TPW – Chapter 66

1984 – later hailed by future generations as “the founding year of modern Chinese enterprises.”

With a single decisive statement, Comrade Deng charted the course: allow certain regions to become prosperous first, establish special economic zones, and announce the opening of 14 coastal cities…

The moment the news broke, it caused a nationwide stir, igniting overwhelming enthusiasm and confidence among the masses. It marked the beginning of the tide of entrepreneurship in the late 1980s.

1984 — a year like no other.

For the country, it was a fresh start. For the small family of Xu Haizhou, it was even more significant.

Xu Haizhou planned to take his wife and child back to Lian by the fifth day of the Lunar New Year. After spending more than ten days in the Northeast, they’d had their fill of fun.

He contacted a scalper he knew and waited from the first to the third day of the New Year — three full days — just to get two sleeper tickets. Even then, the journey required a transfer.

Though a bit of a hassle and four hours longer than the trip there, at least they were sleeper tickets.

Qiao Lu let out a sigh of relief.

As long as they had sleeper tickets, everything was fine — otherwise, being crammed into hard seats would’ve been unbearable.

The first day of the Lunar New Year was, as usual, a day for paying visits. At the break of dawn, Xu Haizhou gently woke his wife and son, his voice light, as if tickling them.

It was around 7 a.m., and neither mother nor son wanted to wake up.

One clung to his wife for cuddles, the other to his son.

“Mmm? So early? Wait a bit… let’s sleep a little longer, just a little…”

“Wait, Daddy, I still wanna sleep… sleep…”

And with that, they both promptly fell back asleep. Xu Haizhou couldn’t help but laugh and ended up lying down to sleep another hour with his two little ancestors.

In the North, there’s a tradition: the earlier you rise on the first day of the year, the better your luck in the coming one.

After returning to the communal housing building to wash up and have breakfast, he took the children along to visit neighbors and relatives for New Year greetings.

All the uncles, aunts, neighbors — everyone had to be visited.

For the children, it wasn’t just about collecting red envelopes. They also got candies, pastries, and even fruit from wealthier households — their pockets stuffed to the brim.

If they ran into other kids on the way, there would inevitably be some showing off: who got more lucky money? Who collected the most snacks?

Without a doubt, little Qiao An — sweet-talking and utterly adorable — was the big winner!

Not to mention the panda ear hat on his head that dialed his cuteness up to the max — heads turned wherever he went!

And he wore a sapphire blue, hand-made cotton hooded coat by Qiao Lu herself, embroidered with exquisite patterns and equipped with more spacious pockets than the average coat.

The color wasn’t the dull blue of ordinary cotton coats either — it sparkled brilliantly against the snow, practically glowing.

In the snowy courtyard-style housing of the Northeast, kids wore new coats, pockets filled with candies and coins, running wild. Occasionally, one would toss a popper to startle others, their joyful laughter echoing through alleyways.

Every time kids met on the street, they had to show off a little — who was the most dazzling kid on Shuiyang Street?

Again, no contest: little Qiao An won without even trying!

Qiao Lu and her son had been warmly accepted by the Xu family. This trip to the Northeast had truly been worth it.

On the evening of the fifth day, around 5 p.m., the entire Xu family gathered at the train station to send them off.

“When will you come back? It’s so nice to have the whole family together — why go so far away…?”

She hadn’t felt it when they first arrived, but now that they were leaving, Yu Zhilian finally realized how reluctant she was to see her second son’s family go.

“It’s going well in Lian for now. We don’t plan to move back anytime soon,” Xu Haizhou replied.

At his words, Yu Zhilian turned away to wipe her eyes. When she turned back, she forced a bitter smile.

“Next year then? Will you come back?”

“We will.” Xu Haizhou nodded and hugged her with a sigh. “Take care of your health. If you miss us, write to me.”

Yu Zhilian opened her mouth, trembling, but couldn’t speak for a long time. In the end, she crouched down and hugged Qiao An tightly, crying.

“Grandma can’t bear to part with you… really can’t… Next time we meet, you might not even recognize me.”

“Grandma~ Don’t cry. An’an will always recognize you. I’ll always remember you — I’ll keep you here in my heart,” he said, placing her hand over his chest.

There, his young and vigorous heart was beating warmly and strongly.

He tried to wipe her tears, but before his little hand could reach her face, Yu Zhilian grabbed it and pressed it firmly to her own chest — tightly, as if her heart and his were joined. That rib beneath her hand was burning hot.

Xu Yonghe was still the same as ever — a man of few words. His eyes swept over his second son’s face and finally dropped to look at Qiao An.

He said nothing, but he took a barely noticeable step forward to stand behind Yu Zhilian.

Once Xu Haizhou made up his mind, no one could change it.

There was still an hour before the train left. Xu Haiping pulled Haizhou aside for a private talk.

“Haizhou, there’s something I still don’t understand. Back then, we agreed to take the college entrance exam together — why didn’t you go through with it? Did you really like doing business that much?”

He seemed to have anticipated this question, showing no surprise.

“Yeah, I really do enjoy it.” Xu Haizhou smiled half-jokingly. “Besides, if I hadn’t gone to Lian to start a business, how would I have met Qiao Lu?”

And how would he have ended up with such an adorable son?

As the words fell, both of them laughed—helplessly.

Xu Haizhou turned back and glanced at the tall and short pair hugging not far away, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.

Xu Haiping sighed, a little sourness in his heart: “Mom told me yesterday. She said that after Dad fell ill, it was you who covered all the massive medical expenses. They don’t know where your money came from, but I’m guessing—it has something to do with your trip down south, doesn’t it?”

For Xu Haiping to have been admitted to university as early as ’77 showed he was no fool. That he could think of this wasn’t surprising.

Aside from Xu Haizhou himself, only Yu Zhilan in the family knew the truth. But when he went south six years ago, he had explicitly told her to keep it a secret. Who would’ve thought she’d tell big brother last night?

“More or less.” There was no point in digging into things further.

He asked, “Do you regret it?”

Xu Haizhou paused, then countered, “What about you? Did you regret going to the countryside back then?”

Apparently not expecting his younger brother to ask that, Xu Haiping fell into a long silence, seemingly lost in distant memories.

“Regret? Everyone must have regretted those bitter and exhausting days at some point. But…” He suddenly looked at his younger brother, his expression earnest and focused: “Haizhou, more than regret, I feel relieved—relieved that it was me who went to the countryside, not you.”

“Why?” Xu Haizhou asked.

That was truly a time too painful to revisit. Xu Haiping’s eyes shimmered. “Why? Because it was just too hard… too bitter…”

The year Xu Haiping was sent to the countryside to work was marked by the worst drought in fifty years. Every male and female educated youth had to carry a shoulder pole with two buckets, trekking a long mountain road to fetch water for irrigating the wheat.

The path was rugged, the two heavy buckets pressing down on their shoulders. By the time they returned to the fields, their shoulders were red, swollen, and numb—they would collapse to the ground, unable to get up.

After barely enduring the drought, they were hit with the task of digging irrigation ditches. Even the local men who were used to farm labor couldn’t keep up, let alone these city-raised youths. That truly was a nightmare period.

No matter how bitter or exhausting the days, they had to grit their teeth and persevere day after day. Every morning they worked facing the sunrise, and they finished under the stars. In the cold of winter, when the farm work delayed their return, the food would be delivered to the fields—stone cold by then.

The steamed buns, already lacking in refined flour, had to be chewed until their teeth ached. Sometimes, with no energy to fuss, they just ate them as is; other times, they’d light a match to heat them before eating.

“But honestly, that’s still nothing. The hardest part was harvesting wheat in the summer. The locals called it ‘snatching food from the dragon’s mouth.’ We had to get up at 3 a.m. to start cutting, working straight through until noon, under the blazing sun, soaked in sweat, tongues parched… Then we had to hoist 150-jin (75 kg) sacks onto our shoulders and carry them to the granary.”

“That one-kilometer stretch felt like fifty. I didn’t even dare to breathe too hard. By the second half, I could barely move. It felt like my bones would shatter. I was swaying, ready to fall at any second. Honestly, I’m lucky I didn’t just collapse, or my back would’ve been ruined for good.”

“It was too hard—truly too hard.”

As he lamented, he actually smiled. “But so what? We still had to go on, didn’t we? No matter how hard or tiring it was—as long as you had one breath left in you, you pushed through.”

Though life after returning to the city was much better, the years had still left plenty of marks on Xu Haiping. Though only five years older than Xu Haizhou, he looked more like ten or fifteen years older.

His shoulders, deformed from the years of overwork in the countryside, were now uneven—one higher, one lower.

“Brother…” Xu Haizhou looked at his gaunt face, sunken eyes, and the ever-steely resolve shining in his gaze.

His vision blurred, his throat filled with bitterness.

He had known that life in the countryside was hard for his brother, but he had never heard these details.

He never talked about them, and he never asked. The two of them had always had a silent understanding. They both had their own sacrifices and endurance.

What could be called fair? In this world, there was no such thing as perfect fairness.

“Actually, it’s nothing. People… are forgetful creatures. We remember it was hard back then, but now, looking back—there’s really not much feeling left. The past is just the past. Overall, yes, I had regrets. But if I had to do it all again, I’d still make the same choice.”

His words hit the heart like hammers.

“Big Brother, I feel the same. Sometimes I do regret it… but if I could go back in time, I would still make the same choice.”

Some things need not be said too clearly—a little ambiguity is a good thing.

No matter how the past was, today is a new beginning.

“Haizhou, you’ll always be my brother.”

“Big Brother, and you mine.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”