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I was arranged to live in the orchard, specifically, the small thatched cottage for the gardener. Due to the sudden arrival of "educated youths going to the mountains and countryside", Gudong Village was unable to build a house to serve as a youth center for a while, so it had to disperse more than 20 young people from the city to live in various houses. Later, all the available houses in the village were occupied, and even the tofu houses, stables, and orchard houses had to be accommodated. As the oldest boy in the village, I was sent to live in an orchard on the east side of the village. "I'm Hua Shi," the old man who looked after the garden didn't welcome me. "We'll just make a kang. Where do you live?" "What?" I just came down from the city and I really didn't know how to answer. "I, Hua Shi, have grown so tall and don't even know which end of the bed is hot? No wonder I asked you to go to the camp for re-education."

I have two mothers. One is my biological mother Liu Yan, and the other I call her mother Eva. She is a Russian expatriate living on Sun Island on the Songhua River in Harbin. In fact, Eva's mother's name is very long, called Elena Ivanoeva. But in the mouth of an authentic Chinese boy like me, it was too difficult to roll my tongue and pronounce such a long string of syllables, so I left the beginning and the end, omitting the middle, and the name became Ewa. Adding my customary name of "Mom", it was Eva's mother. My name is Qin Sanjiu. My parents gave me this name because I happened to be born on the coldest day of the year. Although I call Eva my mother, she has no blood relationship with me. The reason for this is related to a mysterious glass house. When I was young, my family lived on Sun Island.

One day in October 1980, I went to work and came to the office. Following years of habit, I sat on the chair behind the desk and immediately opened the newspaper that the mailman had already placed on the desk. This was the Harbin Daily of that day. The newspapers at that time did not have dozens of pages now, but only four pages on weekdays. When people read newspapers, they don't just skim the headlines like they do now, but read almost every text from beginning to end. That day, I quickly finished reading the four pages of the newspaper. Before work started, I started to read the advertisement in the middle. Suddenly, an announcement from the notary office caught my attention: It is hereby announced that the stateless Russian Bashka Ivanovna died in a nursing home for foreigners due to illness at the age of 90. She left behind a property at No. 37 Sharman Street.

One day in October 1980, I went to work and came to the office. Following years of habit, I sat on the chair behind the desk and immediately opened the newspaper that the mailman had already placed on the desk. This was the Harbin Daily of that day. The newspapers at that time did not have dozens of pages now, but only four pages on weekdays. When people read newspapers, they don't just skim the headlines like they do now, but read almost every text from beginning to end. That day, I quickly finished reading the four pages of the newspaper. Before work started, I started to read the advertisement in the middle. Suddenly, an announcement from the notary office caught my attention: This is the announcement. Bashka Ivanovna, a stateless Russian, died in a nursing home for foreigners due to illness at the age of 90. She left behind a property at 37 Sharman Street.

This is the eleventh time that I have come to Jiuzhan to conduct field research on ancient post roads. This small village hidden deep in the mountains at the intersection of the Greater and Lesser Khingan Mountains has now become a town. I originally planned to work here for five or six days and then return to the city. I didn't want to encounter continuous heavy rains and road closures, so I had to stay in the only small hotel in the town. When lunch time came, I walked out of my room and came to the spacious dining hall. "Professor He, I wish you could be older and share the table with that lady, okay?" The owner of the shop, whose surname is Guo, is Guo Feng. He is in his fifties, short and lean, and very talkative. "Why?" When I heard the word "Miss", I couldn't help but become wary. "It's raining and the road is closed. You two are the only customers left in the store. Let's share the table and the food will be warmer. Don't get me wrong. You can eat alone. It's up to you."

Seeing the word "Red Mansion" followed by "love", I believe many people will immediately think of the famous love triangle of Bao Dai and Chai, Ping You's attack on the mistress, and the mistress's dream of Qing Sheying and others... Oh, stay here - the "Red Mansion" I am talking about here is not the Ningrong Second Mansion in Beijing, nor is it some fantasy wonderland, but it does have its place and its building. In the middle of the last century, or the 1950s to be exact, Harbin, as the northern center of the country's industrialization, built many large factories. Around these factories, red residential buildings were built. The red color of the building was not intentional, but red bricks were all used in building buildings at that time. When the buildings were built, the red bricks were exposed, so the buildings were naturally red.

On May 29, 1982, Harbin was in mid-spring, a time when new leaves were turning green and lilacs were turning purple. In the early morning, the door of a small Russian-style brick house in the east of Jiaohua Square opened and an old man with a very tall stature and a thin face walked out. He looked like he was only about seventy years old, but his actual age was already over eighty. In this area, everyone knows his surname is Wang, but few people can call him by his full name Wang Jiefu. This is nothing to an old man who has long withdrawn from social life. Yesterday, a pager not far away called "Wang Jiefu". People were busy for a while before they finally found him.