1973 Going to the Countryside: I Brought the Educated Youths from the Beijing Area Back to the City

This book has no space, no superpowers, no golden fingers, and no rebirth. Not to mention the frequent big shots from high-level officials and noble people descended from heaven. In the autumn of 1973, Beijing's educated youth Shen Shanhai packed up his bags and boarded the green train bound for Shandong. As the son of a cadre of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, his father gave him all his belongings before leaving: 1,000 yuan and 1,000 kilograms of food stamps, leaving only the words "neither soft nor hard, just survive." I settled in Haiqing Brigade. The stone house was leaky, the straw bed was scratchy, and rats scurryed on the beams every night. The originally difficult days fell into the abyss half a year later - his father was beaten as a capitalist roader, and he was escorted to the criticism platform. His fists were clenched until blood oozed, but he gritted his teeth and refused to bow his head. Lu Zhining, a Beijing girl who went to the countryside together, whose parents were beaten down, is taciturn but has a bright eye. The two never spoke much, but they understood each other tacitly: he had many pieces of steamed bun in his bowl, she had a hot egg in her pocket, and each other was the only light in the darkness. The second-rate man bullied Lu Zhining with a knife. Shen Shanhai went crazy and fought one against three, grabbing the knife to protect her. The daughter of the village party secretary sighed: Good people should not die here. No golden fingers, no backstage, no chance against the heavens. The great times are like a tidal wave. They struggle in the mud and rely on each other in the cold night. They just wait for the day when the tide recedes and the clouds clear and the moon shines!