Chapter 11: Here We Are—Warmth Comes Only from Shivering!

After being subjected to regional discrimination, Ming Dai was unceremoniously kicked out of the group chat. She leaned against the window in a daze, staring blankly at the scenery flashing by outside.

Meanwhile, the other three chatted away enthusiastically. Ming Dai listened in for a bit, finding it all rather amusing. Fang Rou was clearly trying to rid herself of Qi Zhijun, her childhood friend, without losing the loyal admirer he was. Her words were calculated: on the one hand, she highlighted Qi Zhijun’s background as a scion of a military and political family, hoping to pique Liu Yan’s interest; on the other, she subtly reminded everyone of their brother-and-sister closeness since childhood. The message was clear: “I won't marry you, but you must keep doting on me.” Truly, her ambitions soared as high as an old lady climbing Mount Tai!

After a while, the three of them grew hoarse from talking. Qi Zhijun offered to fetch hot water for the group and, noticing Ming Dai lost in thought, asked, “Comrade Ming Dai, would you like me to bring you some hot water?”

Ming Dai snapped back to reality and shook her head dully. “I’m not thirsty. I haven’t said as much as you all.” Qi Zhijun’s face stiffened; he nodded awkwardly and left. What did that mean? Was she implying he was too talkative? He had considered looking out for her, given her youth and pleasant looks, but she clearly didn’t appreciate it! Well, not every girl could be as sweet as Xiao Rou.

He thought about how he’d sneaked out today and that his family must have heard by now that he’d followed Xiao Rou to the countryside. He wondered how his mother was reacting at home. He couldn’t understand why his usually policy-abiding parents were so opposed to his going to the countryside. Even delicate Xiao Rou had volunteered—how could he, a grown man, do any less? But clearly, in their eyes, he’d never measure up to his older brothers. Perhaps once he made a name for himself in the village, they’d realize who their most outstanding son truly was.

Because Ming Dai seemed so wooden and her words so blunt, none of them spoke to her again over the next five days and four nights. Two more educated youths joined them along the way but got off at different stops. In the end, only the four of them arrived at the county train station in Song City, Black Province.

Five days and four nights on hard seats had doused any enthusiasm they’d had for the rural support mission. Fang Rou gazed at the desolate scene outside, tears of excitement sparkling in her eyes. Cheng Ge, I’m here!

Now that the train had stopped, everyone’s spirits lifted. They stood, stretched, and retrieved their luggage from the racks, large bundles in tow as they shuffled off. Ming Dai wasn’t in a hurry; she planned to wait until the crowd thinned. Fang Rou seemed to have the same idea and remained seated. Qi Zhijun, as always, stuck close to Fang Rou and didn’t get up either. Liu Yan diligently helped Qi Zhijun and Fang Rou with their suitcases, plus her own, exhausting herself in the process. Only then did Fang Rou rise, offer a perfunctory thanks, and head out.

In the next instant, Little Dog Qi grabbed two suitcases and followed, completely ignoring Liu Yan’s heavy burlap sack behind him. Gritting her teeth, Liu Yan shouldered her own sack and hurried after them. Only then did Ming Dai slowly step onto the iron frame beneath the seat and drag down her own large bundle, hoisting it onto her shoulder as she followed the others out.

Stepping off the train, the wind of Black Province immediately delivered a harsh welcome. Even Ming Dai, bundled up as she was, shivered; thank heavens for her thick clothing, or she’d be as frozen as the others, huddled like quails.

A crowd of “quails” waited at the station as people called out names for each commune. Ming Dai listened carefully and soon found those from the Red Flag Commune. When she approached, Fang Rou and the others were already there, speaking to the commune’s representatives. The Red Flag Commune had sent the deputy director and a tractor driver, and the tractor parked behind them was to be their ride.

The deputy director, dressed in cadre attire, was so cold his voice was distorted as he read off names from the list of educated youths. Soon, Ming Dai heard her own name and stepped forward with her bundle—only to catch the open disdain in the eyes of both the deputy director and the tractor driver. She supposed it was understandable: she looked like a little girl, hardly cut out for manual labor—just another mouth to feed in the village, as they’d say.

She didn’t care, keeping up her wooden façade as she sheltered beside the tractor driver, avoiding the wind, not missing the flash of mockery in the original heroine’s eyes. Oh, how lofty you are—just don’t let yourself shiver!

Once all twenty-three educated youths for the Red Flag Commune had been accounted for, they were herded onto the tractor in one go, urged to hurry before daylight faded. Ming Dai quickly climbed aboard, found a spot behind the driver’s seat, shoved her bundle under her, pulled out a thick blanket, and wrapped herself tightly into a motionless ball.

She was swift; the others, busy finding seats, didn’t notice her actions. Fang Rou, too, was well prepared. She didn’t need to scramble for a spot—Little Dog Qi had saved her one and eagerly called her up. Others were annoyed, but at the sight of the pair’s attire, no one dared protest. Fang Rou directed Little Dog Qi to fetch a cloak from her suitcase, which she donned neatly. The others looked on, thinking her pampered, but their minds soon changed.

The tractor wasn’t fast, but the wind was biting. Even the deputy director, who’d started off in cadre clothes, soon donned a thick cotton coat. Everyone else began wrapping themselves in their bedding for warmth as best they could. Those without bedding, or whose bedding was packed away, like Liu Yan, could only keep warm by shivering.

She looked pitifully at Qi Zhijun, hoping he’d lend her his army coat. But Little Dog Qi had eyes only for Fang Rou, not sparing her a glance. In the end, Liu Yan had no choice but to empty her sack and drape it over herself for a bit of comfort.

At last, before nightfall, they reached the commune. It was too late to continue, so they were put up for the night at the guesthouse, with each brigade to collect their people in the morning. The tractor driver, in no mood to be delayed, hurried them off the vehicle despite their frozen limbs. Only with the help of a few remaining people did Liu Yan, numb and burdened with her belongings, manage to get everything together—Qi Zhijun, meanwhile, had long since disembarked with Fang Rou, without a backward glance.

Ming Dai had gotten off early and quietly joined the rest of the group. As for someone like Liu Yan, any help would be seen as condescension. Sure enough, she climbed down with reddened eyes, not even thanking the two girls who had helped her.

The deputy director, shivering violently, led them to the guesthouse, quickly assigned rooms, and then hurried away, leaving behind a flock of bewildered “quails.” The plump aunt at the front desk impatiently handed out keys, urging them to hurry inside and not block the doorway.

Fortunately, at this hour, no other officials were staying at the guesthouse, so each youth received their own bed—men and women separated, four to a room, queuing for keys. Ming Dai was near the front and soon moved in with three other girls, each from a different place. They divided the single thermos of hot water among themselves for a sip to warm up, with just enough left for a quick wash.

Fang Rou’s group wasn’t so harmonious. She and Liu Yan shared a room with two others from the same area, and as soon as they got the hot water, tension brewed over how to divide it. Fang Rou sat silently on her bed, leaving Liu Yan to battle the two alone. In the end, Liu Yan secured most of the hot water for them, leaving the other two fuming. But Liu Yan handed all the water to Fang Rou, who became the only one that night to wash her feet—except for Ming Dai, of course.

Ming Dai not only washed her feet but soaked them for ten minutes. Had she not feared arousing suspicion by taking too long, she’d have taken a full bath. It was damn cold!