Chapter 46:

Yu Qingshan himself couldn’t return to the Sheng Hongxing Brigade to oversee this matter. Yu Xiang’an hadn’t initially taken this technique too seriously—it wasn’t some secret recipe. However, once she realized she could use it to secure job opportunities, she began to value it more.

The paper they produced was now smoother, though still not quite suitable for writing. But as a relatively flexible and absorbent type of rough paper, it had already met the functional requirements and could be put into preliminary production.

So Yu Qingshan decided to return. He planned to teach the technique to Yu Qingbao and have Yu Shunwen apply to the commune for a brigade workshop. If things went smoothly, once the commune saw the economic benefits, they could start a small factory.

No matter how small a factory was, it would have formal worker positions. Yu Qingbao would certainly get one, and as the original technical contributor, Yu Qingshan felt it wasn’t unreasonable to request two or three job positions for his family.

With his children and close relatives working there, sharing the technique wouldn’t feel like a loss.

He also told Yu Xiang’an that since she was the one who first introduced the technique—though he had refined it, the core was still hers—if her second brother and fourth sister returned, they should give her half of their first year’s wages.

Hearing this, Yu Xiang’an felt a bit guilty.

The method was something she had picked up in bits and pieces from her roommate. Seeing him take it so seriously… well, she felt like she’d gotten an incredible bargain.

But Yu Qingshan was firm. “You’re their sibling, not their mother. I’m their father—it’s my job to provide for them. You’re the younger sister; you should be the one being taken care of. For siblings to get along long-term, boundaries must be clear.”

His words impressed Yu Xiang’an.

Even in later generations, many parents treated their children’s belongings as their own or exploited one child to benefit another. Yu Qingshan was surprisingly clear-headed about this.

After returning, Yu Qingshan gathered Yu Changyou and Yu Qingbao for a private discussion.

Yu Qingbao had no objections—he was getting a huge advantage. If this succeeded, he’d gain a job out of nowhere.

They didn’t know that in the future, many workers would be laid off, and hereditary job positions would no longer exist. But for now, they saw it as an unshakable “iron rice bowl.”

“I’ll also give half of my first year’s wages to Xiao’an. As her uncle, I won’t forget her contribution.”

Even so, he was still getting the better deal.

Once they reached an agreement, they carefully planned how to present the idea to Yu Shunwen. Though they were cousins, relationships could be distant. Even if this was purely beneficial, framing it in a way that made everyone look good required finesse.

Yu Shunwen hadn’t known about this beforehand. After seeing the sample paper Yu Qingshan brought—better than the rough paper sold at the supply and marketing cooperative—and hearing that the main materials were tree bark and bamboo readily available in the mountains, his eyes lit up.

When Yu Qingshan mentioned reserving job positions for his children to transfer back from the countryside, Yu Shunwen agreed immediately.

Even if the initial positions were few, expansion would create more. Paper was cheap, lightweight, and easy to transport. With decent quality, sales wouldn’t be a problem.

Rough paper wasn’t something people paid much attention to, but those who cared about hygiene would buy it. Rural folks might make do with leaves, but urban dwellers needed it—it was a necessity.

If they priced it the same as the supply and marketing cooperative’s, customers would easily see the better deal. And if it failed? The only real cost was labor and some tree bark and bamboo.

Compared to the potential profits, the risk was negligible.

First, Yu Manchang had led villagers in brick-making. Now, with this papermaking technique, Yu Shunwen felt their village’s fortunes were rising.

Once everything was settled, Yu Qingbao would get a job, as would Yu Xiangyan and Yu Xiangqing. All three would give Yu Xiang’an half their first year’s wages as compensation for the technique.

Assuming a monthly wage of 22 yuan, that meant 11 yuan per month—132 yuan per year. For three people, that totaled 396 yuan. For a technique she’d mostly just talked about, Yu Xiang’an wasn’t losing out.

She’d mostly just shared some knowledge, helped a bit in the early stages, and occasionally assisted Yu Qingshan—yet she stood to gain nearly 400 yuan.

For her, with side income, 400 yuan wasn’t life-changing. But for an average worker, it was over a year’s wages.

Enough to buy a small house in town or secure an urban household registration.

Thinking about it, Yu Xiang’an realized how true it was that knowledge was wealth. If she’d memorized more such techniques back when she had internet access, she could’ve made a fortune without lifting a finger.

Yu Qingbao followed them back to the county town. Yu Qingshan would teach him personally, meaning he’d likely stay there long-term until he mastered the technique.

Yang Huili wasn’t the least bit reluctant—she practically cheered him on as he left.

Given his health, he’d only been doing light labor, unable to earn full work points. Now, with their children growing up, if he could learn this skill and become a worker, even a long absence was worth it.

At their age, a temporary separation was nothing.

Before leaving, Yu Xiang’an subtly asked Yu Manchang if anyone in his family had been sick recently, given the recent outbreak.

Yu Manchang didn’t think much of it. “No, everyone’s healthy.”

“Good to hear.”

Only then did Yu Xiang’an quietly seek out Xu Xiaojuan. After checking that she didn’t look distressed, she mentioned that her brother and sister-in-law had seen her at the hospital and wondered if she needed help.

Xu Xiaojuan was startled.

Yu Xiang’an explained, “My sister-in-law is pregnant with twins—they go for regular checkups.”

Xu Xiaojuan remembered Ye Qijia’s belly and relaxed. “Oh, that. I… I just went to ask the doctor for some medicine, but they said I was fine—it just wasn’t the right time yet. I was embarrassed to talk about it.”

So that was it. No wonder she’d kept it quiet—fertility issues weren’t something people discussed openly.

“Don’t worry, Sister-in-law. Plenty of couples take years to conceive. You and my brother haven’t even been married a year, and he was often away for work. This year barely counts.”

Xu Xiaojuan fidgeted with her clothes, whispering, “No one else knows. Could you… not mention it?” She wasn’t desperate—just worried she might have a health issue.

Yu Xiang’an agreed readily. “Of course. I’ll tell my brother to keep it confidential.”

—

Lin Chuanbai visited his sister Lin Yunling’s home to see his nephew. Lin Yunling worked at the city hospital, while her husband had recently transferred from teaching to managing the school library.

Lin Chuanbai admired his brother-in-law’s foresight.

Teaching wasn’t safe these days—students were impulsive, and conflicts with teachers often led to trouble. The library was quieter, with no real career prospects, but it was safer.

With universities shut down, high schools still operated. As long as he kept a low profile and avoided factions, he’d likely ride out the turmoil unscathed.

Lin Yunling’s in-laws were well-off, living in a standalone two-story house. Her husband, Fu Heqi, was the youngest in the family—his older brother worked as a researcher elsewhere. With only one grandson, the grandparents doted on him, spoiling him into a stubborn, uncompromising child.

Lin Yunling planned to correct his behavior once his injuries healed. At five years old, he remembered Lin Chuanbai but didn’t like him—this uncle didn’t indulge him or smile much.

Lin Chuanbai didn’t mind. He liked children but never seemed to charm them.

After checking the boy’s minor injuries, Lin Chuanbai confirmed they’d heal fine. The real challenge was keeping an active child from roughhousing.

Fu Heqi, however, wasn’t lenient. “Yuan, your uncle brought you treats. What do you say?”

Like Lin Yunling, he believed their son’s behavior needed correction. Under his stern gaze, the boy reluctantly muttered, “…Thank you, Uncle.”

“You’re welcome. Go play.”

The boy scampered off.

“Is my sister busy?”

“Yes, several patients. But she’ll be back for lunch. I bought half a roast duck—supposedly made by a Beijing chef. Tastes good, at least.”

From another room, Yuan piped up, “I want some too!”

Fu Heqi called him back. “Then come here.” Letting him hide away would only widen the gap with his uncle.

Before noon, Feng Jiaye arrived with two of Lin Chuanbai’s high school classmates—a man and a woman.

Fu Heqi welcomed them in, serving tea while Feng Jiaye presented a dish of braised pork and some candy.

Lin Chuanbai sighed inwardly.

Persistent.

Tan Yan smiled brightly. “Long time no see. You’ve really cut us off—never visiting old friends.”

Wu Qizhou eyed Lin Chuanbai’s clothes, forcing a nod.

After small talk about Yuan’s injury, Tan Yan ventured, “Are you still upset? When are you coming back? Your parents weren’t refusing to help—the person who took your spot dropped out too. They must’ve known something was coming. Just apologize, and they’ll arrange a city job for you. Wouldn’t you rather work at the city hospital than some county clinic? Your sister’s here—she could look after you.”

Hearing this, Feng Jiaye felt a bit unhappy. “You don’t need to bow your head to your parents. If you want, my grain station can take you in anytime. Work as a temporary employee for a while, and you’ll be regularized. We’re classmates—I’ll definitely look out for you.”

Wu Qizhou thought the idea was feasible. “See, Jiaye has already said it. Coming back is just a matter of saying the word.” If he were to return, going to the grain station wouldn’t hinder him at all.

Tan Yan, seeing no reaction from him, continued, “Do you really plan to stay in that small county town for the rest of your life? What kind of progress can you make there? And if you stay there, are you going to find a partner there too? Finding a comrade to progress together requires shared topics and ideals. Would someone born and raised in a county town even understand your thoughts?”

Lin Chuanbai knew what they were after—his parents. They didn’t believe his parents would simply abandon him.

They listed many disadvantages of staying in the county town, implying how backward it was—how hard it was to buy anything rare, how they had to come to the city for things.

Fu Heqi listened quietly at first, thinking this was just a reunion, but then…

Huh?

Why couldn’t he understand some of it? His brother-in-law apologizing to his in-laws? For what?

And while the city was more developed, the county town wasn’t entirely without merit—at least it wasn’t as chaotic as here.

Lin Chuanbai understood why Tan Yan said those things. The original owner had resented his parents when he found out his spot at the Worker-Peasant-Soldier University had been taken, believing they hadn’t helped him, that they only cared about their new family. If they had intervened, how could his spot have been stolen?

It wasn’t like there was only one spot. Though thinking this way would be unfair to other innocent people, the original owner couldn’t help it.

He had wanted to leave this familiar environment and start fresh somewhere no one knew him, but his hopes were dashed. He was still stuck in this quagmire, and that was how the original owner lost his will to live—succumbing to illness.

Lin Chuanbai felt his old classmates bore some responsibility. If they hadn’t whispered words of so-called sympathy—which were actually mockery—he wouldn’t have felt so miserable.

As for moving from the county town to the city—yes, he admitted some things were only available here. But with so many troublesome old classmates around, he had no desire to come. And as for apologizing? He hadn’t done anything wrong—why should he?

The original owner had only vented a few complaints. He didn’t know how they concluded he had made a mistake.

Feng Jiale was even more persistent than he’d imagined. Seeing Lin Chuanbai remain silent, he even called for backup: “Brother-in-law, you should persuade him too. People strive for higher ground, water flows to lower places.”

Lin Chuanbai: “If I wanted to return to the city, I’d find a way myself. You don’t need to worry about it. Even my grandfather hasn’t pushed me—why are you in such a hurry?”

This made things awkward. Feng Jiaye looked embarrassed. “Your grandfather might have overlooked the issue for now. We’re just concerned about you.”

Tan Yan: “Exactly! Your grandfather is retired—he probably prefers a quiet life. But you’re still young. Don’t your parents want you to succeed? If you just admit your mistake, they’ll surely forgive you. Then you won’t have to worry about your future.”

Lin Chuanbai retorted: “Did I do something wrong that requires their forgiveness? My family hasn’t even said anything about it. You’re just my classmates—don’t you think you’re overstepping?”

Tan Yan was speechless, flushing with anger. “How can you say that? We’re clearly good friends.”

Lin Chuanbai replied coldly, “Oh? When I was sick before, you said we were good friends—yet none of you came to see me.”

Tan Yan opened her mouth but couldn’t respond.

Back then, she had been busy securing her job, thinking she could climb the social ladder. She hadn’t had time to spare for Lin Chuanbai, this quiet loner, nor had she known his father was a factory director. She had been ambitious, convinced she had a better path.

Now… she was beginning to face reality.

Without help, she might spend her entire life in that cramped office.

Feng Jiaye didn’t know what to say either.

He hadn’t given it any thought.

Wu Qizhou had even less reason. Though they had been desk mates, he wouldn’t have interacted with Lin Chuanbai at all if not for Tan Yan.

Lin Chuanbai’s expression hardened. “From that moment on, I knew we were never friends. You didn’t need to show up after all this time, pretending to care. I don’t want to know your motives or reasons. Don’t come looking for me again—take whatever you brought with you.”

Fu Heqi silently pretended he wasn’t there.

Though they had ulterior motives and tried to hide them, they were still too young.

This Feng guy just wanted to flaunt his superiority. The female classmate was after his in-laws’ positions. And this Wu guy was only here because of her—he had a crush on her.

None of their intentions were pure.

If these were considered friends, then he didn’t know the meaning of the word.

Still, his brother-in-law’s social circle was concerning.

Did he really… not have a single true friend? He’d have to talk to Yunling about it.

The three of them left awkwardly. How they regretted not coming up with a better excuse afterward was another matter.

When Lin Yunling returned and heard about it, she praised Lin Chuanbai.

“Stay as far away as possible from people with ill intentions. You never know when they might scheme against you. If you want friends, there are plenty of kind-hearted people out there waiting.”

Lin Chuanbai: “They weren’t my friends.”

“Fine, they weren’t. But you should at least have one or two close friends to confide in, right?” Yuan Yuan was already a handful—now her brother was too.

When had she started worrying so much?

Ever since their parents divorced.

At this thought, she sighed and softened her tone. “I’m not pressuring you, but I hope you can open up to someone. Besides family, you should have someone to share your troubles and sorrows with.”

Lin Chuanbai stayed silent.

In the past… he hadn’t had any particularly close friends either.

It wasn’t that he had trouble communicating—he just never opened up. Some people had tried to befriend him, but over time, their efforts went unreciprocated, and they eventually gave up.

He didn’t think this was a bad thing. He felt comfortable this way.

He didn’t want to spend too much time on social interactions.

A friend to share troubles and sorrows with…?

If fate allowed, he’d try.

*

Yu Xiang’an sat on a rock, tilting her head to admire the sunset. The clouds today were breathtaking—so beautiful that if she could take a photo and post it online, it might trend.

But there were no phones here. No social media.

Gradually, she heard footsteps and turned to see Lin Chuanbai approaching.

He had come to collect the food—yesterday, he had given her a pound of pork belly.

Yu Xiang’an stood up and opened the food container. “Do you have anything to do today? If not, would you like to have dinner with me? I made milk tea and cake. Tomorrow… is my birthday.” The last sentence was so soft it nearly vanished in the wind.

Lin Chuanbai’s brows lifted slightly. Her birthday—it must be her birthday from her previous life.

With that thought, he sat down on the grass beside her.

Yu Xiang’an took out braised pork with preserved vegetables, red-braised fish, a cold wild vegetable salad, and two bowls of rice.

“In the past, on my birthday, my family would go out for a meal together. Afterward, we’d go sing. My dad was tone-deaf but loved singing and refused to put down the mic—only my mom could stop him.”

“My mom had a beautiful voice. She once said people had asked if she wanted to sing professionally. She was really good—she could dance too.”

“My dad couldn’t sing or dance, but he was great at calligraphy and chess. Those were hobbies he’d kept up for over twenty years. I’m not like him—or my mom. I don’t like any of those things. I just love cooking, eating good food, and… well, money.”

“I used to give them headaches. Now they must be relieved—no more headaches. Haha, just kidding. It’s been so long—they probably aren’t as sad anymore.”

Yu Xiang’an rambled on about her family, sharing little memories. Lin Chuanbai listened quietly, attentively.

Then, suddenly, he recalled Lin Yunling’s words—a friend to share troubles and sorrows with.

A friend.

He looked at Yu Xiang’an, whose smile didn’t reach her eyes, which were full of sadness.

They… probably were.