Era Dourada de 1979

You only come to realize with age that sometimes, even a good bowel movement is something to boast about.

It was 1979—a springtime.

Chen Qi pulled up his trousers, stepped out from the public restroom in Menkuang Alley, and drew a satisfied circle in the air. He had just relieved himself splendidly, his digestion smooth, his spirits high, his nineteen-year-old heart pumping blood and pulse with vigor, the untouched sponge within him stirring under the pressure of his abdomen—a feeling he hadn’t had in ages!

Nine o'clock in the morning.

The workday had already begun, so the alley was particularly quiet. This was a narrow lane, a hundred meters long and three meters wide, inconspicuously tucked away in Dashilan. Thirty years ago, it had been a famed street for snacks: braised beef from Fushun Zhai, stuffed pancakes from Ruibin Lou, old tofu from the Kang family, sticky rice from Nian Gao Qian, tripe from Bao Du Feng, buns from Baozi Yang, and more. Along with Dashilan, it had made this one of the most bustling places in the capital.

After walking a few steps, Chen Qi arrived at the entrance of Courtyard No. 12. A sign nailed to the door read: “Xinhua Bookstore Staff Dormitory.”

It used to be the residence of Zhang Henshui, who had lived here for three years, written “The Aristocratic Family of Gold Dust,” and later moved to Nanjing. The compound had changed hands several times before becoming a dormitory.

As a dormitory, it was naturally haphazard.

Dozens of families shared water, with makeshift coal sheds and storerooms