After Wang Yue transmigrated, the first thing he saw was the roof of a mud-brick house with light seeping through. It seemed to be made of wood and thatch. He glanced at his clothes, which were covered in patches.
As he lay in bed, lost in thought, he heard someone calling from outside, "Shui Hua's here! Come in, come in! Help me talk some sense into Little Yue. He's been lying in bed for days. Oh..."
While Wang Yue wondered who Shui Hua was, a girl with a bright voice and a strong Shaanbei accent replied, "Auntie, don't worry. I'll talk to him."
After hearing their conversation, Wang Yue searched through his memories. It was 1991, and he was not yet nineteen. He lived in Yongquan Village, at the foot of the Liupan Mountains, a poor place where farmers were exempt from agricultural taxes.
He had passed the entrance exam for a secondary technical school, but his family was simply too poor. His father was ill, and there was no money to send him to school, so he had no choice but to quit.
It wasn't as if that was the end of the world. He had accepted his fate. Too young to work outside the village, he could only stay home and do chores.
In this poor mountain village, even after working from dawn to dusk, the best you could hope for was to scrape together enough food to fill your belly. There was nothing to look forward to.
After things had gone on like this for a while, news reached the village a few days ago: Ma Defu, who hadn't done as well as Wang Yue in school, had been assigned to work at the agricultural machinery station. That was a secure job, and he wouldn't have to