Despejados dos anos 90
No segundo semestre de 1999, ficou decidido que Jiangcun seria demolida. Mas, ainda no primeiro semestre, a família de An Jianping fez duas coisas muito importantes: primeiro, vendeu dois terrenos residenciais em Jiangcun, com mais de duzentos metros quadrados cada um. Segundo, comprou o primeiro apartamento com elevador da vila para o casamento do filho. Assim, de um dia para o outro, a família de An Jianping, antes invejada e elogiada por todos, tornou-se a única entre as vinte e quatro famílias de Jiangcun a ser deixada para trás, enquanto vinte e duas delas enriqueceram da noite para o dia. Ao renascer, An Songyu olhou para o terreno residencial da família que ainda não havia sido vendido. O irmão também ainda não havia comprado o novo apartamento. Ela imediatamente decidiu agir! Mas, primeiro, como poderia convencer a família de que eles também teriam a oportunidade de aproveitar o bom momento da demolição?
Despejados dos anos 90
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At the beginning of 1999, around one o’clock in the afternoon, a string of classic songs, imbued with the memories of a bygone era, echoed through an apartment building of the silk factory’s staff quarters:
“When the mountain peaks are no longer jagged, when the rivers cease to flow, when time stands still and day and night are no more…”
Half-awake, An Songyu furrowed her brow and muttered subconsciously:
Could it be that her husband was once again rummaging through old things today, and happened to dig out that ancient Walkman from who knows when?
Irritated, she turned over in bed, wanting to shout toward the storage room:
What are you doing, making a mess in the middle of the day!
All that useless junk from who knows when should have been thrown away long ago!
But thinking of her husband’s sentimental nature, An Songyu drew a deep breath and forced herself to open her eyes.
The moment she opened them, she was stunned.
The room before her was utterly different from the spacious, habitually lived-in bedroom she shared with her husband, whose décor was all solid wood—simple but not exactly fashionable.
The current room had shrunk by more than half, and its furnishings were stripped to the bare necessities, nothing more.
The whitewashed walls and cement floor were something she hadn’t seen in ages.
But behind the tightly closed yellow wooden door, secured with an iron latch, hung a brand-new, oversized poster of “Princess Pearl, Part One.”
An Songyu blinked for a long while.
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