North Family Letters

In Northeast China in 1973, the newly thawed dirt roads were still muddy, and before dawn, a long line of people had already gathered at the entrance of the Hongguang Family Compound.

Zhang Guifen led six girls, carrying tightly rolled-up old quilts on their backs, with scraps of travel money and food coupons tucked into their arms, and a cloth bag of cornbread, dried pickled vegetables, and a jar of Northeast soybean paste in their hands—a thoughtful gift for Song Changshan in case he wasn't used to the food in the South.

The oldest, Chunyan, is eighteen, and the youngest, Xiaoya, is only eight. The seven of them are like a string of kites, destined to fly thousands of miles away to Yunnan.

"Keep an eye on the children and your bags on the road. Even if you're poor, be prepared to travel extravagantly. Don't skimp on food." The neighbor, an older woman, handed over two boiled eggs, her eyes red with tears.

Guifen nodded without saying a word and led the girls onto the long-distance bus to Harbin.

The real test is getting to the train station in Harbin.

Back then, the old green trains had no air conditioning, and were packed with people. The aisles, toilets, and luggage racks were all full of people. The smell of smoke, sweat, children crying, and adults arguing mingled together, making it hard to breathe. They couldn't get seats and could only squeeze into the connecting space between two carriages, with barely enough room to put their feet.

Chunyan protected her mother, Xiahe shielded her younger sisters, and Guifen tightly clutched the small cloth bag containing money and telegrams to her underwear, her hand never letting go. The first day went well; the children were excited, peering out the windows at the trees as they ran back, chattering excitedly about when they would arrive in Yunnan.

The sin came on the second night.

Xiao Ya couldn't hold on any longer. She was sleepy and tired, so she hugged Gui Fen's legs and cried, "Mom, my legs hurt. I want to sit for a while..."

Dongxue tried to crawl under the seat, but someone kicked her out and cursed, "Whose wild child is running around like this?"

Qiu Ling got carsick and vomited several times; her face was as white as paper.

Xiaoman didn't dare to speak, but just clutched her third sister's clothes, swallowing hard because she was so hungry.

The cornbread had long since cooled down and was so hard it hurt my teeth. Taking a bite with cold water made my throat hurt.

In the middle of the night, the most chaotic thing happened.

A man in a Zhongshan suit swayed through the crowd, his hand secretly reaching into Guifen's cloth pocket—he had his eye on this family of orphans and widows, thinking they were easy to bully.

Chunyan, with her sharp eyes, grabbed the man's wrist: "What are you doing!"

Enraged, the man shoved Chunyan aside, yelling, "Mind your own business, you little brat!"

He was strong, and Chunyan crashed directly into the iron car door, bruising her lower back.

Xia He exploded instantly, hands on her hips, cursing loudly and clearly in a thick Northeastern accent:

"You dare to rob us in broad daylight?! Our dad's in the army, bleeding and risking his life on the front lines, and you're bullying a military family right here in our own backyard? Have you no shame?!"

That shout silenced half the carriage.

Some people looked back, while others whispered among themselves.

A man dressed in military uniform, who appeared to be an officer, stood up, walked over, and stared at the man: "What's going on? Bullying a family member?"

The man's face turned pale the moment he saw the soldiers. He broke free and plunged into the crowd, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

When the soldier learned that they were military dependents visiting relatives in Yunnan, he immediately frowned: "This is outrageous. Come with me, there are empty seats I've reserved in the back, go and sit down."

He led the mother and her seven children to a slightly wider area at the junction of the carriages and had the train attendant bring them hot water.

"It's a long journey, so keep an eye on the kids. Call me if anything happens."

Guifen pulled the girls together to express their gratitude, and tears finally streamed down her face.

It wasn't pain, it wasn't fear, it was grievance, but also warmth.

From north to south, the world has changed.

The train headed south.

The black soil of Northeast China has receded, the plains of North China have passed, and further south, there are more mountains, denser trees, and the air becomes increasingly humid and warmer.

The girls couldn't wear their thick cotton-padded coats anymore, so they took them off and hugged them to their arms.

My feet were swollen, my legs were numb, and I couldn't sit or stand properly, but no one said they wanted to go back.

Little Sprout often leans against the window and asks, "Mom, are we going to see Dad soon?"

Guifen said, "We'll be there soon. Just a little further on, and we'll reach your dad's unit."

When we were hungry, we would eat cold cornbread; when we were thirsty, we would drink hot water. At night, we would sleep together, you resting your head on my lap and me on your shoulder.

Dongxue secretly shared the few remaining sugar cubes with her younger sisters, not tasting a single one herself.

Qiu Ling wrote down all the scenery along the way in her notebook, saying she would read it to her father when he came back.

The train rattled along for five days and five nights.

From the icy and snowy Northeast to the verdant and beautiful Yunnan.

From the sub-zero winds to the warm winds of over 20 degrees Celsius.

One is in the north, and the other is in the south, separated by most of China.

The seven women, hungry, tired, scared, and panicked, finally saw the mountains of Yunnan on the morning of the sixth day.

Guifen held onto the car door, her hands trembling.

almost.

Soon we will see the man who has been fighting on the front lines for five years.

I kept staring out the window the whole way. The train had just left Harbin Station, and the view outside the window was still that of early spring on the Northeast Plain.

The ice on the Songhua River had just cracked into pieces, gleaming coldly in the sunlight, while the withered grass on the riverbank was still covered in white frost.

The pine and larch trees on both sides stand straight and tall, with unmelted snow clinging to their branches, like sentinels wearing white hats.

The fields were bare, the black soil churning with mud, and occasionally you could see an old farmer driving an oxcart slowly along the dirt road.

Guifen lifted a corner of the curtain, touched the cold glass, and said softly, "This is still the wind from our hometown; it scratches my face."

Beyond the Great Wall: the plains gradually widen, and willows sprout new buds. After passing Changchun, the scenery slowly changes.

The black soil plain stretches endlessly, and the wheat fields are just sprouting tender green shoots, appearing as a pale blue expanse from afar.

The poplar and willow trees along the roadside sprouted tender yellow buds, and when the wind blew, the branches swayed gently, unlike the harsh winds of Northeast China.

Occasionally, you can see the red brick houses of the collective farm, with rows of corn planted in front of them. Children chase each other along the ridges of the fields, and farmers carrying hoes hum little tunes, gradually filling the air with the warmth of daily life.

Chunyan pointed out the window: "Mom, look, it's much more lively than our Hongguang family compound."

Upon arriving in North China, the city walls are scattered amidst the yellow earth and greenery. Entering Hebei and Henan, the outlines of the Loess Plateau appear outside the window.

The city walls and earthen slopes are layered upon each other, and the locust and elm trees are growing more vigorously, with green leaves covering their branches.

The train passed through small towns, and the supply and marketing cooperatives next to the platforms had red signs with white characters. You could see pedestrians in blue cloth shirts carrying baskets, rushing to catch the train.

Occasionally, you can see a reservoir with its surface shimmering in the sunlight, and the willows on the bank drooping down to the water like a girl's long hair.

Qiu Ling leaned against the window, taking notes, her pen moving across the paper: "The trees here are greener than in the Northeast, and the wind is much gentler. Central and Southern China: Rolling hills, lush bamboo forests."

After passing Wuhan and entering the heart of Central and Southern China, the scenery completely changed.

The rolling hills are covered with pine trees and bamboo groves, lush and verdant, with greenery stretching from the foot of the mountain to the summit.

Rice paddies began to appear, and in the rows of paddy fields, farmers were bending over to plant rice seedlings, wearing straw hats and raincoats, their movements swift and efficient.

The air was filled with the earthy smell and the fresh scent of grass and trees; the biting cold winds of Northeast China were gone.

Dongxue took off her thick cotton-padded coat, wearing only a single layer of clothing, and stretched: "This place is really nice, not too cold or too hot, and everything is green."

Southwest: Verdant peaks and forests, karst landscape

The further south you go, the more mountains there are and the clearer the water.

Entering the border region of Guangxi and Yunnan, the view outside the window is typical karst landforms—isolated peaks rise abruptly from the ground, resembling bamboo shoots and pagodas, arranged in a staggered and orderly manner.

Banana trees and rubber trees are everywhere, their leaves as big as palms, rustling in the wind.

The stream flows around the foot of the mountain, the water is so clear that you can see the stones, and occasionally you can see bamboo rafts floating on the water.

The village is nestled in a bamboo forest, with stilted houses built against the mountainside, thatched roofs, and wisps of smoke rising from their chimneys.

Xiaoman pointed to the banana tree outside the window and exclaimed excitedly, "Mom, look! That's a banana tree! Dad said there are lots of delicious fruits in Yunnan!"

Yunnan: Springtime in Southern Xinjiang.

Wildflowers bloom in profusion as the train enters Yunnan, ushering in springtime in southern Xinjiang.

The distant mountains are dyed pink, red, and white by azaleas and camellias, covering the mountains and fields like a colorful brocade.

The bougainvillea along the roadside was in full bloom, clusters of red like fire, climbing all over the roadside fences and houses.

The air was filled with the fragrance of tropical plants, and the wind carried a moist mist that felt warm on my face.

Little Ya pressed her face against the car window, her eyes sparkling: "Mom, Yunnan is so beautiful! A hundred times more beautiful than our hometown!"

The train continued south, the snow and frost completely disappeared, revealing green mountains and clear waters.

From the pine trees and snow-covered landscapes of Northeast China to the willows and poplars of the plains of North China, and then to the karst peaks and bamboo forests of Southwest China, this journey southwards showcases the changing seasons across China in 1973.

As the seven members of the Song family looked out the window at the ever-changing scenery, their anticipation grew stronger and stronger.

Deep in those green mountains, there are their loved ones whom they have been waiting for for five years.

Yunnan is getting closer and closer.