沈乔 (Shen Qiao) was a preterm baby, always smaller and weaker than her peers, with pale lips that made her look unhealthy.

But many times, she would deliberately make herself appear frail, like when she was a child and would skip school, hoping her mother would cook her an egg.

Today, she was repeating her old trick. Even Zhang Shun, seeing her, thought she might collapse, saying, "You should rest."

He added, "I can see life in the countryside is tough; it's made you all thin and dry."

Shen Qiao was naturally thin. She didn't feel like she suffered much in the village, except for the occasional homesickness.

Though her words were reluctant, they served the purpose of sending him away. She walked to her room.

This room, once hers, had now been filled with many of her younger brother Shen Liang’s belongings.

Of course, it wasn’t surprising that her things had been moved. After all, they weren't a wealthy family, and space was always limited.

Still, at that moment, she couldn't help but miss the little dorm room she had back in the village. At least there, everything was truly hers, and no one could just barge in looking for something.

She glanced around. She had returned with the bare essentials—almost nothing. Most of it was bought in the city: two sets of clothes, a new sweater and cotton coat, pointed leather shoes, and some cold cream.

All of that amounted to nearly seventy or eighty yuan.

As she placed her things in the bag, her hands faltered.

People often said parents’ love was selfless, but Shen Qiao knew that everything came at a price. If she wanted to firmly stand her ground, then maybe it wasn’t right to take these things with her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she was unsure of what to do.

When people are young, they tend to be stubborn in the wrong places.

She unpacked everything, realizing how little she truly owned. It all felt like it had been given to her by her parents. Suddenly, she felt a wave of sadness.

She had gone to the countryside in April of 1970, at just fifteen years old—still a child, not strong, and with health problems. Her parents never asked anything of her except to take care of herself.

And she did just that. She earned three or four work points every day, but her rations were always insufficient. At the end of the year, she had to pay to make up for the deficit, relying on her parents’ help every month.

This situation had lasted almost six years, and everyone in Guangming Village knew how lucky Shen Qiao was. After all, most families could only support a child for one or two years at most.

Shen Qiao had always been proud of this. After all, who wouldn’t want to be the cherished child of the family?

But now, she realized that her parents’ affection wasn’t without motives. They wanted her to marry Zhang Shun, not because of her happiness, but because it was part of a bigger plan to secure her younger brother’s future.

She didn’t know how much money they had saved, but it was clear that they were preparing to buy her a job.

Soon, Shen Liang would graduate. Would he go to the countryside? If he could stay, it would make everyone happy.

But even within that "happiness," Shen Qiao felt she had no place.

She felt torn between two emotions: the love and care her parents had shown her all these years, which couldn’t be faked, and the realities of life, which reminded her of what was practical and necessary.

She thought to herself again and again—couldn’t she just compromise for her parents’ sake? Why was she such an ungrateful child? Why was she so selfish?

But there was no answer to her self-criticism. She simply packed her things and, in her subconscious motion, managed to fit everything into her bag.

It was a quiet time when no one was home. Perhaps no one had expected her to leave. This kind of courage was rare.

Shen Qiao wasn’t sure of what would happen next. She didn’t know how her parents would react, but at this moment, it felt like she had no other choice.

She left a note on the table, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked out.

Downstairs, the neighbors were everywhere, and seeing her, they all asked where she was going.