The next morning, the four Li siblings set out early for the county.
The autumn air in the northeastern countryside was crisp and cool. A pale mist still hung above the fields, and the dirt road leading toward the county town was already dotted with villagers carrying baskets or tools, beginning another day of labor.
Taonan County had only two schools, one high school and one middle school. These two institutions served not only the county itself but also the seven surrounding villages scattered across the plains.
In those years, however, very few rural children attended school.
For most village families, education was seen as a luxury rather than a necessity. Young girls were usually kept at home to serve the elders, care for younger siblings, and help with household chores. Boys, meanwhile, were often sent to the fields as soon as they were strong enough to work, earning valuable labor points for the family's survival.
Even among families that understood the value of literacy, it was rare for more than one child to attend school.
The Li family was therefore something of an exception.
All four children—including the daughter—were students.
In many rural communities of the late 1950s and early 1960s, people were still largely unaware of the long-term benefits of education. Many believed that studying books could not fill an empty stomach. As a result, schooling in the countryside remained limited and uncompetitive compared with that in the cities.
Urban schools placed great emphasis on academic subjects—science, literature, mathematics, and foreign languages such as Russian, which was considered particularly important at the time.
Rural schools, however, followed a different approach.
While subjects like mathematics, Chinese literature, physics, history, and geography were still taught, great importance was also placed on labor education and ideological instruction.
Students often spent time working in school fields or attending political study sessions. In practice, this emphasis meant that rural education lagged behind its urban counterpart in both resources and academic rigor.
By the time the Li siblings reached the county gate, the morning sun had already begun to rise above the low rooftops.
Here, the four of them separated.
Li Shuying turned toward the road leading to the county middle school, while her three brothers continued toward the high school further ahead.
As they walked, Li Jianhua's expression was noticeably different from usual.
There was excitement in his eyes—but also a hint of nervousness.
After all, he was returning to school after nearly half a month of absence.
Just two days ago, he had been determined to abandon his studies altogether and search for temporary work in the county town. With the college entrance examination only two months away, he had believed it would be more practical to earn money for the family.
But Li Shuying's words had shaken him awake.
Now he understood what he would lose if he left school so close to the examination.
Today, he returned with renewed determination.
His steps felt lighter, as though a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
Behind him, Li Jianmin and Li Jianguo were equally cheerful.
Their excitement, however, had a more practical cause.
Today, for the first time in years, they would finally be able to eat in the school canteen.
Since the introduction of the communal canteens the previous year, most meals in the village had been strictly tied to labor points earned through fieldwork. Because the brothers had been studying instead of working regularly in the production team, their household had accumulated very few work points.
Without savings, they had not even been able to deposit money for meals at the school canteen.
As a result, they often endured hunger during school days.
But today was different.
With the money from their father, they would finally deposit the monthly meal fee and eat alongside their classmates like ordinary students.
The food served at the school canteen was nothing luxurious.
Usually it consisted of steamed coarse-grain buns, corn porridge, and simple vegetable dishes.
Yet even that was far better than the meals provided at the communal canteen in the village.
The village food was limited not only by work points but also by poor ingredients and bland preparation. Sometimes the dishes were little more than watery vegetables with barely a trace of oil.
The school meals, by contrast, were prepared using state-allocated grain rations. The quality and quantity were noticeably better.
For the Li brothers, even a bowl of hot corn porridge and a freshly steamed bun felt like a small blessing.
On the other side of the county, Li Shuying stepped through the gates of Taonan County Middle School.
The moment her foot crossed the threshold, she slowed unconsciously.
Her eyes turned slightly red.
For a long moment, she simply stood there.
Students passed around her in small groups—some laughing, some arguing, some hurrying toward their classrooms before the morning bell—but Li Shuying felt as if time itself had paused.
If she counted the years of her previous life, it had been nearly sixty years since she had last seen this place.
Sixty years.
The memories were no longer clear. Time had blurred many details, washing them away like ink dissolved in water. Even now, she could not clearly remember where her classroom was located, nor could she recall the faces of her classmates.
Yet the moment her gaze fell upon the old school buildings, the memories surged back like waves crashing against the shore.
The middle school stood just as it had decades ago.
Two long, grey-brick buildings faced each other across a dirt courtyard. The walls were weathered, their surfaces patched and faded by years of wind and snow. Wooden window frames lined the corridors, and several panes were still covered with oiled paper instead of glass.
A tall flagpole stood in the center of the courtyard, its red paint peeling in places.
Beyond it stretched a simple playground—nothing more than a patch of flattened earth with a few crooked basketball hoops made from iron rings.
It was an unremarkable place.
Yet to Li Shuying, it felt strangely overwhelming.
This was the place where her life had first begun to unravel.
In her previous life, her first year of middle school had not been unpleasant. In fact, it had been one of the few peaceful periods she could still vaguely remember.
But everything had begun to change during the second year.
At first the changes had been subtle.
Small misunderstandings. Strange rumors. Gradual isolation.
Then came the disaster.
After her father was accused and executed, the school had expelled her without hesitation. Overnight, she had gone from an ordinary student to the daughter of a "traitor."
Her classmates—those who had once spoken and laughed with her—avoided her as though she carried a contagious disease.
Some even cursed her openly.
That day, she had walked out of these gates with her head lowered and tears in her eyes.
And she had never returned.
Her education ended there.
She never set foot in a high school classroom.
She never even had the chance to think about the college entrance examination.
The decades that followed had been a long, bitter history that she would rather forget.
Now, standing here again in this familiar yet distant place, Li Shuying felt a strange mixture of emotions rising in her chest.
The girl she once was had been timid, easily bullied, and powerless.
But that girl no longer existed.
The autumn wind rustled softly through the courtyard trees as she took a slow breath.
Around her, the school bustled with the simple life of the era.
Near the courtyard entrance, several boys were chatting excitedly about finding temporary work in the county after graduation.
Others were discussing the latest village gossip.
Not far away, a group of Young Pioneers wearing bright red scarves stood in a small circle. They were discussing the recent steel collection campaign with great seriousness.
Under the shade of a large elm tree, several first-year students sat together, clapping their hands rhythmically while singing a revolutionary song. Their voices were uneven but full of youthful enthusiasm.
The entire campus was filled with a simple, lively atmosphere unique to those years.
There was nothing extraordinary about it.
Yet the scene carried the unmistakable spirit of the times.
Li Shuying quietly observed everything for a moment before finally beginning to walk toward the classroom buildings.
Since she could no longer remember exactly where her class was located, she stopped a few students and politely asked for directions.
After a short search, she finally found it.
Her classroom was located on the second floor of the eastern building.
When she pushed open the wooden door, the faint scent of chalk and old wood greeted her.
There were not many students yet.
The room itself looked almost exactly as she remembered.
Rows of worn wooden desks and long benches were arranged neatly across the floor. Some of the tabletops were covered in scratches and carved characters left by past students.
At the front stood a blackboard, its surface dusted white with chalk powder.
Above it hung a large portrait of Chairman Mao.
On the surrounding walls, several slogans had been pasted in bold red characters...
"Study hard and serve the people."
"Combine education with labor."
The classroom was simple, almost austere, yet it carried a solemn sense of purpose.
Li Shuying looked around quietly.
Then a faint smile appeared on her lips.
Slowly, she walked to an empty seat near the window and sat down.
Soon, other students began to enter the classroom one after another.
Li Shuying quietly observed them from her seat by the window.
Face after face passed before her eyes.
Yet she could not recognize anyone.
Occasionally someone would glance in her direction, perhaps remembering that she had been absent for several days, but no one approached her.
Time slowly crept toward eight in the morning.
Just as the classroom was nearly full, the door opened once more.
A girl stepped inside hesitantly.
She walked quietly, almost cautiously, as though afraid of drawing attention.
After scanning the room for a moment, she came toward Li Shuying and sat down beside her.
Li Shuying turned slightly and studied her.
The girl had delicate facial features that might once have been considered pretty. However, her skin was darkened by long hours under the sun, giving her complexion a rough, uneven tone. Her cheeks were slightly hollow, and her body looked thin to the point of frailty.
It was the unmistakable appearance of someone who had endured years of poor nutrition.
Her clothes were clean but heavily patched, the cotton fabric faded from repeated washing.
Yet despite all this, her eyes were bright.
"Li Shuying," the girl said gently.
"I heard you weren't feeling well last week. Are you better now?"
She smiled as she spoke.
On her sunken face, the smile looked somewhat fragile—almost out of place—but there was warmth and sincerity in it.
Li Shuying returned the smile politely.
"I'm fine now," she replied softly. "Thank you for asking."
Even as she spoke, however, she felt a faint sense of unease.
She still could not remember the girl's name.
But she did not allow the confusion to show on her face. Instead, she kept her tone natural, as though speaking to an old acquaintance.
Yet something about the girl felt strangely familiar.
A vague memory stirred at the edge of her mind, but it refused to become clear.
The girl hesitated for a moment, fidgeting slightly with the strap of her worn cloth bag.
Then she spoke again, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness.
"I… I brought you something."
She lowered her gaze shyly.
"To thank you for what you did for me last week."
Her fingers tightened around the bag.
"I hope you don't mind."
Last week?
Thank her?
Li Shuying blinked in confusion.
Her mind searched desperately through the hazy memories of this time period, but nothing came to the surface.
"I… I…"
She hesitated, unsure what to say.
Before she could respond, the girl had already begun rummaging through her bag.
From inside, she carefully took out an old aluminum lunch box.
The metal surface was dull and slightly dented, as though it had been used for many years.
She placed it gently on the desk and opened the lid.
"I made this fresh this morning," the girl said quietly.
Her tone carried a small note of pride.
"It's wild vegetable porridge."
She pointed inside the container.
"I collected the greens myself by the riverside—amaranth, shepherd's purse, wild radish leaves, and dandelion leaves."
She pushed the lunch box a little closer toward Li Shuying.
"It's very tasty. You should try it."
Li Shuying stared at the contents of the lunch box.
For a moment, she was stunned.
The so-called porridge looked more like a thick paste.
There was almost no visible water. Instead, the mixture was made almost entirely of chopped wild vegetables bound together with coarse sorghum grains.
From the girl's perspective, this was clearly a precious offering. The effort required to gather so many edible greens from the riverbank must have taken considerable time.
It was a sincere gesture of gratitude.
But to Li Shuying—who had tasted far better food—the smell was somewhat bitter and earthy.
Still, she carefully hid her reaction.
Instead, she smiled gently.
She was just about to decline politely—
When suddenly, a sharp voice cut across the classroom like a whip.
"Tang Chunlan!"
The tone was harsh and full of contempt.
"You shameless slut!"
The entire classroom fell silent.
The voice continued, dripping with hostility.
"You still dare to come to school?"
"Do you not understand human language?"
"Get out!"
Li Shuying froze.
Her eyes widened as the name echoed in her mind.
Tang Chunlan.
At that moment, the fog of memory shattered.
Of course.
How could she possibly forget this person?
The girl sitting beside her—
Was Tang Chunlan.