BKM 1

 

Chapter 1: Misfortune Is Like a Mad Dog That Won’t Leave

A research institute on the outskirts of Yanjing.

A Hongqi H9 sedan drove out of the heavily guarded compound.

Mo Zheng leaned wearily against the back seat, gently massaging his temples.

The non-stop academic conferences had left him mentally and physically exhausted, but the major breakthroughs in the materials project he led personally filled him with excitement!

This new silicon-based material held immense potential in fields such as integrated circuits, fiber optic communications, and energy storage. It could even help overcome certain critical technology blockades imposed by Western countries in the integrated circuit domain.

Not long after entering the ring road expressway, a dump truck occupying the fast lane suddenly swerved sharply...

With a deafening crash, the Hongqi H9 was hit off the road embankment.

The mangled car flipped through the air, and Mo Zheng felt his body and soul rapidly separating.

An untimely thought surfaced in his mind: the words that Qiao Mingyu had said before entering the operating room. “Old Mo, take my advice—everything follows its own rhythm. No one can stay with you forever. Some obsessions, you must let go.”

A strange sense of relief washed over Mo Zheng.

In his final moments, he seemed to see the woman who had been intertwined with his life, smiling and waving at him.

The setting sun was blood-red, and the metallic tang of blood in the air was nauseating.

Perhaps this was the scent that bloodthirsty capital loved most—cruel and unrelenting.

---

Mo Zheng rubbed his bleary eyes and dazedly took in his surroundings, his head throbbing with pain...

The low earthen walls were lined with four extremely rudimentary wooden beds. In the middle of the room stood a rickety square table with a kerosene lamp on it, accompanied by two slightly crooked wooden benches—this was all the furniture in the room.

With a creak, the shabby wooden door swung open. A young man walked in, wearing a white tank top that was stained yellow with sweat.

“Are you... Qiao Mingyu?” Mo Zheng stared blankly at the young man, his voice trembling.

“Are you out of your mind?”

Mo Zheng suddenly jumped out of bed and rushed to the young man. In a hoarse voice, he demanded, “Mingyu? Is it really you?”

The young man shook off Mo Zheng’s hands and snapped, “You must be starving yourself into hallucinations! Stop acting. There’s nothing to eat here! Even the girls in the educated youth dorm are almost out of food…”

Mo Zheng continued to look around in confusion. His eyes fell on a calendar pinned to the earthen wall. The date read May 22, 1975—a full 49 years before the day of his car accident.

"Have I really been reborn?"

As memories surged back like a tidal wave, Mo Zheng felt a sudden dizziness and collapsed heavily to the ground once again.

After some time, he slowly opened his eyes to see several anxious faces hovering over him.

“Old Mo, are you okay?”

“How are you feeling?”

A young girl with delicate features handed him an enamel cup and half a piece of cornbread. Her voice, trembling with worry, carried a hint of sobbing: “Mo Zheng, don’t scare me! Drink the brown sugar water quickly, and eat some cornbread…”

Mo Zheng took the enamel cup, drank the brown sugar water in one gulp, and smacked his lips before returning the half-piece of cornbread to the girl. In a gentle voice, he said, “Liu Su, you eat it. I’m not hungry.”

The girl, named Liu Su, blushed faintly and murmured, “I’ve already eaten. This half was always meant for you…”

“Oh, how sweet! Just half a piece of cornbread, Old Mo. If you don’t eat it, give it to me! I haven’t had a bite all day!” joked Qiao Mingyu, pretending to reach for the cornbread in Liu Su’s hand.

“Keep dreaming!” Liu Su quickly hid her hand behind her back.

The group burst into laughter.

“Chen Yang, Luo Yajun, you two were out for half the day. Didn’t you find anything to eat?” Qiao Mingyu asked, turning to the other two young men.

“Don’t even ask. We walked several miles all the way to Xiaocaoba. Just as we managed to steal two ears of corn, the old man guarding the field spotted us and even set his dogs on us. If I hadn’t run fast enough, I’d still be there now!” Chen Yang replied, grimacing.

“You went all the way to Xiaocaoba to steal corn? Isn’t there a cornfield at Erchahe?” Mo Zheng asked, puzzled.

“What are you thinking? That old bastard He Youde knows we’re starving and guards against us like we’re thieves every day!” Qiao Mingyu retorted, throwing a meaningful glance at Liu Su and another young educated woman.

A glint of anger flickered in Mo Zheng’s eyes as long-buried memories flooded back once more…

Their resettlement village was Erchahe Brigade under Qinglongwan Commune in Anning County, Honghe Province—a remote, impoverished mountain village with less than 0.6 acres of land per capita. The villagers were dirt-poor.

"Better marry a dog from Caoba than a man from Erchahe!" This local saying vividly captured the poverty and isolation of Erchahe Brigade.

In the first few years after they were sent there, life, though harsh, was still manageable. But everything changed when He Youde, the village secretary’s idle son, took a fancy to Liu Su...

From that day on, misfortune clung to this group of barely 20-year-old youths like a relentless mad dog, snapping at their heels.

And it all culminated in Liu Su’s tragic death, her life extinguished in that backward, ignorant village…

While Mo Zheng was lost in thought, Liu Su and another female educated youth, Ye Ziyu, had already boiled a pot of soup with wild greens, mountain garlic, and young corn kernels they had foraged.

The wild vegetable soup was devoid of even a hint of oil. Because of the season, the wild greens and mountain garlic were tough and bitter, scraping their throats as they swallowed. Still, survival came first, and each youth drank two large bowls of the unpalatable soup.

“Damn it! The more I drink this soup, the hungrier I feel! I don’t think I’ll last until the summer grain harvest. If I starve to death, give all my rations to Ziyu,” Qiao Mingyu joked despite his plight.

“You shameless fool! Always putting women before your friends!” the group teased.

“One cornbread is enough to make you act like you’re dying. Who’s taking you seriously?” Ye Ziyu quipped with a smile.

“We can’t keep living off wild vegetable soup like this. Sooner or later, someone’s going to fall sick from hunger! I heard the educated youth from Qidian Commune went to the county to beg for food a few days ago. Should we try our luck too? Ziyu, you and I can pair up. You handle the crying, I’ll do the shouting,” Qiao Mingyu suggested.

“Who wants to pair with you? With your appetite, there wouldn’t be enough for just you!” Ye Ziyu retorted, rolling her eyes at him.

“Not a bad idea! Mingyu, you team up with Chen Yang. The two of you can beg outside the County Educated Youth Office. You’ll definitely get a few good meals. Complain a bit, and maybe you’ll even bring back some rations,” Mo Zheng said with a serious expression.

“Exactly! And while you’re at it, report how He Youde has been withholding our rations,” Ye Ziyu chimed in.

“What’s the point? That old bastard’s son-in-law is the deputy director of the county revolutionary committee,” Luo Yajun said with a bitter smile, shaking his head.

“So what if he’s a deputy director? Withholding rations from educated youth is sabotaging the 'Up to the Mountains and Down to the Countryside' campaign!” Qiao Mingyu said indignantly.

Mo Zheng quickly sorted out his thoughts. With supplies running low, it would be at least a month before the summer grain arrived. In the meantime, He Youde would surely find various excuses to continue skimming off their rations.

The immediate priority was to fill their stomachs. But in this godforsaken mountain village, surrounded by barren hills, no amount of skill could conjure up a single grain of food.

This era of extreme scarcity truly had the potential to starve people to death.

“We’re not really going to end up begging for food, are we? I can’t bring myself to do it,” Ye Ziyu said worriedly.

“Are you kidding me? As long as I’m here, there’s no way you’d have to put yourself out there! Don’t worry! By tomorrow, I’ll bring back food for sure! And not just cornmeal—white flour, no less!” Qiao Mingyu declared, thumping his chest confidently.

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