Chapter 114: Beijing Coup (Requesting Monthly Tickets!)

In southern July, the weather changes suddenly; the sky suddenly began to rain lightly.

Li Heng and the other bought an umbrella from the roadside and arrived at the school gate past five; only then did Zhang Zhiyong remember a serious question:

“Master Heng, you’re sleeping at the English teacher’s place tonight—where am I supposed to rest?”

Li Heng glanced around and pointed to the guesthouse diagonally left, “Let’s go check it out.”

The guesthouse was old, its sign barely visible, and the owner wasn’t even serious—he was drinking there.

Fortunately, there were still rooms, and they weren’t expensive; the two quickly booked one.

Zhang Zhiyong took a cold shower, then sprawled under the fan, unwilling to move, “You go find the English teacher—I’m not tagging along. I’ll handle dinner myself. Don’t worry about me.”

Li Heng also took a shower and hung his clothes out to dry on the balcony:

“Fine. You’ve got money—you won’t starve. And you’re ugly enough—I’m not worried about you.”

“Pfft!”

Zhang Zhiyong spat and shouted, “So are you coming back tonight or not?”

“That’s a stupid question,” Li Heng said, closing the door and heading straight downstairs.

After the college entrance exam, the campus of No. 1 High School had grown suddenly quiet; Li Heng felt odd stepping inside, but he walked straight to the third floor of the teachers’ residential building and knocked on the English teacher’s door.

“Knock knock knock.”

“Knock knock knock.”

He knocked five times in a row—no response.

Could she not be home?

That didn’t make sense—she’d said she’d be here on the 14th afternoon. Li Heng guessed, then knocked again.

“Who are you looking for?”

At that moment, a mocking voice came from behind.

Without turning, he knew it was the English teacher: “Teacher, where were you?”

“Where I went—is that any of your business? Who are you, that I have to report to you?” The English teacher’s usual sneer, as unfriendly as ever.

Li Heng fell silent, noticing the groceries in her hand—he instantly understood: she’d gone shopping. Hmm, and there was a chopped duck—his favorite dish.

Inside the house, she asked: “Where’s Zhang Zhiyong? He’s not going to Beijing with you?”

Li Heng changed his shoes and said, “He gets carsick—he threw up three or four times on the way. He’s too weak to move. He’s resting at the guesthouse across the street.”

Following her into the kitchen, he asked again: “Teacher, have you bought the train tickets?”

The English teacher didn’t turn around: “Bottom drawer under the TV. Go check.”

Li Heng returned to the living room, opened the drawer, and found three train tickets—all hard sleepers. He called out to the kitchen: “Why three? Who else is going?”

The English teacher smiled: “Who else? Me, of course. Summer’s free—I’ll go with you, see the sights.”

Li Heng leaned against the kitchen door: “Didn’t you study at Renmin University? Aren’t you tired of Beijing yet?”

“It changes every year—how could I get tired? I haven’t been back since graduation. Perfect chance to go see it again.” The English teacher seemed to recall something, then fell silent, lost in memory.

After a long while, Li Heng returned the tickets to the drawer and asked, “Need help with cooking?”

“No. You’ve barely come to Shaodong—why not visit Song Yu?” The English teacher waved him off, signaling him to leave.

Song Yu—the thought of her beautiful face made Li Heng instantly restless. He returned to the living room, grabbed the phone on the coffee table, and dialed Song Yu’s home.

Because Song Yu’s mother knew about Chen Zijin, he couldn’t just show up unannounced—he had to call first.

But to his frustration, the phone rang seven times—no answer.

He tried three more times—still no one picked up.

Could she not be home?

Frowning, Li Heng grabbed an umbrella and hurried to Shaodong Normal College—only to find the Song family courtyard locked, the gate shut. She really wasn’t home.

He considered asking neighbors, but decided against it—if they mentioned it to Jiang Yue later, everything would be exposed.

Dejected, he returned to No. 1 High School, where he ran into Sun Man. She asked:

“When did you get here? I waited for you at the English teacher’s all afternoon.”

Li Heng said, “Just arrived. Why were you waiting? Are you that bored?”

“Not bored—I’m utterly bored. I’ve been reading Dream of the Red Chamber every day. I’m turning into Lin Daiyu—this temperament doesn’t suit me at all. I’m going crazy!” Sun Man complained incessantly.

“Come play pool with me?” she asked hopefully.

“No. Why don’t you ask Zhang Zhiyong?” Li Heng refused.

“I won’t call him—he’s terrible. I only want to play with you.” Sun Man grabbed his sleeve, refusing to let go, dragging him toward the pool hall.

With no escape, Li Heng reluctantly played pool with her for an hour.

During the game, Sun Man told him the Song family had returned to Yiyang’s Taojiang two days ago—she’d even seen them off.

Li Heng asked: “Did Song Yu ask you to pass along any message to me?”

“You’re dreaming. No message.” Seeing his disappointed face, Sun Man burst into a mocking laugh.

For dinner, Li Heng invited Zhang Zhiyong, but the idiot flatly refused—though Sun Man showed up and joined them for a hearty meal.

When she learned the English teacher was going to Beijing too, Sun Man screamed she wanted to come too—but it was too late to buy tickets; even with connections, none were available. She had to give up, wailing in despair.

In those days, you didn’t need tickets to board a train—you could just pay the fare later—but Li Heng and the English teacher exchanged glances and said nothing. Sun Man, never having traveled far, had no idea such a trick existed—and she was furious.

After dinner, the English teacher asked: “Are you staying at the guesthouse tonight, or here?”

Li Heng was startled: “Aren’t you worried about your reputation?”

The English teacher crossed her arms, sizing him up with mockery: “Daring little thing! I’ll leave my bedroom door wide open—I know you don’t have the guts to come in.”

The more familiar they became, the less restraint he showed. Li Heng was speechless and retreated.

The next day.

Before dawn, Li Heng woke up, washed and brushed his teeth—less than twenty minutes later, he met the English teacher at the school gate, and they headed straight for the train station.

Probably because of summer vacation, the station was packed; Li Heng’s scalp prickled—it was too crowded.

The three barely squeezed onto the train, but this was only the first stop northward. Traveling by train in those days was a battle—twenty hours or more ahead, not easy at all.

Fortunately, they had hard sleepers—much more comfortable than hard seats, and you could lie down to rest.

Soft sleepers? Forget it. Getting one was as hard as getting an airplane ticket—you needed an employee ID and an official letter from your unit. A common civilian trying to ride one? Nearly impossible.

That’s what status meant—the boss said so.

“Is this it?”

“Yes, this is it.”

The three found their seats—hardly sat down when a woman climbed in through the window: young, beautiful, around twenty, with long legs clad in silk stockings.

Zhang Zhiyong, from a mountain village, had never seen anything so glamorous—he stared, stared, stared… then suddenly clapped his right hand over his nose.

Fuck! This idiot was bleeding from the nose!

The woman chuckled at the idiot, then sat down across from him.

Li Heng couldn’t take it—he dragged him to the tiny restroom: “Can you have a little dignity? You’ve embarrassed me and the English teacher already—what’s going to happen when we get to Beijing?”

Zhang Zhiyong knew he was in the wrong and didn’t argue—but when he heard the last part, his eyes lit up:

“What’s Beijing like? Can you see those big foreign girls from TV?”

Li Heng wanted to slap the fool: “You think you can see them? Do you have the money? Do you even have the height?”

Zhang Zhiyong puffed: “I’ll stand on tiptoes! I’ll stand on a stool!”

Li Heng’s face twitched: “That’s just covering symptoms. Think about your own worth—a toothpick in the ocean can’t stir a wave.”

Zhang Zhiyong sulked: “So what if it’s a toothpick? A toothpick can still kill someone!”

After cleaning the blood, they returned to the hard sleeper car—where the English teacher was already chatting with the woman.

They learned the woman was a flight attendant, returning to Beijing after her vacation.

In those days, flight attendants weren’t like today—they were truly prestigious: beautiful, high-paid, well-treated, with no scandals attached. Only elite families could marry one.

Because of the nosebleed, the idiot avoided speaking to her—until a card game with three players needed a fourth, and he was dragged in.

“Are you going to Beijing for tourism?” The flight attendant kept subtly trying to talk to Li Heng.

Li Heng played the Big Joker to gain control of the game: “Visiting relatives—then a little tourism.”

It was his habit: never say too much when traveling—always stick to what benefits him.

“You have relatives in Beijing? That’s impressive.” The flight attendant held her bomb card, hesitated, then smiled and let Li Heng play out his hand.

As they played cards and chatted, the three passed the time—though the idiot stayed silent. Time flew, and before they knew it, they’d entered Hubei Province.

After hours of cards, everyone was tired. They ate a little, then lay down to sleep.

But the English teacher never slept deeply—she kept her eyes half-open, alert.

Seeing this, Li Heng walked over and whispered: “Teacher, you sleep first. I’ll keep watch.”

The English teacher glanced at him, smiled, nodded, said, “I’ll take over later,” then fell into deep sleep.

Once the English teacher and Zhang Zhiyong were sound asleep, the flight attendant, who’d also been keeping watch, quietly asked Li Heng: “What does your family do?”

Li Heng said: “Farmers.”

The flight attendant’s gaze drifted over him for a long moment, then she stopped talking to him entirely.

Five hours later, the English teacher and Zhang Zhiyong woke up—now it was Li Heng’s turn to sleep well.

The three took turns resting, and the train rumbled steadily into Beijing’s territory.

Seeing Li Heng and the others staring out the window, the flight attendant became a makeshift tour guide, pointing out landmarks, recommending food and attractions, listing famous sights.

As the train pulled into the station and everyone gathered their luggage to disembark, the flight attendant slipped a note into Li Heng’s hand and walked away without looking back.

Watching her graceful, swaying figure depart, Zhang Zhiyong started bleeding from the nose again and tilted his head up.

Wang Run gently adjusted his glasses and asked Li Heng: “Interested?”

Li Heng knew what she was mocking—he didn’t even look at the note, just tossed it into a nearby trash bin: “You’re underestimating me. I’m not that kind of guy.”

Wang Runwen glanced at the note for two seconds, smiled, then walked toward the exit.

“Fuck! That woman’s wearing black stockings! She dyed her hair! And there’s a foreigner—blond hair, blue eyes!” Zhang Zhiyong whispered in excitement.

The flight attendant’s nude stockings had already satisfied his eyes, but barely had he left the station when he encountered a world even more bizarre—his little eyes kept darting back and forth, unable to keep up.

Wang Runwen stood still, scanning the surroundings for a long while, then sighed: “Six years without coming back—the atmosphere’s changed. It’s different now.”

Of course it’s changed—used to be so conservative. Now not only Deng Lijun’s sentimental tunes have crept in, but all the latest trends from the south have followed.

Stockings, high heels, and wavy hair aren’t mainstream on the streets yet, but they’re no longer rare—occasionally you’ll spot a few.

Wang Runwen turned her head, puzzled: “You’ve been here before? Why don’t you seem surprised at all? You’re so calm.”

In her eyes, Zhang Zhiyong’s reaction was normal—exactly what a country boy should act like upon entering the city—so she said nothing all along, finding it amusing instead.

Li Heng dodged the question, deliberately vague: “Don’t forget, I’m the one who wrote ‘To Live’ and ‘The Playboys.’ I’ve already imagined all this through books. Nothing to get excited about.”

Remembering his identity as an author, remembering the maturity and composure in him that didn’t match his age, Wang Runwen forced herself to accept this explanation and asked:

“Before you came, didn’t you contact the Chen family? Why didn’t anyone come to pick you up?”

“No.”

Li Heng shook his head, then said: “I’m hungry. Teacher, you know this area well—let’s find a place to stay and eat first.”

Wang Runwen paused, then asked: “Where does Chen Zijin live?”

Li Heng said: “Probably in Haidian.”

Wang Runwen nodded. “Follow me. Let’s find a place to stay nearby.”

Places like Chaoyangmen, Yansha, Yuan, and Haidian are packed with official residences. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the Chen family’s home—he’d visited frequently during his past life, but as relations gradually cooled, he rarely came back.

They took a bus to Haidian. The English teacher got off and immediately led them straight ahead about 150 meters, stopping in front of a hotel.

“Teacher, have you been here before?” Li Heng looked up at the hotel’s ordinary exterior.

“I’ve never stayed here, but I know this area well. Let’s check in for tonight.” The English teacher said, already walking inside.

“Hello, do you have rooms available?”

“Hello, yes.”

The English teacher realized something and asked Li Heng with a knowing look: “How many rooms?”

Before Li Heng could answer, Zhang Zhiyong had already pulled out his documents: “I want a single room.”

Hearing this, the English teacher turned to the front desk: “Then three rooms, preferably next to each other.”

The clerk checked their documents perfunctorily and said: “No three adjacent rooms left. There are two connected rooms on the second floor; the rest are isolated singles.”

After brief discussion, Li Heng and the English teacher took the connected rooms, Zhang Zhiyong took the single, all on the second floor.

Inside the room, Li Heng glanced around—the accommodation was decent: hot water, a fan, a shower, a TV, and even a place to hang clothes. Just a bit expensive.

After nearly thirty hours on the train in summer, everyone was sticky and uncomfortable. As soon as they entered, they rushed to shower and wash their clothes. Too bad no washing machine was provided—he’d rather die than do this chore himself.

Half an hour later, Li Heng knocked on the English teacher’s door: “Teacher, ready?”

The English teacher had just washed her hair; damp strands hung over her shoulders and chest, paired with a red dress—hmm, quite alluring.

“I’ll pluck out your eyeballs and feed them to dogs,” the English teacher shot him a cold glance and slammed the door shut.

Sin! Sin!

I just glanced instinctively—I didn’t stare! Does she need to react so strongly? Li Heng muttered inwardly, then grumpily called Zhang Zhiyong to head out.

There were no decent restaurants nearby; the three settled for a greasy little eatery and ate their fill. Truly a full meal—even though the food didn’t suit their tastes, hunger overruled everything.

Once you’re hungry, even grass tastes delicious—why bother with details?

It was midday. After eating, the English teacher checked her watch and, overcome with homesickness, said she wanted to walk around Renmin University.

Zhang Zhiyong, ever observant, followed along.

After watching the two board the bus, Li Heng stood still, thinking for a moment, then returned to the hotel front desk and called the Chen family.

“Dong dong. Dong. Dong.”

On the fourth ring, the call connected—a familiar yet distant middle-aged woman’s voice came through.

“Hello, who’s this?”

Li Heng sighed. He couldn’t believe his luck—the person answering was Zhong Lan.

But it was too late to back out. He couldn’t hang up. He steadied himself: “Auntie, please call Zijin for me.”

He didn’t introduce himself.

He didn’t add any polite phrases after “Auntie”—no “hello,” no “good afternoon.”

He was polite, but stiff.

At that moment, a married couple entered the hotel lobby, speaking fluent Beijing dialect as they checked in at the front desk.

Hearing the Beijing accent over the phone, Zhong Lan realized: “You’ve come to Beijing?”

Li Heng said yes, bluntly.

Why had this kid come to Beijing? The intent was obvious. Zhong Lan wanted to say Zijin wasn’t home, wanted to hang up—but then she remembered Li Heng’s changed status. She glanced back at the two sisters chatting in the courtyard—Zijin and her younger sister—and said: “She’s not home. Call back later.”

“Okay.”

The word “okay” hadn’t even finished when the line went dead.

Li Heng didn’t ask where Zijin had gone, or how long “later” meant.

Likewise, Zhong Lan didn’t specify a time.

This was their unspoken understanding: Li Heng knew Zijin was home; Zhong Lan knew she wouldn’t call her.

Zhong Lan stood motionless by the coffee table for a long while, then turned and walked to the door: “Xiaomi, come here—I need to talk to you.”

Chen Xiaomi put down the pumpkin seeds and walked over. “Sister-in-law, what’s wrong? What is it?”

Zhong Lan glanced at her eldest daughter, then walked inside. “Li Heng came to Beijing. He just called.”

Chen Xiaomi was stunned. “He just finished the college entrance exam—how fast? What did he say?”

Zhong Lan said: “He’s looking for Zijin.”

Chen Xiaomi instantly understood her sister-in-law’s reluctance and hesitation. “You don’t want them to meet?”

Zhong Lan was essentially that—she nodded silently.

Chen Xiaomi weighed her options, about to speak, when the phone on the coffee table rang again.

The two women exchanged glances. Chen Xiaomi guessed: “It’s probably Li Heng again.”

Zhong Lan frowned. “Nine times out of ten—it’s that brat. He hung up and called right back. What’s he trying to do? Force us?”

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(End of Chapter)