Li Shuying and Li Jianmin walked for nearly an hour before the outline of Taonan County came into view. The county seat lay about nine kilometers from Shitou Brigade, and though the road was nothing more than a dusty stretch of earth lined with sparse trees, Li Jianmin did not complain once.
All the way there, he chattered like a magpie in early spring, his voice brimming with excitement.
After all, this was the first time they were going to purchase state grain themselves.
In the past they were only spectators to such matters of livelihood. Today, they would be the ones standing in line.
Li Jianmin's steps were light, almost buoyant. "Little Shuying, we must keep the grain coupans safe," he reminded her repeatedly. "Without them, even if you have money, they won't sell you a single jin. State rules are state rules."
As Li Shuying listened to him, she could not help but be infected by his youthful enthusiasm.
This morning, when she woke up, she had briefly wondered whether the mysterious system space from the previous night had been nothing more than a dream. Only after she closed her eyes and re-entered the space—seeing the tender green shoots of hay swaying gently and the white radishes sprouting steadily from the dark soil—did she finally breathe a sigh of relief.
It was real.
In her previous life, those three bitter years of famine had left scars too deep to fade on her. But now with this space in her possession, her family would no longer have to fear starvation.
To her, it was nothing less than a blessing bestowed by Heaven.
By the time they reached the outskirts of Taonan County, the sun had risen higher, casting pale light over the settlement.
The county of the late 1950s was not vastly different from their Shitou Brigade. It lacked grandeur and refinement of the future, yet compared to the scattered mud-brick houses of the village, it possessed a faint air of solidity and order.
Here, most of the buildings were constructed from blue bricks. Two- and even three-story structures stood along the main street—plain and functional, their walls weathered by wind and dust. They were not many, but to rural eyes, they seemed almost imposing.
The houses were scattered rather than densely packed. The streets were broad but quiet; this was working hour, after all. The able-bodied men and women were all working. Only a few elderly people and small children could be seen moving slowly along the roadside.
Li Shuying noticed several bicycles leaning against walls or gliding past on the street. Their metal frames gleamed faintly in the sunlight.
Bicycles.
In this era, they were symbols of prosperity. Owning one meant stability, even status for both person and the place.
After all, Taonan County housed two state-run factories, a textile factory, and most notably, the largest steel factory in Jilin Province. Compared to purely agricultural brigades, the county enjoyed a measure of industrial vigor.
Yet even so, prosperity was limited.
The wind carried the smell of coal smoke and iron dust. The streets were not bustling, merely steady and subdued. No loud vendors, no crowded storefronts—only the quiet rhythm of collective labor.
Li Shuying slowed her steps slightly.
In her previous life, she had spent her entire existence in this very county. Even after her release from prison at the age of sixty, she had remained here until the end of her days.
Who would think that sixty years later, this same county would transform into a small yet thriving city, filled with shops, buses, endless streams of people and even bullet train station. The once-empty streets would bustle with commerce and conversation.
And now—
It stood before her in its infancy, simple and restrained, unaware of the prosperity that time would bring.
A faint sigh escaped her lips, tinged with nostalgia.
"Little Shuying," Li Jianmin continued, oblivious to her drifting thoughts, "today we'll only buy grain from the grain station. Next month, when we save enough industrial coupons, I'll get you a thermos flask. Then in winter we won't have to boil water every time we want a drink. The water can stay warm all day."
He spoke as though he were planning grand investments rather than a single household item.
Li Shuying looked at him—the earnestness in his eyes, the simple dreams in his heart—and nodded with a gentle smile.
"Yes, Ge," she replied softly.
As they approached the county's main street, Li Shuying noticed the number of pedestrians gradually increasing.
The so-called "main street" was nothing more than the only stretch of asphalt road in the entire county. Compared to the dirt paths the entire way, its dark, hardened surface seemed almost dignified. On both sides stood the most important institutions of Taonan County, the Grain Station, the Supply and Marketing Cooperative, a modest two-story hospital built of blue brick, and a state-run restaurant with a red signboard. That was all.
Sparse, yet central to survival.
Most of the crowd had gathered in front of the Grain Station and the Supply and Marketing Cooperative. In this era, these were the only legitimate places where one could purchase food and daily necessities. Not long ago, before the wave of public-private partnership reforms in late 1956, this street had been lively with private shops and hawkers calling out their wares. But private businesses had since been abolished, converted into state-run enterprises. The street had lost its former noise and color, replaced by orderly queues and official counters.
As they neared the Grain Station, they saw a long line already stretching far beyond the entrance. Men and women stood patiently, some carrying grain sacks, others holding bamboo baskets or cloth bags. It was the beginning of the month—ration day—so such a scene was inevitable.
The sun hung high overhead, unrelenting.
Li Jianmin glanced at the length of the queue and then at his younger sister. "Little Shuying," he said gently, "why don't you wait under that tree? I'll stand in line and get the grain."
Li Shuying immediately shook her head. "No need, Third Brother. I'll queue with you. Let's move quickly—more people are coming."
Though she had little desire to stand beneath the harsh sun, she wanted to observe the grain prices and the situation firsthand.
They had just joined the line when a sudden commotion erupted near the counter. A woman in her fifties was arguing loudly with the clerk behind the wooden desk. Her voice rose sharply, echoing down the street. Even staff from the hospital across the road stepped outside to see what was happening.
Li Jianmin frowned but did not push forward to watch. "What's going on?" he muttered.
The middle-aged man standing ahead of them turned slightly and replied in a low voice, "Nothing new. Ever since the drought, the state has imposed limits on grain purchases. Beyond the ration allocated by the neighborhood office, you can only buy three or four jin at most."
Li Shuying's brows knitted together. "What if we have coupons?" she asked.
A young woman in a neighboring line let out a weary sigh. "Who here doesn't have coupons, little girl? But the warehouses are short of grain these days. Coupons alone won't fill empty granaries. We can only tighten our belts."
An elderly woman behind her added in a tone of forced optimism, "It's only because of the severe drought. Once the harvest improves, the granaries will overflow again."
At her words, several people nodded quietly, clinging to hope like a thin reed in turbulent water.
Only Li Shuying remained silent.
She knew the truth.
The drought would not end so easily. It would be followed by a locust plague, and then another severe drought the following year. What lay ahead was not relief but prolonged hardship.
She lowered her eyes and waited patiently beside her brother.
Nearly an hour later, they finally emerged from the Grain Station with their purchase.
Li Jianmin, who had been so spirited earlier, now looked crestfallen as he peered into the sack. "Two jin of corn and one jin of millet," he muttered. "This isn't even enough for one person for long. How are we supposed to manage at home with such a small amount?"
Li Shuying let out a quiet breath. "Third Brother, let's not think about it for now. Why don't we check the Supply and Marketing Cooperative? Perhaps there's something else we can buy."
He nodded and was about to turn when a familiar voice sounded behind them.
"You won't find much there."
They turned to see the same middle-aged man who had spoken to them earlier.
Li Jianmin frowned politely. "What do you mean, sir?"
The man sighed. "Grain, meat, eggs—the supply at the Cooperative is limited as well. Whenever stock arrives, much of it is quietly set aside by internal staff and their acquaintances. By the time it reaches the counter, there's rarely anything left. Unless you have connections, it's difficult."
Li Shuying nodded faintly. She was well aware of such unspoken practices.
But Li Jianmin, still unwilling to give up, asked earnestly, "Sir, is there truly no other way to get grain? There are five people in our household. This amount is far from enough."
The middle-aged man studied the siblings for a long moment. Their clothes were clean but plainly patched on so many places.
"I understand," he said slowly. "Many families are in the same predicament. There is… another way to obtain grain. But it will cost more than the official price."
At once, Li Jianmin's eyes lit up.
Li Shuying, however, felt her heart tighten. Her brows furrowed slightly. Is this what I think it is? she wondered.
"Uncle," Li Jianmin said eagerly, abandoning formal address without hesitation, "please tell me where. I'll go there right now."
The middle-aged man chuckled at being called "Uncle." "Follow me," he said. "I'm going there as well."
Li Shuying's instincts sharpened instantly. She stepped closer and discreetly pinched Li Jianmin's sleeve, a silent warning.
The middle-aged man noticed the subtle pinch Li Shuying gave her brother and the guarded look in her eyes. Instead of taking offense, he chuckled softly.
"Well now," he said, amusement flickering across his face, "you're steadier than your elder brother, little girl. I'm impressed." He paused deliberately, then pulled aside the faded outer shirt he was wearing.
Beneath it was a neatly pressed military-green uniform.
"I'm a soldier," he said with a hint of pride. "I won't traffic you."
He laughed lightly, clearly entertained by their caution.
The moment Li Shuying saw the uniform, her tense expression eased. The fabric, though partially concealed, bore the unmistakable cut and color of the People's Liberation Army. In this era, a soldier's identity carried weight—respect, discipline, and a sense of security.
She released her grip on Li Jianmin's sleeve.
Li Jianmin's eyes widened with excitement. "You're a soldier too, Uncle?" he exclaimed. "My father is a soldier as well!"
The man's smile deepened. "Is that so? Then we are comrades in spirit." He straightened slightly. "My name is Zhang Wenhao. I'm currently serving in a unit in Provincial Capital."
Li Jianmin eagerly introduced himself. "I'm Li Jianmin, and this is my younger sister, Li Shuying. Our father serves in the Baicheng military unit."
They continued walking as they spoke, their pace unhurried. The county streets grew narrower as they moved away from the main asphalt road. Blue-brick houses gave way to quieter alleys, where fewer passersby lingered.
Li Shuying listened quietly, her gaze alert, taking in every turn and landmark.
Unlike her brother, she did not allow her guard to fall completely.
Li Jianmin, however, was brimming with curiosity. "Uncle," he asked frankly, "if wearing the uniform is such a matter of pride, why are you covering it? Shouldn't it be worn openly in public?"
Zhang Wenhao smiled faintly. "It is indeed a matter of pride," he replied. "But the place we're heading to isn't suitable for displaying it."
Li Jianmin frowned. "Why not?"
Zhang Wenhao lowered his voice slightly as they turned into a quieter lane. "I'm currently on a month's leave. I just arrived from the Provincial Capital. Since I traveled by train on a hard seat, I didn't carry many supplies with me. Before returning home, I wanted to purchase some necessities—grain and daily goods."
He gave a small, knowing look.
"But I was well aware that the situation here would be no better than in the Provincial Capital. Supplies are tight everywhere. So I covered my uniform in advance… because I knew I would have to visit the black market."
Li Jianmin blinked. "Black market? What's that?"
"Shh." Zhang Wenhao immediately hushed him, his expression turning serious. "Lower your voice, little fellow. That's not something to speak of so casually."
Li Jianmin glanced around nervously, suddenly aware of how loudly he had spoken. The alley was mostly empty, only a stray dog lounging in the shade and an elderly man mending a basket nearby. Still, he swallowed and nodded, keeping silent.
Li Shuying, however, had already pieced it together.
Of course, she had already expected it.
In times of scarcity, where there are strict quotas and ration limits, an underground exchange inevitably emerges. It had existed even in her previous life, though rarely spoken of openly. When official channels fail, private dealings find their way through cracks in the system.
But she had not expected such a market to operate right now.
So it has already begun… she thought.
Suddenly her thoughts were intrupred by a crisp, familiar, mechanical sound.
Ding.
The sound was faint, yet unmistakable.
Li Shuying's steps halted for a brief second.
----
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