Chapter 97 Lin Zhaodi changes her name

The resounding call of the military bugle still echoed faintly among the mountains. The morning mist, like a soft white veil, clung to the distant dark green hills. Gu Qiuyue stood at the barracks doorway, taking one last, deep look at the training ground bathed in the rising sun. There, her husband, Xie Shiyu, stood tall and straight, leading the troops in drill, their green uniforms forming a vibrant formation.

A sense of strength and deep reluctance intertwined in her heart.

"Yueyue!" Slightly hurried footsteps sounded from behind him. Xie Shiyu came rushing over with long strides, a light trace of sweat from his morning exercise still on his forehead, a lingering trace of fatigue between his brows, but the look he gave his wife instantly softened like a clear mountain stream.

Time was running out, and the two of them didn't have any extra words to say. A strong hug was worth a thousand words. His low voice rang in her ears, carrying the cool breath of the morning in the mountains: "Be careful on the road, and write to let me know you're safe as soon as you arrive."

"Don't worry, I will. You take care of yourself too and don't work too hard." Gu Qiuyue's voice was choked with an imperceptible sob. She hugged him back tightly, absorbing the familiar scent of him, a mixture of light soap and the freshness of the mountains and forests.

Releasing his embrace, Xie Shiyu stuffed a bulging army green shoulder bag into her hands: "Steamed buns, eggs, and a kettle."

He paused, then pulled out a small package from his uniform pocket, carefully wrapped in old newspaper and tied with oil paper, and handed it to her. "Mrs. Lin insisted on giving it to you. She said it was some egg pancakes she made this morning. It's a little gift from her to help you on your journey."

"Mrs. Lin, you are so polite." Gu Qiuyue took it and her fingertips touched the oil-paper bag. She seemed to still feel Lin Zhaodi's simple enthusiasm and the relieved smile after the turmoil in the supply and marketing cooperative yesterday.

The jeep bumped along the rugged mountain road, and the scenery outside the window rapidly receded. Gu Qiuyue carefully unwrapped the oil paper package, and the aroma of eggs immediately filled the air - inside were a few golden egg pancakes with some green onions sprinkled on the surface, which looked very appetizing.

Looking at these egg pancakes, the scenes of yesterday came back to my mind: Lin Zhaodi's face flushed red and she was at a loss at what to do at the supply and marketing cooperative after being stung by the short-haired woman's harsh words; the sudden light of gratitude in Lin Zhaodi's eyes when I stood up and spoke; and later, Mrs. Zhang's longing and helplessness when she talked about the family members' desire to find work to supplement the family income...

"Women hold up half the sky"—the slogan is loud and clear. But for a woman like Lin Zhaodi, whose name is shackled and who struggles to learn to read, how can she truly hold up her own piece of the sky? Could the Qinghe Town Bedding Factory, surviving on military orders, offer a breakthrough?

But Mrs. Zhang also said that the work was hard and the wages were low... A vague but bold idea quietly grew in her mind:

What if we could organize skilled and hardworking military families like Lin Zhaodi and Zhang Saozi into a more flexible production team? Rather than being limited to low-end OEM work for clothing factories, we could directly meet the needs of the troops, or even... try to take on some external orders?

In the capital, don’t the signs of “self-employed individuals” who are secretly doing small businesses indicate a certain possibility?

Policies, costs, leaders, sales channels... there are so many complicated issues and difficulties, but looking at the gradually opening plains passing by outside the window, Gu Qiuyue feels that this path is worth a try.

She subconsciously reached for the notebook in her bag, wanting to write down these scattered thoughts.

Her fingertips first touched a small, neatly folded piece of paper, its edges slightly roughened from rubbing. She unfolded it suspiciously—it was half a page torn from a student's exercise book, with a few lines of pencil writing on it.

The handwriting was crooked, like a child who had just learned to walk, but each stroke was written with extreme care, and some complex characters were replaced with pinyin:

Aunt Gu: I am Xiaohu, the son of Lin Zhaodi. My mother asked me to write to you to thank you for helping her in the supply and marketing cooperative. My mother said that your words are like the sun, which makes her heart bright.

My mother said that she didn’t want to be called Zhaodi anymore, as it sounded too ugly, like owing a debt. She wanted to be called Lin Xiaohua, where Xiao means to know and Hua means the glory of China.

My mother also said that there was a river in her hometown. When she was a child, she would wash clothes by the river and always hear the old people humming a scary old tune: "The clear river water flows, girls should not get close, the golden lock sinks to the bottom of the water, and the soul drifts with the waves..." She felt uncomfortable listening to it, as oppressive as this name. From now on, she will be Lin Xiaohua!

Aunt Gu, my mother asked me to teach her how to read. You will definitely teach her seriously. (Draw a small, grinning face behind)

Gu Qiuyue's heart seemed to be hit by something, sour and warm, and her eyes were instantly filled with tears. She could almost imagine the scene: under the dim light, Lin Zhaodi, no, it was Lin Xiaohua, clumsily and eagerly dictating her inner thoughts to her son, while Xiaohu lay on the table, his little face tense, trying hard to write down his mother's thoughts.

That eerie and depressing nursery rhyme, like an icy chain, entangled her childhood and the life of the name "Zhao Di". The three words "Lin Xiaohua" and the last sentence of the note, which was childish but full of power, "I'll teach her!", were like the sunshine that penetrated the haze, full of the courage and hope to break free from the shackles and rush towards a new life.

She carefully refolded the note and put it in her pocket.

The fragrant egg pancake and the light yet heavy note became her most precious luggage on her return journey. She solemnly wrote on a brand new page of her notebook: "Family Production Mutual Aid Group - Feasibility?" Then she drew lines below: "Pingcheng Fengtai Town Bedding Factory (entry point?)", "Lin Xiaohua (leader?)", "Literacy Mutual Aid (foundation!)".

When the green train puffed into Beijing Station, the noisy voices and the unique mixed smell of the city instantly surrounded Gu Qiuyue. She took a deep breath, and the coolness of the mountains was replaced by the vitality of the city.

After a short visit to her family, her "battlefield" shifted - her studies and the nascent plan for change were waiting for her.

After returning to the familiar university campus, the cold breath of winter was already very obvious, but Gu Qiuyue keenly noticed a hint of unusual atmosphere. The classmates passing by greeted her enthusiastically: "Qiuyue is back!" "Did your visit go well?" The smile remained, but there seemed to be a flicker in her eyes, as if she was hesitant.

She suppressed her doubts and went to the department office to check out. As soon as she walked out the door, she heard the slightly excited voice of Professor Wang, a highly respected professor in the department: "...Is the theoretical basis of this topic sufficiently solid? Is it a little... too radical? It's right to advocate for ideological liberation now, but in some areas, caution is still needed! Taking too big a step can easily lead to problems..."

Another voice seemed to be making an argument, but it was unclear through the door. I could only vaguely catch the words "new atmosphere", "exploration", and "practical test".