already gathered outside, scanning the names posted on the wall.
Once a return certificate was issued, the original place of residence would transfer the youth’s personal file to the receiving district. Only after the Educated Youth Office received the file could they issue a formal registration letter.
Gu Shunhua joined the others and quickly spotted her name.
She hurried inside and got in line. When her turn came, she approached the desk, stated her name, and handed over her documents.
She watched anxiously as the clerk flipped through her papers, page by page, then jotted something into a logbook.
This was a crucial step. If she could slip through unnoticed—if her registration were processed without issue—that would be the best outcome.
But the clerk paused. His brow furrowed as he studied the papers more closely. Finally, he looked up and asked:
“Why did you bring two children with you?”