Chapter Twelve: Turmoil

Inside the long-distance bus, it was as steamy as a bamboo basket.

Xu Chengjun took off his straw hat and used it as a fan, but the breeze he managed to stir was still hot.

The elderly man sitting next to him was gulping down cool tea from an enamel mug, the rim coated with a ring of white lime, clearly an item that had seen many years of use.

He remembered that in his previous life, for reasons unknown, the whole workplace suddenly adopted enamel cups. Each was emblazoned with phrases like “Serve the People” or “Roll up your sleeves and work hard.”

The old man was a sociable sort, perhaps bored by the journey, and struck up a conversation with Xu Chengjun.

“Young man, what brings you to Hefei?”

“Business,” Xu Chengjun replied with a smile, tapping out a rhythm on his canvas bag.

“Judging by your bulging bag, are you visiting relatives?”

The old man set down his mug and wiped his mouth, tea leaves still clinging to his beard.

“I’m taking my son some freshly harvested mung beans. He works at a machine tool factory, says the canteen's mung bean soup is tasteless.”

Xu Chengjun was about to respond when a commotion erupted from the back row.

“My bag! Who touched my bag?”

A young man in blue workwear stood up abruptly, clutching an army green satchel. The bottom had been sliced open.

“My twenty yuan is gone!”

The bus fell silent in an instant—even the children’s cries ceased.

Xu Chengjun frowned.

Out of the corner of his eye, he’d noticed a man in a gray jacket lingering beside the young worker.

That man was now edging toward the bus door, hands buried in his pockets, knuckles whitened.

“Comrade, don’t panic, maybe check again?” The ticket seller, a round-faced young woman, suggested, “Could it have fallen under your seat?”

“What’s there to check? It was definitely stolen!” The young man’s face flushed red, eyes wide, “That’s half a year’s wages—I wanted to buy my girlfriend a Shanghai-brand watch!”

The man in the gray jacket had reached the door, muttering, “This is my stop, let me through.”

“Don’t be in such a hurry to leave,” Xu Chengjun spoke up suddenly, his voice low but clear to every ear.

“I saw you lingering by this comrade’s side for quite a while—did you drop something?”

He spoke with a hint of a smile, but his gaze pinned the man like a nail.

The man froze, spun around abruptly, “What are you implying? I don’t know you!”

“Nothing at all,” Xu Chengjun stood up leisurely, towering over the man.

“Just that your pockets look suspiciously full—could you be carrying someone else’s money? Take it out and show everyone; wouldn’t that clear things up?”

Passengers chimed in, “Take it out and let’s see!”

“Only a guilty conscience would resist!”

The man’s face turned a dark liver color, hand pressed tightly against his pocket, “It’s my own money! Why should I show you?”

“Why? Because you were sneaking around just now!” An old soldier in a military cap stood up straight as a rod, “I spent three years catching thieves in the army; you look suspicious!”

Seeing no escape, the man suddenly dashed for the door, trying to jump out and flee.

Xu Chengjun was ready; he hooked his foot lightly around the man’s ankle.

With a cry, the man tumbled into the aisle, and cash spilled from his pocket—exactly twenty yuan, bound with a rubber band and smelling of ink.

“Is this your money?” The old soldier picked it up and handed it to the young worker, “Count it, see if any’s missing.”

The young man’s hands shook as he counted three times, finally nodding, “It’s all here—twenty exactly! Thank you, big brother! Thank you, comrade!”

The man in the gray jacket lay cursing on the ground, only to be hauled up by the collar by the old soldier, “You’re coming with me to the Hefei police station—time to learn some manners!”

A round of applause broke out in the bus, even the driver called from the front, “Young man, great job!”

Xu Chengjun waved it off and sat back down, noticing the old man beside him giving a thumbs-up, “You look scholarly, but you’re quite agile!”

“Just lucky,” Xu Chengjun scratched his head. In his previous life, aside from writing, his greatest hobby was fitness and boxing; he was a bit quicker than most people.

“With reflexes like yours, it’s a shame you’re not in law enforcement,” the old man marveled, “I didn’t even react—how did you spot him so fast?”

“His eyes,” Xu Chengjun replied, picking up his straw hat and fanning himself, his tone casual, “Shifty, ratty—he didn’t look like an honest man.”

A theft happens on the bus, and you’re the only one wanting to get off—how could you be innocent?

In those days, there were no cameras.

People relied entirely on their conscience.

His words made the whole bus laugh.

The young worker in blue came over, insisting Xu Chengjun accept the apples he’d just bought, “Comrade, please take this—otherwise I’ll feel guilty.”

The apples were still warm. Xu Chengjun couldn’t refuse, so he wiped one and took a big bite.

Sweet juice ran down his chin; he hurriedly wiped it with his sleeve, to another round of laughter.

Laughing right along, Xu Chengjun joined them.

“You eat just like my son—starving, huh?” The old man pulled a vegetable bun from his cloth bag, “Try it? My wife made it, with sesame salt.”

Xu Chengjun accepted it without fuss, took a bite, and the savory flavor filled his mouth.

This bus ride was worth it!

Not only did he catch a thief, he ended up with an apple and a bun—far better than gnawing corn cakes in the guesthouse!

As the bus passed Gangji, factory chimneys began to line the roadside, one after another like soldiers on parade.

Workers on bicycles rode by, lunch boxes strapped to their back seats, clanking as they went.

“Hefei’s near,” the old man pointed to a distant building, “That’s the Jianghuai Hotel—just built, they say foreigners can stay there.”

Jianghuai Hotel! In those days, it was just a six-story building~

Xu Chengjun looked in the direction the old man pointed.

In his past life, he’d attended seminars in Hefei, staying in hotels with subway stations below.

But seeing the six-story Jianghuai Hotel now, he felt more excited than when he’d seen glass skyscrapers.

“Young man, what important business brings you to Hefei?” the old man asked again, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“To the Education Bureau,” Xu Chengjun patted his canvas bag, “I want to see if I can study at Fudan.”

“Fudan? The one in Shanghai?” The old man’s eyes widened, “That’s the best university! You’re going places!”

Others gathered round, curious, chattering and warming the bus with their excitement.

The young worker in blue said, “My sister works in the Education Bureau’s typing room—she might know someone in the Higher Education Office. Once we arrive, I’ll ask for you.”

Xu Chengjun felt a wave of warmth, about to thank them, when the bus suddenly braked hard and stopped at the Hefei station.

“We’re here!” the ticket seller called, opening the door, “Gather your belongings—don’t leave anything behind!”

As he got off, Xu Chengjun tucked the unfinished bun into his pocket.

He searched for a trash bin for his apple core, but found none.

The old man patted his shoulder, “Three blocks ahead is the Education Bureau, red brick walls, two stone lions at the entrance—you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Xu Chengjun waved and shouldered his canvas bag, heading toward the intersection.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves and dazzled the eyes.

At the station entrance, people streamed by—watermelon vendors with shoulder poles, rickshaw pullers, travelers carrying luggage—noisy, but vibrant.

Xu Chengjun looked at it all, feeling the tension from catching the thief finally melt away.

The red brick Education Bureau stood just ahead.

He took a deep breath and walked in with a smile.

In the summer of 1979, there was no time for dawdling.