Volume One, Chapter Seven: Catching a Pickpocket Outside the Train Station

“Wake up, little brother?” Wang Hu gently tapped Xia Niannian’s shoulder, trying to rouse her.

Who would have thought this young man had such poor health? After the fright, he even developed a fever late into the night and clung to their captain, calling him “Mom.”

Could their captain be a mother? If anything, he’d be a father—their captain was a man of steel, a true rugged northerner.

If others found out he was called “Mom,” they’d never hear the end of the jokes.

Xia Niannian sniffled, sobbing softly, two clear tears hanging from her lashes. She vaguely heard someone calling her and, groggily opening her eyes, saw a splash of army green before her.

Startled, she pinched her hands, realizing something was wrong. Suddenly recalling something, she sprang up from the bed and huddled in the corner.

Even Xia Niannian hadn’t expected the original owner’s instinctive reaction to be so intense.

Seeing her fear, Gu Nanzhou said nothing, got up from the bed, pointed to the lunchbox on the small table and a paper package nearby, and gently said, “You had a fever late last night. Eat some breakfast first, then take your medicine in half an hour.”

After giving these instructions, he stepped out of the carriage and stretched his back, feeling as if it might snap.

Wang Hu and Liu Zheng, watching their captain from afar, couldn’t help but chuckle.

Their captain had such a gentle side? His voice gave them goosebumps all over.

Wang Hu rubbed his hands together, tilting his head to look out the window. “That kid looks thin, but she’s surprisingly strong.”

Liu Zheng recalled the scene from that morning; as a big man, he hadn’t been able to pry Xia Niannian’s arms off Gu Nanzhou.

A failure—truly a failure.

Suddenly, Wang Hu had a thought and began laughing so hard his whole body shook.

Liu Zheng slapped him hard on the shoulder, glaring as if he were insane. “What’s wrong with you? Did I say some word that tickled your funny bone?”

Laughing like a donkey on a production team.

Wang Hu thought of the fleeting idea in his mind and burst out laughing again.

He glanced at Gu Nanzhou, then leaned toward Liu Zheng’s ear, whispering so only they could hear: “That kid’s got delicate features. If she were a girl, how great would that be? Our captain is already twenty-eight, never had a girlfriend, and in two years he’ll be thirty. At that point, which good girl would still be interested?”

“...” Liu Zheng gave Wang Hu a cold look. At first, he tried to warn him to hold back, but Wang Hu grew more and more animated, as if some barrier had been broken, and he just couldn’t stop talking.

Seeing the warning go unheeded, Liu Zheng stepped back, putting some distance between them.

Wang Hu was about to say more when a chill ran down his spine. Gu Nanzhou’s deep voice sounded from behind, making every hair on Wang Hu’s body stand on end.

“I heard the Yonghe Village farm recently had two litters of piglets. When we get back, you’ll go help raise them for a while.”

Wang Hu’s face went pale. He turned, waving his hands desperately, looking pitiful. “Captain, I was wrong! I won’t do it again.”

He looked as aggrieved as a wronged young wife.

Watching Gu Nanzhou walk away, Liu Zheng finally laughed aloud. He stepped forward, resting a hand on Wang Hu’s shoulder, teasing: “Forget everything else, just look at the captain’s face—you really think he needs a wife? Besides, haven’t you forgotten he already has a fiancée? And yet you still joke about our captain. You should be more concerned about yourself—you’ll be twenty-three after the new year, right? Hmm!”

With that, he strode away from the carriage connection, leaving Wang Hu standing there, stunned and heartbroken.

...

Because of the fever, Xia Niannian was nearly always drowsy. When she finally woke again, Gu Nanzhou and the others were gone.

She found some small change and a few ration coupons in the pocket of her coat.

After asking a conductor, she learned they had gotten off two stations earlier.

Her heart skipped when she heard the name Gu, but then she recalled what Xia Xinyue had said—that Gu Nanzhou’s face was disfigured and he was short—and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

This Captain Gu at most had an old scar on his forehead; there were no pockmarks elsewhere.

And that build—broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs—he was at least 1.88 meters tall, good-looking, and carried the bearing of a soldier.

There was no way he was the same Gu Nanzhou.

...

Outside the train station, Xia Niannian took out the address given by Xia Guoan, intending to find a less crowded place to read it. Suddenly, she sensed someone looking at her strangely from the front. Turning around, she saw two men holding something, about to grab her bag.

Xia Niannian swiftly grabbed one of them, slammed him heavily to the ground. The other, terrified, fled into the crowd, cursing loudly.

“Let go of me! Why are you grabbing me? Help! Murder!” the man shouted, trying to get others to speak for him. But Xia Niannian ignored convention and landed punch after punch on his face, making him see stars and lose two teeth.

“I’ve long heard this station is a mess, but I never thought you’d set your sights on me,” she spat, slapping him twice more. Rising, she kicked him while yelling, frightening his comrade, who only dared to watch from the crowd, too scared to intervene.

Everyone knew there were many thieves around the station, so no one was surprised.

Just as the security guards were about to arrive, Xia Niannian suddenly felt a tight grip on her wrist. As she turned to strike, a girl’s voice whispered in her ear.

“Run! Don’t fight! The security guards are coming.”

Hearing those words, Xia Niannian kicked the crouching man hard, slung her bag over her shoulder, and ran after the girl toward a more crowded place.

Only after they were out of the station did they stop to catch their breath.

Only then did Xia Niannian get a good look at the girl—a typical Tibetan girl with rosy cheeks and a sweet smile.

The girl also carried a travel bag. When asked, she said her name was Zhuoma, nineteen years old, visiting relatives here. She was bringing homemade baked bread made by her mother to a man who hadn’t returned home for years.

They chatted briefly before parting ways.

What Zhuoma never expected was that this simple act of kindness was the only selfless rescue she would ever receive.