Volume One, Chapter Two: Old Wu

“Old Wu? You’re back?”
Wang Dong was both surprised and delighted. He quickly shifted to the side, making space in the last row for the elderly man.

This old man’s name was Wu Hongqiu, not yet sixty years old, and he was once Wang Dong’s companion at the Beidahuang farm, what Wu jokingly called his “cellmate.” Of course, “cellmate” was Wu Hongqiu’s jest; Wang Dong had been a sent-down educated youth, while Wu was a veteran soldier who had transferred to civilian life.

Wu Hongqiu had served in the army for decades. With no relatives left in his hometown, he’d settled in the Northeast, serving as a deputy official at Farm No. 102 for many years.

Seeing Wu Hongqiu, Wang Dong’s happiness was genuine. The old soldier was honest and clever, warm-hearted—a man worldly but not world-weary, a truly good person. When Wang Dong wanted to transfer back home, Wu had helped him a great deal. As Wang Dong departed, Wu told him that if life back home proved difficult, he could return anytime.

He was a truly good man, but in Wang Dong’s previous life, after returning home, he was trapped in that little courtyard, never seeing Wu again. Who would have thought they’d meet again now, and in such a coincidence?

“So, you couldn’t make a living at home after all? You’ve come back for me, eh?”
Wu Hongqiu dropped himself heavily beside Wang Dong, pulling out a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket. He didn’t smoke it, just held it under his nose, inhaled the scent, then tucked it away again.

Wang Dong had heard of this habit many times. It was a quirk from his days on the battlefield—at night, one couldn’t light up, but the craving was strong, so he’d fool his mind with the smell of tobacco.

“Yes…”
Wang Dong spoke calmly, with neither regret nor dejection.
“A home without family—is it still a home?”

His words left Wu Hongqiu momentarily stunned. Then he shook his head with a laugh.
“Kid, how old are you? Why do you sound so old and grave?”

This made Wang Dong pause as well, but soon he smiled.
Indeed, his appearance was youthful, but his heart was old, and his words had grown aged with it.

“But you’re not wrong. Without family, what’s left of a home? Now you’ve come back to find me, just in time! So many people have left, and it’s hard to find someone as educated and dependable as you. I’m promoted to farm manager now. Come back and work with me for a couple years—maybe I can get you up there as well…”

As Wu Hongqiu rambled on, Wang Dong’s expression grew somber. He shook his head gently.
“Old Wu, I won’t go back to work. I’ve thought it through—relying on the mountain, the mountain falls; relying on people, people leave. If you’re a real man, you have to carve your own path.”

He said that, but Wang Dong’s heart thought otherwise.

If he didn’t know what the future held, he would certainly have followed Wu Hongqiu back. With the old man’s character, he would thrive, and maybe even take over Wu’s position someday.

But…

The real reason was what Wu had just said: the farm had lost most of its people.

Those once-bustling farms owed their vitality to the sent-down youth, who, after growing familiar with agricultural work, became high-quality laborers. But now, with the return of the educated youth, all the farms in Beidahuang faced a dire shortage of manpower.

This predicament could change one day, but not until thirty years later, when automation and scientific farming spread widely. For the next decade or so, Beidahuang would steadily decline, waiting for the Northeast’s revival before it drew attention again.

Such critical years—Wang Dong didn’t want to waste them.

“Oh…”
Wu Hongqiu was visibly disappointed, but forced out a laugh.
“It’s a good thing… A good thing. Young people should venture out. There’s not much work left now—no allocations, no quotas, the only task is simply to survive.”

As he said this, Wu finally lit his hand-rolled cigarette by the window.

Seeing the old man’s desolation, Wang Dong felt both pity and amusement.
“Old Wu, I said I won’t go back to work, but I didn’t say I won’t go back at all. I plan to head to the Xing’an Mountains for a while—it’s not far from you. If I get myself a cart or a bicycle, coming and going will be easy enough.”

“Xing’an Mountains? Not far?”
Hearing this, Wu Hongqiu snuffed out his cigarette and tucked it back into his pocket.
“Listen to yourself—the Xing’an Mountains are huge. If you’re heading toward the border, is that still close? Where exactly are you going?”

Wang Dong smiled.
“There’s an old settlement on the banks of the Kelo River in Nenjiang County, called Erdao Bay. That’s where I’m headed.”

“Erdao Bay?”
Wu didn’t know the settlement, but he recognized the Kelo River. Considering the distance, he shook his head.
“I’ve never heard of Erdao Bay, but I know the Kelo River. There’s no good farmland around there. What are you going to do?”

Farm the land?

Wang Dong smiled faintly at the mention of farming.

How could one grow rich through farming?
Even in later years, with big companies leasing vast tracts, it was mostly thanks to state subsidies. Since ancient times, how many have ever become wealthy from tilling the soil?

“I don’t plan to farm. I’ll do whatever comes my way—hunting, fishing. Harder than farming, but at least the earnings are better.”

Wang Dong thought Wu would support his decision, but instead, Wu’s brow furrowed deeper. He draped an arm over Wang Dong’s shoulder.

“Dong, you mean to be a drifter?”

Wu’s words summed it up perfectly.
It sounded nice—‘mountain man.’ Less kindly, it was a drifter.

Wu looked Wang Dong up and down, shaking his head.
“Dong, I can tell you’ve been through something major to have this idea. I support you venturing out—it’s not a bad thing for a young man. But tell me honestly: what preparations have you made? You have nets for fishing? A gun for the mountain? Never mind tigers, bears, wild boars—even wolves, you couldn’t handle!”

Wang Dong’s expression changed slightly at that.

Wu was right—food and weapons, those were the essentials.
It was summer, so the mountain teemed with life, and food was plentiful. But he had no tools—not even a hoe for digging medicinal herbs. Climbing the mountain would be pointless.

Wang Dong planned to buy supplies once he reached Nenjiang County. He still had some provisions.

But Wu wasn’t finished.
“Also, even though things are more relaxed now, you still need proof and recommendations. Clearly you haven’t arranged any of that. If you want to make money, I won’t stop you, but when you try to sell your goods, if you run into some rotten-hearted scoundrel who uses this against you, you could lose months, even a year’s harvest, for nothing!”

As he spoke, the long-distance bus stopped. Before Wang Dong could say anything else, Wu Hongqiu grabbed his chicken-skin bag and Wang Dong’s own, and in a tone that brooked no argument, said,
“Get off with me!”

He didn’t look back, pushing through the crowd and off the bus.

Wang Dong, helpless, hurried after him.