Volume One, Chapter Seventeen: Taking Photographs

After the meal, the bond between father and son quickly deepened. The chubby little boy, Jianbei Dong, clung tightly to Ercheng Dong’s neck, refusing to let go.

Ercheng Dong had no choice but to give up his plan to have his sick eldest daughter take care of his youngest son.

After lunch, Ercheng Dong carried Jianbei to borrow money.

After all, there were now two family members hospitalized, and the expensive Chinese medicine fees had to be paid upfront.

The pitiful ten yuan in his pocket definitely wouldn’t last more than two days.

Qianqian Dong learned about the family’s dire situation—completely destitute—and put on an exaggerated show of anguish.

Having successfully fooled Ercheng Dong, she had no intention of handing over any money.

After all, Qianqian Dong understood deep down that he was merely pretending to be a caring father.

Would a truly devoted father have an affair during his marriage with a childhood sweetheart and father a child?

Would he completely neglect his daughter during three years of remarriage?

Jianbei Dong’s only luck was being a boy; Ercheng Dong could not entirely ignore him.

In the original story, the child currently in Lin Xuehua’s womb was never born in the end, but if it had been a boy, Jianbei’s fate would have likely been similar to the original protagonist’s.

Ercheng Dong, with a face full of embarrassment, emptied his wallet, leaving only a single yuan for his daughter’s meals over the next two days. It seemed he had done all he could, yet Qianqian Dong was utterly unmoved.

Although prices in this world were quite low, one yuan was still insufficient to feed even a small-eater adequately for two days, let alone live comfortably in the hospital.

Perhaps only he believed Qianqian could survive two days on one yuan.

When he said he was going to borrow money, Qianqian thought Ercheng Dong was lying.

Most of Ercheng Dong’s so-called friends were superficial acquaintances, connected through the steel factory for indirect or direct business dealings, rarely visiting home.

The steel factory had endured three years of famine; others, no matter how wealthy, kept their money hidden.

So who could he possibly borrow money from? Her intuition told her something was wrong.

After they left, Qianqian entered the women’s restroom in the hospital and changed into a pair of old-fashioned dark blue coarse cotton trousers and a cotton jacket that Ercheng Dong had worn in his youth.

There were dark blue patches on the clothes that were not noticeable unless inspected closely. She put on a large felt hat, pinned up her hair, and dressed herself like a boy.

From a distance, she followed silently. Snowflakes drifted down lightly like goose feathers, settling gently on the ground.

Before long, a thick blanket of snow covered the earth, resembling a pristine white quilt.

On the snowy ground, Ercheng Dong’s hurried footsteps left a trail of footprints, some deep, some shallow.

Qianqian followed the footprints and found he had arrived at a state-run photography studio.

Through the clear glass, she saw Ercheng Dong paying one yuan to have a two-inch photo taken of Jianbei alone.

To make Jianbei, who was not particularly photogenic, look a little cuter, Ercheng Dong went to the department store across the street and bought a dolphin-shaped rubber toy for Jianbei to hold.

The photographer was puzzled and repeatedly asked why only the child was being photographed alone, without any adults in the frame. In those days, with most people earning only twenty to thirty yuan a month, the cost of a single photo equaled a day’s wages, so most people came with family or friends.

It was common to have an entire family appear in one picture.

But Ercheng Dong insisted on no adults appearing, only the child.

The photographer reluctantly complied. Ercheng Dong then gave the photographer five cents, asking for expedited processing, saying he would return in three days to collect it.

Afterward, Ercheng Dong took Jianbei onto a streetcar. Qianqian’s legs could barely keep up.

Afraid of being noticed, she boarded the next fuel-powered tram instead.

After traveling two stops, the streetcar continued straight through a junction, while the fuel tram turned right.

Unable to keep up, Qianqian got off at the next stop and consulted the streetcar route map by the roadside, searching one station at a time.

Her legs trembling with fatigue, she was sustained only by a sip of spiritual spring water from her pocket, forcing herself onward.

Finally, she spotted Ercheng Dong and Jianbei waiting for the streetcar in front of Standard Chartered Bank at 185 Yuanmingyuan Road in Shanghai.

Calming her breathing, Qianqian noticed Ercheng Dong was holding a briefcase, which he hadn’t had when boarding the tram.

There was no Friendship Store or department store nearby where he could have purchased it, so where did the briefcase come from?

She wasn’t sure if they were about to transfer stations or had finished their business and were preparing to return.

Qianqian hid behind a tree, quietly observing them.

Fortunately, her wait was not in vain. A blond, blue-eyed foreigner in a bank uniform appeared before Ercheng Dong.

He handed Jianbei the rubber toy Ercheng Dong had bought earlier at the department store.

But Jianbei seemed to dislike the cold texture, refusing to hold it, waving the toy away.

Ercheng Dong thanked the foreigner on Jianbei’s behalf. Since they conversed entirely in English, Qianqian couldn’t understand a word.

Their speech was rapid, and Qianqian only caught a few familiar words: “Thanks,” “Exchange rate,” “Not worth it,” and “Please give it some thought.”

She had no idea what they meant and stomped impatiently.

The original protagonist attended Sweet Spring Foreign Language Middle School, famous since 1972 for its Japanese language program.

Ercheng Dong had transferred the protagonist to this school specifically for its Japanese curriculum.

But the protagonist harbored intense anti-Japanese sentiments and refused to learn the language.

She despised even the mention of Japanese at school, which extended to an aversion to other languages as well.

Other than her Chinese classics class, her grades hovered around a mere 30 points, relying heavily on multiple-choice questions to boost scores.

When the streetcar Ercheng Dong was waiting for arrived, their conversation ended.

Qianqian watched helplessly as the number 20 trolleybus disappeared into the distance, knowing she couldn’t catch up.

Turning to the dense web of routes mapped on the stop’s sign, she had no clue where Ercheng Dong would disembark but roughly guessed the line passed by the steel factory buildings.

Still, she couldn’t be certain he would get off there.

She had to piece together clues from the small details she observed.

The blond foreigner had returned inside Standard Chartered Bank.

Qianqian pressed her face against the glass, watching the foreign men inside dressed in sharp, well-tailored deep blue suits.

Blond or brown-haired women wore matching form-fitting skirts and suits, exuding a sharp and capable aura.

Very few Chinese were present, even though they spoke the same foreign language.

These Chinese visitors all carried heavy large suitcases, and the foreign men or women respectfully escorted them inside.

When they emerged, their hands were empty.

Witnessing this, Qianqian dared not enter. She couldn’t understand what the foreigners were saying, and her intuition warned her this shop was connected to Ercheng Dong somehow.

Retrieving paper and pen from her pocket, she carefully noted every word she could catch, planning to look them up in a dictionary later.