At that time, the Changchun Society leader in Langling County was just an ordinary middle-aged man who sold plasters at the temple fair.
She hadn’t expected that, under Ming Ling’s control, the Changchun Society would have such a strong intelligence network.
Jiang Mingxi collected her thoughts and calmly asked, “So, what do you want with me?”
Ming Ling cut straight to the point, “What are your plans next?”
Jiang Mingxi answered just as directly, “I haven’t decided.”
She said, “I plan to go to Shanghai and see how things are there.”
In her previous life, she’d hustled on the Shanghai Bund, though she never made it big, but at least she knew there were plenty of opportunities to get rich.
Her preliminary plan was to open an advertising company.
Because she didn’t have much capital, and advertising depended on creativity and wit, requiring little upfront investment.
Besides, in her past life, her greatest skill was actually deception.
Advertising, at its core, was just another kind of trickery.
But there was no need to tell Ming Ling that.
She didn’t know why Ming Ling saw her differently, but Jiang Mingxi firmly believed he was mistaken.
Their personalities were completely incompatible, so they could never be close friends.
Ming Ling nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly asked with some regret, “You’re a local, and by rights, someone like you shouldn’t be unknown. Why haven’t I ever met you before?”
He could only blame himself for not recognizing such a remarkable person in the same county; otherwise, they’d have been close friends long ago!
Jiang Mingxi replied modestly, “It’s normal for a mediocre person like me to be unknown, right?”
She started off humble, but by the end, she really felt a little dejected.
Maybe she really was just ordinary. In her last life, she thought herself clever but ended up harming others and herself, achieving nothing, despised by all.
Whereas Ming Ling, who seemed simple and honest, actually thrived in the Changchun Society, respected by all for his character.
“You? Mediocre?” Ming Ling looked at Jiang Mingchuan with disbelief.
In the days he’d observed Jiang Mingchuan, he’d seen that, though outwardly shrewd and sociable, she was truly upright and hated evil.
Just by her standing up for Old Huangtou, a stranger, he knew Jiang Mingchuan was a man of true virtue.
At least, he himself would never have spoken up for a stranger.
Jiang Mingchuan’s outstanding character was one thing, but she was also extremely intelligent, articulate, principled, and steadfast. Such an almost perfect person calling herself “mediocre”?
Ming Ling was suddenly filled with indignation.
“You’re just trying to make me look bad!”
Jiang Mingxi: ???
She really didn’t know what went on in Ming Ling’s head sometimes.
Realizing she truly didn’t get it, Ming Ling felt even more frustrated.
What was this?
Even someone better than you is more humble than you?
He didn’t want to be discouraged any further, so he changed the subject. “Once you leave, you won’t be back for three or five years. If there’s anything you want to eat or do, do it now— don’t leave any regrets.”
…Three or five years?
Jiang Mingxi thought bitterly.
Not just that.
Last time, after leaving Langling, she was gone for seventeen years, dying in a foreign land, never setting foot on her homeland again.
Given a second life, she was still repeating the same path— leaving home for fame and fortune.
Would she meet the same end this time?
The sorrow in the youth’s eyes was so heavy that Ming Ling felt his nose sting just looking at her.
He asked, a bit cautiously, “Do you have any regrets?”
He patted his chest and promised, “Just tell me, and I’ll help you if I can.”
Jiang Mingxi forced herself out of her memories and shook her head lightly, saying, “Nothing much, just a pity I didn’t get to visit the temple fair.”
“Oh, that is a shame,” Ming Ling complained. “It’s all Hu Old Dog’s fault, he’ll get what’s coming to him sooner or later.”
Jiang Mingxi raised an eyebrow and asked in return, “What about you— what are your plans?”
Because she’d intervened, Ming Ling hadn’t ended up disabled. She guessed he’d probably stay in Langling.
“Me? I’ll rest for a few days and take things as they come.”
Ming Ling stretched, then grinned at Jiang Mingxi, “You go and make a name for yourself on the Shanghai Bund. If I ever can’t get by at home, I’ll come find you in Shanghai.”
Jiang Mingxi smiled. She didn’t believe Ming Ling’s words— she just took it as a compliment.
Ming Ling had made it big with just one hand; now that he was whole, he’d surely have a brighter future than before.
……
Langling County was a small city, so of course it didn’t have a train station.
So, Jiang Mingxi first took a carriage to the city’s train station.
Currently, there were no direct trains from any northern city to Shanghai.
To reach Shanghai, Jiang Mingxi would have to take the Pinghan Railway to Peking, transfer to Tianjin, then take the Jinpu Railway to Nanjing Pukou, cross the Yangtze River by ferry to Nanjing Xiaguan, and finally transfer to the Huning Railway to reach Shanghai.
It would take about a week.
As soon as Jiang Mingxi entered the train station, a vendor approached, “Sir, would you like to buy a guide? ‘Pinghan Railway Travel Guide,’ teaches you step by step how to buy tickets, board the train, order meals— it’s a must-have for travelers!”
Jiang Mingxi was momentarily dazed.
Everything was just as it had been in her previous life.
Back then, it was also this person who tried to sell her the guide.
It was her first time traveling far, and she was always worried about being cheated, so she refused the vendor outright.
She quickly suffered for it.
In third class, there were no station announcements and no assigned seats.
Other travelers who bought the guide made arrangements with the train attendants, then clung to their seats and never got up.
She, however, naively went to the restroom, had her seat taken, and ended up curled in a corner, sore and exhausted, missed her stop, and finally had her luggage stolen by a thief.
“No need.” Jiang Mingxi gathered her thoughts and gave the same answer as before, yet not quite the same. “I’m taking First Class.”
Shen Mangge had prepared five hundred silver dollars for Jiang Mingxi’s journey. Once she got to Shanghai, she could sell the Dragon Bone.
In short, she could afford to be extravagant now.
The difference between First Class and Third Class started with buying tickets.
Third Class tickets went on sale in a rush, with crowds pushing forward, so you needed to be strong to get a ticket and guard your belongings, since theft was common.
But for First Class, Jiang Mingxi didn’t even need to line up.
She just sat in the VIP lounge, drank tea, read the paper, and someone would fetch her ticket for a small tip.
As for the price, First Class tickets cost several times more than Third Class.
The Pinghan Railway, built by the Belgians, set prices at: First Class, 1 Fali 4 cents; Second Class, 1 Fali 2.5 cents; Third Class, 1 Fali 1.2 cents.
First Class passengers could carry 25 kg of luggage for free, Third Class only 10 kg. Excess baggage was charged at 1.5 cents per Fali per 25 kg.
It was 600 Fali to Peking from here, about 1800 Hua Li, so the First Class fare was 24 yuan (meals included), Second and Third Class did not include meals, priced at 15 yuan and 7.2 yuan respectively.
Jiang Mingxi calculated that this trip to Shanghai would cost her over a hundred yuan just in travel expenses.
But…she spent the money happily, joyfully.
In her last life, she pinched every penny, never splurged on food or clothing. Was it because she was naturally frugal?
No— it was because she was poor!
Now that she had money, she would spend it freely and enjoy it.
And this was just the beginning.
She would make more money— and spend more, too.
Now, her ambitions were even greater.
Jiang Mingxi thought gleefully.
She would learn English, French, Russian, Japanese…every language she could get her hands on.
Then—
She would follow the Huangpu River upstream, covering every visible place with her advertisements;
She would make her name known throughout China;
Wherever there was writing, there would be Jiang Mingxi’s ads;
She’d make even the illiterate recognize her trademark!
……
First Class was truly extraordinary— the moment she sank into the soft down cushion, Jiang Mingxi couldn’t help but praise it from the bottom of her heart.
After cheating away a fortune in her last life, she’d quickly fallen into gambling and lost everything, never even getting a taste of luxury.
So this was her first time riding First Class.
Jiang Mingxi stifled her curiosity and quietly observed her surroundings.
The floor was covered with thick, soft carpet, the tables had English menus she couldn’t read, and the attendants in matching uniforms bustled about, the passengers all looking elegant and dignified.
When she’d boarded, the attendant had shown her the sleeping berths, complete with bedding, electric lights, and fans.
Jiang Mingxi seemed to listen intently, but was actually calculating her next move.
With so many rich people in First Class, later she could trick— no, attract— a few gullible clients… Advertising wasn’t trickery, it was honest labor.
In any case, she was confident she’d soon earn back her fare.
Jiang Mingxi sat demurely in her seat, but her mind was spinning with schemes as she anxiously awaited the train’s departure.
“Huh? What’s going on outside?”
“Is that a magic show?”
“Is this for real? This is a train station, not a temple fair.”
Jiang Mingxi’s ears caught the key words and she looked out the window, stunned.
It really was…a temple fair.
In one glance, she saw sellers of candied hawthorn, sugar figurines, fortune tellers, and magic lantern shows.
There were more, but beyond the window’s view.
From the opposite side, someone lowered their window, and the clear sound of a drum song floated into First Class: “The story is of Ancestor Dongbin going south, determined not to take the land route but to go by boat…”
An experienced traveler immediately called out, “It’s Lu Dongbin teasing Bai Mudan!”
The commotion was so lively that even the well-dressed gentlemen and ladies couldn’t keep up appearances— one by one, they lowered their windows and craned their necks to look.
“Wow! There’s a monkey show over there!”
“Fire-breathing! Look at that!”
Some even started buying, “Hey there, give me a candied hawthorn! And a sugar figurine!”
Why was there a temple fair on the train platform?
Jiang Mingxi wasn’t the only one puzzled.
“I’ve never seen this before.”
“Do the railway police allow this?”
“They must have arranged it in advance if they’re performing on the platform.”
Jiang Mingxi stared out the window, then suddenly called out, “Give me a candied hawthorn! And a sugar painting! Is there any ‘Rolling Donkey’? I’ll take one too!”
She ordered four or five treats in one go— all her childhood favorites.
Back when she was Shen Mingming, she’d always loved temple fairs.
There was so much delicious food and fun to be had.
Lifelike sugar figurines, golden sugar paintings, sweet and tangy candied hawthorn, fragrant roasted seeds, and the famous mung bean cake and Rolling Donkey pastry said to come from the imperial city… These made up some of Jiang Mingxi’s fondest childhood memories.
Miss Shen knew her allowance wasn’t much, so she always claimed her stomach was small and shared half her snacks.
@All the best stories can be found on Jinjiang Literature City.
Later, as she grew older, the temple fairs had even more fun things.
Magic shows, drum songs, magic lanterns, storytellers… so many amusements, her little allowance was never enough, and half of Miss Shen’s pocket money was spent on her.
Jiang Mingxi still remembered, back in the late Qing, a circus from the northeast passed through and performed with bears for three days— the whole county was in an uproar!
Miss Shen, having spent all her allowance, still wanted to see the bears, so she gritted her teeth and, for the first time ever, stole money from home.
Jiang Mingxi fell into reminiscence, smiling for a while before growing sorrowful.
She’d told Ming Ling her only regret was missing the temple fair.
But that wasn’t just an excuse.
It truly was her greatest regret.
In the last days of her previous life, sick and bedridden, she dreamed many dreams.
She dreamed of the brief, decadent years on the Shanghai Bund, of painful memories she’d rather forget, but what she dreamed of most were the temple fairs of her childhood.
She and Miss Shen would laugh and play, watch shows together, and share a stick of candied hawthorn.
Back then, she hadn’t known that, for the rest of her life, she’d never taste such delicious candied hawthorn again.
The distant whistle of the train pulled Jiang Mingxi from her memories.
She gazed at the familiar yet unfamiliar scene of the temple fair on the platform, suddenly feeling as if, with a single blink, she’d drifted through a whole lifetime.
Jiang Mingxi sighed with melancholy, suddenly understanding the depth of Dongpo’s poem.
To wander my old country, sentimental, people must laugh at me, so soon my hair is white.
Life is but a dream— let me pour a cup of wine for Jiang Yue.
The train slowly started to move.
Outside, the temple fair flowed past like water.
Vendors of sweets, melon seeds, knives, fortune tellers, face readers, pedicurists, magic lanterns, magic shows, martial artists…one stall after another flashed by her window, appearing and vanishing in quick succession.
A passenger across from her teased, “Do you know who the leader of these tradesmen at the temple fair is?”
Jiang Mingxi’s heart skipped a few beats.
At that moment, she stared intently at the rapidly passing stalls, a strange certainty rising within her.
“The leader of these tradesmen…” the man drew out his words, teasing.
“Combs and hairpins! Good combs and hairpins, make your hair shiny and fragrant, no lice, live longer!”
“—It’s the comb seller.” The man explained, “Don’t look down on comb sellers— they’re the heads of the market. By old tradition, no one else can start selling until the comb seller calls out…”
Jiang Mingxi stared out the window.
At the very front of the market, a young boy carrying a basket of goods seemed to sense something and looked back at her.
In the three seconds their eyes met, Jiang Mingxi saw Ming Ling’s smiling eyes, his lips moving, his little tiger teeth showing.
“No regrets now, right?” he asked.
Jiang Mingxi nodded hard.
The train roared past, heading north.
Jiang Mingxi turned away from the window, took a big bite of candied hawthorn—the sugar crisp, the fruit tart and sweet, just as delicious as she remembered.
And so, she laughed, eyes reddening, nose stinging with tears, but smiling all the same.