The postman, wearing a thick cotton-padded jacket and a worn Lei Feng hat, and riding an old 28-inch bicycle, stopped Fu Zhewei who was walking on a muddy road covered with thick snow.

Fu Zhawei stopped, frowned, and looked coldly at the postman with his narrow and beautiful eyes.

The look in his eyes was so clear that it was even colder than the temperature in Heilongjiang Province in early spring.

The beginning of spring has just passed, and the ice and snow have not completely melted. The low temperature of more than 20 degrees below zero has frozen the fields as hard as iron.

The Shuguang Production Brigade had not yet started spring plowing, and the educated youth and local villagers in Tongqi Village were all idle at home, continuing to hibernate.

Fu Qingqing is sick.

The dilapidated house given to them by the village was leaky on all sides, and their family could not afford to buy coal for heating. Fu Qingqing was weak and was frozen to death.

She had a high fever, but due to the poor medical conditions in the village, lack of doctors and medicine, her illness dragged on, she did not receive timely treatment, and fell into a coma.

After the village pedicurist came to see her, he shook his head, sighed, and said, "I can't cure her. You should send her to the county hospital as soon as possible."

But how can the Fu family afford to go to the county town for medical treatment?

Not to mention the money for medical treatment, they couldn't even afford the travel expenses to the county town.

What's more, the villagers avoided their family and no one was willing to lend them a car.

Mother Dong Yulan stayed by Fu Qingqing's bedside day and night, her eyes were red and she looked haggard.

Just this morning, Fu Qingqing suddenly woke up and told Dong Yulan in a weak voice that she wanted to eat egg custard.

The supply and marketing cooperative hasn't sold any eggs for several months. Not to mention eggs, there aren't even any eggshells to be found.

Looking at his little sister's pale face, Fu Zhawei gritted his teeth and went to the reed marsh.

But the reed marsh had been plowed thoroughly by the educated youth and local people long ago. Even if there were pheasant eggs and wild duck eggs, they had already been picked up and there was no chance for him to pick them.

He searched the reeds for a whole day but found nothing.

He knew better than anyone that if Qingqing's fever didn't subside and she continued to be unconscious, she might not survive.

But as her brother, he couldn't even make her a bowl of simple egg custard which she wanted to eat at the last moment.

As it was getting dark, Fu Zhawei, who had found nothing, was feeling extremely depressed.

On the way to the educated youth dormitory, the postman inexplicably stopped me.

He looked over impatiently.

The postman braked his car, propped himself up with one leg on the ground, and pulled out a bulging brown paper package from his bag. He glanced at the address on it in the dim light, then looked at Fu Zhewei: "Fu Zhewei? There's a registered letter for you! It's from Kyoto!"

Kyoto?

Fu Zhewei was slightly startled, and his brows furrowed slightly.

Those so-called relatives in Kyoto had long since severed ties with his family in order to distance themselves from them. They were avoiding him as much as possible. How could they possibly send him a letter? And a registered letter at that?

He walked forward hesitantly, his eyes falling on the package handed to him by the postman.

The package was not too big, but it was quite heavy. His name and address were written on it in neat handwriting. The mailing address was a post office code in Kyoto, but the sender's name was not written.

"Sign here." The postman stamped his feet with cold and breathed out white air. He took out a registration book and a pen from his army green satchel and handed them to Fu Zhawei, pointing to the place where the signature was required.

Fu Zhawei took the pen in silence, the pen that was frozen and had difficulty writing, and wrote his name stroke by stroke in the designated position - Fu Zhawei.

"Okay! I'm leaving now! I'm freezing!"

The postman took the pen and the receipt, tossed the package behind him, got on his bicycle, and disappeared into the gradually darkening night without looking back.

The wind was freezing cold as Fu Zhewei stood alone on the empty dirt road, looking down at the heavy package of unknown origin in his hand. He felt no emotion at all, and even a little indifferent.

He casually tore open the seal of the package.

The package was torn open, revealing its contents instantly.

After seeing clearly what was in the package, Fu Zhewei's pupils suddenly contracted!