As soon as she heard the clerk’s words, whatever shred of hope Gu Shunhua had vanished like smoke.
She explained her situation in detail. The clerk frowned, visibly troubled, and after a moment told her to wait—he needed to discuss it with the director of the Educated Youth Office.
The director’s surname was Sun. Gu Shunhua thought he looked familiar and then remembered—he was the third uncle of her former classmate, Sun Jiayang. They had met years ago. She quickly reminded him of who she was.
Director Sun patted his head, recognizing her at last. After a few pleasantries, he sighed repeatedly upon learning she had returned from the Inner Mongolia Corps. “It hasn’t been easy for you these past years… truly not easy.”
His niece Sun Jiayang had also gone to the countryside. She had only returned earlier this year due to illness, just like Gu Shunhua. But she wasn’t married, so returning to the city had been straightforward.
When it came to registering the household, Director Sun furrowed his brow and said with difficulty, “This is a tough one. There’s no policy for this kind of situation. We do everything by the book—regulations, notices from above—we follow them to the letter. But your case… we’ve never handled anything like this. No precedent, no policy. No one knows what to do!”
Gu Shunhua had already anticipated this. She pleaded, “Uncle, I’m an educated youth from the capital. I left the capital to support the ‘reclamation and border defense’ efforts in the far north. I stood before Tian’anmen and took an oath. For eight years, I served on the northern frontier, giving the best years of my youth to the nation. And now I’m ill. I couldn’t endure it any longer. I’ve divorced. Does that mean even the capital doesn’t want me anymore? Where am I supposed to go?”
As she spoke, her eyes welled with tears.
Many other educated youths were also waiting in the office. Seeing the scene unfold, they exchanged glances, their noses tingling with emotion. Who wouldn’t sympathize?
In the past two years, large numbers of educated youth had returned to the city. Joy and sorrow had become all too familiar. Even so, the sight remained heart-wrenching.
Director Sun’s expression darkened as he stared at her divorce papers. “Shunhua, we really are in a tough spot. If it were doable, we’d handle it for you. But this… even I can’t make the call.”
Gu Shunhua said, “Uncle, my children are three years old now. But if you saw them, you’d think they were only two. Why? Because they’re malnourished. Food was scarce at the mine. Medicine too. They had to endure illnesses with no real treatment. My son had whooping cough at two years old. The mine didn’t have proper medication—he coughed nonstop for half an hour at a time. It’s a miracle he survived! These past years, raising my children at the mine wasn’t living—it was barely survival. Now that I’ve divorced, I have no place to stay in Inner Mongolia. If I can’t get the household registration for me and my children, we truly have no way forward. I was born an educated youth, and if it comes to it, I’ll die one too. I might as well bash my head against the wall right here in the Educated Youth Office!”
Hearing this, Director Sun quickly responded, “Don’t say things like that, Shunhua. This isn’t a joke. Calm down—we’ll figure something out.”
Several clerks nearby also rushed over to console her.
But Gu Shunhua had already made up her mind. Pride meant nothing now—she would cling on and pester them as long as it took.
“Uncle,” she said, “I’m a capital-born educated youth. I’m divorced. I’m single. According to the policy, the capital should take me back! What reason could there be not to?”
Director Sun flicked the return-to-city certificate with frustration. “But you’ve got two kids with you. That complicates things.”
Gu Shunhua replied, “The policy doesn’t say we can register children’s hukou, but it also doesn’t say the capital can only take back the mother and not the children, does it?”
Director Sun thought for a moment. “That’s true. It doesn’t say we can’t register the children.”
Gu Shunhua pressed on, “Uncle, by that logic, since I’m a single educated youth with proper documentation, I should be allowed to register. And my children—they’re only three. The divorce granted me custody. They should follow me. True, there’s no precedent, but the path is made by those who walk it. Uncle, I’m begging you—please make an exception.”
Director Sun looked at her closely. He could tell—this quiet girl from the past had changed.
Then again, anyone would change after enduring eight years in some godforsaken place.
Finally, he said, “Shunhua, don’t rush it. We’ll need to look into this further. It’s not something we can decide on the spot.”
It was her first time coming here, and she knew it wouldn’t work right away. But she had come to make some noise—to plant the seed in their minds. If she returned two or three more times and even kicked up a fuss if necessary, things might just work out.
After all, there was no policy saying it could be done—but also none saying it couldn’t. If the Educated Youth Office registered her, it wouldn’t violate any rules.
But this was a time of planned economy. People followed orders rigidly, terrified of making a mistake. No one would take that extra step for a regular educated youth.
Yet Gu Shunhua carried within her not only a storybook but a sense of the world’s shifting tides. She knew that future changes would be unimaginable to most.
And through it all, she understood one thing clearly—if you want something done, you must throw yourself into it fully.
After leaving the Educated Youth Office, Gu Shunhua headed to Baishun Hutong on West Zhushikou Street. Her classmate Wang Xinrui lived there.
The two had been classmates since childhood and were close. They had signed up for the Inner Mongolia Corps together, holding hands. In their hardest days in Inner Mongolia, they supported each other through thick and thin.
In fact, in that book she had read, when she was completely cornered, it was Wang Xinrui who had always tried to help her.
Wang Xinrui had returned last year due to illness. The two kept in touch by mail. Gu Shunhua knew Wang’s father worked at the district subsidiary food company.
There weren’t many shops in those days—everything was managed by cooperatives scattered like sesame seeds through the alleyways. Qiao Xiuya worked at the Dashilan cooperative.
The district subsidiary food company oversaw all of them, so employees there had access to insider news.
Having a job at the district food company was a respectable, cushy position.
Gu Shunhua arrived at Baishun Hutong and soon found Wang Xinrui’s home.
It was a courtyard dwelling too, but their living conditions were much better—just four or five households shared the space. Wang’s family of three had two rooms over ten square meters each. Xinrui even had her own room.
When she arrived, Wang Xinrui was crouched before the coal stove lighting a fire. Hearing Shunhua’s voice, she turned around in surprise and rushed forward to embrace her.
“You’re finally back! You’re finally back! We’re finally reunited in the capital!”
Wang Xinrui’s mother came out upon hearing the commotion. She recognized Shunhua at once and laughed, “Look at you—your hands are covered in coal dust, and now you’ve dirtied Shunhua’s clothes!”
Only then did Xinrui realize, quickly letting go and trying to pat off the soot.
Gu Shunhua laughed. “It’s fine—my clothes weren’t clean to begin with.”
Xinrui pulled her inside, chirping excitedly. After catching up a bit, she asked about Shunhua’s current situation. Shunhua told her about the divorce and returning with the children.
Xinrui asked anxiously, “Were you able to get the household registration?”
Shunhua shook her head. “It’s tough. I just came from the Educated Youth Office. I begged and pleaded, said everything I could, but they still wouldn’t do it.”
Xinrui was indignant. “Why not? You’re divorced. You’re a single educated youth. The policy says you can register. Why won’t they allow it? We gave our youth to the Corps, and now they won’t even let us come back? It’s just a matter of paperwork—why make it so hard? If they keep refusing, we should rally our fellow returnees and demand justice!”
Gu Shunhua said, “The director of the Educated Youth Office is named Sun—he’s Sun Jiayang’s third uncle. Remember when we went to her house? Her grandmother used to call him Little Third.”
Xinrui thought for a moment and then exclaimed, “Oh, it’s him! He’s practically family—why is he making it hard for you?”
“He’s not trying to make it hard. It’s just that my situation is unusual. There’s no policy. They’re scared to take responsibility. But I made it clear today—if they won’t register me, I’m ready to make a scene. I’m not above throwing a fit if I have to. Still, I think we should try the polite route first.”
Xinrui asked, “What do you mean by ‘polite first, then force’?”
“It’ll take some help from Uncle. I’m thinking of buying some food, paying a visit to their home, and trying to appeal to him personally. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll go the messy route.”
Xinrui understood. “That’s easy. I’ll mention it to my dad—have him set aside something decent. It’s too late today, but tomorrow should be fine. Come back this time tomorrow.”
After chatting for a while longer, Shunhua began to worry about the children and got up to leave. Before leaving, she pulled out some money and tried to press it into Xinrui’s hand. “Please thank your father for the trouble.”
It was two large yuan notes.
Xinrui refused outright and shoved it back. “Come on now, don’t give me that. We’re like family. Give me money and I’ll get mad!”
Shunhua said, “Just hold onto it for now—if you don’t use it, you can give it back later.”
After all, asking for help didn’t mean the other party should pay for everything.
But Xinrui insisted, so Shunhua had no choice but to take it back, planning to bring it again tomorrow.
Back at her alley, the sky was already darkening. People were coming home from work. Just then, the coal delivery arrived. Briquettes were stacked neatly on a flatbed cart. Families had placed advance orders, and deliveries required coal tickets.
Everyone came out to carry their coal. Even the children joined in. The shared courtyard was bustling with noise and movement. Kids smudged their faces with coal, looking like little clowns.
Gu Shunhua greeted the neighbors warmly and lent a helping hand.
Just then, Chen Lu’s mother, Feng Xian’er, sauntered over. In her youth, she had been a street performer at Tianqiao. After Liberation, she stopped singing and took a cleaning job at a guesthouse.
She was thin, with a tiny waist. Despite her age, she still swayed her hips when she walked.
Spotting Shunhua, she greeted her in a syrupy tone. “I saw your children earlier—they were sleeping. Such handsome little ones! But what a pity… with no household registration, they probably won’t be allowed to stay in the capital. Just thinking about it makes me sad. Such bad luck… Those poor children are going to be ruined!”
She was all smiles, but her words were harsh. Ostensibly sympathetic, but really just here to gloat. Every other sentence was about “bad luck” and “ruin”—as if casting a curse.
Shunhua replied calmly, “Auntie, what are you saying? How are they ruined? We’re already back in the capital, and I’ve got my return certificate.”
Feng Xian’er smiled sweetly, but her eyes gleamed with malice. Her daughter Chen Lu had already told her everything—this was clearly revenge on her daughter’s behalf.
She deliberately asked, “But you haven’t registered yet, right? I heard you went to the Educated Youth Office today. So, did they really let you register?”
Shunhua answered evenly, “Not yet. These things don’t happen overnight. I’ll just go a few more times.”
At that moment, people were coming and going, carrying coal. There was chatter all around. Qiao Xiuya’s family had already finished moving their coal. She washed her hands and stepped out, hands tucked in her sleeves. Upon hearing that remark, she chuckled disdainfully.
A few other neighbors, influenced by Qiao’s analysis, began shaking their heads and sighing in private. Of course she won’t get registered—just look at her luck…
Feng Xian’er gave a look of mock pity. “Even if you go a few more times, it probably won’t work. Doesn’t sound like a sure thing. What can I say, girl… I told you, didn’t I? Divorce and come back alone—don’t bring the kids. But you wouldn’t listen. Now look, you’re stuck.”
She might as well have pointed at her and said, You deserve it.
Gu Shunhua shot Feng Xian’er a sidelong glance and decided she wasn’t worth the time. She had no intention of engaging—she would figure things out on her own. The household registration would happen. And once it did, then they could talk.
But Feng Xian’er noticed the change in her expression and deliberately added, “The kids really are pitiful. I told your uncle, maybe tomorrow he should cut two jin of pork belly to bring over for them. Just something to nourish them a bit. I just worry it’s too greasy—their stomachs might not handle it. Better to start slow, feed them little by little.”
She left behind that graceful remark, then turned and swayed away, hips swinging in smug satisfaction.
That was the final straw.
Gu Shunhua’s eyelids lifted slightly as she glanced at Feng Xian’er. “Pork belly? Well, that would be wonderful. The kids never got to eat anything that nice in the Corps. And they’re not afraid of grease either. We can slice it thin, toss in some scallions and ginger, stir-fry it till the fat sizzles out, pair it with some fresh greens—no way they’d get tired of it. I’ll thank Uncle and Auntie now on their behalf.”
Feng Xian’er froze. “What?”
Gu Shunhua had said it on purpose. She saw right through the woman—big words, stingy hands. Always talking generously, never offering a thing. She’d known her kind since childhood.
Just then, her mother, Chen Cuiyue, came walking over. Gu Shunhua smiled and said, “Mom, just now Auntie said Uncle’s going to bring us two jin of pork belly tomorrow. Said it’s to welcome the kids back and help build their strength. I was just thanking her. You know, Auntie—she’s truly generous.”
Feng Xian’er stood stunned. What? What in the world— It had just been a casual remark!
Chen Cuiyue was caught off guard too. She stared in disbelief. “Pork belly?”