A Young Woman's Heart

"What's the temperature here?" Mo Xueyao tilted her head and looked at Hua Yinyin.

The other person's mother replied, "The lowest temperature today should only be minus eight degrees Celsius."

“No wonder it’s so cold…” Having grown up in the south, Mo Xueyao wasn’t really used to the cold weather. She couldn’t even stand the winters in the south, let alone the winters in the north. And you should know that right now, the lowest temperature in Hangzhou was nine degrees Celsius, the highest was twenty-two degrees Celsius, and the average temperature was around fifteen or sixteen degrees Celsius.

Even in Hangzhou, the temperature rarely drops this low, but in Changchun, this is only the beginning of winter.

The air was a bit dry, and after taking a few breaths, she couldn't help but cough twice. It took her a while to get used to it.

Even in such cold weather, you can still see women walking on the street wearing fleece-lined leggings. Compared to the thick clothing on their upper bodies, they look quite thin, giving them a top-heavy appearance.

"Aren't you afraid of the cold..." she muttered to herself, as her father patted her on the back.

"Let's go, let's get out of the airport first."

"Oh……"

The two families came together today, so they had company on the way. The father is a talkative man and had a very pleasant conversation with Hua Yinyin's parents.

Hua Yinyin, on the other hand, was the kind of person who could talk a lot even if you ignored her, so the group of them together made the journey very lively and there was never a moment when it got quiet.

This made the journey seem less long.

Outside Changchun Longjia International Airport, there are almost no shops in sight. As far as the eye can see, there are only roads, stretching out in all directions, with no idea where they lead.

The snow on the ground wasn't thick enough, and it made a 'crunching' sound when you stepped on it. In areas where people walked a lot, the snow had been trampled into a dark brown color, looking like a lump of mud mixed with water.

The group's destination was the city, because there were many things to do for the funeral, so no one was available to pick them up and they had to go there on their own.

If it were just Mo Xueyao and her father, they would most likely choose to take the bus, even though it would take more time and a longer route, because it would be cheaper.

However, with Hua Yinyin's parents around, they certainly wouldn't choose to take the bus; taking a taxi would be the simplest and most convenient method.

"Where to?" Hua Yinyin's mother waved down a taxi, and the driver opened the passenger window and asked.

Changchun City Funeral Home!

"No, no, I'm not going," the driver quickly waved his hand.

When the other people waiting for the bus saw her take a few steps back, as if she didn't intend to get on, they quickly surrounded her, asked the driver about her destination, and then hurriedly got on the bus.

Clearly, he just didn't want to go to the funeral home, perhaps because he was afraid of being tainted by bad luck.

“There are still a lot of superstitious people…” Mo Xueyao curled her lips and said disdainfully, “What era is this? It’s the 21st century, okay?”

“But decades ago, this was a land with not much modern science.” Hua Yinyin sat next to her, the fur on the outside of her gray fur coat tickling her chin.

"Hmm, thinking about it carefully, it really is... Modern development is really fast." Mo Xueyao tilted her head to the other side.

The couple's father was still talking about the past Soviet Union, while Hua Yinyin's mother hailed one taxi after another.

Almost without exception, they didn't go.

We finally managed to find a car to go, but they said we'd have to pay extra.

"No meter, one hundred yuan."

“How can it be so expensive and easy to drive?” Hua Yinyin’s mother frowned. “The normal fare used to be only sixty yuan, but yours is almost double that.”

"Fine, I don't want to go to such an unlucky place!" The driver waved his hand and beckoned the others over, "Come on, where are you going?"

Hua Yinyin's mother stepped aside helplessly: "These people are really asking for the moon!"

"So, should we take a taxi? Or should we just take the bus?" Mo Wenli asked.

"How about we take a three-wheeled motorcycle?"

"also."

Finally, the five of them managed to get on a three-wheeled motorcycle that was willing to go to the funeral home. In theory, the fare for this kind of vehicle should be much cheaper than a taxi, but he charged about the same price as a taxi.

But since no one is willing to go right now, we can only raise the price.

Hua Yinyin's parents weren't unable to afford the money; they just didn't like being taken advantage of.

The three-wheeled motorcycle's cargo box was covered with a thin sheet of iron, and had two acrylic windows that could be opened.

Compared to sedans, its interior is not warm at all; the cold wind blowing into the cabin makes it as cold as a refrigerator.

Moreover, even without opening the windows, you can always feel that there is a draft somewhere.

Mo Xueyao shivered. Hua Yinyin, who was beside her, clung to her like a big plush bear. If you didn't count her fidgety little hands, being hugged like that would be quite warm...

"Our two families' daughters have a really good relationship."

"Haha, after all, we're still connected by blood!"

Three-wheeled motorcycles have always been fast, and compared to cars, they are agile enough to navigate through all sorts of alleys.

It is also much more agile than a car when avoiding pedestrians.

They soon entered the city, but didn't go deep into it; the car stopped on the edge of the city.

There are no tall buildings, no traffic, and no pedestrians here, making it seem very remote.

There are some old farmhouses nearby that haven't been demolished—strangely, the roads are quite wide.

The main gate of the funeral home was tightly closed, with only a small door on the side ajar. A security guard in his fifties or sixties sat at the entrance, holding a cup of hot tea and enjoying the cold wind. The sparse snowflakes seemed to have no effect on him.

Many evergreen trees are planted both inside and outside the funeral home. The snow bends their branches, but it cannot change their color.

"We've arrived." The driver of the three-wheeled motorcycle stopped the vehicle and turned to look at the people in the carriage.

"it is good."

"I'll pay," Mo Wenli said, taking out his money first, but Hua Yinyin's mother stopped him.

"Ali, don't be so polite," Hua Yinyin's father said with a smile. "We have a lot of people here, so it's only right that we pay."

"That's not how it's calculated..."

"Oh, then how else do you want to calculate it?"

"what……"

"Are Grandma and the others here?" Hua Yinyin asked, tilting her head.

"To be precise, it should be my great-grandmother and the others," Hua Yinyin's father corrected.

"Well, I'm used to omitting a word."

When Hua Yinyin meets her father's parents, she calls them grandpa and grandma, but when she meets her grandmother's parents, she calls them great-grandpa and great-grandma.

Sometimes it's really a headache to be so particular about these titles, especially since the younger and older generations hardly ever see each other, so people often end up calling each other by the wrong names.

This is normal, or rather, everyone is used to it.

After all, my great-grandfather was not Chinese and was a staunch Marxist-Leninist who had no concept of clan. Consequently, his descendants did not care much about the correctness of their titles, as long as they used something that roughly conveyed the meaning.

"The way we address people in our country is so complicated. It would be so much better if it were like English, where 'uncle' could mean both 'uncle' and 'maternal uncle'... It would save us so much trouble," Mo Xueyao muttered as she followed the adults into the funeral home.

The bells on her ankles jingled softly, creating a pleasant sound that mingled with the crunch of people walking on the snow.

The funeral home was divided into small rooms, and my great-grandfather's body was placed in the innermost room.

Along the way, in the other rooms, there were either the Great Compassion Mantra, the Rebirth Mantra, or a Taoist priest performing rituals, or a priest seeing someone off...

By listening to these songs, one can figure out what religion these people believe in.

The innermost room is the only one that is different.

When Mo Xueyao heard the singing, she was absolutely certain that this was the room where her great-grandfather's body was kept.

Because the songs played here are all from the Comintern.

They are all a chorus, magnificent and full of an uplifting power.

You can feel the steadfastness within it, without the mystical or religious airs.

The blessing conveyed in the song is not a wish for an afterlife, nor a wish for a happy life in heaven or somewhere else—but rather a power to inspire others.

Beside him were wreaths from a national organization, inscribed with thanks for his many efforts in China and his contributions to building a better society…

Mo Xueyao straightened her chest involuntarily, simply because she was a descendant of her great-grandfather.

Who wouldn't be proud of him?

……

Chapter 144 Katyusha

Light snow is falling.

The cold wind shattered the gray clouds in the sky.

The candle dripped with pinkish-white grease, which gradually solidified at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The sound of the bells on Mo Xueyao's ankles was masked by the song 'Katyusha' that happened to be playing at that moment.

This is the Soviet version of Katyusha, imbued with tenderness and a touch of indomitable courage.

If there truly is a heaven or a hell in this world, then my great-grandfather must have gone there to transform them.

If God disagrees, then send troops to kill God as well.

A sense of pride welled up within me, but at the same time, I felt a pang of regret for the country my great-grandfather once lived in.

"Regardless of what happened to the Soviet Union later, its assistance to us in the early days of the People's Republic was absolutely genuine, especially the feelings between the people..."

As she thought this, and considering that she was also half Soviet, her blood seemed to flow a little faster.

Grandpa was sitting upright at the door. When he saw her coming, he waved to her.

His Mandarin has a strong northern accent, which is quite different from Karen Mok's, who has lived in the south for a longer time.

"Xiaoyao is here."

"Hello, Grandpa." Mo Xueyao lowered her head slightly.

Grandpa chuckled and patted her head, a hint of melancholy in his voice: "Sigh, go on, go see your great-grandfather."

"Um……"

Mo Xueyao was somewhat surprised; she had thought her grandfather would say something more.