Chapter 43:

Yu Xiang’an dragged Deng Xiahong to go find Deputy Factory Director Wang, but Deng Xiahong panicked, clinging to the table and refusing to budge.

“What are you saying? Let go of me, hurry up and let go! Don’t pull me!”

The others just watched, none willing to step in. Yan Yuzhen even looked somewhat satisfied—this was exactly what was needed to set things straight with Director Wang, lest certain people go around badmouthing him and ruining his reputation.

Deng Xiahong grew desperate. She glanced at Wang Yunlai—this was humiliating for her, and what kind of impression would it leave on him, the senior figure? If things escalated, it wouldn’t reflect well on him either.

She had accurately gauged Wang Yunlai’s thoughts, so even though he didn’t want to get involved, he had no choice but to intervene. “Xiao An, she just talks without thinking sometimes. We all know she didn’t sleep well last night and her mind’s a mess. We don’t take her seriously, and everyone knows the truth. Don’t take it to heart.” Clearly, he also had issues with Deng Xiahong, or else he wouldn’t have spoken like that.

Deng Xiahong, who had supposedly “lost her mind,” stayed silent, not uttering a word. How could she have known Yu Xiang’an would overhear her at that exact moment?

She usually never came around at this time—what rotten luck.

Gossiping behind someone’s back was fine as long as you weren’t caught red-handed. After the fact, she could always deny it.

For the first time, a sliver of regret crept into her heart. She had already been transferred away—out of sight, out of mind—so why had she still badmouthed her?

She should have known better. This was someone who wasn’t afraid to escalate things, someone too young to care about saving face, making it impossible for others to back down.

Yu Xiang’an wasn’t the type to just let things slide because Wang Yunlai spoke up.

She stared at Deng Xiahong. “Is that what happened? You just lost your mind and spouted nonsense, not that Director Wang was showing favoritism? Shouldn’t you apologize to us?”

The question was thrown right in her face—demanding she admit she’d lost her mind and then apologize?!

Deng Xiahong’s face flushed crimson. Li Jianguo shot Yu Xiang’an an admiring look—same old style, same old attitude.

Sun Qingchun and Yan Yuzhen exchanged knowing glances. This was exactly how to shut her up—let’s see if that mouth of hers would keep spouting nonsense now.

It was predictable that for a long time afterward, she’d be forced to behave.

Zheng Yingying was witnessing Yu Xiang’an’s assertiveness for the first time, and her eyes lit up with admiration.

This young girl didn’t look like much, but she had a tough personality. Zheng Yingying liked that.

Song Shujing also felt like she was seeing her neighbor in a new light. She might seem easygoing, but she wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

Deng Xiahong, her face burning with humiliation, was forced to apologize. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I said the wrong things. You’re magnanimous—please don’t take it to heart. I’m sorry.” The last three words were practically squeezed out through gritted teeth.

Only after hearing her admit it outright did Yu Xiang’an feel the anger in her chest dissipate. She let go and walked over to Yan Yuzhen, her face breaking into a bright smile. “Sister Zhen, I need to talk to you. Do you have time now?”

People like Deng Xiahong—Yu Xiang’an wouldn’t waste a single ounce of energy on them unless absolutely necessary.

“Yes, yes, yes! Come, let’s talk properly.”

Song Shujing really wanted to leave at that moment, but she couldn’t—her mother-in-law was still waiting for her. So she had no choice but to stay awkwardly. “I came to request an advance on my wages. I remember we can get half a month’s pay in advance, right?”

Yan Yuzhen pulled Yu Xiang’an aside to a quiet corner. “What’s going on? Why come to me now?”

“It’s like this, Sister Zhen. You’re more well-connected—do you know if there are any temporary job openings right now? A relative asked me to help inquire. If there aren’t any, it’s fine. She rarely asks me for favors, so I thought I’d check.”

“Who is it?”

“My cousin wants to find some work for her husband to earn money for building a house. Right now, their family of four is crammed into one room. Building a house in the countryside is cheaper, so just two months of temporary work would be enough.”

Yan Yuzhen nodded in understanding. “Got it. I’ll ask around for you.”

“Thank you, Sister Zhen.”

“What’s there to thank me for? But don’t get your hopes up too much—you know how hard it is to find these things.”

Every position was already filled.

Yu Xiang’an understood. “Right, so just do what we can. No pressure.”

Yan Yuzhen sighed. “By the way, did you hear earlier? Yingying wants to gather people to petition the leadership to build another housing unit. Do you think it’s feasible?”

Yu Xiang’an: “That depends on how many people she can rally.” And how much influence they had.

The food factory still had some vacant land—it was just a matter of organizing the manpower. Plus, Yu Xiang’an had heard Yan Yuzhen defending her earlier. She didn’t say anything, but she remembered the favor.

After Yu Xiang’an and Yan Yuzhen left, Zheng Yingying quietly asked Sun Qingchun, “What was that about? Did something happen before?”

She kept her voice low, and Sun Qingchun did the same. “Not here—someone might hear.”

Instead of speaking, he scribbled on a scrap of paper. Today had been a lesson in how thin the walls were—when talking behind someone’s back, you had to be extra careful. He couldn’t even imagine what he’d do if he were in that situation. Just the thought made him want to dig a hole and bury himself in embarrassment.

Watching Deng Xiahong sit expressionlessly at her desk, he had to admit he was impressed. He wouldn’t have been able to do the same.

Seeing him writing something, Zheng Yingying nodded in understanding. After a moment, the paper was passed to her. She glanced around to make sure no one was coming—good, the coast was clear.

After reading it, she understood. She hadn’t been working here long, but she’d already gotten a sense of Deng Xiahong’s loose tongue. It hadn’t been directed at her yet, just the occasional snide remark. That kind of thing wasn’t malicious gossip, so it was tolerable. But what had happened today was different. If she’d been the one slandered like that, she wouldn’t have been able to swallow her anger either.

[Why did they have a falling out?]

She wrote the question down.

That was a sensitive topic. Sun Qingchun thought for a moment but decided not to answer truthfully. Instead, he wrote:

[Not sure. She’s been like this since Xiao An first arrived, and it just got worse over time. Probably because she saw how well Xiao An was doing—favored by Sister Zhen, moving into a new house, getting promoted—and her envy grew.]

The root cause was this job, wasn’t it? Deng Xiahong had wanted to get her daughter in, but then Yu Xiang’an had swooped in. After Yu Xiang’an was transferred, she thought she finally had another chance—only for this new colleague to arrive, also through connections. But because this one had some family backing (even if it wasn’t particularly strong), Deng Xiahong didn’t dare target her the way she had Yu Xiang’an, even going so far as to tamper with data to cause trouble. In the end, she’d only brought trouble on herself and learned a lesson. But back then, she’d definitely been a bully who picked on the weak.

Yu Xiang’an had asked Yan Yuzhen to help inquire about temporary job openings, but in the end, she managed to secure one through her own connections.

The purchasing station needed a laborer.

The previous laborer had been promoted to a permanent position and transferred to a less physically demanding role, leaving the spot vacant.

This was a job that required strength—hauling things in and out, up and down all day. If you didn’t have the muscle for it, you wouldn’t last.

Yu Xiang’an wasn’t sure how strong her cousin’s husband was, but Yu Manrong had said he was strong enough. Hopefully, he’d manage.

Yu Xiang’an went to discuss it with Yu Manchang.

“My brother-in-law is pretty strong. He used to work in quarrying, so he can handle this job. I’ll let him know and have him pack his things to come over.”

This was his own brother-in-law, after all. If he did well, his sister and nephews would benefit too.

But there was another question: “Xiao An, how did you get this job?” This was a huge favor—one that would need to be repaid.

Yu Xiang’an had traded a bottle of ginseng wine she’d gotten from Lin Chuanbai for it.

The job had been worth it, but she wasn’t sure if Lin Chuanbai had any more ginseng left. That stuff was always useful to have on hand.

Yu Manrong and Li Du came together. When they learned it was a laborer position at the purchasing station—and a long-term one at that—they were so grateful they didn’t know what to say.

Yu Manrong silently resolved that once Li Du got his wages, they’d pay Yu Xiang’an back. She couldn’t let Xiao An shoulder the cost—that wouldn’t be right. She wasn’t the type to take advantage of others.

When she brought it up, Yu Xiang’an didn’t refuse.

In relationships, it was important for others to know what you’d done for them. If you quietly subsidized things all the time, people would grow accustomed to it. And the day you stopped, they’d blame you for it.

Some time later, Yu Xiang’an checked in with the purchasing station and learned that Li Du was adjusting well. He was quiet and hardworking, and his superiors had a good impression of him.

That was all that mattered.

She was in a good mood. If he hadn’t been able to adapt, a good start wouldn’t have meant much.

As the saying goes, good things come in pairs. Besides this, there was another piece of good news.

Qin Shengsong had gotten his hands on a broken-down bicycle and, after tinkering with it for a while, had managed to fix it. He told her to come pick it up—he’d even repainted it, so it looked almost new.

Yu Xiang’an had specifically asked him to keep an eye out for a bicycle for her.

He’d bought the broken bike for less than ten yuan. Now that it was fixed, he could sell it for around a hundred.

Yu Xiang’an took it for a test ride, confirmed it was in working order, and asked how much he wanted for it. When he told her, she gave him a thumbs-up. They exchanged a look—no words were needed.

With skills like his, making money was easy. What he spent on scrap metal could be resold for ten times the price as a fully functional item.

It was only now that Yu Xiang’an began to believe the rumors about him. When he’d suddenly transferred here, everyone had assumed he’d been demoted—that he’d messed up somehow. But he’d always insisted it was his own choice. Now, it seemed plausible that he’d seen the potential here and made the move deliberately.

“How’s the radio repair coming along?”

“Still not there yet. I’ll keep working on it. I’ve got time—no rush.” Qin Shengsong was in high spirits. If he got his hands on another bicycle, he was confident he could fix that too. His good days were just around the corner.

“Keep at it, Brother. I believe in you. You’ll get there. I think reference books might help too.”

“They do. I’m reading some now, but it’s slow going. A lot of it’s over my head, so I’m taking it step by step.”

……

With the bicycle, her commute from the factory to home became much easier. A thirty-minute walk was now a ten-minute ride.

Yu Xianghai watched her ride home on the bike, envy written all over his face. “I want one too.”

“If you want one, talk to him. If it’s within his repair skills, it shouldn’t be a problem. Just be patient. Or if you can find a broken bike through other means, you could try that too. Even if this one can’t be fixed, some of the parts might be usable for the next one.”

Yu Qingshan was also tempted. He took a cloth and meticulously wiped the bike down. He had one of his own, which he treasured—checking on it daily, cleaning and maintaining it after every use. Looking at this one, he thought his daughter was being too rough with it. She probably didn’t even avoid potholes.

Yu Xiang’an, who indeed hadn’t been avoiding potholes: “…”

The roads weren’t exactly smooth asphalt. If she tried to dodge every bump, she’d be crawling along.

When she rode the bike to the factory, the gatekeeper immediately asked about it. Upon learning it was hers, he wanted to know how she’d gotten it. Yu Xiang’an naturally didn’t explain outright—she just said her maternal family had helped. Which wasn’t a lie. Without her cousin, she wouldn’t have gotten it for such a steal.

The others’ curiosity wasn’t malicious. These kinds of vouchers were hard to come by.

You had to work for years to qualify for big-ticket item vouchers, and even then, they were usually allocated by seniority or luck of the draw. Yu Xiang’an had only been at the factory for a year—by all rights, she shouldn’t have gotten one.

Yu Xiang’an: “This didn’t need a voucher. See? It’s a used bike. My maternal family helped me get it. I’m not really sure how.” She played dumb in front of everyone.

Once Qin Shengsong was more experienced and ready to take on clients, they could quietly spread the word. Broadcasting it outright would just invite trouble—private sales weren’t exactly legal.

Aside from commuting, she mostly used the bike for work trips. The factory had shared bikes, but if someone else had already taken them, she’d use her own. When not in use, she locked it in the bike shed.

They had a dedicated bike shed within sight of the gatekeeper. If a stranger approached, he’d call them out immediately. Sheltered from wind and rain, bicycles were valuable assets in those days, and people took good care of them.

Before long, it was time for Yu Manchang to return home. His temporary stint at the brick factory was over, and he was heading back to Red Star Brigade to put his skills to use. Yu Shunwen had already prepared the materials he’d need—all that was left was for him to get started.

Brickmaking required clay and a kiln. The clay was ready, and the kiln had been built—with Yu Manchang’s guidance during one of his visits.

He didn’t disappoint everyone. As soon as he returned, he threw himself into the task with great enthusiasm. The first kiln of bricks was successfully fired. Although some were defective, the usable ones were more than sufficient. After testing, they confirmed that the bricks were indeed suitable for building houses. Yu Shunwen was overjoyed.

Ever since Yu Manchang had told him about this, he had been planning it for a long time. Seeing the success, he immediately selected a group of reliable young men to join him in brickmaking. Everyone earned work points for their labor. Brickmaking was physically demanding, especially during the mud-mixing and molding stages, which relied entirely on manual labor. Thus, they were all awarded full work points. Additionally, they enjoyed a special privilege—priority in exchanging work points for bricks.

As the only one who knew how to make bricks, Yu Manchang, with everyone’s agreement, earned twenty work points. At the end of the year, his wages would be calculated based on how many bricks they produced and the profits they made.

Yu Manchang was eager to build a house, but his family’s need wasn’t urgent yet. He wanted to refine his brickmaking technique and produce better-quality bricks before starting construction. So, he gave up his first right to exchange work points for bricks.

The newly fired bricks were neatly stacked in an open space next to the communal dining hall, where anyone could see them. Families with more able-bodied laborers, even those who used to slack off, now worked diligently, making Team Leader Yu Shunwen grin from ear to ear.

In life, aside from raising children and seeing them marry and have families, leaving behind a sturdy brick-and-tile house would be a legacy worth smiling about even in death.

Before, people slacked off because the final distribution was roughly equal, so they rested whenever possible to conserve energy and eat less at home. But now, things were different. Still, some had grown too accustomed to laziness, like Yu Shijian.

He couldn’t muster any motivation, but his two sons were hardworking, keeping the family afloat—and now, they worked even harder.

Tasks they once avoided because they were too strenuous now became opportunities they eagerly sought, all to earn more work points.

Life was getting better and better.

*

One day, Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai went to the black market. Yu Xiang’an bought a three-jin rabbit, while Lin Chuanbai purchased five jin of rice. When they both bid on the same piece of fatty pork, they froze for a moment upon recognizing each other.

They had just pretended to be strangers at the Lin family clinic—one picking up medicine, the other dispensing it. Yet here they were, dressed differently, in disguise, and eyeing the same item.

Logically, they shouldn’t have recognized each other so quickly, but perhaps the impression was too strong. Their eyes met, confirming mutual recognition.

What kind of fate was this?

Yu Xiang’an hesitated, then stepped back. She already had the rabbit.

Lin Chuanbai also wanted to yield. “If you need it, take it.”

Yu Xiang’an shook her head. “You buy it. If I spend all my money, my family will scold me. Hurry, before someone else gets it.”

Seeing her sincerity, Lin Chuanbai paid for the pork.

Yu Xiang’an glanced at his bag. Was he here to sell something? What did he have?

Lin Chuanbai, in turn, wondered if Yu Xiang’an was selling again—did she still have fruit?

But today, both were buyers.

Yu Xiang’an had come mainly to scout for calves or lambs. If not, she’d settle for chickens or ducks.

Lin Chuanbai was here to replenish his food supply—his stock of rice and flour had run out.

Remembering his profession, Yu Xiang’an hesitated before asking quietly if his pharmacy had spices like star anise, bay leaves, or cinnamon.

Many seasonings were classified as medicinal herbs these days, unavailable in grocery stores but often found in pharmacies. Since he worked at the county hospital’s pharmacy, he had easy access.

Lin Chuanbai confirmed they had those spices. Hearing her request and seeing the rabbit in her hand, a glint of curiosity flashed in his eyes. “You know how to cook?”

Yu Xiang’an nodded. “Yes, and I’m decent at it.”

Lin Chuanbai’s eyes brightened even more.

As a food lover, one of his biggest struggles in this era was finding good meals. He couldn’t frequent state-run restaurants—too conspicuous. At the hospital canteen, ordering meat too often would draw attention. At home, his aunt’s cooking was barely passable, no matter the ingredients.

His own cooking? Edible, but nothing to write home about.

Now, hearing her mention spices and seeing her ingredients, an idea struck him.

“Do you take orders? Like, someone provides the ingredients, you cook, and take a portion of the food or money as payment?”

Yu Xiang’an was surprised.

“I’ll supply all the seasonings,” he added. “If you need anything else, just tell me—I’ll find it.”

The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. He recalled that she lived alone, which would make cooking convenient.

Of course, he couldn’t visit her place—people might assume they were courting. But exchanging packed meals elsewhere would work.

It was like a private takeout service.

Yu Xiang’an wasn’t tempted by his offer of ingredients. She had something else in mind. “I don’t need your ingredients. I want ginseng. Do you have any? I’ll buy it—I want to make medicinal wine.”

Ginseng of that age wasn’t too potent, making it ideal for gentle nourishment.

Lin Chuanbai hesitated. “I’m not sure if I have any left. If I do, I’ll trade with you. For today, take this meat and cook it for me. I’ll bring the seasonings tomorrow when I pick up the food.”

He wanted to test her skills first.

Yu Xiang’an agreed. “Tomorrow evening, same time. Where should we meet? Do you have an extra lunchbox? I’ll pack the food for you.”

Cooking was easy for her, but pricing this service required thought.

The next day, after tasting Yu Xiang’an’s braised pork, Lin Chuanbai remained outwardly calm—but his rapid chopstick movements betrayed his delight.

It was delicious! Even better than the braised pork he’d once splurged on at a state-run restaurant.

After sampling her cooking, he decided he’d “find” ginseng for her soon.

But business was business. “How much for a meal like this?” he asked.

Yu Xiang’an quoted a price based on state-run restaurant rates.

She wasn’t taking his ingredients—just charging for the labor.

To her, it was like running a tiny, one-customer restaurant with limited ingredients and no menu.

Lin Chuanbai didn’t mind. He wasn’t picky—as long as it tasted good.

In these times, having food at all was a blessing.

After striking this arrangement, Lin Chuanbai’s meals improved dramatically. Every week, he’d bring her poultry, fish, or meat, then collect his cooked dishes the next day.

He could enjoy two or three hearty meals in his pharmacy’s garden, free from prying eyes.

For Yu Xiang’an, cooking was a pleasure. Even without him, she’d have cooked for herself. Now, she just shared a portion in exchange for his goods and money.

Gradually, the two grew familiar, learning more about each other along the way.