(1)
Sun Wei was born into an ordinary family, living in a rural small villa that city folks might envy upon seeing once, but residents there would likely grow to dislike.
Calling it a villa was flattering; calling it a Western-style house would be even more pretentious.
In reality, it was just a three-story brick and tile structure, probably built when Soviet-style architecture was popular, so the entire house looked little different from a workers’ dormitory.
In the modest courtyard stood a stone statue—not of any person, but of a sickle and hoe carved into it.
Actually, Sun Wei’s grandfather was never a Red Army soldier who joined the uprising from the start.
He had been a Regiment Commander under the old Jiang’s No. 74 Army, 51st Division.
When the civil war broke out, he immediately disbanded his troops and fled to the countryside, neither surrendering nor continuing the fight.
Below this Stone National Emblem, there was an inscription carved at his grandfather’s request.
It was neither a sentiment nor a life motto, nor a complaint.
Simply, the words read—
“An era of peace is coming.”
Later, during that turbulent time, his grandfather chose to sever ties with all relatives and children to protect his family, and was publicly executed at the grain-drying yard.
This stone statue was moved from the ancestral home—it was the only thing in that building that couldn’t be condemned as “reactionary.”
The family’s decline happened quickly.
Sun Wei’s father was as ordinary as could be.
He sold vegetables with his mother at the market—doing so for decades.
He often told Sun Wei that since adulthood, he had been growing vegetables, then both growing and selling them, and eventually just selling.
He could never imagine a day without selling vegetables.
There were always leftover vegetables that couldn’t be sold at home.
To avoid waste, some were pickled into salted vegetables; others were buried in the soil as fertilizer.
Everything grown on this land was useless.
Of course, for Sun Wei, it was a little hard to understand.
After all, he lived in an increasingly affluent era and felt there was no need to make the courtyard smell like rotting vegetable leaves just to save a little money.
To earn some extra cash, the house was also rented out.
Though still within the city limits, it was in the suburbs.
They didn’t want to spend on agent fees, so they only put up some advertisements on the gate and vegetable stall.
Living conditions had gradually improved, and since Sun Wei started middle school, no one had rented the house anymore.
Today, however, a young man showed up—dressed casually but neat, not looking like a countryside native at all.
He was about 1.75 meters tall, quite tall for this southern city, slim but steady in his steps—standing there like a stake firmly rooted into the ground.
“Hey, brother, is this house still for rent?” he asked.
Sun Wei, forced by a call from his mother to sweep the courtyard, looked up with his perpetually squinting eyes and glanced at him twice.
“Rent?”
“There’s a notice posted at the door.”
“Oh?”
Sun Wei scratched his head and looked at the wall outside.
The lettering was so faded it was almost illegible, but it immediately reminded him of it.
Since elementary school, he had a task—if anyone came asking about renting the house, say yes and then contact his parents.
Three years was a long time for a kid—memories blurred so much he didn’t immediately recall.
“Oh, renting? Now?”
“Yes.”
The man smiled and nodded.
“There’s an empty room, but it hasn’t been lived in for a long time.”
Sun Wei was too lazy to deal with this and spoke frankly, hoping this would scare off the tenant.
“The house still smells like rotten vegetable leaves, and the stairway is narrow, not easy to move furniture upstairs.”
“That’s fine.”
“Well then, wait a moment, I’ll ask my mom!”
Sun Wei shrugged, pulled out a cheap phone with an antenna from his pocket, and quickly dialed his mother.
“Hey? Mom? Yeah, someone wants to rent the house. Yeah, looks decent. Uh-huh, they want to rent it? Oh… how much? Uh… like this? Okay, okay… got it!”
After the call, Sun Wei looked at the man.
“Three hundred and fifty yuan a month, including utilities. There’s no air conditioner or TV in the room. Is that okay?”
“No problem.”
“Uh, there’s no contract or anything. Basically, you pay for a month’s rent, then live for a month. Pay first, move in after. No problem?”
“No problem.”
“But I still need to note your name and number. I’ll use my phone. What’s your name?”
The man smiled, took out an ID card, glanced at it without a flicker, then handed it over.
The photo looked recent—he looked just the same now.
“My name is Lu Ye.”
“Oh… from W City, no wonder your Mandarin sounds a bit off.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. Your phone?”
“I lost my phone and don’t have one right now. If needed, you can call my workplace.”
“That works.”
Sun Wei nodded, jotted down the phone number he gave, then stepped aside and opened the gate, letting him carry a small bag inside.
“Where do I stay?”
“Third floor, the innermost room. It’s empty and quieter there—I’ll show you.”
“Okay, thanks.”
***
(2)
This was an old village.
Although it had been incorporated into the city, it hadn’t yet been demolished or redeveloped, so as far as the eye could see, there were only low two-story buildings.
At the end of a small alley was a foreign trade company with a signboard, but the entrance was cold and deserted.
It seemed there were not only no customers but barely any employees.
Lu Qiao Jingye turned the corner and pushed open the old wooden door that seemed unable to keep out even the wind, stepping onto the cement floor, still riddled with pits and bumps.
The counter by the door was empty, but he walked in confidently and opened a door beside the corridor.
Inside was a mess like an abandoned storeroom.
A gaudy plastic children’s table was piled with a stack of files.
A man was clacking away at a computer, and the old printer soon made a loud whirring noise.
“Who is it this time?”
The young man looked up and saw Lu Qiao Jingye’s expressionless face.
His impatience quickly turned into a flattering smile.
“Ah… haha, it’s Lu Qiao-san.”
“Is the backup ID ready?”
“No way it’s that fast. The one you have now is already expedited. You’ll have to come get it tomorrow at least.”
“Oh, you seem busy.”
“Yeah, just had some idiot insist I forge a paternity test, and the result had to prove he was the biological father. No idea what his problem is. If the boss hadn’t been here, I wouldn’t have bothered. Now I have to find templates…”
“Tough luck.”
“Lu Qiao-san, you have a poker face, but surprisingly you’re quite gentle. I’m telling you, I can’t stand it here anymore. When are you going back to Japan? Take me with you—I want to go somewhere more advanced. This place is too backward!”
“There are still backward places there.”
“But it’s much better than here. Long work hours, crappy pay…”
“The cost of living here is actually below that of most peaceful countries.”
“Damn, Lu Qiao-san, are you Japanese? Why don’t you defend Japan more?”
“Political stance and facts are two different things.”
“Even if the cost is low, it doesn’t mean most people live better than you do.”
“Sometimes yes, sometimes not.”
“Damn, you’re a spy and can say this? Don’t betray your government! Even if you do defect, don’t turn me in! I’m just working for someone making fake goods. I sure don’t want to go to jail. My daily wage is so low…”
“Alright, Chen. I’ll come to pick up the goods tomorrow.”
“Got it. Be careful recently. They’re cracking down hard…”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Bye, Lu Qiao-san.”
The young man waved and turned his gaze back to the old monitor.
“Being a spy is nice these days. Food and drinks covered, all expenses reimbursed…”
***
(3)
Zhou Chao had just gotten home when he saw his grandfather sawing a piece of wood, with his father assisting him—something that hadn’t happened in years.
From his impression, his grandfather no longer did carpentry; whenever there was work, his father took care of it.
“Grandpa’s busy?”
“Making a box for someone!”
“What box?”
His father shot him a glare.
“If you’re not helping, don’t keep asking questions!”
“What’s with the bad mood today?”
His mother came out with two cups of water, setting them on the stone table in the courtyard, smiling softly.
“Someone offered ten thousand yuan for the best urn we can make. Your dad made one and got scolded by grandpa. So grandpa himself took over.”
Zhou Chao’s family made funeral supplies, mainly coffins.
But in recent years, with mandatory cremation becoming widespread, many villages even built public cemeteries, banning the burial of large coffins.
So business for making urns had picked up.
This was still the countryside, and the most expensive urns people normally bought were a little over three thousand yuan, made from pretty good wood—they couldn’t get much pricier wood anyway.
An order for a ten-thousand-yuan urn meant either very fine wood or very high requirements.
“Grandpa had to step in… That buyer is really generous. This is the first ten-thousand-yuan urn order we’ve had, right?”
“Yes. The buyer wanted the urn carved with the deceased’s photo, plus other patterns all around.”
Her mother smiled, patting Zhou Chao’s back.
“Chao Chao, see? Learning this craft isn’t so bad.”
“Please spare me—I just want to get into college and be an ordinary modern young man.”