North Family Letters

The train finally came to a clatter at Kunming Station.

The moment their feet touched the ground, all seven people from the Northeast were stunned.

There was no biting wind, no icy shards; the air was warm and humid, carrying the sweet scent of grass and trees. The sky was a clear blue, the clouds so low they seemed you could reach out and touch them, and the eucalyptus, sycamore, and bougainvillea trees along the roadside were in full bloom. Even the sunlight felt softer than in Northeast China.

Guifen clutched the telegram and asked the soldiers on duty at the station, only to find out—

Song Changshan's troops were not in Kunming city, but in a valley camp on the outskirts of Kunming, requiring a day's long-distance bus ride.

Back then, long-distance buses were old Jiefang brand buses with sheet metal bodies, hard seats, and drafts even when the windows were rolled up to the top. They kicked up dust as they drove along.

The mother and her seven children, carrying bedding rolls and bags of dry food, followed the flow of people toward the bus station.

Chunyan supported her mother, Xiahe protected the younger children, Qiuling was still recovering from motion sickness, Xiaoman clung to her sister's clothes, and Xiaoya wanted to be carried after taking a few steps.

Guifen felt sorry for the child, but she gritted her teeth and said, "Just hang in there a little longer. It will all be worth it once I see your father."

The mountain road in the car was so bumpy it felt like my bones were being crushed.

The mountain roads in Yunnan in 1973 were not roads at all, but dirt paths that wound around the mountains.

The road was bumpy and winding; as soon as the car started moving, I felt like I was bouncing around in my seat, as if my bones were about to fall apart.

The bus was packed with people: villagers heading to the market, carrying bamboo baskets; educated youth sent to the countryside, wearing old military uniforms; and cadres on business trips, carrying canvas bags. The air was filled with the smells of sweat, smoke, herbs, and the unique scent of pine wood from the mountains.

As soon as the car left the city, Qiu Ling couldn't hold it in and vomited by the car window.

Xia He quickly took out a water bag for her to rinse her mouth, and her own face turned pale—she was also dizzy.

Little Ya cried, "Mom, my head hurts. I want to ride in a safe car."

Dongxue tried to act tough, patting her chest and saying, "Don't worry, with Fourth Sister here, it won't hurt." But as soon as she finished speaking, the car jolted violently, and her head hit the roof with a "thud," making her wince in pain.

Guifen pulled the children into her arms and used her body to shield them from the bumps.

Her back ached so much she could barely straighten up. From Northeast China to Yunnan, it was a five-day, five-night train journey, followed by a bus trip; she barely slept a wink. But she dared not sleep; money, telegrams, food coupons, and her child were all on her shoulders.

A kind-hearted woman in the mountains gave me half a wheat cake.

Around noon, the car stopped at a small roadside rest stop.

Everyone came down to drink water and catch their breath.

The seven women from the Song family took out the completely cooled cornbread and ate it with cold water.

There wasn't much food left, and they were reluctant to eat it. Each of them took a small piece and ate it carefully.

Beside them stood a woman from Yunnan, dressed in a blue cotton jacket and a headscarf, carrying a bamboo basket and holding a wheat cake. Her eyes reddened as she looked at the seven people from the north.

Hearing their Northeastern accents and the little girl muttering "looking for her father," the older sister-in-law leaned over and asked, "Girls, are you visiting your families at the military base?"

Gui Fen nodded, her eyes welling up with tears: "The child's father was fighting in the Vietnam War and has just returned to Yunnan for rest and recuperation."

Upon hearing this, the sister-in-law's eyes immediately welled up with tears.

"Heroes! Heroes who defend their country!"

Without saying a word, she stuffed her only piece of wheat cake and two roasted potatoes into Guifen's hands.

"You eat! You've come all this way, it must have been so hard! My home is just behind the mountain, I'm not hungry!"

Guifen refused to accept it; in those days, grain was more expensive than gold.

The older sister-in-law pressed her hand down: "Your husband is risking his life on the front lines, what's a little food from us? It's only right!"

The six girls looked at their eldest sister-in-law, then at their mother, and whispered, "Thank you, Auntie."

The older sister-in-law patted Xiaoya's head: "What a beautiful girl! When you see your father, please give him our greetings!"

The car started moving again.

The wheat pancakes smelled delicious, and the potatoes were piping hot.

The seven of them shared the food, and each bite warmed their hearts.

After traversing mountains and valleys, we finally saw the military camp.

The mountain path was even more treacherous in the afternoon, with a mountain wall on one side and a bottomless valley on the other.

The car was moving very slowly, and the driver was completely focused.

Little Ya, pressed against the car window, suddenly shouted, "Mom! Look! A red flag!"

In the distant valley, a neat row of green barracks stands, with a bright red five-star flag fluttering in the wind.

There were soldiers standing guard at the entrance, and soldiers in uniform marching in formation along the roadside.

That was Song Changshan's troops.

Gui Fen suddenly grabbed the car window, her hands trembling.

Spring swallows, summer lotus, winter snow, autumn bells, and Xiaoman (the solar term of Grain Full) all held their breath.

The long-distance bus, panting, stopped at an intersection near the military camp.

The seven women got off the car and stood in the warm breeze of southern Xinjiang, looking at the green military camp in front of them.

From the heated brick beds of Northeast China to the hot winds of Kunming;

From a five-day, five-night journey on a green-skinned train to a whole day of bumpy mountain roads;

From sub-zero ice and snow to lush green mountains and blooming flowers.

They finally stood before their loved ones.

The long-distance bus finally arrived at the station after a bumpy ride. Seven people, covered in dust and looking disheveled, stood in front of the Song family's house, their eyes shining brightly.

Guifen straightened her wrinkled clothes, Chunyan helped her younger sisters smooth their hair, and Xiaoya clutched her mother's clothes, standing on tiptoe to look towards the military camp.

But as soon as they reached the gate of the military camp and announced their name, "Song Changshan," the sentry stopped them.

"Have you registered? There's been a temporary rescheduling of duties, so we're not open to the public today." The sentry's tone was polite but firm, his grip on his rifle steady. "The commander is out on an exercise all day and is not in the barracks."

One sentence, like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguished everyone's expectations.

Xiaoya's eyes reddened first, and tears streamed down her face: "I...I just came to see Dad..."

Guifen's heart sank, and she gripped the cloth bag in her hand even tighter. She had endured so much hardship to finally arrive, only to find nothing.

Chunyan quickly tugged at Xiaoya and gently coaxed her, "Don't cry, Xiaoya. Dad will be back tomorrow. He'll come tomorrow."

Xia He, however, was a little anxious and stepped forward: "Comrade, we've come from Northeast China. We've been on the train for over ten days and then transferred to a bus for another day. We just want to see my father. Could you please make an exception?"

The sentry looked troubled: "Rules are rules, we really can't go in. Why don't you stay here for now, and we'll let you know when the commander returns tomorrow?"

There was no other way; the mother and her seven children had to leave first.

But then a problem arose—there was nowhere to stay.

He didn't have much money or food stamps to begin with. The military camp was in a remote area with no hotels, only a few mud-brick houses belonging to local villagers.

The heated kang (traditional brick bed) in the villager's home warmed people's hearts.

In the end, a fellow villager from Yunnan who happened to be passing by took pity on them and took them home.

The villager's house was a low, earthen house with a heated kang (a traditional heated brick bed) in the middle, and potato soup simmering on the stove, steaming away.

"You military families have it tough." The villager, surnamed Wang, was a cheerful woman who spread straw mats for them as she spoke. "Yunnan has many mountains, and troops often come here for exercises. You've been caught in the crossfire, so it's not your fault."

The kang (heated brick bed) was so hot that the mother and her seven children took off their shoes and carefully sat down. Instantly, they felt all the bones in their bodies relax.

Sister Wang brought over a bowl of hot soup. Qiu Ling held the bowl, took a sip, and tears fell again—not from sadness, but from warmth.

"Big sister, will we... be able to see my dad tomorrow?" Guifen asked in a low voice, full of anxiety.

Sister Wang patted her hand: "Don't worry, soldiers are the most loyal and righteous. I'll go ask the messenger at the village entrance; he's familiar with the army and can definitely help."

The next morning, as expected, Sister Wang brought back the message: "The commander returned to camp this afternoon, and we've arranged for you to meet first thing tomorrow morning!"

My heart, which had been hanging in suspense, finally settled down.

These past two days, they've been helping out at a fellow villager's home, tending the fire and feeding the chickens. They've also been learning how to make Yunnan's spicy and sour mashed potatoes from Sister Wang, and listening to the villagers tell stories about Yunnan's mountains and the military.

Dongxue and Xiaoman went to the mountains to pick wild fruits with the children of the villagers. Qiuling sat by the kang (a heated brick bed) and wrote down what she saw and heard along the way in her notebook, saying that she would read it to her father when she saw him.

Little Sprout stopped making a fuss and started shouting to the mountains every day, "Dad—I'm here—"

The sound echoed through the valley, filled with anticipation.

Chapter Fourteen: Finally Reunited: Five Years of Longing Contained in One Embrace

On the morning of the third day, sunlight filtered through the bamboo forest, casting dappled golden rays.

The seven women got ready early, changed into their cleanest clothes, and followed Sister Wang to the gate of the military camp.

Today, I was able to meet Song Changshan.

A short while later, a group of soldiers came out of the barracks.

The figure at the very front, tall and dark-skinned, wearing a faded military uniform and carrying the rank of major on his shoulder—was Song Changshan.

He had just returned from the training ground, still carrying the faint scent of soil and vegetation, with a speck of dust on his forehead, but it couldn't dim the light in his eyes.

His steps abruptly halted when his gaze fell upon the seven members of the Song family.

Time seems to stand still at this moment.

Little Sprout was the first to rush out, opening her little arms as she ran towards that familiar yet unfamiliar figure: "Dad!"

Song Changshan squatted down and hugged the little girl tightly, his whole body trembling.

five years.

He had seen gunfire and death in the jungles of Vietnam, but never before had he felt his nose sting with tears like he did now.

"Little Sprout...my Little Sprout..." His voice was hoarse as he stroked his daughter's head, tears falling onto her hair.

Spring swallows, summer lotus, autumn bells, winter snow, Grain Buds—one after another, they pass by.

"dad."

"dad."

"Dad...we miss you."

Each call, carrying five years of longing, struck Song Changshan's heart.

He stood up, looked at the seven children in front of him, and then looked at Guifen behind him.

Gui Fen stood there, her hair a little grayer than I remembered, and fine lines appeared at the corners of her eyes, but her gaze remained gentle.

He stepped forward and gently embraced her.

"Guifen, thank you for your hard work."

This one sentence contains all the debts, all the longing, and all the concerns.

Gui Fen leaned against him, tears finally streaming down her face: "I'm not tired, it's good that you're back safe and sound."

In the military camp, the sun shone brightly, and a gentle breeze blew.

Five years of separation, a thousand-mile journey, and a bumpy road—all the bitterness was transformed into sweetness in this embrace.

The Song family's time for reunion has finally begun.