Chapter 61:

Yu Xiang’an refused, “He’s not an easy person to deal with. Being too frequent might arouse his suspicion. Cows aren’t like pigs—fewer people raise them. Let’s not sell fresh meat for a while.”

Lin Chuanbai understood but wanted to divert her attention. He readily agreed, “Then let’s cook something delicious ourselves? I’d love a beef and radish stew.”

As soon as she refused, he proposed the next idea.

Yu Xiang’an knew his intention—to temporarily set it aside and wait for her eldest brother’s reply.

Yu Xianghai received Yu Xiang’an’s letter and wasn’t surprised. Such a big matter would naturally prompt her to ask questions. When he first learned of it, hadn’t he also been shocked and asked many things?

Zhao Qiangniang had taken things from their home to give to the Zhou family. Their father demanded compensation, but how could such things truly be compensated? There was no exact record of how much had been taken. His father’s stance was clear—he wouldn’t let it go.

Yu Xianghai had been furious too. After all they’d done for Zhao Qiangniang and her daughter, how could she betray them like this? He was sixteen or seventeen at the time and still vividly remembered how emaciated the two of them had been when they arrived, carrying nothing but two sets of old clothes.

Their actions were utterly heartless.

Because of Yu Qingshan’s firm stance, Zhao Qiangniang couldn’t repay the losses, and the Zhou family, though capable, refused. They wanted to evade responsibility—after all, there was no evidence. The stolen goods had long been consumed, and the money bore no markings.

But Yu Qingshan’s recent earnings had been marked. He’d discreetly made pencil notations on the bills, proving they belonged to his family. So how had their money ended up with the Zhou family? Theft was the only explanation.

The moment the word “theft” was mentioned, the severity of the situation escalated. Though in reality, Zhao Qiangniang had indeed been stealing from the Yu family for the Zhou family. If reported to the authorities, it would hold up in court.

Panicked, Zhao Qiangniang tried to humble herself and even pressured her youngest son to plead on her behalf. But Yu Qingshan had foreseen this—he didn’t want the boy dragged into the mess.

What could a child possibly understand? It was cruel to put him in such a position.

Zhao Qiangniang regretted it. She regretted making so many excuses, citing so many “unavoidable reasons.” She should have simply admitted her mistake, promised never to do it again, and ensured there would be no second time.

Yu Xianghai: “…”

He couldn’t bring himself to believe her.

Once was enough to set a precedent.

Yu Xianghai had his own children and understood that Ding Minxiu was Zhao Qiangniang’s only daughter—her bias was natural. Even he couldn’t say for certain that he’d remain impartial in her shoes.

But if their family thrived while Ding Minxiu struggled, there would inevitably be a second time. Perhaps this outcome had been sealed the moment the two families turned against each other.

When he first learned of the matter, Yu Xianghai couldn’t decipher his father’s thoughts. Would he let it pass, or would he make a clean break?

The only way to sever ties with the Zhou family completely was to cut ties with Zhao Qiangniang. That way, Yu family possessions would never again end up in Zhou hands.

What would his father do?

As it turned out, Yu Qingshan had always been a decisive man. He must have realized that such incidents would only recur endlessly.

He proposed separation.

Zhao Qiangniang refused, weeping and making a scene. But Yu Qingshan stood firm—if she wouldn’t agree, they’d separate. He would no longer provide her money or goods, and the Zhou family would still have to compensate their losses.

After a stalemate, Ding Minxiu intervened. Somehow, Zhao Qiangniang agreed.

Later, Yu Xianghai learned that the Zhou family had helped Zhao Qiangniang secure a temporary job—cleaning at the meat processing plant, earning eighteen yuan a month. She also rented a place near the Zhou family to care for her grandson.

Seeing how things unfolded, Yu Xianghai knew Ding Minxiu must have persuaded her mother.

Why? It was obvious. If Ding Minxiu promised that her son would support Zhao Qiangniang in her old age, the woman’s earnings would inevitably flow to her daughter and grandson.

Zhao Qiangniang wasn’t too old yet—she could still work for years. If she’d stayed with the Yu family, part of her earnings would have gone to her youngest son.

Her decision to agree meant she’d chosen Ding Minxiu over the boy. After all, he wasn’t her blood, and his future character was uncertain.

Since she had raised him, once the matter was settled, no further action was taken.

She had entered the Yu family with nothing. Now, she was allowed to take all the belongings she’d accumulated over the years—two large trunks’ worth. The contents spoke volumes about how well she’d been treated.

Yu Xianghai believed they had nothing to be ashamed of.

Had things remained peaceful, Ding Minxiu would have been treated no differently from the other sisters—educated, supported, and given a dowry. Zhao Qiangniang’s retirement wouldn’t have been a concern either.

As the eldest son, Yu Xianghai would have taken responsibility for his father’s care. But since he’d moved out, the duty fell to the youngest son, whom Zhao Qiangniang had raised. Given their bond, there was no fear he’d neglect her in old age.

But now, with everything in shambles, Yu Xianghai wondered if Zhao Qiangniang would regret her choices once the dust settled.

He worried about his father—that he might brood or fall into depression.

But Yu Qingshan was surprisingly unburdened.

“Now I eat all three meals at the factory. It’s no trouble at all.”

Yu Qingshan had thought ahead. When he discovered the theft, Zhao Qiangniang’s first instinct hadn’t been to apologize but to justify herself, lamenting how pitiful her grandson was.

Pitiful? Yu Qingshan almost didn’t recognize the word.

The Zhou family’s sole heir couldn’t possibly be living in hardship. The boy was better off than most children. Her claim of his “pitiful” state stemmed only from his inability to enjoy the rare delicacies the Yu family had access to.

Their household was an exception—few could match Yu Xiang’an’s culinary skills.

Her favoritism was clear, and that was why Yu Qingshan had acted so decisively. If things continued, he feared his youngest son would be led astray.

Now that they were separated, the boy was sent to school in the commune. As for Yu Qingshan, living alone was manageable.

—

When Yu Xiang’an received Yu Xianghai’s letter, it provided more details, clarifying the whole ordeal.

Since the matter was already settled, nothing she said would change it. So she gathered study materials for elementary students, planning to send them to Yu Xiangqing.

Yu Xiangju was now living with her. She figured keeping him occupied—like with practice problems—would prevent him from dwelling on things.

It might sound harsh, but it was effective.

Yu Xiangju wasn’t like them. The affection Zhao Qiangniang had shown him was genuine. If, when he grew up, he wanted to help her, Yu Xiang’an wouldn’t object.

Given Ding Minxiu’s personality and the Zhou family’s nature, Yu Xiang’an suspected that once Zhao Qiangniang grew too old to work and had nothing left to give, her situation might worsen. She hoped the woman would leave herself a way out.

If she safeguarded some resources, Ding Minxiu would treat her well for the sake of those assets. But if she exhausted her usefulness, the future was uncertain.

If she ended up in dire straits, Yu Xiang’an believed Yu Xiangju would soften. He was a compassionate boy.

—

Liu Taoquan was now an old man who cleaned toilets, perpetually carrying an unpleasant odor. People avoided him, keeping their distance.

Sometimes, he couldn’t fathom how he’d ended up this way. Memories of his past life felt like a distant dream.

He had once been the director of a factory. His family had built their fortune over generations, and he’d worked hard to revive their enterprise—only for everything to be confiscated overnight.

Assigned to clean toilets, he was told the labor would “reform his capitalist-corrupted mind.”

His family’s grand estate had been divided among numerous households. All they retained were two small rooms in the side building.

His meager earnings from cleaning toilets barely sustained him and his grandchildren. His son had been sent to a labor camp.

Though the job was despised, it had one advantage—people avoided him because of the smell, sparing him frequent public denouncements and humiliation.

Compared to being pelted with rotten eggs during struggle sessions, enduring occasional thrown vegetable scraps was preferable.

At first, he’d hated the job. But over time, he grew accustomed—it became his shield, offering some semblance of peace.

Even now, people occasionally barged into his home, inspecting whether he lived beyond his “proper station.”

He endured it all. His own life didn’t matter—he’d lived long enough. But his grandchildren were still young.

Despite the hardships, they’d grown up. But now, Liu Taoquan feared he’d failed his ancestors.

His only grandson was on the verge of death.

The boy had been taunted and bullied by a group of teenagers. Unable to bear the humiliation, he’d fought back—only to be severely beaten.

Though the bullies were injured, the grandson was worse off—covered in blood, unconscious.

Liu Taoquan rushed him to a doctor, who said only ginseng aged over thirty years could save him. Otherwise, his chances were slim.

Liu Taoquan had some ginseng stored, but not enough. It could buy time, but the treatment would be costly—far beyond their means.

The doctor, who had ties to their family, agreed to treat the boy and even covered initial expenses. But long-term care was impossible.

Tears streamed down Liu Taoquan’s face.

Their family had once kept ginseng for emergencies, but it had vanished into someone else’s pockets.

Such ginseng was rare. In these times, procuring it was even harder.

But seeing his grandson’s faint breaths, he couldn’t give up.

He spread word that he sought ginseng aged over thirty years, offering a hefty reward.

He still had connections from his past. Though he’d refrained from using them before, this was a matter of life and death.

Some families kept such ginseng for emergencies, but few were willing to part with it. Once sold, replenishing it would be near impossible.

Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai eventually heard the news—someone was offering a fortune for thirty-year-old ginseng.

Their response: “How much is ‘a fortune’?”

Their question implied they had what was sought.

Liu Taoquan soon arrived at the meeting place.

His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles beneath them, but his gaze was fierce—like a wolf’s. It was clear the person in need meant everything to him.

His demeanor suggested that if the ginseng failed, he might do something drastic.

“A broken ship still has three nails,” he muttered.

“Do you have ginseng over thirty years old?”

Lin Chuanbai nodded.

Liu Taoquan produced a sandalwood box containing an exquisite pair of jade pendants—a dragon and phoenix, crafted from premium mutton-fat jade.

“This has been passed down in my family. Someone once offered two thousand silver dollars, but my ancestors refused to sell.”

Even without expertise, Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an could tell the jade was exceptional—the finest they’d ever seen.

Lin Chuanbai retrieved a small cloth bundle and unwrapped it for inspection.

Liu Taoquan examined it meticulously, verifying the ginseng’s age.

“This appears to be around thirty-two years old.”

Lin Chuanbai corrected him, “This ginseng is thirty-three years and some months old. It meets your requirement.”

Ginseng held such power—in life-or-death moments, even family heirlooms were traded without hesitation.

Lin Chuanbai was certain Liu Taoquan had other treasures. A family legacy spanning generations inevitably held valuables.

The jade pendants were admired briefly before being set aside—they’d make perfect heirlooms for their twins. A dragon and phoenix pair, fitting for a boy and girl.

Later, Lin Chuanbai happened to see Liu Taoquan again, still quietly cleaning toilets.

From his demeanor, the person he’d sought to save must have survived—the earlier desperation was gone.

That was a relief.

A colleague noticed Lin Chuanbai’s gaze and recognized Liu Taoquan.

“Do you know who that is? He was once the ‘Cigarette King’ here—half the cigarettes in our region came from his factory. A true tycoon, with estates and mansions. But then his assets were seized—or ‘donated,’ depending on who you ask. Now, he’s just a toilet cleaner. Quite the fall from grace…”

Colleagues kept sighing, while Lin Chuanbai remained silent.

He wasn’t the only one.

In those times, every family that had once possessed some assets had endured enough suffering to fill a tragic drama.

He should be grateful—he hadn’t been labeled as one of the “Black Five Categories.”

…

That year passed without major upheavals, except for one incident. Someone from the mechanical factory’s clinic was transferred out, and Lin Houpu hoped Lin Chuanbai would take the position. But Lin Chuanbai refused.

Lin Houpu: “Have you ever considered the possibility that you might fail the exams? Besides, who knows when the college entrance exams will be restored?”

“If I fail, I have a backup plan.” If he failed, he’d become a self-employed entrepreneur.

Lin Houpu: “…” Why wouldn’t this stubborn kid listen?

Lin Duzhong had asked him before. Hearing that he wanted to pursue pharmacology, he let him be. The current vacancy was for treating patients.

Since he had a goal, he should follow it.

Lin Houpu realized he was the only one in the family standing in opposition.

“…”

Fine, he wouldn’t interfere anymore.

By that year, the political campaigns were likely coming to an end. Some places sensed it and resisted fiercely, while others remained stable under control. Qincheng was one of the cities where leadership maintained order. That year, the chaos subsided significantly.

Still, no rumors about the restoration of the college entrance exams had surfaced yet.

Yu Xiang’an asked Liu Hengbo to help prepare a test paper.

Liu Hengbo excelled in history and was decent in other subjects. When the scores came out, he felt regretful—if the college entrance exams hadn’t been suspended, Xiao An would have surely gotten into a good university.

He had always admired Yu Xiang’an. Though she mentioned studying, he hadn’t known her level until the scores revealed it.

His admiration and pity were profound.

Over the years, the suspension of the college entrance exams had deprived the country of countless talents.

What a shame.

…

Time drifted along until 1977.

Once 1977 arrived, Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an devoted even more effort to studying.

Rumors about the exams’ restoration emerged in April. Lin Houpu, due to his senior position, heard the news first. He summoned them home, his expression complicated: “If the college entrance exams are really restored, are you two confident?”

At these words, Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an grew excited—was there news?!

If so, the timeline here was slightly ahead of their original world.

“Yes! The only difference is whether we get into a top-tier or lower-tier school. But we’re confident we’ll pass.”

Lin Houpu: “Good. Remember your words. Don’t let me catch you making empty promises. Focus on studying—don’t slip up at the last moment.”

That was confirmation.

Li Yujiao stood nearby, her expression odd. They had actually waited until the day the exams were restored.

Since rumors were spreading, there had to be some truth to them. Even if the higher-ups hadn’t finalized plans, it wouldn’t be long.

Lin Duzhong smiled. His second grandson had long told him that if the exams were restored, he’d apply to medical school.

He had little expertise in pharmacology, but medical school would provide many mentors.

He had full confidence in his grandson. With his talent and dedication, he would surely succeed.

“I’ll help take care of the child. Don’t distract yourselves with other matters—just focus.”

Lin Chuanbai sighed in relief: “Thank you, Grandpa.”

Yu Xiang’an also sent telegrams to Yu Qingshan, Yu Xiangqing, and Yu Xiangyan.

She didn’t state it outright, but she had hinted in previous letters. This was just confirmation.

They’d understand—she was definitely taking the exams.

Yu Qingshan was thrilled when he read it. If she passed, the Yu family would have its first college graduate—a proud milestone.

He showed the telegram to Yu Xianghai and Yao Cuifen, though they merely glanced at it.

At their age, returning to school was impossible. The knowledge they’d learned had long faded.

Ye Qijia’s two younger brothers, however, were still in high school. If the exams were restored, they could take them. Realizing this, Ye Qijia visited her family and soon bought textbooks and study guides.

Yu Xiangqing was overjoyed when she received the telegram.

She supported her sister’s decision.

If the exams were eventually restored, the official announcement couldn’t be far off. She felt both nervous and excited.

Why not try?

If she failed, life would go on as usual. If she succeeded, she’d be a college student.

She not only studied herself but also pressured Yu Xiangju to join her.

Yu Xiangju: “…”

Life was hard.

Despite his complaints, Yu Xiangju performed well—consistently ranking in the top three, whether in the county or the commune.

Before they even started school, Yu Xiang’an had laid their foundations, using treats as incentives. This early advantage had kept them ahead.

They had pride, too. Staying at the top was satisfying; slipping behind would feel like a loss.

Yu Xiangyan pondered for two hours after reading the telegram.

If the exams were restored, Wen Ruzhen and Wen Yizhen would likely take them.

They were academically gifted—they’d probably pass.

What would he do then?

He was average at best in studies. He lacked confidence, but universities varied in quality. If they aimed for top schools, he could settle for a lesser one.

If he failed… Yu Xiangyan wiped his face. He wouldn’t let his wife go alone—he feared she might drift away. He’d follow her to university and find work there.

But passing would be ideal—a matching couple.

Determined, he steeled himself.

He had savings—enough to last a few years. If not, borrowing from family wasn’t a problem.

After deciding, he showed the telegram to Wen Ruzhen, feigning nonchalance.

“We planned to visit my sister this year, but now we should focus on studying. She’s not certain yet, so keep it quiet—but we should inform Grandpa.”

Wen Ruzhen’s smile was radiant.

If the exams were restored… could her father’s reputation be cleared too?

The thought made her eyes burn.

Had they finally reached dawn?

…

Yu Xiangyan considered Yu Manchang and his brothers. Yu Manchang had the highest education—middle school. Would they take the exams?

At first, he doubted it. But remembering Yu Manwu’s pursuit of Ruan Chenxi, he hesitated.

If educated youths learned the exams might return, they’d surely take them. Ruan Chenxi, for instance—her family was in Shanghai. Passing the exams could be her ticket home.

If he himself was willing to study hard, what would Yu Manwu choose? If he couldn’t let go, he might gamble on the exams.

Upon hearing the news, Yu Manwu fell silent for a long time.

Yu Xiangyan patted his shoulder: “No rush. Think it over.”

Yu Manwu smiled bitterly: “If I delay and the news is true, I’d be wasting her time. Brother, are you really taking the exams?”

Yu Xiangyan laughed: “Don’t underestimate me. I graduated high school too.”

Yu Manwu forced a smile: “Not me. I only finished elementary school. Do you think I could pass?” He shook his head, murmuring: “Let me think… think carefully…”

Though the news hadn’t spread widely, it had already stirred restless thoughts.