Quick Wear Dream Qiqi

In the autumn of 1964, the sky in Jiangcheng was gloomy.

Sixteen-year-old Meng Qiqi woke up in a daze, her head aching as if it was hit with a hammer.

She opened her eyes and saw the carved bed and old curtains. How could this be the place she was familiar with?

A bunch of strange memories suddenly flooded into her mind, scaring her so much that she almost rolled off the bed - it turned out that she had traveled through time and space and became the second daughter of a local landlord, and had encountered the most terrible thing.

The original owner had a miserable life. His mother died when he was twelve years old, and he had to make a living under the watchful eyes of a large family of concubines and brothers.

Last night, she fainted after drinking a bowl of porridge.

Now that I think about it, it was my biological father Meng Haiyu who put drugs in the porridge.

Meng Haiyu sent away all the servants in the house, took his fifth aunt and youngest son, and prepared to escape abroad secretly.

The poor original owner was left at home with a high fever and died.

Meng Qiqi touched her forehead and her body was still sticky with sweat.

Fortunately, she had a portable soul space, so she quickly took out a recovery pill and put it in her mouth.

After taking the pills, the fever subsided and the patient regained consciousness.

There was a clanging sound coming from downstairs. She looked down the stairs and saw Meng Haiyu directing his sons to load boxes onto the car. The fifth aunt was holding the child beside him and urged: "Hurry up, if you are late you will miss the boat!"

Those boxes were very heavy, and it was difficult for several grown men to lift them. They must have been filled with gold bars, jewelry, and a lot of "Great Unity" banknotes.

Meng Qiqi then took out an invisibility talisman from the space.

Once this talisman is applied to the body, the entire person seems to disappear.

She followed quietly behind them, and when they had loaded all the boxes into the car, she quickly opened the boxes while no one was paying attention.

The glittering golden treasure instantly entered her space, and she casually grabbed some broken stones and tiles to fill it up.

After the truck rumbled away, Meng Qiqi was the only one left in the empty mansion.

She did not delay and put all the mahogany furniture, new fabrics in the house, and rice, flour, oil and salt in the kitchen into the space.

At the bottom of the old dressing box left by her mother, she found a letter.

The letter read: "Qiqi, if Meng Haiyu treats you badly, go back to Linjia Village in Hei County. That's our hometown." The edges of the letter were worn and frayed, and it was obvious that it had been read over and over again.

Meng Qiqi put the letter in her arms, picked up some hay in the backyard, and lit it on fire.

The flames shot up, illuminating the large plaque of "Dream House" in red.

The carved doors and windows were burning with crackling sounds, and she left without looking back.

There's nothing worth remembering in this house, so burn it all down.

Early the next morning, Meng Qiqi changed into a washed-out blue shirt and went to the Social Security Bureau among the crowd of people going to work.

The clerk, a woman wearing glasses, frowned as she looked at the application to sever ties with her father. "Little girl, severing ties with your father is no small matter."

"He doesn't want me as his daughter, and I don't recognize him as my father." Meng Qiqi said it bluntly, and the words on the materials were written neatly.

After completing the formalities, she mingled with the crowd in the vegetable market, exchanged the gold bars in the space for some food coupons, bought flour and bacon, and secretly exchanged them for a few pieces of coarse cloth from a cloth seller.

In the evening, the whistle of the green train sounded.

Meng Qiqi, carrying an old canvas bag, squeezed onto the train with the crowd.

The carriage was packed with people, and the air was filled with the smell of sweat and coal smoke, but she leaned against the window, feeling at ease.

The train rattled on, she took out her mother's letter and read it again, the trees outside the window receded rapidly.

From today on, she is no longer the second daughter of the capitalist, but the daughter of Lin Mengyu. She will go to Linjia Village in Hei County to start a new life.

His fingers unconsciously stroked the household registration book in the canvas bag.

Between the yellowed pages, the name of the household owner was clearly written as "Meng Qiqi", and the words "Linjia Village, Hei County" in the address column were faintly stained with ink by the years.

As dusk deepened outside the window, she looked at her reflection in the glass and suddenly remembered the unspoken meaning in her mother's letter - this young woman must have foreseen the demise of the Meng family.

"Comrade, it's time to check your tickets." The conductor's shout woke her up from her thoughts.

Meng Qiqi took out the hard seat ticket she had bought with scraps of money, and her fingertips touched a few warm coins in her pocket.

The incandescent lamp at the connection between the carriages crackled. In the dim light, she remembered the oil-paper package she had stuffed into the sole of her shoe before leaving - it was the US dollar cash she found in the secret compartment of Meng Haiyu's study, neatly stacked, about three thousand yuan.

At three o'clock in the morning, the train arrived in Hei County.

The loudspeakers in the square in front of the station played revolutionary songs on a loop. Meng Qiqi wrapped herself tightly in her coarse cloth coat and identified the street signs under the street lights.

The wooden door of the guesthouse creaked open, and the old man on duty, holding a pipe in his mouth, glanced at her with his cloudy eyes. "Where's the letter of introduction?"

"Those who come to live with relatives should go to the commune tomorrow morning." Meng Qiqi took out fifty cents and a piece of fruit candy and stuffed it into the little grandson on the old man's lap.

The child giggled and ran away. The old man snorted and tossed a brass key to her: "Second floor, west end. Check out before six tomorrow morning."

In the room filled with a mixture of mold and dampness, Meng Qiqi locked the door and took out an oil lamp from the space to light it up.

The mirror on the old-fashioned chest of drawers reflected her pale face, and the ends of her hair were still stained with soot from the train.

She unbuttoned the secret pocket of her shirt, and found ten stacks of "Great Unity" banknotes neatly stacked there. The smell of fresh ink mixed with the unique scent of paper hit her face.

"A full 100,000." She counted quietly, her fingertips brushing over the pattern of workers, peasants and soldiers.

In an era when the average worker's monthly salary was only 30 yuan, this amount of money was enough to buy supplies for half of the county.

There was a sandalwood box at the bottom of the drawer. When it was opened, a glittering display of jewels and treasures came to the fore - jade bracelets, pearl necklaces, and several pocket watches engraved with Western patterns.

The sound of night watchmen was heard outside the window, and Meng Qiqi put her belongings away again.

In the household registration booklet left by my mother, there was a yellowed hand-drawn map marking the route from the county seat to Linjia Village.

Written in pencil on the corner of the map were small words: "Under the third branch of the old locust tree at the entrance of the village, the key to the old house is buried."

She stroked the handwriting and suddenly remembered the historical data stored in the system space - there was only a little over a year left before the storm that swept across the country.

The next morning, Meng Qiqi ordered a bowl of sweet potato porridge at a state-owned restaurant.

A few men in work clothes at the next table whispered, "I heard the provincial capital has started to criticize and struggle against capitalist-roaders..."

She lowered her head to stir the bowl of porridge, and caught a glimpse of the propaganda posters on the wall. The Red Guards were waving their fists with their eyes as firm as torches.

At the supply and marketing cooperative, she used her food coupons to exchange for twenty kilograms of cornmeal and bought two pieces of coarse linen.

The salesperson looked at her suspiciously and asked, "What are you going to do with so much cloth, little girl?"

"Make a red flag for the production team." Meng Qiqi held up the Chairman Mao badge on her chest with a bright smile.

The salesperson immediately put on a warm expression and gave her two more bars of soap.

At noon, the tractor heading to Linjia Village started up.

Meng Qiqi sat in the truck bed, looking at the rice fields rapidly receding on both sides.

The mountains in the distance are dark blue, and the air is filled with the scent of firewood and soil.

When the mottled crown of the old locust tree finally came into view, her heartbeat suddenly quickened - the two words "Xiaoyu" carved crookedly on the trunk overlapped with the handwriting on her mother's letter in her memory.

Under the third branch, there was a rusty tin box wrapped in oil paper, and the key had a warm copper color.

Passing through the fence covered with morning glories, three blue brick and tile houses stand quietly, and the faded plaque "Farming and Studying to Pass on the Family" on the lintel sways slightly in the wind.

Meng Qiqi pushed open the creaking wooden door, and dust danced in the beam of light. On the shrine in the main hall, the portraits of her grandparents looked at her kindly.

"I'm back." She whispered to the photo and took out the offerings she brought from the space.

Under the cobwebs in the corner, the dusty abacus and account books lay quietly. Turning over the yellowed pages, ink records the livelihood of the Lin family's ancestors - it turns out that the Lin family where my mother came from was once a famous grain merchant within a hundred miles.

As dusk fell, Meng Qiqi lit firewood in the stove.

The iron pot was burning hot, so she scooped a bucket of well water from the space and sprinkled some cornmeal in it.

The firelight illuminated her serious profile, and she seemed to be back in a trance, as if she had returned to the snowy night in another world when she first met Shen Qingyu.

On the stove, the radio suddenly sounded a passionate song of quotations from the emperor. She sang along, and the song mixed with the aroma of porridge echoed softly in the empty old house.

At the same time, Meng Haiyu and his group abroad were furious at the box full of rubble.