"Hey, little comrade, wake up."
Feeling someone pat his shoulder, Lian Youming instinctively opened his eyes. Looking closely, he saw that it was already broad daylight outside the window and the train had reached the capital. A bespectacled female attendant was standing beside him.
His head clearing, Lian Youming quickly said "Thanks," then picked up the bundle stuffed under the seat, slung on his army-green satchel, and walked quickly toward the rear of the carriage.
He'd forgotten exactly when he'd fallen asleep the night before, but the scene of the three locked in fierce battle still seemed to hang before his eyes.
It was as if he'd discovered some new world—his mind was now full of the extraordinary aura that man had given off as he breathed, and even his dreams last night had been about it.
Getting off the train without delay, Lian Youming went straight to the ticket office. But when he got there, a headache set in: in the howling cold wind, a long line of ticket buyers wound and twisted more than a hundred meters from the window.
Lian Youming could only gulp down the cold northwest wind, waiting in vain for a good half hour, before he finally bought a ticket to Harbin amid the not-so-patient urging of the ticket seller.
Seeing he still had some time, he wandered aimlessly outside the station a couple of times, wanting to see what the Four-Nine City looked like these days. At a glance, most people on the streets were workers on bicycles, lunch boxes and water bottles hanging from the handlebars, dressed in rather drab clothes, faces beaming, crisscrossing back and forth on the bustling streets.
Unfortunately, time was short, and he only managed a hurried glance. Hearing the announcements in the station, Lian Youming went to fill his military canteen with hot water, then entered the waiting room.
Noisy, rowdy, a hubbub of voices. Squeezing past all sorts of people, Lian Youming finally found a seat and sat down.
But no sooner had his mind settled than he thought, for no reason, of last night's fight.
The Xingyi Sect?
Could it be the Xingyi martial art?
And which side was the traitor?
Was it that sallow-faced fellow? Or the two who came afterward?
Though he couldn't make out the identities of the two sides for the moment, Lian Youming could now almost piece that battle together more clearly.
At first, the two ganging up on one had held the advantage; but the instant that middle-aged man looked back at him, that advantage had largely slipped away. By the rules of wuxia novels, he'd turned his back on the enemy and lost the initiative to strike. Precisely because of that, the other man bore him a grudge—yet by the time he came to his senses, it was already too late.
On top of that, the train had happened to enter a tunnel, and the sallow-faced man seized the chance to launch a sudden attack, first routing one of them, and then, by cunning, making the old man pull back his force midway. Only then did he beat the two.
So it seemed the traitor was very likely that sallow-faced man. After all, if this man had been the one hunting the traitor, he would never have placed himself at a disadvantage beforehand.
Lian Youming was also somewhat astonished. These extraordinary people not only settled the outcome amid thunderclaps and lightning, but clashed in wits and vied over the right moment—one careless instant, and the chance for victory would vanish in the blink of an eye.
Time passed bit by bit, and boarding was about to begin.
"Hey, fella, you're from out of town, aren't you?"
Lian Youming was just about to get up when his vision suddenly darkened. Hearing the voice, he looked up and saw that a short, thin young man had appeared in front of him.
The fellow wore a loose army overcoat, both hands clutching his collar tight, a knitted cap on his head. He had a shifty, furtive look about him, sleazy no matter how you looked at it.
Lian Youming grew wary. "What do you want?"
"Heh heh, I've had my eye on you ever since you were wandering around outside the station." The young man narrowed his eyes and grinned, baring two rows of big white teeth flecked with bits of chive leaf. Then, meeting Lian Youming's puzzled gaze, he grabbed the two lapels of his overcoat and suddenly flung them wide open. "Take a look!"
"You son of a—"
Lian Youming thought he'd run into a pervert; his thick brows shot up and he was about to make a move. But when he saw what the fellow was clutching to his chest, he froze.
Still glancing around on all sides, the young man held his coat open, and inside were hung all kinds of goods: hairpins, jewelry, glasses, stacks of cassette tapes, some newspapers, and a few wristwatches.
"So what do you want to buy? I've also got all kinds of coupons—meat, grain, cloth, liquor, cigarette—guaranteed good nationwide. And if you're after the 'three turns and a sound,' we can still talk it over."
Lian Youming watched in amazement, clicking his tongue. This trade was highly risky these days—you had to understand, the charge of speculation and profiteering could be minor or major. Being dragged out for public trial was the lighter end; you might even get yourself shot.
"The stuff you peddle is quite a mixed bag. But you've got the wrong person—see this big red flower on my shoulder? I'm going down to the countryside. No money."
"Seventeen?"
The fellow's eyes went wide, and he looked Lian Youming up and down in disbelief. "Damn, kid, what did you grow up eating? How can you be so sturdy at seventeen?"
But what surprised Lian Youming was that the fellow instead sidled up with a grin. "No money now, but once you return to the city, you'll have money. From your accent you're not from around the Four-Nine City, are you? Going to the Northeast to be sent down? Heh heh, over there you can't even spend money if you had it—wherever they send you for the sent-down youth movement, it's either a forestry farm or a state farm, or else you dig into some village deep in the primeval forest. That place is wretchedly poor."
Lian Youming shifted over, making room for the fellow on the bench. "How do you know so much about it?"
The young man rolled his eyes. "Because I just came back from that lousy place... Look at that getup of yours—are you from a military family? What a coincidence, so am I."
As he spoke, the fellow flashed a medal from inside his coat.
Lian Youming raised an eyebrow. "Then why'd you take up this line of work?"
The young man curled his lip and gave a strange laugh. "Too many educated youth are returning to the city. You think just anyone can land an iron rice bowl? My family has nine mouths to feed—seven of us siblings, and my dad's got a lame leg. My eldest brother carries the whole load alone, so as the younger brother I've got to lend a hand, don't I... even if hardly anyone thinks much of me."
As he spoke, the young man was already scoping out his next target. "All right, I've said too much. You're a lot luckier than me—in a year at most, you people will be coming back. Remember to save your money. When the time comes, come find me. On account of us both being from military families, I won't shortchange you, for sure."
The young man didn't dawdle. He patted Lian Youming on the shoulder and turned to leave.
But who'd have thought—the fellow had no sooner left than he came running back, a nervous look on his face. As his eyes darted about, he hurriedly plopped down beside Lian Youming, still managing to say, "Bro, I'm in a bind—help me out!"
"Oh shit, brothers, clear out fast—the joint defense team and the industry-and-commerce bureau are here!"
No one knew who'd shouted at the top of their lungs, but several figures instantly darted out from all the nooks and crannies, each wrapped in an overcoat, all of them young. Without a word they dove into the crowd, throwing everything into chaos.
At the entrance, several female comrades in gray-blue uniforms glared with round almond eyes, hands on their hips, station security officers at their sides. They came charging aggressively, shouting as they gave chase.
As for the young man beside Lian Youming, in the blink of an eye he'd produced a newspaper from somewhere, gained a red armband on his arm, and perched a pair of nearsighted glasses on his nose—more like a student than a student, more like educated youth than educated youth.
But those female comrades had probably seen such tricks before. Some chased into the crowd, while one came straight over to them, sized them up briefly, then fixed her eyes on Lian Youming and asked suspiciously, "Little comrade, are you going down to the countryside?"
"To the Northeast."
Lian Youming wasn't flustered; as he answered, he took out his identity papers.
The female comrade took them, glanced them over, found nothing wrong, then turned to the short young man beside him. "And you? What do you do? Are you two together?"
The young man held up the newspaper with both hands, head half lowered, his eyes darting anxiously back and forth, sweat starting to bead on his forehead.
Just as the fellow didn't know what to do, someone suddenly patted him on the shoulder. Lian Youming, carrying his bundle, urged him unhurriedly, "Bro, the train's here—let's go over quickly."
The young man reacted fast; his eyes lit up as if he'd seen a savior. He fumbled around with his hand and, from somewhere, fished out a crumpled ticket, then screwed up his courage and forced a grin. "Comrade, we're together—this is my younger brother."
The female comrade frowned. "Your younger brother? Does he have any ID? Show me."
The young man's face froze, but he still reached into his coat pocket.
Just as he was about to be exposed, Lian Youming suddenly raised his hand and pointed toward a crowded spot in the station, and with a solemn expression said to the female comrade, "Comrade, look quick—isn't that person stealing something?"
"Where?"
Hearing that, the female comrade turned and looked in the direction Lian Youming pointed. At the sight, her face filled with anger at once, and rolling up her sleeves she strode aggressively toward the person.
Goodness—without a word she went right up, grabbed the person by the collar, and swung several big open-handed slaps.
Lian Youming, meanwhile, picked up his bundle and walked quickly toward the ticket gate. As he went, he still remembered to remind the other: "What are you standing there dumbly for? Run!"
"Ah, right, right, right."
The young man beside him snapped back to his senses, clutched his overcoat, and ran off without even a word of thanks.
Lian Youming shook his head with a laugh. Seeing that the train he needed to catch had also arrived, he went with the flow and squeezed into the crowd of boarding passengers.
This was both the terminus and the point of departure, and there were even more passengers than on the last train—a mighty, surging mass, a sea of people, a dark swarm stretching beyond sight. Caught up in the crowd, Lian Youming immediately felt his head spin, his ears filled with all sorts of accents from every corner of the country.
The dark torrent had no sooner flooded onto the platform than it split into a dozen or so streams, all racing and shoving toward the green-skinned train that had just barely come to a stop.
Since childhood, Lian Youming had trained under his father, and his stamina was astonishing. Even now, shouldering his bundle, he could still charge out ahead of everyone.
There were a lot of people, but luckily the carriages were all empty. He'd bought a third-class ticket, so there was no such thing as assigned seating; whether you could grab a seat depended on luck and timing, and on your own strength.
Spotting a gap, Lian Youming, on the principle of grabbing whatever was closest, beat everyone else and snagged a seat near the aisle. Only when he felt the cold, hard seat beneath him did he let out a long breath.
"That nearly did me in."
The crowd surged around him, and in mere moments the empty carriage was packed full.
Unlike before, in this single carriage there were quite a few educated youth like Lian Youming who'd come from all over. And from a rough look while boarding, he figured the whole train carried at least four or five hundred people going down to the countryside.
With so many people, the air turned foul. Some smoked, puffing away like clouds; some took off their shoes and socks to air out their stinking feet; and some carried slaughtered poultry or a set of livestock offal, and wouldn't even wrap it up properly, so the strange odors drifted about on every draft.
Lian Youming shut his eyes in misery, sighed inwardly, and prayed to reach his destination soon.
But the train had only been moving a short while when he heard a rather familiar voice beside him.
"Your legs are too damn quick, kid. You had me rushing like crazy—I ran through five whole carriages."
Lian Youming opened his eyes and saw that the young man from before had actually squeezed aboard too, panting, holding two roast ducks wrapped in oilpaper, looking utterly worn out.
Before he could react, the young man gave him a look and said with a grin, "I'm the type who repays a kindness. You did right by me, so I can't be stingy either. Come on, let me take you somewhere roomier... A seat like this would wear your backside flat in an hour—I can't take it."
Seeing that though the fellow joked, his expression was especially sincere, Lian Youming got up, gave his seat to an elderly passenger whose legs weren't nimble, and, carrying his bundle, followed.
"Why'd you come aboard too?"
The young man laughed carelessly. "I had no choice. There were still people keeping watch outside the station—probably hoping to catch us all in one net. Plus you gave me a hand, so I had to repay that favor, didn't I? Don't worry, I'll get off in a couple of stops. It happens all the time."
One in front, one behind, the two passed through four or five carriages in one go and came straight to the sleeper carriage.
The young man took out two tickets and handed them to the attendant, then winked at Lian Youming, as if showing off his connections. You had to know that sleeper tickets weren't easy to come by these days—basically you needed an introduction letter and some special channels, and they were mostly reserved for cadres and officers.
The attendant looked at the young man, then at Lian Youming, and without any questions gestured for the two to go in.
The young man seemed long used to this. He led Lian Youming into the carriage, set down the roast ducks, took off his overcoat, and flopped onto a bunk.
"You're going to the Northeast to be sent down, right? This ticket gets you a berth all the way to Harbin. It's already starting to snow over there; staying in here you'll at least get some warmth, be a bit warmer."
The young man rested his head on his arms, crossed his legs, looking utterly devil-may-care.
Lian Youming sat down too. "Then I won't stand on ceremony."
The young man grinned at that. "I was afraid you'd stand on ceremony. If not for you, I'd have taken a nasty fall today—not only would all my goods have been confiscated, I might've had to do time, and that'd have been a huge embarrassment."
Then the young man added, "My surname's Sun. My full name is Sun Duhe, but the peddlers who deal in goods all call me Third Brother Sun."
But no sooner said than the fellow asked rather curiously, "How'd you know there was a thief over there?"
Lian Youming smiled. "Mainly by observation. Besides, the way things are these days, how could the train stations in Beijing and Tianjin be short of thieves? Those people act amid the chaos; as long as you pay some attention, it's not hard to spot a clue or two."
Then he added, "My surname's Lian—Lian Youming."
Sun Duhe was full of astonishment, clicking his tongue. "You're really only seventeen, kid?"
Without waiting for Lian Youming to answer, the fellow shoved a roast duck at him. "I traded ten jin of sugar coupons for this—Quanjude..." But no sooner had he sniffed it than his eyes rolled up and he cursed irritably. "Damn it, been cheated again. The bastard said it was Quanjude roast duck, and I was rushing to catch you, so I didn't have time to give it a sniff."
Having said that, Sun Duhe gave a cheerful laugh. "Ah, don't turn your nose up at it—just make do and eat."
Lian Youming laughed too. "It's not that fussy—smells pretty good to me. Out in the countryside, some folks might not get a single bite like this in half their lives."
Sun Duhe's eyes glinted, and he gave a thumbs-up. "You're a genuine one. Guess I was the petty one."
As he spoke, the fellow started sorting through the goods wrapped in his coat, and without turning his head said, "Aside from those few watches, take any of the rest that catches your eye. If those bastards get caught, I might get named too; too much stuff just makes it harder to get away."
Lian Youming had eaten quite a bit outside the station earlier, and now, assailed by the strange odors in the carriage, he had no appetite at all. Nor was he much interested in the goods Sun Duhe had laid out—but when he saw the fellow actually pull an old book from his coat, he asked curiously, "You deal in antiques too?"
Sun Duhe said, "This is no damn antique. They were all left by the elders in my family. My grandfather was an itinerant doctor in his early years; traveling all over, he picked up all sorts of strange and curious things." At this point he added with much feeling, "Come to think of it, my family used to be a wealthy household in our area. Unfortunately the old man didn't make it, and all that was left were a few battered books at the bottom of the trunk. I sold everything I could turn into money, but this one I can't make head or tail of—neither modern nor ancient, just a useless burden."
As the two chatted on and off, Sun Duhe busied himself packing up his things, while Lian Youming sat by the bunk looking out the window.
The farther north they went, the more desolate the scenery outside became.
Just as they were about to reach a station, Sun Duhe suddenly opened the window and leaned out, giving Lian Youming a fright. "What are you doing?"
Sun Duhe took a look outside and gave his habitual chuckle. "I'm afraid there might be people waiting to corner me at the station, so I won't get off on the platform."
His implication was that he meant to jump off the train early.
Lian Youming hurriedly tried to stop him. "Don't! This is no joke."
But Sun Duhe wore a look of indifference. "Don't worry. I'm an old hand at this—besides, someone's laid straw mats beside the tracks. Nothing'll happen."
As they spoke, taking advantage of the train slowing down, the fellow actually climbed out through the window, clinging to its side.
"When you return to the city, don't be in a hurry to head back. Just ask around at the capital station and you'll find out where I, Sun the Third, am. When the time comes, I'll show you the sights and customs of the capital—I guarantee I'll treat you to a real roast duck."
Clinging to the outside of the window, Sun Duhe faced the cold wind, his mouth never stopping.
Lian Youming's mouth twitched. "Don't talk anymore—watch your step."
At that, Sun Duhe bared his teeth in a grin. "You're my kind of guy, kid. All right then—we'll meet again in the jianghu. We'll catch up another day."
With that, he really did jump down.
But at the last moment, the fellow actually tossed the old book back in.
"This crappy book is yours—a gift!"
Chapter 2