Chapter 97:

When Lei Ming and his group returned, he immediately placed an order for six thousand large cotton-padded jackets, along with a thousand pajamas and a hundred scarves. Without even asking, Yu Xiang’an could tell their business was thriving.

This time, Lei Ming tentatively bought some canned goods, about half of which were cheaper fish-based cans. The quantity wasn’t large since this was just a trial run.

After several back-and-forth trips, the orders grew steadily, and their cooperation became increasingly seamless. Yu Xiang’an shipped the goods directly to the train station, where Lei Ming’s team would receive them and transport them to their destination before transferring to another route.

Lin Chuanbai felt like he was witnessing—and even participating in—history. Aside from the rise of international traders, another significant event was the implementation of compulsory education this year. Before this policy, children had to pay tuition to attend school, which wasn’t cheap, especially for rural families.

A few yuan a year might not seem like much, but when factoring in tuition, textbooks, and miscellaneous fees, plus the lost labor of a child who could no longer help with household chores, tending to younger siblings, or doing lighter farm work, many struggling families simply couldn’t afford it.

With tuition now waived, more parents recognized the benefits of education and were willing to send their children to school. If a child could excel, it meant upward mobility for the whole family. As for textbook and miscellaneous fees—well, secondhand books could be reused, and other expenses could be managed with some effort.

Some parents even sent their kids just to take advantage of the free education, even if they hadn’t planned to before. Regardless of their motives, this shift would profoundly impact the children’s futures.

Suddenly, the number of children enrolled in school surged. Most were boys, though the number of girls also increased—still fewer than boys, but a significant improvement nonetheless.

Chen Xiaoyang was particularly happy about this. She encouraged her nieces to attend school when they came of age. Education was invaluable—she had longed to go to school as a child but couldn’t due to poverty. She didn’t resent her family, though, since even her brothers hadn’t all attended school. Later, she learned to read and write through literacy classes, mastering basic skills like writing her name and recognizing numbers.

Her current literacy level was the result of self-study and asking others for help after she started working in the factory. It had been exhausting—working all day and then straining her brain at night. If she’d had the chance to attend school as a child, she might have seized more opportunities and even earned a promotion by now.

Liu Sanbao was also thrilled. She took a day off to visit her hometown.

She was one of the lucky ones. Back then, she had mustered the courage to leave her village in search of a better life and was soon hired by Yu Xiang’an as her assistant. Though not exceptionally talented, Liu Sanbao was meticulous, remembering every task and anticipating her boss’s needs to avoid last-minute scrambles.

Her excellent performance led to steady raises. This trip was to share the good news with her brothers.

Unlike her generation, where families had fewer children and girls were sometimes allowed to attend school, her brothers now had large families. Sending all their kids to school would have been a financial strain, but with compulsory education, it was possible. After all, these children couldn’t yet support the household anyway.

While many supported compulsory education, some opposed it—especially when it came to girls around eight or nine years old.

At that age, girls could do a lot: care for younger siblings, feed chickens, wash clothes, cook, tend pigs, hang laundry, weed gardens, and pick peanuts—practically functioning as half an adult. If they went to school, even if tuition-free, these tasks would go undone, and meals wouldn’t get made.

But compulsory education meant all children had to attend. If families resisted, village leaders would step in to persuade them.

Most eventually relented, but some stubbornly refused, insisting their daughters were needed at home.

“What’s the point of girls studying so much? They’ll just get married anyway.”

“If she goes to school, who’ll do the chores? Who’ll watch the younger kids? If the adults stay home to work, we’ll starve.”

A compromise emerged: some children brought their siblings to class. As long as the little ones didn’t disrupt lessons, teachers turned a blind eye. Getting an education was hard enough—families had to make do. If a child could go far in their studies, it could change their entire life.

The twins witnessed this a few times and felt grateful for their own fortunate circumstances.

Their parents might not be overly affectionate in front of them, but they worked hard to provide a good life. The twins had plenty to eat and wear, attended school, and even had access to extracurricular classes.

Though sometimes, their parents’ closeness made them feel like third wheels. When the family was together, their parents often shooed them away, either retreating to their room or going out alone—who knew where.

The perpetually “in the way” Lin Yihong and Lin Yining: “…”

These eyes had seen too much.

Now in sixth grade, they weren’t exactly young anymore. Some of their peers were already experiencing puppy love.

The twins, both good-looking, had received a few love letters.

All were rejected.

Lin Yihong: “I’ll start dating in college.”

Lin Yihoning: “You’re not my type, sorry.” (Her future partner had to be handsome!)

United in secrecy, they kept this from their parents.

This year, Yu Qingshan used his salary and bonuses from Yu Xiang’an to build a three-story house.

Though not fully finished, its main advantage was space—plenty of rooms to accommodate the whole family during reunions.

Staying in their father’s house felt different for Yu Xianghai and the others—more rightful than staying at Yu Xiang’an’s place, where they had to be more cautious.

The house was in the Special Economic Zone, not in the busiest area but close to the factory.

Once completed, Yu Qingshan wouldn’t live there full-time, preferring to stay with Yu Xiang’an at the factory residence.

During a visit after construction, Yu Xiang’an noted the sheer number of rooms—necessary, given the family size. Yu Xianghai’s family of five, Yu Xiangyan’s family of five, Yu Xiangqing’s family of three, her own family of four, and Yu Xiangju (still single but likely to have at least three later) meant at least sixteen rooms—six per floor across three stories.

Anything smaller wouldn’t suffice.

After furnishing next year, Yu Qingshan planned to gather everyone for a reunion. Even if his children couldn’t come, his grandchildren—students with winter and summer breaks—could.

His reasoning resonated with Yu Xiang’an. While their generation had grown up close, the next might become strangers without regular interaction.

“Let’s have them all come next winter break,” Yu Xiang’an suggested. “The house will be ready. I’ll enroll them in classes—they can learn and bond at the same time.”

Yu Qingshan nodded. “Good idea.”

And so it was decided.

During the New Year, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai returned to the village and Baishi County to celebrate with Grandma Zhang Chahua and grandparents Qin Qiang and Yao Cuifen.

Passersby remarked on the lively gathering, envying the elders’ good fortune.

But shortly after the Lantern Festival, Zhang Chahua passed away in her sleep at noon.

At her age, a peaceful death was considered a “happy funeral,” but the loss was still deeply felt.

Though prepared, Yu Qingshan grieved. The funeral left him several pounds thinner. Yu Qingbao, the eldest son who shouldered most arrangements, fell ill afterward—his health wasn’t as robust as his brother’s, and the strain took its toll.

The funeral became the talk of the town. Unlike in the past, people now valued ceremony, especially for births and deaths. This one was dignified—not extravagant, but meticulously executed. The accomplished descendants in attendance left many elderly murmuring to their own children.

They didn’t dare hope for such distinguished offspring—even one would suffice.

Misfortune never comes alone. Soon after, Qin Qiang fell at home and passed away—his organs had aged beyond recovery.

Yao Cuifen was stunned. She had been the frail one, the one hospitalized before. How had he gone first?

She couldn’t understand.

Her appetite dwindled until even doctors could do nothing. Birth, aging, sickness, death—such was nature’s way.

That year, three elders passed in succession, leaving Yu Xiang’an listless. Watching children grow brought joy, but for the elderly, each year shortened their time—until it stopped entirely.

Three funerals in a row left the Yu family drained.

Amid the mourning, Yu Mingjie introduced his fiancée. Had it not been for the deaths, they would’ve married this year. Now, the wedding was postponed.

Yu Xianghai and Ye Qijia adored their future daughter-in-law—a plump, “fortunate-looking” girl who’d met their son at the power plant where both worked. Her parents—an engineer and a nurse—were equally impressive.

Yu Xiang’an felt conflicted. Once they had children, she’d be a grand-aunt. Suddenly, she was of the grandparent generation.

A bit depressing.

This semester was critical for the twins’ sixth-grade exams before junior high.

Their affiliated middle school had high standards, but given their top grades, there was little worry. Still, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai devoted extra time to tutoring.

The twins studied diligently. Though pressured, they cherished their parents’ increased presence at home.

As their exams ended, Yu Mansheng welcomed his second child with Lu Anran—a boy, completing their “perfect pair.”

Beaming, Yu Mansheng and his daughter Cailan gazed at the wrinkly newborn. “Hello, I’m your dad.”

Cailan eyed the baby, then her father. “Did Mom really have him?”

Yu Mansheng: “The doctor just brought him out, so yes.”

Cailan wrinkled her nose. “Ugly!”

Yu Mansheng laughed. “You looked like this too when you were born.”

Horrified, Cailan shook her head vehemently. “No, I didn’t!”

Yu Mansheng: “I have photos. We’ll check the album later. Don’t judge your brother now—look how pretty you are. He’ll grow up just as handsome.”

Skeptical, Cailan turned to Yu Xiang’an. “Auntie, is that true?”

Yu Xiang’an suppressed a smile. “All newborns look like this. If you take good care of him, he’ll grow to look more like you.”

Cailan nodded solemnly. “Okay, I’ll take care of him so he gets handsome faster. He’s too ugly now…”

Yu Mansheng chuckled. “You’re still little. Let Mom and Dad handle your brother—you focus on taking care of yourself, okay?”

Like last time, Yang Huili helped after Lu Anran gave birth.

With a three-year-old and a newborn, Yang Huili couldn’t step away. Though they had a nanny, toddlers couldn’t speak up if mistreated—family supervision was essential.

The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law have now adjusted quite well to each other. Lu Anran tries to avoid letting Yang Huili see anything extravagant about Yang Huili that she disapproves of, while Yang Huili turns a blind eye to household expenses—after all, if the children can earn money, it’s fine to spend a bit more.

With mutual understanding, conflicts have diminished significantly. Plus, with Yu Mansheng and the children acting as bonding agents, their relationship as mother-in-law and daughter-in-law is now quite harmonious.

The twins have finished their exams, and their aunt has just given birth to a baby boy. When they went to visit, they marveled at the tiny newborn. “It’s amazing,” they thought. “He looks a bit funny now, but he’ll grow into his looks soon—just like magic!”

Lin Yining was once devastated when she first learned she had been just as “ugly” as a baby. Back then, she worried that if she had been that unattractive before, she might become that way again someday. Now that she’s older, she looks back on that thought and can’t help but laugh at how absurd it was.

This was Lu Anran’s second childbirth, so it wasn’t as exhausting as the first. Watching the twins, she smiled contentedly—now with both a son and a daughter, she was thoroughly satisfied. “What are your plans for this summer vacation?” she asked.

Lin Yihong replied eagerly, “We’re going to visit Grandpa!” His eyes sparkled with excitement.

Their grandfather had since moved from Qincheng to a coastal city. The twins planned to spend part of their summer with their great-grandfather and grandfather before heading to a naval base, where they might even get a chance to tour a massive warship.

Since nothing was confirmed yet, Lin Yihong kept that part to himself.

Lu Anran smiled again. “It’s rare to have a break, so make sure to enjoy yourselves. But don’t neglect your studies either—otherwise, catching up later will be tough.”

They did have summer homework, and just the mention of it made Lin Yining sigh. “We’ve already started working on it so we can play without worrying later. Once we finish, we can go out without counting the days and stressing over unfinished assignments.”

Lu Anran praised them, “Good kids. If your younger siblings are even half as sensible as you when they start school, I’ll be happy.”

Yang Huili didn’t like hearing that, even if it came from her grandchildren’s mother. “They’re siblings—they’ll be just as good as their older brother and sister when they start school. Top grades, good manners, thoughtful and kind.”

Yang Huili didn’t understand things like extracurricular classes, but she could see with her own eyes how well Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiang’an had raised the twins. Not only were they top students, but they also carried themselves with grace and had impressive talents. She expected nothing less from her youngest son’s future children.

Raising such children wasn’t cheap, but her youngest son was well-off, so education was naturally a priority. Even if they couldn’t send them to military camps like the twins, that kind of experience wasn’t essential anyway.

Lin Chuanbai was too busy to accompany them, so Yu Xiang’an and Yu Qingshan took the twins north instead. Yu Xiang’an could have managed alone, but Yu Qingshan insisted on coming—his youngest daughter looked so youthful that, dressed casually, she could pass for a woman in her early twenties.

Going there was fine, but returning alone? Yu Qingshan couldn’t rest easy, so he joined the trip.

When Li Yujiao saw Yu Xiang’an, she unconsciously touched her own face. She, too, had taken good care of herself, but the signs of aging were becoming more noticeable. She used beauty products from Yu Xiang’an’s factory, but they didn’t seem as effective for her. Was it natural beauty, or did Yu Xiang’an use something else?

When she asked, Yu Xiang’an shook her head. “No, I don’t use anything else.”

Li Yujiao pressed further, “What about your diet? Anything special?”

Yu Xiang’an laughed. “I eat everything—does that count?”

If there was anything truly special, it was the spiritual spring water. Its effects weren’t immediate, but long-term use had subtly improved her health, and her glowing skin reflected that.

Traditional Chinese medicine emphasized observation—diagnosing illnesses by examining a patient’s complexion.

Lin Duzhong greeted them, and Yu Xiang’an presented two jars of wine and two ginseng roots—one over thirty years old, the other over fifty. They weren’t exceptionally rare, but they were still valuable.

“Grandpa, what do you need these for? Don’t you still have ginseng wine?”

Lin Duzhong explained, “It’s for someone else. How much did they cost? I’ll reimburse you.”

If it had been for himself, he wouldn’t have taken payment, but since it was for someone else, he insisted on paying market price.

“Grandpa, ginseng like this is getting harder to find.”

Lin Duzhong nodded. “True. These are good quality. I saw one in the market recently, but its medicinal properties had degraded—useless.”

Yu Qingshan glanced around the house. Back when Lin Duzhong lived in the factory’s residential area, he had a three-bedroom apartment. Now, with his higher rank, he had been allocated a two-story house with a small yard—a clear reflection of his status.

Yu Xiang’an noticed his inspection. “Where’s Dad?”

Lin Houpu wasn’t home, but that wasn’t surprising—he was always busy.

Lin Duzhong answered, “At work.”

Yu Xiang’an asked, “What about Tandong? Isn’t he coming back for summer break?”

Li Yujiao replied, “He’s not. Who knows what he’s up to?”

Lin Duzhong added, “He said he was visiting friends. He’s old enough to do as he pleases. Socializing is important.”

Li Yujiao understood, but as a mother, she missed her son. She had hoped to spend the long summer with him, but he wasn’t coming back.

Lin Duzhong turned to Yu Qingshan. “You probably weren’t as worried when your kids went off to school.”

Yu Qingshan chuckled. “Different circumstances. My kids were much older when they started college—not the same as Tandong, who’s still under twenty and has never worked a day in his life. Even if he’s an adult, we still see him as a kid.”

—

Yu Xiang’an didn’t stay long—just two days before returning home. The twins remained behind, waiting for their cousin Lin Yuejing so they could all go to a coastal military base for training.

When the summer was nearly over, Yu Xiang’an returned to pick them up. The twins were several shades darker—Lin Yihong especially, since he hadn’t bothered much with sunscreen. Lin Yining, on the other hand, had been more diligent, applying it religiously. Though she had still tanned, she was relieved she hadn’t reached her brother’s level.

Once school started again, she knew she’d regain her fair complexion—something she loved about her skin.

This was Lin Yuejing’s first time training with them. Though they were cousins, they hadn’t been close before. But after over a month of shared hardships, she and Lin Yining had become nearly inseparable.

When it was time to part, Lin Yuejing was reluctant. “I wish we went to the same school. Then we could see each other every day.”

Lin Yining agreed. “Next summer, we’ll do this again. And you have to write to me—or call. I’ll call you too.”

Lin Yuejing nodded. “Deal. But let’s mostly write—phone calls are expensive, and we might interrupt the adults.”

The two girls exchanged promises before finally saying goodbye.

Lin Duzhong and Lin Houpu watched fondly. This was the kind of harmony they had hoped for.

After bringing the twins home, school started almost immediately. On the first day, Wang Lipan was just as tanned as they were.

Lin Yining teased, “Want some diet tips for whitening? I asked my mom—certain foods help.”

Wang Lipan refused flatly. “No, thanks.”

Their homeroom teacher turned out to be a familiar face—Chen Yi’s father. He remembered the twins and treated them kindly, offering guidance whenever needed.

In fact, he seemed even more attentive to them than to his own son. Once, he even brought up the blue-and-white porcelain bowl.

Later, Lin Yining asked her father, “Dad, did you ever get that bowl appraised? Was it fake?”

Lin Chuanbai raised an eyebrow. “Why the sudden question?”

Lin Yining explained, “He’s been extra nice to us. I wondered if he thought you only bought it to help their family.”

Lin Chuanbai had stored the bowl away without ever appraising it.

“Your birthday is coming up. Consider the bowls your gift this year.”

Lin Yining blinked. “But our birthday’s still far off… Dad, I don’t get it.”

Lin Chuanbai stood. “Then think about it. I’ll give you your presents early.”

Puzzled, Lin Yining turned to her brother. “What do you think Dad meant?”

Lin Yihong mused, “Maybe he wants us to get it appraised ourselves. Knowing Dad, he probably forgot about it after the fact. He might not even know if it’s real.”

Lin Yining pressed, “And if we do? Then what?”

Lin Yihong shrugged. “If it’s real, it was just a normal transaction. If it’s fake, then it was genuine kindness—no need for Teacher Chen to feel indebted.”

Lin Yining nodded. “We should have enough pocket money for the appraisal, right?”

Between their allowance and unopened New Year’s red envelopes, they hoped it would cover the cost.