Chapter 6 | The First Step Out

It was already dawn when the bicycle was pushed out of the courtyard gate.

The early spring sun was rather cold, merely hanging in the sky, illuminating the street in a white light.

Li Xing, holding the handlebars, slowly took a few steps.

The wheels crunched over the frozen dirt road, making a soft, cracking sound.

Everything seemed normal.

He then straddled the bicycle and pressed down on the pedals.

"Thump."

The bicycle lurched forward.

Li Xing instinctively tensed, but the next second, that familiar smoothness returned.

The bicycle glided steadily forward.

The wind swept past his ears, carrying the smell of coal dust and cold earth.

He couldn't help but take a deep breath.

This was the first time he had truly left that courtyard since returning to the 1980s.

The street wasn't wide.

Low, single-story houses lined both sides of the road, their walls adorned with faded slogans:

"Grasp revolution, promote production."

"Hard struggle, self-reliance."

Some words had been eroded by wind and rain, leaving only half.

Li Xing rode slowly.

Not fast.

He didn't want to stand out.

People walked along the roadside carrying loads on shoulder poles, others pushed carts covered with old burlap sacks, obscuring their contents.

No one paid him any attention.

This gave him a slight sense of relief.

Upon reaching the supply and marketing cooperative, he leaned his bike against the wall.

Two other bikes were already parked beside the metal rack.

Both were newer than his.

There weren't many people inside the cooperative.

The saleswoman stood behind the counter, wearing a blue work uniform, her face red from the cold.

"Comrade, what would you like?"

Li Xing looked at the items on the counter.

Salt, matches, soap, needle and thread.

Everything was utterly ordinary.

But he examined it intently.

These things would be insignificant in the future.

But in the present, they were the bare minimum for survival.

He bought two boxes of matches and a bar of the cheapest soap.

His palms felt a little cold as he took out his money.

Not because of the cold.

It was because he remembered the origin of every single bill.

As he walked out of the supply and marketing cooperative and was about to push his cart, he suddenly heard someone call out.

"Hey, young man."

The voice wasn't loud, but it was a little hoarse.

Li Xing turned around.

A man in his forties stood not far away, wearing an old cotton-padded jacket, the cuffs worn white.

The man pointed to his cart.

"Your cart, has it been repaired?"

Li Xing's heart tightened.

But he didn't show it on his face.

"Just fixed."

The man took two steps closer, looked down at the chain, then reached up and squeezed the brakes.

His movements were practiced.

“Not bad.”

He nodded. “Who fixed it for you?”

“Myself.”

The man paused, then looked him over again.

His gaze moved from his face to his hands, then to the bike.

“Have you studied it?”

“A little.”

The man was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.

“So… do you take jobs?”

This question was asked casually.

But it made Li Xing’s heart skip a beat.

This was an opportunity.

And a risk.

He didn’t agree immediately.

“What kind of job?”

“Bike repair.” The man pointed to the street corner. “There are a lot of bikes around here, but not many that I can repair.”

Li Xing glanced in the direction he was pointing.

There were indeed a few old bikes parked there, some with drooping chains, some with crooked wheels.

He quickly went through the details in his mind.

The skill replication was over.

Now he had to rely on the part he had “digested” himself.

"I can fix it, but I'm not confident I can do it quickly and well."

"My skills are so-so," he said honestly.

The man smiled.

"These days, as long as you're willing to do it, that's enough."

"The price is negotiable."

Li Xing was silent for a moment.

The wind blew from the street corner, making the slogans flutter loudly.

He suddenly realized—

This was the first time in this era that he was exchanging his skills for something.

Not copied grain.

Not a shadow.

It was real labor.

"I'll give it a try," he said.

The man nodded, without saying much.

"My surname is Zhou."

"If you're really capable, I'll get you jobs later."

Li Xing remembered the name.

He pushed his cart towards the street corner.

The sunlight shone on the handlebars, a little dazzling.

At that moment, he knew very well—

From this step on, he was no longer just existing.

He was there, walking away.