New cage

In the following days, Lin Xueyin's life was like a wound-up pendulum, swinging regularly and numbly between the unit, dormitory, and cafeteria.

The work at the Cultural Propaganda Center was indeed, as the transfer order had stated, leisurely and respectable. She was assigned to the Propaganda Department, where she was primarily responsible for organizing and transcribing documents, and occasionally helping with blackboard newspaper production.

Most of her colleagues in the department were locals, and they were polite and distant, as was typical of Beijingers. However, since she was quiet and meticulous in her work, no one made things difficult for her, but communication was limited to necessary work matters.

During lunch break, they gathered together to talk about fashionable "Dacron" fabrics, newly released movies, or the gossip of the family in the compound. Those topics were far from Lin Xueyin's mind, and she couldn't join in the conversation. She could only sit quietly in her seat, looking at the gray sky outside the window.

She was like a transplanted plant, unable to adapt to the local climate and environment, and looked wilted and lifeless.

After work every day was her most difficult time. Returning to the cold single dormitory and closing the door, the silence was like a physical oppression.

She began to understand why Song Zhiyuan had told her to "come to the mountain stream when she was upset." In this vast city where she had no relatives, a place to be alone and breathe was indeed a luxury. Unfortunately, there was no mountain stream here, only four white walls.

She tried to write a letter to her parents to let them know she was safe, describing the leisurely work, the formality of the unit, and the "nice" dormitory, deliberately concealing all her loneliness and anxiety.

The letter was sent, and the days of waiting for a reply became extraordinarily long. Beicheng's warmth and care became the only thought that kept her going in this cold "new cage."

She would also think of Song Zhiyuan. The man who had brought her here had vanished since she arrived in Beijing, never seen again, and no news of him. This suspense only exacerbated her anxiety. He was like a sword of Damocles, hanging over her head, with no telling when it would fall.

It was the weekend, and Lin Xueyin mustered up the courage to leave the compound and visit the larger supply and marketing cooperative nearby, familiarizing herself with the area. The early spring wind in Beijing was still chilly, drying and stinging her face. She wrapped herself tightly in the thick scarf her mother had knitted and followed the route she remembered.

The streets were much wider than those in the north city, with a constant stream of bicycles and the occasional green jeep or black sedan passing by, carrying an imposing presence that could not be ignored. She carefully avoided vehicles and pedestrians, feeling as small as a speck of dust.

Just as she finished shopping and was about to walk back, carrying a net bag, a black car silently slid up to her and stopped. The window rolled down, revealing a cold and familiar face that she least wanted to see at the moment.

Song Zhiyuan.

He was wearing a well-fitting dark Mao suit and leaning on the back seat of the car, his eyes fixed on her calmly, as if her appearance was completely within his expectations.

Lin Xueyin's heart suddenly shrank, her hands and feet instantly turned cold, and she subconsciously took half a step back, and the net bag in her hand almost fell to the ground.

"Get in the car." He spoke in a low voice, but with his usual, unquestionable commanding tone.

No question, no small talk, just direct and firm.

Lin Xueyin froze in place, her mind blank. Get in the car? Where to? She looked into his deep, calm eyes, devoid of emotion, only pure control.

The thought of resistance was just beginning to form in her mind, but it was suppressed by a huge fear and a deep-seated awareness of this man's power. Here, in this strange city, she had no one to rely on.

She bit her lower lip, and finally, under the gaze of the driver who had already opened the car door, she lowered her head and got into the car silently.

The car was spacious, the seats soft, and carried a faint scent of leather and tobacco, the same scent as him. She sat close to the door, keeping as much distance from him as possible, her body tense like a fully drawn bow.

Song Zhiyuan didn't look at her and told the driver a place name she didn't catch. The car started smoothly and merged into the traffic.

The car was completely silent, with only the low roar of the engine and the vague sounds of the city outside the window.

Lin Xueyin was so nervous she could hear her own rapidly beating heartbeat. She stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He was resting with his eyes closed. His profile was hard and his jaw was tense, revealing a subtle hint of fatigue.

He seemed a little different from when he was in Hongqi Commune. He lacked the occasional roughness of the countryside, and had more of the settled coldness and majesty of the city.

Did he bring her to Beijing just for a chance encounter like this, and then take her away like a lost item?

After an unknown amount of time, the car entered a relatively quiet street and finally stopped in front of a small restaurant with a low-key, quaint atmosphere. The sign read "Barbecue Season" in bold handwriting.

"Get out of the car." Song Zhiyuan opened his eyes and was the first to push the door and get out.

Lin Xueyin followed and stood in front of the elegantly decorated shop, feeling somewhat bewildered. This kind of place was clearly not the kind of place someone of her level would spend their money on a daily basis.

Song Zhiyuan seemed very familiar with this place and took her straight into a quiet private room. The room was warm and cozy, with antique wooden tables and chairs and ink paintings hanging on the walls.

He ordered the dishes, still in his unyielding style, without asking for her opinion. After the waiter respectfully withdrew, they were the only two left in the private room.

The atmosphere was so oppressive that it was suffocating.

Lin Xueyin lowered her head, staring at her tightly clasped hands placed on her knees, her nails digging deep into her palms.

"Are you adapting to the work?" He finally spoke, breaking the suffocating silence, his tone as flat as if he was asking an insignificant subordinate.

Lin Xueyin choked up a little and whispered, "...not bad."

"Where's the dormitory?"

"……fine."

Another silence fell. The charcoal fire sizzled in the copper pot, and the aroma of meat gradually spread, but it did not arouse Lin Xueyin's appetite at all.

"If you need anything, tell Chen Mo." He picked up a piece of roasted lamb with chopsticks and put it on the plate in front of her. His movements were natural, as if it was the most ordinary thing.

Lin Xueyin stared at the shiny piece of meat on the plate without moving. Summoning the greatest courage she could muster, she raised her eyes and looked at him, her voice trembling slightly as she asked, "What...what do you want?"

Song Zhiyuan paused and looked up at her. His gaze was deep, like a bottomless, cold pond, taking in her panicked yet forced composure.

"What do you think?" he asked back, his tone smooth but with a certainty that made her uneasy.

Lin Xueyin's heart sank. She knew what he didn't want, or rather, what he wanted was clear from the beginning. He had brought her to Beijing, arranged a job for her, and provided her with "care." All of this pointed to one purpose—

Putting her completely under his control was like moving a precious collection from an unsafe countryside location to a more stable and private display room.

"Eat." He did not continue the topic and ended this brief, unequal communication with an order.

Lin Xueyin had no appetite for the entire meal. She mechanically ate the food he kept scooping from her plate, and it tasted like chewing wax. He didn't eat much, and for the most part, he just stared at her in silence. That gaze was no longer the intrusive scrutiny he'd had at the Red Flag Commune, but more like... a check to ensure everything was intact.

After the meal, he didn't keep her any longer and asked the driver to take her back to the gate of the Cultural Propaganda Center.

Before getting off the bus, he handed her a paper bag containing several brand new literary journals.

"You can watch it if you are bored."

Lin Xueyin took the paper bag, and her fingers touched his slightly cold fingertips, and she quickly retracted them as if she had been electrocuted.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice as soft as a mosquito's hum.

He didn't respond, but just gestured to the driver to drive.

The black car silently merged into the night and disappeared from her sight.

Lin Xueyin stood there, the chill of the spring night wind chilling her whole body. She looked down at the paper bag in her hand, then up at the dormitory building that separated her from the outside world. A huge, inescapable feeling of despair, like the night sky of Beijing, enveloped her.

She had thought that leaving the Red Flag Commune might make things different. But now she understood: it was the same everywhere. Within the boundaries he had defined, whether it was a mud house in the countryside or a work unit dormitory in Beijing, they were all just cages of varying sizes and decorations.

And he is the only owner who holds the key.

Her new life, thus, began with his forceful and irresistible intervention. It was peaceful, yet undercurrents surged; it was stable, yet she was not in control of herself.