Chapter 1: Starting Over
The afternoon sun shines in through the glass of the balcony window, feeling a little warm.
Near the balcony, there was an old rattan chair in which Song Yuanchao sat . On his left, on a square wooden stool that served as a coffee table, there was a thermos cup with its lid removed and placed aside. The cup was filled with strong yellow tea that was steaming. The TV in the room was on, with news reports coming in intermittently.
This is an ordinary residential community located within the southern outer ring of Shanghai. Such communities are everywhere in this international metropolis. Most of them are resettlement housing built in the late 1980s and 1990s. The same is true for the house where Song Yuanchao lives. After the old houses in the city center were demolished, he got two houses, one for rent and the other for his own use. He has lived here for nearly 30 years.
Time flies. Song Yuanchao, who was a middle-aged man when he moved here, is now an old man in his seventies. He has been retired for many years and lives alone with no children.
Song Yuanchao was married when he was young, but this forced marriage lasted only less than three years and ended in breakup.
After the divorce, Song Yuanchao had no idea of getting married again and has lived alone until now.
As he gets older, his health is not as good as before, especially after he accidentally fell while going downstairs last year. Coupled with the epidemic that has lasted for several years, Song Yuanchao has been going out less and less this year. Most of the time, he sits quietly in the sun like he does now and reminisces about the past.
Life is short and full of helplessness. Many past events seem to be within reach with closing your eyes, yet they are so far away.
Before retirement, Song Yuanchao had the habit of writing a diary, in which he recorded his life in different periods of his youth, adolescence and middle age. Several thick diaries with frayed edges can be said to represent Song Yuanchao's life.
When he was young, Song Yuanchao was also full of scholarly spirit, eloquent, pointed out the country's affairs, wrote inspiring articles, and had a girl he secretly loved and also had beautiful dreams for the future...
But all of this disappeared like smoke, and what life ultimately left Song Yuanchao with was only a mess and deep helplessness. Now he has gradually reached the last stage of his life, and there is no chance of redeeming those regrets.
Slowly standing up, Song Yuanchao walked to the bookshelf beside him and took out a photo album.
I opened the photo album and saw some old photos inside. Song Yuanchao in the photos looked so young and his smile was so bright.
With his slightly trembling and dry fingers, he stroked the yellowed photos one by one. He was not touching the photos, but touching his own fading memories of youth. After an unknown amount of time, Song Yuanchao sighed sadly and closed the album...
When he was about to put the photo album back to its place, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest, as if an invisible hand had suddenly grasped his heart.
With a muffled groan, Song Yuanchao's face turned pale, beads of sweat oozed from his forehead, and the photo album in his hand fell to the ground without him being able to hold it. He tried hard to take out the first aid medicine from his chest pocket, but after searching several times, his hands were out of control and he couldn't get it out.
With a dull thud, Song Yuanchao fell powerlessly to the ground. The severe pain just now was replaced by the numbness of his whole body. His consciousness began to fade away. When he finally fell into darkness, his eyes stayed on the open photo album on the ground. This was a group photo of four people. There were two men and two women in the photo. Song Yuanchao stood second from the right. On his right was a man about the same age as him, who was putting his arm on his shoulder affectionately.
On his left were two young girls, one of whom was a young girl with pigtails. She and her short-haired companion held hands and smiled at the camera. Everyone wearing old blue-grey coarse cloth clothes, with their trouser legs rolled up high and Liberation shoes on their feet. From their backs, one could vaguely see a field of crops that had just been harvested...
Song Yuanchao smiled, but soon his expression froze... At this moment, a song could be heard faintly from somewhere.
“All the honors from yesterday have become a distant memory.
I have spent half of my life working hard, and tonight I am faced with the storm again.
I can't go with the flow, for the sake of my beloved ones.
No matter how hard or difficult it is, we must be strong, just for those expectant eyes.
If the heart is there, the dream is there, there is true love between heaven and earth
No matter success or failure, life is heroic, it's just starting over again
All the honors of yesterday have become a distant memory.
I have spent half of my life working hard, and tonight I am faced with the storm again.
I can't go with the flow, for the sake of my beloved ones.
No matter how hard or difficult it is, we must be strong, just for those expectant eyes.
If the heart is there, the dream is there, there is true love between heaven and earth
No matter success or failure, life is heroic, it’s just starting over again…”
"Comrade! Hey! Comrade, wake up!"
Urgent shouts continued to ring in Song Yuanchao's ears, and at the same time, someone was pushing him hard. He opened his eyes hazily and couldn't help but be a little dazed.
"Hey! Comrade!" A man in a blue Zhongshan suit had a distant look on his face and a tone of obvious impatience and urging.
“Oh…oh…”
Song Yuanchao opened his mouth and uttered two meaningless replies, then turned his slightly stiff head. He suddenly realized that he was actually sitting on a chair on a train. This was an old green train that was familiar yet unfamiliar. The carriage was filled with the smell of smoke, sweat, alcohol, sourness, fishiness... all kinds of mixed smells.
Such old green-skinned trains were eliminated as early as the 21st century, and were replaced by high-speed and clean EMUs and high-speed trains. Even if there are similar green-skinned trains on the few remaining lines, they are only similar in appearance, and their interiors have also been greatly updated.
"What's going on? This...?" Song Yuanchao looked around in a daze, unable to react for a moment.
Wasn't he dead? Died at home from a sudden heart attack?
How come I'm on a train when I open my eyes? And it's such an old green train? What's going on with all those people around me? They're all wearing the same gray, blue, black, patched clothes and pants from decades ago? What's going on?
"Comrade, if you want to sleep, find a place to sleep after you get off the bus. We have already arrived at the station, how can I go out if you don't let me?" Song Yuanchao tried hard to figure out what was going on. The impatient voice of the man in the Zhongshan suit rang out again. Only then did Song Yuanchao come to his senses. It turned out that his seat was against one end of the corridor. His whole body and a huge package blocked the narrow space leading to the corridor.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Song Yuanchao quickly and subconsciously apologized to the man in Mandarin, stood up, picked up the luggage and made way for the passage.
"I've run into a redhead today... a country bumpkin!"
The man in the Zhongshan suit walked past Song Yuanchao with a sullen face, carrying a black faux leather bag in his hand. On the lower right corner of the bag were printed the words "沪海" in calligraphy, and below that was another line of pinyin of the word 沪海 in the same calligraphy.
The man in the Zhongshan suit walked towards the car door, muttering something in Shanghai dialect. Song Yuanchao was stunned and was about to refute, but when he looked up, he saw that the man had disappeared through the car door.
More than ten minutes later, Song Yuanchao, carrying his luggage, stood blankly at the exit of Laobei Station.
The Old North Station, also known as the Old Shanghai Station, was built in 1950. It is called the North Station because it is located in the northern part of Shanghai city. In addition, it looks a bit dilapidated due to its long years of use, so Shanghai people also call it the "Old North Station."
In the late 1980s, after the new Shanghai Railway Station was built, the old North Station was discontinued and the new railway station was also called the New Station. Afterwards, Shanghai built two more railway stations in the south suburbs and west suburbs. At this point, Shanghai has a total of three railway stations, namely the New Station, South Suburb Station and West Suburb Station.
The current Old North Station is no longer the deserted place in memory. The small square outside the station is bustling with various slogans of the times painted on the walls outside. Old Julong buses that have long been eliminated come and go at the square station.
It took Song Yuanchao a long time to come back to his senses. Now he was no longer an old man, but a 24-year-old young man.
Today is February 14, 1979, Valentine's Day in the West. Of course, in this era, few Chinese people know what Valentine's Day is.
The Spring Festival in 1979 was on January 28th. Today is only three days away from the Lantern Festival, but the streets of Shanghai still have the festive atmosphere.
Song Yuanchao is from Shanghai. It has been eight years since he left Shanghai. Eight years ago, Song Yuanchao, who had just turned sixteen, went to the northwest to work in the mountains and countryside before graduating from high school. He spent eight whole years on the Loess Plateau.
Originally Song Yuanchao thought he would stay in the Northwest for the rest of his life, but who would have thought that things would take a turn for the better last year.
In 1977, national policies changed. First, the college entrance examination was resumed. However, Song Yuanchao was unable to take the college entrance examination for some reasons at that time.
On October 1, 1978, the state's policy on the return of educated youth to their hometowns was officially released, which immediately set off a fierce wave of educated youth returning to their hometowns across the country. Song Yuanchao was no exception. In order to get a place to return home, he and several of his companions first went to the brigade to lobby for a place, and then walked dozens of miles on mountain roads to the commune revolutionary committee. They survived there for several days on a few steamed buns, and finally got a return certificate with a big red seal.
Originally, Song Yuanchao could have returned to Shanghai before the Spring Festival, but because the certificate was issued close to the Spring Festival, a few close educated youth discussed and decided to spend the Spring Festival together before leaving.
After all, this time when we go back, everyone will be scattered all over the world and we don’t know when we will get together again.
On the night of New Year's Eve, Song Yuanchao and his comrades who had shared joys and sorrows together on the loess land for many years got drunk. All of them, men and women, hugged each other and cried bitterly.
After the sixth day of the New Year, everyone began to leave the place where their youth had been buried, and set out on the journey home without hesitation.
From the mountains to the commune, and then from the commune to the local area, first on foot, then by ox cart, and then by tractor, car, and train... It took Song Yuanchao ten full days and ten nights, and he finally set foot on the land of Shanghai again.
At this moment, Song Yuanchao burst into tears.
Song Yuanchao never imagined that God would allow him to return to this era again, an era that he had thought about countless times in his dreams and that he longed for and missed so much.
Song Yuanchao's home is located in the northwest of Shanghai city. It takes two buses to get from the Old North Station to his home.
At that time, bus fares were still based on the distance between stops. The fares for fuel-powered buses were 5 cents, 10 cents, and 15 cents. The fares for trolley buses were 4 cents, 7 cents, 10 cents, and 13 cents.
Originally Shanghai had another type of public transportation, which was the oldest tram bus, which charged cheaper fares. However, now all tram buses have been replaced by new trolleybus buses with two braids.
According to his vague memory, Song Yuanchao took a bus at Laobei Station and then changed to a trolleybus. It cost him nine cents and took him nearly an hour and a half to get to his destination.
After getting off the bus, Song Yuanchao looked towards an alley not far opposite the station. His home was in this alley.
When he left home, Song Yuanchao was still a big child. Now when he returns, he is an adult with a vicissitudes of life on his face.
Song Yuanchao's father, Song Guangzeng, was a Chinese teacher at a key middle school in the region, and his mother, Wang Sufen, was a worker at a textile factory.
In the past, such dual-income families were very enviable, but due to the times, Song Yuanchao's father was transformed from a respected teacher to a "stinking ninth" overnight, and he also developed a serious illness in the endless campaigns.
In the second year after Song Yuanchao went to the countryside, his father died of illness. The death of his father was too shocking for his weak mother, who cried all day long. A year later, his mother also passed away with his father. When Song Yuanchao learned the news of his parents' successive deaths, he knelt down on the yellow earth in the northwest holding a letter, and cried heart-wrenchingly towards his hometown.
The memory that had originally become vague and distant suddenly became so clear at this moment.
