She couldn't help but blink.
In the 1980s, bicycles were incredibly rare. You couldn't buy one even with industrial coupons; you needed a special bicycle ticket just for the privilege of purchasing one. They weren't cheap, either—not something an ordinary family could afford.
Even families of officials weren't guaranteed to get one. Typically, the only ones who could afford bicycles were various work units, which would purchase them in bulk as essential vehicles.
"Whose bike is this?" Wen Ci asked curiously.
It was her first time seeing a classic roadster like this. It was much taller than the ordinary bicycles of her own era, its gleaming black paint looking as if it were plated with gold under the sun.
The guard at the sentry post was a young soldier she hadn't seen before.
He glanced at Wen Ci, his young face surprisingly solemn. He stood ramrod straight, rifle in hand, and spoke. "It's Mr. Huo's bicycle."
"Huh?"
