The Stunningly Beautiful and Delicate Darling in the 1980s Military Compound - Chapter 65

In the past, Song Mingyue was so influenced by her family environment that she had never truly believed in love.

It wasn’t that she had never been in a relationship; however, she had always navigated them alone, treating love merely as a spice for her life rather than its essence. But in this moment, she finally understood: a beautiful, heart-stirring romance could fill a person with fighting spirit and make them cherish the world even more.

She felt exactly that way now.

Knowing that she had been able to see Chen Che before leaving had finally allowed the heavy stone in Song Mingyue’s heart to settle securely. From this point on, she needed to focus entirely on her own tasks; Chen Che was making progress, and naturally, she could not afford to fall behind.

As the train journey transitioned from dusk to darkness, the noisy carriage gradually grew quiet. Zhang Jingjing, sitting beside her, had already fallen asleep, her soft breathing audible in the quiet space, but Song Mingyue felt no drowsiness at all. She pulled out her flashlight and her list of plans, meticulously reviewing them one by one.

Feeling uncomfortable sleeping on the seat, Zhang Jingjing shifted in a daze. Seeing the light from the flashlight, she asked groggily, “Mingyue, aren’t you going to sleep?”

With everyone around them sleeping, Song Mingyue whispered, “I’m not tired yet. You go ahead and sleep.”

It wasn’t until late into the night, when her eyes began to ache from reading, that she finally closed her eyes to rest for a while.

On the third day, they were finally nearing Shanghai.

Shanghai in the 1980s was in a period of rapid development. While other places were still filled with low-rise tile houses, Shanghai was already sprouting high-rises everywhere, revealing the dividends of the era. Compared to the world decades later, however, the pace of life in Shanghai at that time was not yet so frantic.

Stepping out of the train station, Zhang Jingjing was wide-eyed with amazement. Although the shopping center outside the station wasn’t finished yet, there were already two or three towering buildings nearby. Pointing in that direction, she exclaimed, “Wow, we can see such tall buildings the moment we arrive! We don’t have even a few like that in our entire hometown.”

Compared to other regions, Shanghai had a distinct characteristic: the market economy was maturing rapidly. They hadn’t walked far before they saw several peddlers selling goods on the side of the road. Seeing passersby coming from the station, they shouted loudly, “Shanghai specialty radish cakes! Three mao each—savory and crispy, guaranteed to be delicious!”

At three mao per cake, it was undeniably a bit expensive. But they hadn’t eaten well throughout the entire journey; Zhang Jingjing swallowed hard and urged Song Mingyue to keep moving.

“Jingjing, do you want a radish cake?”

“Forget it, three mao is too expensive. Back in Pingcheng, I could buy two for that price.”

“The cost of living varies from place to place,” Song Mingyue replied. Besides, the food right next to the train station was bound to be more expensive than elsewhere—the vendors were specifically targeting newcomers like them.

Song Mingyue pulled Zhang Jingjing over: “If you want one, let’s buy two. We need to eat something hot to boost our energy.”

“Boss, two radish cakes, please.” Song Mingyue handed over sixty cents and asked, “Excuse me, do you know how to get to Huating Road?”

“You’re going to Huating Road? To buy clothes, I suppose? Take the bus from over there and transfer once; you’ll be there.”

Song Mingyue had spent many years in Shanghai, but she wasn’t familiar with Huating Road; she had only learned it was a wholesale clothing market through newspapers and magazines. Since she had encountered a local, she asked a few more questions, and the vendor answered them all.

If the biggest wholesale market in Shanghai decades later was the “Pudong” area, then the center of fashion and trends at this time was undoubtedly Huating Road.

Holding their radish cakes, they followed the vendor’s directions toward the station to catch the electric bus. Zhang Jingjing was delighted with her cake. Perhaps it was because she was hungry, but despite clearly enjoying it, she still took only small bites: “I’ll save the other half for tonight.”

When she looked up at Song Mingyue, she realized her friend had already finished her cake. Zhang Jingjing was anxious: “Mingyue, that was three mao! How did you finish it in just a few bites?”

“The purpose of buying the cake was to eat it,” Song Mingyue said, brushing off the remark and urging her to eat.

Without cell phones or navigation, Song Mingyue, who had been accustomed to such conveniences, felt quite out of place in Shanghai. But the environment was what it was, and since she was already there, she had to adapt as quickly as possible.

Song Mingyue bought a map, but once in the city, she realized it was of little use; it only showed general locations. She had no idea how to get around or which hostels were affordable. If only she had a familiar friend in Shanghai, things would be much easier.

Song Mingyue had a candidate in mind: her biological mother, Ms. Qin Shuang.

Qin Shuang had grown up in Shanghai. At this point in time, she should be only seventeen or eighteen years old, not yet having met her scoundrel of a father, and still a young girl who didn’t spend her days complaining. Furthermore, she wanted to see her grandmother as a young woman.

Song Mingyue had been raised by her grandmother until she was eight. Later, when her grandmother’s health declined, Song Mingyue had to return to that stifling, cowardly household. Before she had fully formed her own values and had a chance to properly honor her grandmother, the old woman passed away the following year. If she could see her grandmother again in this lifetime, Song Mingyue hardly dared to even hope for it.

There was a crucial reason for her hesitation: she had transmigrated into a book. Although the book was marketed as a documentary-style novel recounting true life during that era, a story was still a story. It was quite dramatic, and she found it hard to believe it was truly based on reality.

In the vast city of Shanghai, they fumbled around for half a day before finally finding a hostel to stay in. As for Huating Road, they would still need to take a bus to get there. The hostel staff advised them not to bother going that day, as Huating Road closed early and they wouldn’t see much now.

Zhang Jingjing sprawled comfortably on the bed; after sleeping on the hard benches of the train, anyone would be exhausted. Just as she was about to get a good sleep, Song Mingyue stood up and asked, “Jingjing, I have something to take care of. Are you going to sleep here?”

She truly admired Song Mingyue from the bottom of her heart. How could she have such endless energy? Even though she had slept less than her on the train and Zhang Jingjing just wanted to rest, Song Mingyue was already off to work again. But since her teammate was working so hard, Zhang Jingjing offered her assistance: “Mingyue, where are you going? Wait, I’ll go with you.”

“I have some personal business to handle. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Personal business?” Zhang Jingjing was even more curious. “Do you actually know someone in Shanghai?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Song Mingyue said, feeling distracted. She wasn’t certain if this household actually existed in this timeline.

Zhang Jingjing hopped up: “I’ll go with you. We aren’t familiar with Shanghai, so we should stay together to avoid getting lost.”

That made sense, so Song Mingyue took Zhang Jingjing with her.

Song Mingyue had heard her grandmother talk about a place called “Yiri Lane” (One Day Lane) when she was little. She asked the hostel staff if they knew the location. The young woman enthusiastically explained, “That lane is in the city center. You should hurry and catch a bus now; there might still be one running. In half an hour, I’m not sure.”

The two of them rushed to the bus stop, and after waiting five or six minutes, the bus to that area arrived. Zhang Jingjing remained curious: “Mingyue, what kind of relative is it? You never mentioned them before we came here.”

Song Mingyue looked out the window, appearing a bit melancholic: “I don’t know if they are still there yet. If they aren’t, then so be it.”

In Shanghai at this time, ordinary residents didn’t have much of a nightlife. When they arrived at Yiri Lane, the sun had just set. The lane was lively, and before they even walked inside, they could hear people chatting and laughing—the atmosphere of daily life was quite strong.

Song Mingyue had never lived in Yiri Lane. By the time she was born, her mother had already latched onto a wealthy tycoon, so her grandmother had always lived with her in the mansion her father bought. Although she hadn’t lived there, she had often heard her grandmother mention the place during her childhood. At that time, Song Mingyue didn’t understand how someone could prefer such a small, cramped alley over a grand mansion. Later, after experiencing endless loneliness, she realized that many things could not be measured by material wealth. If it hadn’t been for her own sake, her grandmother’s first choice would certainly have been this lane.

Standing there now, she realized that every corner was filled with the vitality of life. Several children were playing “hopscotch” at the entrance. Song Mingyue approached them, feeling very nervous: “Excuse me, do you know if a girl named Qin Shuang lives here?”

The children looked her up and down. “Who are you looking for? Why are you looking for Sister Qin Shuang? Are you here to pick a fight with her?”

Thank goodness, the person really existed. Song Mingyue was filled with emotion, only to hear one of the children run quickly into the lane: “Hurry, go call someone! Someone is here to bully Sister Qin Shuang!”

Song Mingyue: “…”

“I’m not bullying her! There are only two of us—how could we bully her?” She made up an excuse: “I’m a distant relative of hers. We haven’t been in touch for a long time, and I wasn’t sure if her family still lived here.”

“You’re a relative of Sister Qin Shuang’s?” the little girl asked skeptically.

“Yes, I really am. I even know her mother’s name is Chen Cuicui, who is my great-aunt.”

“Oh, oh! Sister Qin Shuang’s house is right there. I’ll take you.”

It was clear that Qin Shuang held a fair amount of prestige among these children. Although the names matched, Song Mingyue still wasn’t one hundred percent certain whether this family was truly her grandmother’s.

It wasn’t until she saw the young girl walking toward them—wearing a perm with large waves, a blue shirt, and jeans, walking with an aura of dominance—that Song Mingyue was finally sure. This person was none other than her mother, Qin Shuang.

She had no fond memories of Qin Shuang, because ever since she could remember, the most common thing she heard from her was endless complaining—that if she hadn’t met her scoundrel father, she would have had a better life, and that after he won her over, he started philandering with other women. She always complained about the unfairness of fate and projected that negative energy onto her and her brother, which resulted in neither of them growing up to be normal, well-adjusted adults.

Now, truly seeing the teenage Qin Shuang, Song Mingyue finally realized that what her mother had said was true. At this age, she was beautiful and vibrant, like a scorching rose, radiating warmth to everyone around her. She was so wonderful that no one could have imagined she would later become a bitter woman.