Chapter Eleven: Meeting Aunt Liu

Their carriage was reserved exclusively for the educated youth, so it was relatively quiet. Even if a few idlers from society wandered in, they stood out immediately—Han Li could spot them at a glance. For one, they were noticeably older; after all, it was already 1973, not the initial years of the rural resettlement. Now, ninety percent of those going down to the countryside were kids like him, with the remaining ten percent being people who had made mistakes. Their energy and spirit had already dissipated before even boarding the train, looking much like Hou Zhenxing had at the start. Their eyes lacked the clarity of the students, instead filled with the cunning and resignation of those who had drifted through society.

But their destination was drawing near, and ahead of them lay an unknown life. Han Li struggled off the train, weighed down by his bags, breathing in the outside air as if reborn. Yang Xiuying and Hao Hongmin followed closely behind, each carrying their own mountain of luggage. Han Li’s hands were so full with his own things that he couldn't play the gentleman and help the girls.

This was the provincial capital of Heilongjiang, not their final destination. They still needed to transfer once or twice more. Fortunately, the Educated Youth Office had made arrangements for these kids, most of whom had never traveled before. Rows of large trucks waited outside the station; all they had to do was follow instructions and climb into the right truck bed. Buses? None to be seen.

Catching on quickly, Han Li urged Yang Xiuying and Hao Hongmin to hurry. They needed to claim seats at the front of the truck bed for a less dusty ride and a smoother journey. Even so, Han Li underestimated the road conditions. It felt as if they were riding in a winnowing basket, constantly tossed up and swayed in every direction. Han Li, who practiced boxing regularly, had a steady stance and strong sense of balance, suffering less than most from the jolts. As a result, his arms became anchors for Yang Xiuying and Hao Hongmin, who clung to him tightly. In a sense, he found himself enjoying the rare sensation of being embraced on both sides, noting the subtle differences between the two girls as they swayed together.

At this point, notions of propriety between men and women were the last thing on anyone’s mind—simply not collapsing into a heap was achievement enough. There were twenty-seven people in their truck, four of whom couldn’t handle the ride and threw up on the spot. Everyone was physically and mentally exhausted, with no mood for complaints or conversation.

The journey continued, rattling all the way to the XX region, where a few more people succumbed to nausea as soon as they disembarked. One nearly vomited up his very gall, his face waxen and sallow. Their trek was not yet over. There was still a distance to AA County, but this time they switched to a bus—the only one running between the XX region and AA County. In the future, if they wanted to visit the city, this would be their only option: one trip per day, miss it and you wait until tomorrow.

The bus reeked of fuel, the roads no smoother than before. And not everyone had a seat; many had to stand. At this point, cleanliness was a luxury no one could afford—no one cared if the floor was oily or muddy. Every available spot was claimed in a rush, everyone just wanting a little comfort. Han Li, with his physical stamina, still had the patience to count the passengers: twenty-nine boys and, to his surprise, thirty-six girls. The lopsided gender ratio gave him pause, but then he remembered that in those days, families kept trying for sons—so more girls than boys was no surprise.

When they finally arrived, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. The finish line was in sight; all that remained was to register at the Educated Youth Office, after which they could finally rest in the countryside. Lugging their luggage, they followed a local woman to the office, where someone was already waiting for them. Their household registrations needed to be finalized here—without that, they couldn’t complete essential paperwork or be assigned rations once in the villages.

While everyone queued, Han Li quietly approached a female staff member and surreptitiously offered her two White Rabbit candies. “Comrade, may I ask where Director Liu Cuihua of the Educated Youth Office is?”

“Who are you? Why do you want to see Director Liu?”

“I’m an educated youth from the capital. Director Liu is my aunt.”

“You’re from Beijing, aren’t you Han Li?”

“That’s right. How did you know my name?”

“I heard Director Liu mention you a few days ago. Come, I’ll take you to her.”

Carrying a small bag, Han Li followed the woman to a room in the back courtyard.

He found Liu Cuihua—Aunt Liu—a face familiar from past memories. As a child, he’d often been teased by her when visiting his mother at work, so seeing her now stirred a pleasant sense of familiarity mingled with strangeness.

“Director Liu, this is the Han Li you mentioned earlier. He was just asking after you, so I brought him over.”

“Thank you, Qi, for bringing my nephew,” said Liu Cuihua.

“I’ll leave you to talk, Director. I’ll go help register Comrade Han,” Qi replied.

“Aunt Liu.”

“Little Li, you’ve grown so much, but you’re still as handsome as you were as a child. Have you found a sweetheart yet?”

Han Li was speechless.

Aunt Liu was just as he remembered—full of the hearty candor typical of northeastern women.

“I’m still young, no rush to find a sweetheart. By the way, Aunt, my mom sent me with some of your favorite treats.”

Han Li produced a box of candied red snail fruit and a jar of Liubiju pickles, both brought from Beijing. The candied fruit had a long history; the name was said to have been bestowed by a Qing emperor. Inside were preserved apricots, peaches, crabapples—a dozen varieties mixed together. In the south, this was called “assorted preserves,” but in the capital it was known as “Gaozaban” or “Xizaban.” In 1955, all the old candied fruit shops in Beijing were merged into a public-private partnership factory. With demand far outstripping supply, a branch was established in Huairou a year later. At this time, candied fruit was a true luxury, the sort of thing that vanished from the shelves as soon as it appeared. Han Li’s second sister had to pull strings at her workplace to secure a box.

As for Liubiju pickles, they were even more sought after. The brand was revived in 1972 and had been in constant demand since.

“Oh my, these were my favorite treats back then—your mother still remembers after all these years.” Aunt Liu smiled. “But these things aren’t easy to buy, must have taken a long time queuing.”

“It wasn’t too bad—my second sister works at the supply co-op, made things a bit easier.”

Aunt Liu laughed, “You silly boy, always so honest. Well, I’ll gladly accept what your mother sent.”