Chapter Twenty-Six: A New Life

In Li Yancheng’s memory, every time the New Year approached before he went to serve in the army, the alleyways would come alive with bustling activity. The adults busied themselves preparing goods for the festival, while the children ran wild and free, playing outside with unrestrained joy.

Though poverty was real and resources scarce, the Spring Festival held a place in the hearts of the common folk that no other holiday could rival. Even the state treated these holidays differently.

Regardless of whether they had funds or not, every workplace would find a way to distribute some New Year goods to its employees. Neighborhood offices, through the local committees, would hand out provisions such as sesame paste and lower-grade tea leaves, each household receiving a ration ticket for a small amount they could redeem.

Other staples like coarse vermicelli, mung bean threads, Sichuan peppercorns, star anise, black fungus, dried daylilies, and alkaline flour were also allocated per household with tickets, usually no more than two taels, with spices limited to half a tael. Peanuts, still in their shells, were given at half a catty, while roasted sunflower seeds came in two-tael portions; these two items were distributed based on registered household members starting from the year before last.

During the festival, a small supply of peanut oil was made available. Normally, cooking oil coupons were distributed by household registration, three taels per person per month, redeemable for soybean or cottonseed oil. It was only during the Spring Festival that peanut oil appeared on the market. A special holiday oil coupon was also issued, allowing the purchase of a small amount of sesame oil.

Most importantly, there was the sugar coupon. Sugar held a special place as a reserve commodity. Under normal circumstances, each person would receive two taels of sugar coupons monthly, with an extra ticket issued around the New Year.

All these details underscored just how deeply the Spring Festival was cherished by the common people.

But now, things were different.

Walking from the alley entrance to the gate of Courtyard Number 20—a distance of several hundred meters—Li Yancheng did not see a single person. It felt as if a swarm of locusts had passed through, devouring every living thing.

If not for the occasional voices echoing from inside some courtyard, he might have suspected extraterrestrials had come and abducted everyone living there.

As for the customary crackling of firecrackers that usually filled the air at this time of year, he hadn’t heard a single pop during his ten-kilometer car ride from the hospital.

When he saw the large lock hanging on the courtyard gate, he was stunned for a long while.

Since his grandfather’s passing two years ago, the adults left in the yard all worked, and the children went to school, so locking the gate during the day was normal. But ever since schools had been closed, he hadn’t seen the gate locked again. Today, suddenly seeing the lock again made him curious—where had those three children who didn’t attend school gone?

Setting down his luggage, he took out the key and unlocked the gate. As soon as he pushed it open, a cat’s meow came from inside the yard.

“Meow...”

Perhaps startled by the noise, an orange tabby cat appeared from behind the shadow wall, poking its head out to look toward the gate.

This cat belonged to the second child of the Zhao family from the front courtyard, who was a high school student. Last year, the child had brought the cat home from somewhere. When it arrived, it seemed barely born and barely alive, on the verge of death.

Unexpectedly, the little creature was quite tenacious and had survived.

Since it arrived, there hadn’t been a mouse sighting in the courtyard.

At the sight of the visitor, the cat didn’t immediately recognize him. It bared its teeth and hissed, its fur bristling and body arched in full attack mode.

“Go on, still wanna scratch me?” Li Yancheng said, dragging his luggage through the gate.

Hearing his voice, the cat seemed to recognize him. It relaxed, lowered its fur, and cocked its head for a careful second look. Confirming it was someone familiar, the cat meowed once and rubbed against Li Yancheng’s legs as he walked, weaving back and forth.

“Where has everyone in the yard gone?” he asked.

“Meow,” came the answer.

“You don’t know either? At least you should know when they left, right?”

“Meow,” the cat replied.

“You silly cat, if you know nothing, what good are you?”

“Meow!” This last meow carried clear emotion before the cat dashed away.

Li Yancheng carried his luggage through the side gate into the back courtyard.

The yard was just as clean and tidy as ever.

The wives of Jin Zhihai and Cai Fangchao, Xing Lihua and Fu Xiuli, were both meticulous about cleanliness, especially Xing Lihua, who almost never missed a morning sweep of the backyard.

To be fair, those two had married good women—whether introduced by others or chosen by their parents, each was outstanding. Looking at himself, well, it was hard to put into words.

Hmm?

Opening his own door, Li Yancheng was surprised by what he saw inside. He paused at the threshold, hesitant to step further. If not for the unchanged furnishings, he almost suspected he had opened the wrong door.

It wasn’t that there had been a break-in, but rather the place was far too spotless—much changed from how it looked just a month ago when he last returned.

In an instant, he thought of Jin Wenning, that little girl.

The last time he came back, after dinner, he hadn’t gone home again but took the bus directly to the front gate, accompanied by that girl.

Halfway there, she took the shoulder bag from him, explaining that it contained his household registration booklet and divorce certificate. She wanted to keep it at home to avoid trouble if he lost it in the countryside.

Li Yancheng kept a key to his home at the Jin residence. Not having a better excuse, he allowed the girl to hold the bag.

She must have known roughly when he’d return and helped tidy up his home.

And truly, it was surprisingly clean.

Entering the bedroom, he realized it wasn’t just dusting and sweeping. Even his bed linens and quilt had been taken off and washed, probably laid out in the sun during the few good days recently. The room still carried the warm scent of sunlight.

He chuckled inwardly. That girl!

Looking at the neat room, Li Yancheng shook his head with a wry smile.

To have a child—just twelve, no, now thirteen—clean his home for him, he truly felt a pang of guilt.

After organizing his luggage, he noted today’s overcast sky and the forecast predicting snow starting tonight. The bedding he’d brought back couldn’t be aired out now, so he tucked it into the trunk, planning to wash and dry it when the weather cleared.

Packing clean clothes into a bag and gathering his toiletries, he turned to leave the room, intending to soak in the bathhouse first and wash away the dust.

By the time he returned, it was nearly five in the afternoon. He had soaked for three hours—pure bliss.

By then, some people had already come back to the yard: Zhao Mingming, the youngest of the Zhao family from the front courtyard; Jin Wenning; and two other children from nearby homes. The four were playing with paper-wrapped parcels in the front courtyard.

“Brother Dacheng!”

“Uncle Dacheng!”

“Mingming, Ningning, why weren’t you home at noon when I came back?”

“We were at Nana’s place. Her aunt was giving us lessons,” Jin Wenning answered quickly.

Nana was another little girl who played with them, living at Courtyard 15 on the same alley.

Her aunt, Zhang Weiyu, was the only university student in their Meishan East Alley—a sophomore at Beijing Normal University. Since classes had been suspended two years ago, she had stayed home, no longer wandering with her classmates. Instead, she had begun tutoring children in the alley who were willing to study.