Chapter 21

The next morning, everyone ran their morning exercises and returned to the classroom. Zhang Qiuling opened her desk and found a bottle of soda inside, with a piece of paper neatly folded beside it. She glanced at Xiao Zhijie, who was pretending to memorize English words.

Opening the note, it read, "You must be very tired, because last night you ran all night in my mind." Zhang Qiuling couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Well, in twenty years, this joke would be outdated, but now, it was still effective in making these young girls, who were just beginning to experience love, smile.

When it was time for the formal classes in the morning, the two of them continued as usual. Over the past two days, each teacher had spent time distributing the test papers. Every teacher would say to Feng Yiping, "Keep up the good work, and pay attention to maintaining it!" Feng Yiping felt bitter inside but had to put on a humble and receptive expression.

During the self-study sessions this week, the teachers were also going over the test papers. Sometimes, they would get angry while explaining, like Wang Yumin now.

As she spoke, she became increasingly agitated, talking about the lesson "From the Hundred-Plant Garden to the Three-Taste Study Hall." "Such simple fill-in-the-blank questions, things like the vegetable plot, the soap pod tree, the mulberry, the yellow bee, and the skylark, these are all part of our daily lives. Who among you hasn't seen them? It's the children in big cities who haven't seen them, and yet, so many of you couldn't fill them in? I repeatedly emphasized in class that this paragraph must be memorized, but you all treated my words as if they were just passing by your ears?"

All the students in the classroom became as quiet as quails, and you could hear a pin drop.

Finally, the teacher commented on the essays, repeating the general techniques for breaking down the topic, establishing the theme, and writing good introductions and conclusions. In the end, she read Feng Yiping's essay as an example for everyone.

Feng Yiping's essay, "My Ideal," was different from all the others and even surprised the few Chinese language teachers who graded it. If it weren't for the rule that a few points had to be deducted, all three Chinese language teachers would have given the essay a perfect score.

The central idea was this: Feng Yiping first analyzed the transformation and differences between ideals, fantasies, and dreams, and concluded, "My ideal is to work tirelessly to make each of my dreams a reality!"

Under a sycamore tree by the flower bed at the entrance of the provincial music college in the provincial capital, Feng Zhenchang, wearing a blue work uniform, arm guards, and liberation shoes, was still a bit rustic but looked much more decent and clean compared to when he was in the village. He skillfully scooped chestnuts from a large pot, placed them in a paper bag, and put the bag on an electronic scale. "Here you go, three and a half pounds, that's nine yuan. They're a bit hot, so don't touch the bottom, just hold the top of the bag."

The girls on the other side paid and started peeling and eating the chestnuts as they walked toward the school, chattering, "Hot," "Then don't eat it," "So fragrant and sweet!" ...

Feng Zhenchang smiled. His daughter was about the same age as these girls but was already working in a factory. Fortunately, in a few years, his son would go to university, and it would be a better university than this one.

There was no one at the stall now, so he picked up the thermos bottle fixed to the tricycle and poured hot water into a can.

Yes, their stall was set up on a tricycle. Mei Yiliang had the factory's mechanics modify it, turning a gasoline drum into a stable stove and adding an electronic scale. Although they were all second-hand, it still cost nearly 300 yuan, and Mei Qiuping was very reluctant at the time.

However, there were many benefits. This area was a university town with attached kindergartens, primary schools, junior high schools, and high schools. If they didn't sell much in one place, they would ride the tricycle to the next place. Now, they sold over a hundred yuan every day.

He took two steamed buns from a plastic bag, put them in a paper bag, and buried them in the sand in the pot. In three to five minutes, the buns were heated, and this was their lunch.

Just as he was about to take a break to smoke and call the small store, Mei Qiuping returned, looking a bit off.

"What's wrong?" Feng Zhenchang asked, sitting on the flower bed and puffing on his cigarette.

Mei Qiuping stood behind the tricycle, turned the bag of buns in the pot, and took a sip of water from the can. "Dad told me that Yiping's novel was published in a magazine called 'Harvest' this month, and he earned 2,300 yuan in royalties."

"Zzz," Feng Zhenchang accidentally burned his hand with the cigarette, and it fell onto his pants. He quickly stood up, patting and shaking it off, and Mei Qiuping came to help. "Heh, you're surprised too?"

"How much did you say?"

"2,300 yuan. I asked Dad several times, and it's definitely 2,300 yuan. They've already withdrawn the money," Mei Qiuping said.

"2,300 yuan, such a big deal, and this child didn't mention it to us at all. When did this happen?"

"It was before the start of the school year, when he said he was going to see Dad, about a month ago." Mei Qiuping was also a bit emotional. Her son was closest to her and liked to stick to her, but now, with such a big deal, he had kept it a secret from her. As for the 2,300 yuan in royalties, on one hand, she felt it was unreal, and on the other hand, she felt that her son had grown up. Since her son had grown up, he would make his own decisions and wouldn't ask her about everything like before. She should have been happy and proud, but for some reason, she felt a bit of hidden disappointment.

The two of them ate their steamed buns with hot water and chatted.

"Also, there's another five yuan from 'Storytelling.'"

"Is the money with Dad now?" Feng Zhenchang asked.

"Yes," Mei Qiuping said, and then she got a bit angry. "They've already spent over 300 yuan!"

"Ah!" Feng Zhenchang turned to look at her.

"45 yuan for school fees, paid. Yiping bought two sets of clothes and a pair of shoes for himself, and he also bought fabric for Dad to make a Zhongshan suit and a pair of leather shoes."

"This child," Feng Zhenchang was also speechless.

"He didn't spend it recklessly," Mei Qiuping said.

"Yes," Feng Zhenchang agreed. "It's right to pay the school fees, and it's also the changing season. Yiping should buy clothes."

"He bought sports clothes similar to the school uniform of the high school. Yiping is growing up and starting to care about his appearance. We haven't bought him clothes for years, and he's grown so fast that all his old clothes are patched and don't fit him anymore," Mei Qiuping said, feeling a bit sad.

"Yes, we're making money now, right? When we go back at the end of the year, we'll buy him a trendy set in the provincial capital," Feng Zhenchang said. "What about the rest of the money? Did you tell Dad to buy chestnuts?"

"Dad already bought them. Yiping told him to buy them cheaply from home, at least 500 pounds. Dad also borrowed some from people in the village, and now they have 800 pounds."

"800 pounds, that will last for a few months after the New Year," Feng Zhenchang stuffed the bun in his mouth and saw two female students walking over.

In the afternoon, Feng Zhenchang said he was going to the toilet but actually went to the bookstand to buy the current issue of 'Harvest.' When he came back, Mei Qiuping naturally complained for a while. "Several yuan, Dad said the magazine sent a few copies, why spend the money? We haven't earned much yet, and you're already spending big?"

But whenever she had a chance, Mei Qiuping would read the magazine. Feng Zhenchang said, "It's so expensive, I'll go talk to the boss and return it."

"Forget it, we've already bought it. Returning it would make us look bad."

That afternoon, while doing business, the two of them chatted with the students who came to buy, "Have you read this issue of 'Harvest'? The novel 'Not One Less' was written by my son." They received a lot of praise, real or fake.

By around three in the afternoon, Feng Zhenchang rode the tricycle to the primary school, then to the high school, and returned to the university entrance by dinner time. They waited until the eight o'clock bell rang from the customs tower in the distance before preparing to go home. Feng Zhenchang rode the tricycle, and Mei Qiuping walked behind, pushing when they encountered a slope or uneven ground.

By the time they returned to their place, it was almost nine o'clock.

This was a village in the city, or rather, it couldn't be called a village in the city yet. In fact, the entire provincial capital was a huge village at this time. There were few new high-rise buildings, and the real estate market hadn't opened up yet. The new residential buildings were few, and they were all old houses. Without large-scale demolition, planning, and development, the roads were not as many, wide, or straight as they would be later, but the trees by the roadside were more numerous and larger.

Their place was near the railway, where the locals had built a cluster of two- to three-story buildings, mostly for rent. The distance between the two rows of buildings was less than three meters, and a yawn from one row would spread to the other, making it very cramped. The cement road in the alley was old and damaged, with potholes, and it was even worse on rainy days.

When Feng Zhenchang and Mei Qiuping returned, it was already pitch dark. The dim yellow light from the windows and the doors of the ground-floor apartments cast a mottled shadow in the alley. People who had been working in various parts of the city had returned home, and a few children were playing and laughing in the alley.

They pushed the tricycle and greeted people along the way, "You're back. You cooked fish today, must have made a lot of money!"

"Heh, where did you get that idea? How about you, did you sell a lot of chestnuts today?"

At this time, the nearby residential area was already quiet, with people having finished dinner and either taking a walk or watching TV. Those who went to bed early were almost ready to sleep. The alley, however, was the liveliest. Housewives moved their coal stoves to the door and were cooking. As they walked by, they smelled a mix of flavors. The smell of stir-fried meat with chili peppers made Feng Zhenchang's throat gurgle, and he quickened his pace. He hadn't eaten meat for many days, and he had only eaten leftover fried rice in the morning and two steamed buns for lunch. Now, the smell was really making him hungry.

Their rented first-floor apartment had two rooms, totaling less than 20 square meters. After putting the tricycle inside, it was packed. There wasn't much furniture: a folding table, a square stool, two armchairs, and a double-decker wooden bed, all bought by Mei Yiliang from a furniture workshop.

After putting the tricycle away, Feng Zhenchang wiped his face, washed the rice, and started cooking. Then he relaxed, poured a small cup of bulk-bought white wine from the market, and ate a few peanuts. With something in his stomach, he took out the magazine he bought that day, placed it on the table, and started reading.

Mei Qiuping wasn't done yet. She also moved the coal stove outside to cook. She first fried the tofu until it was slightly golden, then set it aside. She cut the cured meat into cubes, stir-fried it with home-pickled chili peppers, and then added the tofu. Finally, she added a few cloves of garlic and served it. It was very tasty and went well with the rice. She also stir-fried eggplant with a strong fire, added pickled chili peppers and pickled vegetables, and didn't need to add salt before serving.

After cooking, she set up an aluminum steamer on the stove, kneaded the dough that had been fermenting since the morning, and made a few steamed buns to steam with the remaining heat. These would be their lunch for the next day or two.

They were hungry, so they ate quickly. The plate of eggplant was finished, but half a plate of tofu was left. Mei Qiuping washed the dishes, and Feng Zhenchang opened a bag, poured a basin of chestnuts, and cut a small slit in each one with scissors. Mei Qiuping, having finished cleaning, also came to help. They had done this many times, so they quickly finished about 20 pounds, and the couple finally stopped.

By the time they finished washing up and went to bed, it was almost eleven o'clock. The surroundings were very quiet, except for the occasional train passing by the house. Passenger trains were fine, coming and going with a "clack-clack" sound, but when freight trains passed, they roared loudly, and the vibrations were strong, making the bed feel like it was moving.

Fortunately, they had adapted to the noise over the past few days. They were tired and sleepy, so the noise didn't affect them much.

However, Mei Qiuping was a bit restless tonight, tossing and turning.

She called out to Feng Zhenchang, "What's wrong?" Feng Zhenchang hadn't fallen asleep either.

"Do you think it's because we, as parents, are not capable, with so much debt outside, and people coming to collect during the New Year, and not having enough for daily expenses, that we forced our son to start earning money right after he finished primary school?"

Thank you very much for your click! As a new author with a new book, it's not easy to get noticed. If you can, would you consider adding it to your collection and giving it a recommendation?

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