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Probably because she’d had a bit to drink at the Beipiao1 alumni gathering, Lin Xuejun ran a slight fever that night. She drank some hot water and went straight to sleep, only to open her eyes and find herself in the Seventh Production Team of Husehe Commune, on the northern frontier in the 1960s.
The original body she had transmigrated into was also named Lin Xuejun, a sixteen-year-old girl.
While the other educated youths had gone out to work at dawn, she remained on the kang2, battling a severe cold.
Lin Xuejun had been bedridden for three days. Wang Ying, the young medic treating her, had originally been a milkmaid in the brigade. After a two-week “Barefoot Doctor3” training session at the commune during winter, she had taken up the role of medic.
The amount of times she had given real injections to people was probably fewer than the fingers on one of her hands.
Every time Wang Ying administered a shot to Lin Xuejun, she would slap the back of her hand until it turned red and swollen, lean forward, take several deep breaths while staring at the bulging veins, and then suddenly plunge the needle in…
Each time Lin Xuejun saw Wang Ying’s expression of heroic sacrifice while giving the injection, she wished she could take over and do it herself. Unfortunately, her hands were too weak from illness, leaving her no choice but to endure the ordeal.
Supplies here were extremely scarce. Even when sick, there were no nutritious meals or fruits to help her recover—not even fresh vegetables.
These past few days of illness, enduring injections, eating coarse grains and potatoes, and having to crawl to the neighboring shed to use a slop bucket as a toilet… it was truly suffering beyond words.
Outside the tiled house, the howling blizzard and the creaking of snow-laden firewood piles were the best lullabies. Today, Lin Xuejun felt much better, sleeping deeply and waking up refreshed. But the world outside the blankets was too cold, and she still didn’t want to leave the kang.
For extra warmth, she pulled the military overcoat draped nearby over her thick quilt, feeling as if a mountain were pressing down on her.
Due to the relentless snowstorm, the sky remained gloomy, even during the day.
She drifted in and out of sleep, completely losing track of time.
pls do not share this anywhere or u will always stub ur toe when u walk past a door frame !! this translation has been stolen from mioscorner.com, pls only read there i’m begging u :kneels:
It wasn’t until the rhythmic crunching of footsteps approached that Lin Xuejun realized it was probably around five or six in the evening, meaning the other educated youths were now returning from work through the snow.
The young people stomped and brushed off snow outside the door, making a flurry of noises before finally turning the handle.
The old, thick wooden door was pulled open, and the wind slammed it against the wall with a loud bang. The first youth rushed inside, then turned to urge the last person to close the door quickly.
The eldest male educated youth, Mu Junqing, immediately went to light the castor oil lamp on the table as soon as he entered. Ignoring the frost covering his glasses, he then bent over the kang to add firewood. Unfazed by the ashes flying into his hair and face, he braced his hands on his knees, grabbed the kettle, went outside to scoop the cleanest surface snow into it, and hurried back to place it on the stove to boil.
After finishing all this, Mu Junqing finally exhaled in relief. He took off his military overcoat and hung it on the rack by the door, then pulled the rack to block the draft seeping through the door crack.
“How do you feel, Lin Xuejun?” Mu Junqing rubbed his hands and turned to look at Lin Xuejun, who was being helped to sit on the edge of the kang by the youngest educated youth, Yi Xiuyu.
Since the educated youths had arrived just as the blizzard hit, Husehe Commune had only managed to prepare one large tiled house for them at the Seventh Production Team. Until the storm passed, they would have to make do by placing a bench in the middle of the kang and draping a cloth curtain to separate the men and women.
“I feel much better.” Lin Xuejun’s muscles still ached a little as she got up with Yi Xiuyu’s help.
She pulled on a thick cotton-padded jacket, draped a military overcoat over her shoulders, and stepped into round, fluffy felt boots.
Yi Xiuyu supported Lin Xuejun to the makeshift outhouse converted from the neighboring storage room. After closing the door, she turned away with her lips pursed in displeasure.
“I came here with the grand ambition of building the motherland’s frontier, but every day I feed cows, clean their pens, shovel manure, then come back to wait on someone at night—just like some old society maid.”
What’s that phrase they use to describe that in the local Northeastern Han dialect again?
A total sucker4!
Among the eight educated youths who’d arrived, everyone except Lin Xuejun had already worked together for several days and gotten somewhat acquainted. The only one they didn’t know was the sickly “Little Sister Lin” who stayed in bed all day.
The only thing they knew about Lin Xuejun was that she’d started writing letters home begging to return to Beijing even before reaching the commune.
She wrote those letters diligently, using up plenty of ink and quite a few stamps too. Even now, there was a half-finished plea for help in her drawer, interrupted by her fever.
When Yi Xiuyu had tidied Lin Xuejun’s things, she’d seen the words “HELP ME” scrawled across one letter, the enormous characters taking up half the page.
Everyone assumed Lin Xuejun wouldn’t last long here. Once she recovered enough to travel, she’d probably just leave.
It’d be better if she left. With her delicate and sickly constitution, she couldn’t contribute to building the motherland, and was just holding back the other educated youths instead.
They wanted to quickly integrate into the production team and make a good impression on the herdsmen. The last thing they needed was people seeing Lin Xuejun and thinking all educated youths were as weak-willed as her.
The others were about to chime in with Yi Xiuyu when the eldest, Mu Junqing, spoke first, “Comrade Yi, toward the enemy you must be as cold and merciless as winter, but what about toward your comrades?”
“…” Yi Xiuyu’s mouth twisted into a pout before she answered reluctantly, “As warm as spring.”
Mu Junqing nodded, his unspoken “keep it up” message delivered. He smoothed his unruly mop of natural curls and went back to moving stools.
With Mu Junqing having set the tone, even those who had issues with Comrade Lin Xuejun’s attitude couldn’t very well continue. They could only shrug in response to Yi Xiuyu or offer conciliatory smiles.
Yi Xiuyu sighed. When Lin Xuejun finished in the outhouse, she still went over to support her arm toward the dining table.
“I need to wash my hands.” Lin Xuejun turned toward the sink, thanking Yi Xiuyu, “It’s alright, I can walk by myself.”
“Really? Don’t want you falling again.” Yi Xiuyu released her arm uncertainly, watching as Lin Xuejun, though unsteady, made it safely to the sink. Only then did she clap her hands and take a seat at the table.
Glancing back occasionally at Lin Xuejun washing up, Yi Xiuyu pursed her lips again.
Lin Xuejun dried her hands and sat down to a dinner that was identical to yesterday’s and the day before—potatoes stewed with frozen flat beans containing not a trace of oil, paired with a bowl of thin congee and a steamed bun.
Even if she only had this combination for one meal, it would still feel lacking in oil, soy sauce, MSG, and braised pork, let alone having it as a daily diet.
Her stomach growled eagerly, but her mind still resisted slightly.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lin Xuejun glanced at Yi Xiuyu, who had joined the team from Cixi during the Cultural Revolution. The girl was meticulously arranging potatoes and green beans around the edge of her congee bowl before adding a spoonful of watery vegetable broth. After stirring it all together, she began eating with intense focus.
Yi Xiuyu’s concentration wasn’t just in her expression and movements—even her eating rhythm was deliberate. Two mouthfuls of porridge, one bite of vegetables, two bites of steamed bread. Her pace never faltered, as solemn and devout as if she were performing a religious rite.
Rumor had it Yi Xiuyu was only fifteen years old, just graduated from junior high. Unable to find work in her southern city and with her family struggling to put food on the table, she shouldered her belongings and traveled from the warm south to the coldest region of the country when she heard educated youth volunteering for borderland work earned twenty yuan a month with guaranteed meals.
Perhaps accustomed to hardship, or maybe just famished from the day’s labor, Yi Xiuyu ate with visible enjoyment, as if savoring gourmet delicacies.
Lin Xuejun tasted the bitterness in her mouth and finally picked up her bowl.
Noticing the usually appetite-less Lin Xuejun—likely due to illness—finally taking up her chopsticks, Mu Junqing smiled. “Eat up, eat up. A full stomach keeps homesickness away.”
His words nearly broke the dam holding back Lin Xuejun’s tears. She missed home terribly. She missed the latex mattress and pillows, down comforters, heated floors and air conditioning, Beijing’s boiled tripe, roast duck, the thinly rolled lamb, beef slices, and crispy tripe bubbling in a copper hotpot…
Wiping her eyes, she found no tears. Even crying required salt reserves, and her tasteless mouth clearly lacked the elements to synthesize tears.
After the meal, Lin Xuejun offered to wash dishes. Many novels described this era as not only harsh and exhausting but also full of terrible people. In this high-obligation, mutual-surveillance era of collectivism, it seemed wise to stay diligent.
But Yi Xiuyu snatched the bowls away. “This water’s ice-cold. If you touch it, you’ll just get sicker. I don’t want to nurse you for extra days.” She’d been instructed by the production team leader to take good care of Lin Xuejun.
“Oh.” Lin Xuejun awkwardly withdrew her hand.
Seeing her somewhat deflated, Yi Xiuyu hesitated before muttering, “Not that I mind, just… get better soon, okay?” then hurried off with the dishes.
Lin Xuejun touched her face, scanning for lighter chores. Mu Junqing was sterilizing a needle over candlelight to pop his blisters from heavy labor. This era was probably rather conservative, so grabbing a young man’s hand to massage it seemed completely inappropriate.
As she hesitated, Meng Tianxia, the oldest among the four female educated youths, pulled up a stool unceremoniously, took Mu Junqing’s hand, and commandeered the needle. “Comrade Mu, let me help,” she said matter-of-factly.
“…” Lin Xuejun blinked. Apparently, her understanding of male-female interactions in this era still needed adjustment.
Yi Xiuyu finished washing with efficient movements and, finding Lin Xuejun still standing idle, brought over warm water and medicine left by the medic. Holding both out, she ordered, “Take your medicine.”
“Alright.” Lin Xuejun snapped out of her thoughts and reached for the cup and medicine, her hand brushing against Yi Xiuyu’s. The hands that had just finished washing dishes were still damp and icy cold. Clearly, the dishwater was indeed as freezing as Yi Xiuyu had described.
She sat by the kang and swallowed the medicine promptly under Yi Xiuyu’s watchful eye.
“That’s more like it.” Yi Xiuyu nodded approvingly at her compliance before taking the cup back and turning to wipe the frost that had formed on the window from the indoor warmth.
Lin Xuejun wanted to call Yi Xiuyu over to warm her hands by the bed, but the girl’s constant bustling back and forth left no opening for her to speak.
A male educated youth stood by the stove rubbing his hands, scooping out ashes to scatter at the doorway for insulation against the cold and damp. As he returned to feed more firewood into the stove, he eyed the small pile beside it—
“Not enough firewood. The kang won’t stay warm, and the room’s getting colder.” He sighed, planting his hands on his hips with determination. “We came at the wrong time this year. Next winter, I’ll stack firewood all along the courtyard walls beforehand. That’ll heat the place up properly.”
“I’ve seen herders collect dried sheep and cow dung to burn instead of chopping wood or gathering firewood everywhere. We should look into that. Ouch—” Mu Junqing, who habitually gestured while speaking, forgot his hand was still in Meng Tianxia’s grip. A slight movement earned him a sharp pinch of reprimand, making him suck in a pained breath.
As they commiserated about their current state of hunger and cold, a sudden clamor erupted outside.
“What’s happening?” Yi Xiuyu, who was scraping at the ice on the window with the small shovel given by the production team leader, pressed her face closer to peer out.
Within moments, the noise grew louder, drowning out even the wind. Urgent shouts from men and women intertwined, as if many were scrambling in panic.
Unease spread among the educated youths. They threw on their military coats and crowded by the windows to look.
Outside, oil lamps swung wildly in the hands of running figures, dancing like fireflies in the night.
As lamp after lamp floated past, Mu Junqing couldn’t stay put any longer. He grabbed his sheepskin coat by the door, wrapped himself up, and pushed outside. “I’ll go see.”
“Me too.” Others followed suit, retrieving their own coats.
Lin Xuejun, having not yet joined labor assignments, hadn’t received a sheepskin coat from the production team leader. She grabbed a small quilt from the bed, wrapped it around herself, and trailed behind them.
The instant she stepped out, the wind and snow lashed her face, shocking her foggy mind into crystal clear clarity.
Though snow blanketed the sky, the air was pristine. In the distance, the dark serpentine ridges of the Greater Khingan Mountains—the watershed between the Inner Mongolian Plateau and the Northeast China Plain, a vital ecological barrier and national forest conservation area—loomed in the east.
To the west stretched an endless blue snowfield—the Hulunbuir Grassland, one of the world’s three most famous grasslands and the most beautiful of the motherland’s six most beautiful grasslands.
This was an untapped land brimming with “gold,” a treasure trove yet to be discovered.
She inhaled that familiar, indescribable cold unique to her homeland deeply, it was a sensation that couldn’t be found anywhere but in Hulunbuir.
Tightening her military coat collar and adjusting the quilt, Lin Xuejun gazed at the scene with deep familiarity. Born decades later on this very soil, these were sights she’d grown up seeing.
At this moment, Lin Xuejun didn’t feel as if she had traveled through time, but as if she had returned to her hometown.
“Fellow villager, what’s the matter?” Mu Junqing’s voice came from ahead, shouting against the wind.
“It’s been half an hour, the mother cow’s giving birth to a calf but can’t deliver it. What should we do—” The villager’s words gradually distorted in the howling wind.
Lin Xuejun paused briefly, then quickened her pace. Following the voices ahead and the direction guided by the oil lamp, she trudged through the thick snow with crunching footsteps, heading toward the makeshift cattle shed the herders had temporarily built with wool felt.
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- 北漂同学会 → “Beipiao alumni gathering” (kept as a cultural term; refers to people who moved to Beijing—often to cities—for work/study) ↩︎
- A Chinese kang is a traditional, 2,000-year-old heated brick or clay bed-stove system used in northern China’s rural areas to survive severe winters. It works by connecting a raised platform to a stove, directing smoke and hot air through interior tunnels to heat the bed for sleeping, cooking, and daily living. ↩︎
- Barefoot doctors were community-based healthcare providers in rural China (1960s–1980s) trained in basic medicine, sanitation, and disease prevention, significantly improving rural health during the Cultural Revolution. They worked as farmers while treating local diseases, utilizing both traditional Chinese and Western techniques, and were crucial in elevating hygiene standards. ↩︎
- 大冤种 is a slangy, humorous insult meaning someone who’s been taken advantage of or played for a fool ↩︎
