Chapter 70:

Previously, Yu Xiang’an had not had practical exposure to the issues arising from the current reforms. Now, with this work environment, she even wrote several articles on the subject. These were of a different nature from her previous writings—these were academic papers. She wrote three in a row, which made others take her opinions more seriously. She spoke from the shoulders of giants, never letting praise get to her head, remaining humble from start to finish. Her colleagues and superiors held her in high regard—talented, capable, and without arrogance. Who wouldn’t want to work with someone like that?

Liu Mingyue couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. “How on earth did you come up with these ideas? We graduated from the same university, the same class—how can people be so different?”

Though the three of them were assigned to different positions, they were all in the same department and had some understanding of each other. They often chatted, whether during lunch in the cafeteria or after work in the afternoon.

When it came to this topic, what could Yu Xiang’an say? The real reason was that she had an unfair advantage—but she couldn’t tell them that. So she could only say, “Maybe it’s just a natural talent?” Though this “talent” had an expiration date. Once she exhausted her knowledge, she’d lose it.

“We’ve all been officially hired now, but you’re already a level above us, with more than ten yuan extra in salary. Are you planning to bring your kids here to go to school?”

“No, it’s still inconvenient for a family of four to live here. It’s better for them to attend school near their father.” They had a house there, so living conditions were more spacious. She could visit when she had time.

The dormitory she was assigned was perfectly fine for just her, but squeezing in a whole family would be tight, and it would make Lin Chuanbai’s commute to school inconvenient.

Liu Mingyue nodded in understanding. “The academic atmosphere there is better. I’m still debating whether my kids should stay with their father or come with me. What about you?” She turned to Wang Haiwen.

Wang Haiwen adjusted his glasses. “My son is with his grandfather in another city.”

Liu Mingyue suddenly realized, “No wonder you never mention him.”

Wang Haiwen smiled without responding—clearly not wanting to continue the topic.

Yu Xiang’an smoothly changed the subject. “Money doesn’t go far these days. My family bought a TV, and just like that, hundreds of yuan were gone. But if we didn’t buy it, the kids would keep watching at other people’s houses, so we just bit the bullet.”

Liu Mingyue sighed. “Isn’t that the truth? I love watching TV too—whenever I have time, I’m glued to it. But there just aren’t enough programs. Sometimes there’s nothing on at all.”

Wang Haiwen hadn’t bought one. Living alone in his dorm, he usually just read newspapers or books. Hearing them talk, he remarked, “Your place must be crowded with visitors, huh?”

“It’s better now. A couple of years ago, TVs were a real rarity—you might not find a single one in an entire alley.”

Things had improved a lot since the reforms. Though big-ticket items still required ration coupons, supply had become more abundant. Plus, with private businesses making money, buying such items had become fashionable.

Liu Mingyue sighed again. “Isn’t that the truth? Buying things isn’t as hard as before, but money doesn’t seem to stretch as far either.”

—

After receiving her diploma, Yu Xiang’an began considering legitimate ways to earn money. Since she couldn’t do it herself, she thought of investing. Her plan to open restaurants nationwide was temporarily postponed, but she still needed to make money—otherwise, she might face financial strain later.

After some deliberation and discussing it with Lin Chuanbai, she approached Zhong Jianqiang.

His capital was too limited, and with his family’s expenses, he hadn’t saved much. He had considered more lucrative ventures but was constrained by funds.

Yu Xiang’an asked him, “What if I provide the recipe and 200 yuan in startup capital, and we go into business together? You handle the labor and operations, and we split the profits 40-60—40 for me, 60 for you. What do you think?”

Zhong Jianqiang was stunned and instinctively looked at Lin Chuanbai, who was sitting nearby.

Lin Chuanbai nodded. “Neither of us has the time, so we thought of partnering with you. We wanted to hear your thoughts.”

Zhong Jianqiang was shocked. “I just provide labor?” Meaning he wouldn’t need to invest any capital and would still get 60%?

He snapped out of it and shook his head. “Of course I’d love to, but that would be shameless of me. The recipe is yours, the capital is yours—what does my labor count for? I won’t pretend—I know your skills. This business can work, but the split should be reversed: 60 for you, 40 for me.”

Currently, he made a living reselling farm goods, but profits were slim. After deducting operating costs, he only had a few dozen yuan left. If Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai were putting in 200 yuan plus the recipe, how could he take the majority without feeling guilty?

Yu Xiang’an smiled. His attitude was refreshing. “Don’t say that. It’ll be hard work. Setting up the stall will depend entirely on you and your wife.”

After further discussion, they settled on a 50-50 split, with the other terms unchanged. Yu Xiang’an also made it clear upfront, “You’ll have to work hard, but the profits will be worth it. First, I’ll teach you how to make the broth.”

She taught them everything without holding back. If this were a stranger, she’d risk losing everything to a scammer. But they’d known each other long enough to trust his character. Besides, he had a family—running off wasn’t likely.

So Yu Xiang’an didn’t hold back.

Even if the worst happened, the loss wouldn’t be significant. This was just one of many recipes she’d experimented with—she wouldn’t risk her best ones like this.

Once they were proficient, they got to work. They modified a pushcart, adding a coal stove underneath and a pot on top. The cart alone cost 100 yuan. Another stove, pot, and ingredients brought the total close to 200 yuan.

At first, Zhong Jianqiang and his wife were unsure, and business was slow. Then Yu Xiang’an suggested offering free samples—using cheap vegetables to attract customers. Once they got a foothold, things improved. Customers who tried it found that a skewer of greens cost just one fen—who couldn’t afford that?

Once they tried it, they couldn’t stop.

In season, one fen could buy a jin (half-kilogram) of vegetables in the countryside, but here, it was just one skewer—two pieces.

If greens weren’t enough, there was meat—slightly pricier at two fen or five fen per skewer. The most expensive item was chicken legs at two mao each.

For a filling meal, two fen could buy a small portion of sweet potato noodles. Soaked long enough, they absorbed the broth’s flavor perfectly. Add one fen for greens, and you had a bowl of noodle soup.

The first month’s net profit was 34.8 yuan. The second month: 46.3 yuan. By the third month, business was booming—123 yuan in net profit!

This was practically highway robbery. They recouped their investment in just three months.

The fourth month promised even better earnings if they went to high-traffic areas with enough supplies.

This income made the couple focus all their energy on the business. They saw hope of buying their own home.

Currently, ten people were crammed into a 20-square-meter space, enduring the disdain of his elder brother’s wife. If they could earn enough, they could move out and escape this life.

They managed their time well. Their two children, now in elementary school, helped out—washing vegetables and skewering ingredients after school.

By the fifth month, they bought a second pushcart, doubling their income by operating in two locations.

With this, if anyone asked how she had so much money later, she’d have an explanation.

—

Yu Xiangyan occasionally brought his family over, bringing ingredients to chat, catch up, and let the kids play together.

As each other’s only relatives in a foreign city, they made an effort to stay close. When they were still students living on stipends, Yu Xiangyan rarely visited to avoid burdening his sister. Now that they had incomes, they brought their own food, making visits more frequent.

He was doing well in the Ministry of Foreign Trade, with decent benefits.

His tone was satisfied. “No wonder so many people want to go to college. If I’d stayed at the paper mill, I’d never have seen this life. Back in Hongxing Brigade, 20 yuan a month was a fortune. Now I make two or three times that, with room to grow. The future’s bright. I never dared dream of this before. If I stay here, I’ll be a true Beijinger—right under the emperor’s feet.”

Wen Ruzhen smiled beside him.

Her life was leisurely now. She was pursuing a master’s degree and, barring surprises, would stay on as a university teacher—a respectable, low-stress job with good benefits.

She loved this peaceful life.

Yu Xiyi, the eldest, missed their hometown the most. Watching TV while listening to the adults, she chimed in, “Life here is much better than back home. If only Great-Grandpa and Great-Grandma were here—I’d take them to see Tiananmen.”

Yu Xiangyan glanced at her, smiling. The child’s filial piety was heartwarming.

“Don’t you think Dad hasn’t asked? They’re too old for such a long trip. What if something happens? Even your grandpa won’t come, let alone your great-grandparents.”

They valued being buried in their homeland. They wanted to visit, but if something happened on the road, they’d die far from home—a taboo.

So they preferred hearing about life here rather than coming themselves.

Yu Xiwan, the youngest (a year younger than the twins), still remembered her great-grandparents. Before the three siblings came to the capital, Yu Changyou and Zhang Chahua had raised them—their bond was deep.

The twins, however, barely remembered them. Without photos, they might’ve forgotten their faces entirely.

Yu Xiyi reminisced about their hometown. “I loved going to the creek. The water was shallow, so adults didn’t worry. We’d catch little fish and shrimp. If we got a big one, we’d gather dry branches and grill it right there. A pinch of salt at home made it delicious.”

The twins were curious. “How did you start the fire?”

“Brought matches, of course.”

The twins nodded. “Sis, can you grill fish?”

“I can. Mine were the best. Some people burned theirs—such a waste. I’ve even grilled bird eggs…”

At the mention of bird eggs, Yu Xiangyan remembered something. “Society’s changed a lot. I heard something—people say it’s true. That tea egg vendor at the street corner near our office makes over 200 yuan a month. Our combined salaries don’t even reach 100.”

Wen Ruzhen knew about it too. “Some say if that’s true, going to college is pointless—better off selling tea eggs.”

Yu Xiangyan shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with private business—the state allows it now. But selling tea eggs isn’t easy. With a college degree, people respect us. But private vendors? They keep quiet. Once, when I took the kids to school, I saw other kids bullying one because his parents were private vendors.”

Yu Xiang’an: “That won’t last forever.”

Wen Ruzhen: “Kids just parrot what they hear at home.”

Yu Xiangyan: “Private vendors might have a bad rep, but they’re making money. Some buy clothes wholesale from the south and sell them without ration coupons. Have you seen the prices? So cheap. A classmate’s brother does this—his family already has all four major appliances.”

Yu Xiang’an refilled their teacups. “Exactly. Buying things isn’t as hard now, and there’s more choice. People spend more freely. Second Brother, would you have bought these hairpins for the kids before?”

She pointed to the ornate clips on Yu Xiyi and Yu Xiwan’s hair. These used to cost several yuan at state stores, but now, pretty ones could be had for just a few mao.

Yu Xiangyan laughed. “True. Manwu’s in the Special Economic Zone—I wonder if he knows where to get those cheap clothes. I’ve written to ask. If he finds out, I’ll have him wire me and send some back. With so many of us, even with shipping, we’d save a lot.”

At the mention of Yu Manwu, Yu Xiang’an smiled. “Hasn’t he settled down now?”

Yu Xiangyan sighed. “Sort of. He’s making money, but he keeps getting into fights.”

Yu Manwu had gone to the Special Zone, starting as a porter, then a waiter, before moving to construction.

With Hongxing Brigade’s brick kiln there, every young man knew basic bricklaying.

After some time, Yu Manwu wrote home—now, he had twenty or thirty men working under him. By local standards, he was a contractor.

During this period of rapid development, with their craftsmanship, they would definitely make a good fortune.

“Auntie probably isn’t as worried now.”

…

At times, Yu Xiang’an would feel a sense of temporal disorientation.

With the reform and opening-up, movies and songs from Hong Kong made their way here, sparking a wave of trends.

More and more things were finding their way into the mainland through various means.

Walking down the streets, one could occasionally spot outfits resembling those of movie stars, and some particularly avant-garde individuals even boldly permed their hair.

At the time, perming was quite damaging to hair. Some people would heat up iron tongs from their stoves at home and curl their hair themselves, leaving behind a strong burnt smell upon closer inspection.

The first time Yu Xiang’an saw such a “bombshell” hairstyle up close, her inner reaction was: “…”

It felt like a throwback to the non-mainstream era.

The past was too cringe-worthy to recall. Though she hadn’t gone for such eye-catching hairstyles during her rebellious phase, she had still indulged in some attention-grabbing outfits.

Of course, Yu Xiang’an and her colleagues in the department couldn’t do anything so outrageous, but some had already taken the plunge—like Ke Manyun.

Ke Manyun was quite attractive and popular, something Yu Xiang’an had always known.

Combined with her shy personality and soft-spoken manner, this combination appealed to many male colleagues.

Assigned to work at a pharmaceutical factory with excellent benefits, she now had more money to spend on her appearance. Paying attention to one’s looks wasn’t a bad thing, but when she invited them out for a meal, Yu Xiang’an immediately realized the real purpose: Ke Manyun just wanted them to compliment her new look.

She had permed the lower half of her hair, letting it fall loosely over her shoulders, giving off a uniquely charming vibe. Her face seemed dusted with powder, making her complexion fairer and more even. But the most striking feature was her lips—painted in bold red lipstick. Paired with her fitted, pale yellow dress, black kitten heels, she looked like she’d stepped right out of a movie.

Liu Mingyue clicked her tongue in admiration. “Wow, Manyun, you’ve changed so much in such a short time! If I saw you on the street, I might not even recognize you. This outfit is stunning!”

By later standards, the look wouldn’t be anything special, but at the time, it was quite bold.

Ke Manyun pursed her lips, blushing. “Really? The lipstick and dress are both from Hong Kong—they were quite expensive.”

She twirled in front of Yu Xiang’an and Liu Mingyue.

Wang Meng couldn’t help but roll her eyes discreetly. Assigned to a steel factory near the pharmaceutical plant and having shared a dorm with Ke Manyun for four years, they had grown closer after graduation. Naturally, Ke Manyun sought her out first when she wanted to show off.

Since she was facing Yu Xiang’an and Liu Mingyue, both caught Wang Meng’s expression. Liu Mingyue stifled a laugh and shot her a look.

If Ke Manyun noticed, she’d definitely be upset.

After all, she was just a young girl looking for compliments—what was so hard about that?

But for Wang Meng, who was also unmarried and even younger than Manyun, it might be a bit challenging.

So she chimed in, “Who helped you buy these?”

Ke Manyun lowered her head, fingers twisting unconsciously. “A colleague got them for me. He has connections in Hong Kong.”

At this, Liu Mingyue shot Wang Meng a questioning glance.

*Is she seeing someone?*

Wang Meng shrugged: *How would I know? Haven’t heard anything.*

Liu Mingyue: “That’s nice of your colleague. Must owe him a favor now, huh?”

Ke Manyun’s voice turned bashful. “No, he’s really kind. He offered himself.”

Liu Mingyue: *Hmm, seems like there might be something going on.*

Yu Xiang’an also shrugged: *Who knows?*

When Ke Manyun looked up again, the three of them had already wiped the teasing expressions off their faces.

Ke Manyun: “Do you guys want to buy some Hong Kong goods too? They really make a statement. The clothes there are so much prettier than ours.”

Her voice was soft, but her tone was full of admiration.

She continued, “Even if your salaries aren’t as high as mine, they’re still decent. If you save up, you can afford them.”

Yu Xiang’an: “…”

Had she misheard? There seemed to be a hint of smugness in that sentence.

Then she caught Ke Manyun’s gaze—no, she hadn’t misheard.

Ke Manyun *was* being smug, and she was looking right at her with pride.

*Targeting me?*

Yu Xiang’an was baffled.

Was Ke Manyun trying to assert superiority over her?

She found it both amusing and exasperating.

Ke Manyun was getting carried away. If she knew Yu Xiang’an was planning to step back and become an “unambitious” self-employed business owner, wouldn’t she gloat even more?

With that thought, Yu Xiang’an shook her head. This was just an ordinary classmate—no need to take it seriously. What Ke Manyun thought didn’t matter.

Yu Xiang’an submitted her resignation in 1982.

When Liu Mingyue heard the news, she nearly popped her eyes out. “Have you lost your mind?” she blurted. Just as Yu Xiang’an was on the verge of a promotion and raise, she wanted to quit?

Yu Xiang’an explained seriously, “Of course not. You’ve all seen how much hair I’ve lost recently. Besides, I’ve always loved cooking—you know that. To be honest, it’s been my dream all along. I know you guys wouldn’t look down on self-employment. It’s still earning money through hard work. Remember last month? One of our classmates quit and went to the special economic zone.”

Liu Mingyue stared at her. “Who’s stopping you from cooking now? That’s completely different from becoming self-employed. You know how people view individual business owners—they’ll look down on you, give you dirty looks, and make snide remarks.”

Wang Haiwen fell silent for a moment. After the initial shock, he quickly composed himself. “You’ve thought this through?”

“Yes, I’ve considered it for a long time. This path isn’t for me.”

The political game involved too much scheming.

Though rumors said she was up for a promotion, nothing was confirmed. Meanwhile, she was already being subtly undermined, yet she couldn’t effectively retaliate.

Her opponent was too slippery—no leverage to grasp—and had deep connections.

If she stayed on this path, such frustrations would likely become routine.

“Does your family know?”

“My husband agrees.” Yu Xiang’an didn’t mention the others.

Naturally, most of them opposed the idea.

Liu Mingyue and Wang Haiwen could read between the lines. They could only sigh. “If even your husband supports you… well, he should’ve talked you out of it. Have you considered failure? If it doesn’t work out, coming back won’t be easy.”

“I have. There are other paths I can take.”

Hearing this, as friends, Liu Mingyue and Wang Haiwen could only offer their blessings. “Once you set an opening date, let us know. We’ll definitely come support you.”

“We know your skills. We’ll bring friends and family too.”

“Of course I won’t forget to invite you.”

She had already renovated the space—their current residence. A section of the roadside wall had been torn down, replaced with two single-story buildings.

All preparations were nearly complete: the place was decorated, staff hired, and the business license was almost approved.

Now, all that was left was for her, the head chef, to shine.