Chapter 52: The Consequence of Lacking a Border Pass (2/3)

Accompanied by the blare of the ferry’s horn, the car rolled off the deck.

Traveling to Shanghai was not as convenient as it would be in later years, when the Sutong Bridge was built; back then, you had to take the ferry across. With the bridge, it would later take only two and a half hours to reach the Shanghai Bus Terminal, but now, the journey took about four hours.

Wang Qiang boarded at half past twelve, and by the time he arrived in Shanghai, it was already four forty-five.

North Square.

Standing amidst the lingering echoes of old Shanghai, he felt a bit lost—was this truly the city of his memories, a metropolis brimming with skyscrapers and roaring traffic?

On his way in, Wang Qiang had seen countless barracks-style buildings. He could vaguely make out a long corridor connecting many small rooms, with ventilation at both ends—a tube-shaped structure. If he remembered correctly, this must be one of the era's products: a “tube-shaped apartment,” already vanished in later years.

He was still lost in thought when a sharp horn snapped his attention back. Wang Qiang looked toward the sound and saw two tramcars, joined together by a rubber connector, their roofs sprouting two black “tentacles” reaching up to the power lines—another deeply etched memory from a bygone era: the old electric tram.

He sighed heavily. There was so much about the old days to stir nostalgia. But as the sun dipped toward the horizon, Wang Qiang knew he didn’t have much time to linger. He hefted his snakeskin bag and wove through the throngs crowding the North Square.

Though it was only 1994, the square was already teeming with people. Everyone knew Shanghai was a great city; countless men and women, bearing their belongings, came here seeking fortune. Some indeed struck gold, while others, caught up in a life of dissipation, were eventually left behind by the times.

The ticket hall.

Wang Qiang hurried inside, calling, “Excuse me, excuse me,” as he made his way to queue at window number three.

Ahead of him, a middle-aged couple was talking.

“The tickets to Guangzhou are sold out today?”

“Yes, you can only buy tomorrow’s.”

“There are too few trains.”

The woman muttered discontentedly about her husband being late, and lamented that they’d have to sleep in the waiting hall tonight.

Wang Qiang frowned when he heard this. He had planned to make Guangzhou his first stop—if he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he’d head to Shenzhen next; after all, the two cities weren’t far apart, so it wouldn’t waste much time.

Now, the tickets to Guangzhou were gone?

Should he wait until tomorrow, or go straight to Shenzhen?

As he mulled this over in the queue, he wavered. Guangzhou was more developed at this point, so there would be more opportunities there. Shenzhen, just a few years into its rise, was far from its later glory—going there directly might end up a wasted trip.

Unaware how much time had passed, he was startled when the female ticket clerk’s voice rang out, “Where to?”

Wang Qiang gave a start, suddenly realizing there was no one ahead of him—he’d been lost in thought for a while.

The young woman’s accent was pure Shanghai. “What are you spacing out for? Where are you going?”

Her tone wasn’t friendly, but Wang Qiang knew this was just how things were. Undeterred, he asked, “Any tickets left for Guangzhou?”

“No, sold out,” she replied impatiently. “Next—”

Wang Qiang quickly interjected, “How about Shenzhen?”

She checked, “There’s an express train with air conditioning at eight tonight, hard seat. Do you want it?”

“Yes, yes.”

“One hundred twenty-seven.”

“Alright, here’s one thirty.”

“Here’s your ticket, move aside—don’t hold up the line.”

Flustered, Wang Qiang grabbed the ticket and his change and stepped to the side, studying his ticket. Express, air-conditioned, hard seat. The “express” trains of this era were not the same as those of later years—eventually, the trains would be much faster, but for now, “express” just meant fewer stops; the speed was about the same as a regular train.

Since his train wasn’t until eight, he went outside and found a stall, where he ate a large bowl of wontons stuffed with shepherd’s purse and pork. The filling was generous and the taste quite good, though perhaps because it was near the station, it cost five yuan—a bit steep.

Afterward, Wang Qiang walked a bit further to a small shop to stock up on food for the journey: a few packs of biscuits, instant noodles, and some sausages. He wasn’t sure how long the train from Shanghai to Shenzhen would take in those days, but he knew it would be at least a day and a night, so food was essential.

…

At 7:50 p.m.

Wang Qiang, along with a mass of people, surged forward to board the green train, pushing and jostling as if fighting a battle. There were so many people. More than once, he felt someone step on his foot, and those behind kept shoving as if afraid they’d miss the train.

Once crammed into the narrow carriage, Wang Qiang was assaulted by a foul stench, almost retching in disgust. He quickly covered his nose and searched for his seat. Trains in this era were nothing like those of future years; people often took off their shoes with no regard for others, and those with the smelliest feet were always oblivious—it’s said that those with foot odor can’t smell their own.

He hadn’t wanted to spend extra money on a sleeper.

Finally finding his seat, he saw that a shifty-looking middle-aged man was already sitting there. Wang Qiang checked his ticket—no mistake—then said, “Excuse me, brother, I think this is my seat.”

The shifty man glanced at him but said nothing, stood up, let Wang Qiang in, and then sat down again in the aisle seat.

Wang Qiang took the window seat and exhaled deeply. At least here, there was no foot odor, though the air was thick with the smell of sweat. He opened the window wide, taking in the fresh air—what a relief.

But his respite was brief. Soon, a conductor came by and told him to close the window—this was an air-conditioned train, and the windows had to stay shut.

Wang Qiang forced a wry smile, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep. He knew that trains were full of all kinds of people, so he kept the hand closest to the wall in his pocket, firmly gripping his money. He had three thousand yuan in total—two thousand eight hundred from his mother, three hundred he was supposed to return to Lu Dahai, and a few dozen left over from before. He’d already spent nearly two hundred on fares and food, leaving three thousand. He needed to protect it—he couldn’t afford to be robbed.

With a long, mournful whistle, the train lurched into motion.

The clack-clack of the wheels grew faster and faster as the train picked up speed, the wind outside battering the glass with a huffing, whistling sound.

Night had already fallen.

Wang Qiang drifted in and out of sleep.

An hour passed…

Three hours…

Five hours…

Time slipped by, minute by minute, as the train rumbled on.

He dozed fitfully, his head occasionally thumping against the window, then shifting to a new position and drifting off again.

He didn’t know how long had passed when a pleasant girl’s voice sounded in his ear, “Uncle, I think this is my seat?”

“Oh,” a man’s voice replied.

The connected seats rose and fell as people moved about, and soon a whiff of fragrance reached his nose.

It smelled wonderful.

Wang Qiang couldn’t help but sniff the air. Drowsily, he opened his eyes to find the world outside pitch black. He turned his head, vision blurred, and saw that the shifty man was gone, replaced by a girl in a plaid dress—she seemed rather pretty.

His heavy eyelids drooped again.

Wang Qiang fell back asleep.

…

On the third morning, just after eight.

Wang Qiang awoke from hunger. He’d been on the train since the night before last, more than thirty-five hours now. His whole body ached, as if his bones were falling apart. Yawning, he couldn’t resist massaging his shoulders.

“Qiangzi, you’re finally awake?” came a teasing voice from beside him. “What took you so long? I thought I’d die of boredom on this train.”

The girl was also headed to Shenzhen. Yesterday, they’d chatted all day, becoming fairly acquainted. In an unfamiliar place, it was normal for two strangers to strike up a conversation—besides, Wang Qiang had no desire to chat with the three old men opposite him, their yellowed teeth an eyesore.

Wang Qiang stretched. “Yeah, where are we now?”

“Almost at Zhangmutou, Dongguan, I think.” Xiaoqing pointed ahead. “Should be near the secondary checkpoint.”

Wang Qiang gazed into the distance and saw what looked like an endless iron fence, over two meters high, enclosing an area. He didn’t think much of it, and went to queue up for the bathroom, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and returned to his seat after a visit to the toilet.

By now, the train was slowing down.

After chatting with Xiaoqing for a while, two uniformed border guards boarded at the door, calling out, “Border passes, please! We need to check them.”

Wang Qiang took his border pass out of his pocket and waited quietly.

The two guards moved along, checking documents. Soon they reached Wang Qiang. One, with a square face, addressed Xiaoqing, “Your ID, too, please. Both together.”

Xiaoqing rummaged in her bag, muttering, “Just a second, just a second,” and after a few moments produced it.

Wang Qiang glanced casually and saw her name was probably Fang Yueqing—not a bad name. He withdrew his gaze and handed over his own ID card. He’d gotten it back in junior high when the school organized the process. Though not yet eighteen, it was at least valid as identification.

When the guard saw Wang Qiang’s details, he looked surprised. “From Jinghai? Sixteen years old and you’ve come this far?” He was referring to Wang Qiang’s age in full years.

Wang Qiang gave a friendly nod and retrieved his documents.

The guards moved on.

Normally, such checks were over quickly, but this time there was a commotion.

About two minutes later, Wang Qiang heard a middle-aged man’s voice from behind, “Officer, officer, please, I have urgent business in Shenzhen.”

“No exceptions, you’ll have to get off.”

“My wife’s been in Shenzhen over a year and hasn’t come home. I have to find her.”

“No, no, get off now.”

There was a flurry of argument.

Wang Qiang saw that the shifty man who’d sat beside him earlier was refusing to get off, but the two guards dragged him out anyway, his legs kicking in the air—a comical sight.

But Wang Qiang couldn’t laugh. Instead, he felt a surge of relief. If Secretary Li hadn’t helped him get a border pass, he’d be the one getting thrown off the train today.

A few more people without passes were also taken off.

Once the checks were done, the train started moving again.

Zhangmutou in Dongguan was close to Shenzhen.

About forty minutes later, the train finally arrived at Shenzhen Station.

Before the train had even come to a full stop, Wang Qiang was already excited. He’d arrived—he had finally reached the place where his dream would begin.