“Mother, do you have something to say? Is there some issue with the brigade’s elementary school?” Yang Dai noticed her mother’s expression and didn’t follow her out of the kitchen.
“No, no.” Mother Yang shook her head repeatedly. “I just think the brigade’s elementary school may be close to home, but the commune job would be more worthwhile.”
“And don’t forget—your future second sister-in-law, Xiao Xia, also works as a teacher at the elementary school. The two of you quarrel whenever you meet. If the principal finds out, he surely won’t be pleased.” Seeing that Yang Dai looked completely unaware, Mother Yang had no choice but to bring it up herself.
“She’s a teacher at the elementary school?” Yang Dai really hadn’t known. She searched the original body’s memories but found no trace of it.
“She started last year. The previous teacher married and moved far away, so the school lacked staff. Xiao Xia stepped in and, from what I hear, she’s doing well.” Seeing Yang Dai genuinely didn’t know and wasn’t scheming to compete with Wang Lixia, Mother Yang felt relieved.
When she heard the name Wang Lixia, Yang Dai thought of the first person she had encountered while registering at the school.
At the time she had only felt the face was familiar, but hadn’t recalled who it was. Now she realized—it was Wang Lixia’s sister-in-law’s younger sister, the same age as Wang Lixia, and her childhood close companion.
Yang Dai and Wang Lixia had been sworn enemies since they were little. They competed in everything and never got along for a single day.
Yet Wang Lixia was betrothed from childhood to Yang Dai’s second brother, Yang Cheng. The two families were close, and Wang Lixia herself had no objections to Yang Cheng, so naturally the engagement wasn’t broken because of Yang Dai.
Yang Cheng, four years older than Yang Dai, should have been married long ago.
But Wang Lixia had once declared that marrying Yang Cheng was simple, provided Yang Dai was married off first.
With such a lazy, gluttonous sister-in-law who fought constantly, she said she would rather remain single for life than live under the same roof as Yang Dai.
Yang Dai, unwilling to concede, had shouted back: as long as she was in the family, Wang Lixia shouldn’t dream of entering the Yang household.
The result was endless quarrels between future sisters-in-law, with Yang Cheng stuck in the middle, miserable.
Tired of being caught between them, Yang Cheng volunteered to build railroads and stayed away until two months before Yang Dai’s wedding.
Now that Yang Dai was married, Yang Cheng wasn’t planning to leave again. The Yang and Wang families had begun arranging the marriage in earnest.
After all, at their ages, both were considered well past prime marrying years. Both families wanted it settled quickly.
“If you want to try teaching in the brigade school, go ahead. But let’s not give up on the commune job either.”
“The supply station is a good unit. Even as a temp, the benefits are solid.” Mother Yang usually followed her daughter’s wishes. Even if she wasn’t happy about Yang Dai aiming for the elementary school, she didn’t object aloud, only told her to do as she saw fit.
“Let’s talk about work later. For now, let’s paste the walls. If the newspapers aren’t enough, your father can buy more from the recycling station.” Already moving quickly, Mother Yang lit the fire, preparing hot water to pluck the chickens, and hurried Yang Dai out before the smoke could bother her.
Yang Dai spread the newspapers flat and noticed the most recent dated only half a month earlier.
Factories and work units all subscribed to newspapers, but once they were outdated, no one read them. They piled up until sent to the recycling station.
Her father, with access to the brick factory offices, often collected those discarded papers to bring home—for pasting walls or for kindling.
With nothing else to do, Yang Dai decided to read them carefully.
There were political pieces, happy announcements, educational columns, even short stories. She enjoyed them, arranging the papers by date.
In a corner, she found a call-for-submissions notice.
The theme was “praising laborers—labor is most glorious.”
If accepted, contributors would receive industrial coupons, grain coupons, and fabric tickets as rewards.
Yang Dai’s eyes fixed on the word “tickets.”
She checked the date. Last month. Not too long ago. She quickly copied the address down with pen and paper.
At this time, writing submissions carried no pay. Even ticket rewards were rare.
Most published pieces were written by in-house reporters. Only a few came from outside contributors, who always had to state their names and work units.
If selected, the unit would provide the reward—generous or stingy depending on its means.
A paper that openly promised tickets was rare. To Yang Dai, it was a chance.
With her mind set on writing, she abandoned the idea of pasting the newspapers and instead stacked them neatly to study further.
When Mother Yang heard her daughter wasn’t going to paste walls but wanted to save the papers, she was only briefly surprised.
Then she agreed, “I’ll tell your father to bring back more for you.”
Mother Yang stayed busy the whole morning. She steamed buns, cooked lamb and pork belly, and stir-fried greens. Such a spread was even richer than Yang Dai’s wedding meal.
Since transmigrating, this was the first truly satisfying meal she had eaten.
Mother Yang’s cooking was average, but after two days of Han Lin’s dreadful food, coupled with this body’s hunger for fat and oil, the meal tasted priceless.
Yang Dai split the lamb in half for her mother to take home and even slipped a pheasant into her basket.
Mother Yang resisted, but when Yang Dai’s eyes brimmed with tears, she gave in, both helpless and comforted, and left with her load.
Yang Dai, meanwhile, fully prepared for her trial lecture. She flipped through the school textbooks again and again, imitating the teachers she had once seen.
The day soon came.
The trial was scheduled for the afternoon. She arrived half an hour early, expecting few candidates.
But not only had people from Huangzhuang brigade come—many from other brigades as well.
Her reputation had spread across the villages, and when the others saw her arrive, they whispered among themselves.
Yang Dai remained calm, standing at the end of the line. Each person had twenty minutes, so she waited.
“Why is Zhu Qingguo here? Didn’t they say his father-in-law could send him straight to the commune?”
“If even Zhu Qingguo is here, what chance do we have?”
The commotion in front made her look up. Indeed, she knew the man.
Zhu Qingguo wasn’t from Huangzhuang but from neighboring Lei River brigade. He was well-known throughout the area.
But unlike the infamy attached to Yang Dai and Han Lin as idlers, his reputation was good.
Zhu Qingguo was the “other people’s child”—clever, diligent, studious.
Only luck failed him.
He had submitted pieces to newspapers as a student and been praised by schools and communes.
After high school, with a teacher’s recommendation, he became a temp in a county factory. But within months he was dismissed—not for mistakes, but because there weren’t enough positions, and someone’s relative needed in. With no backing, Zhu Qingguo was cast out.
Later he married. His wife’s family held influence in the commune, so people said fortune had finally come his way and he would soon work in the commune.
Yet here he was, applying to be a teacher in Huangzhuang.
His arrival stirred the crowd, and Yang Dai felt heavier pressure.
She had thought the teacher’s post was hers for sure. Now she wasn’t so certain.
When she stepped onto the platform and saw Wang Lixia beaming at her from the audience, she felt even more that this job was not meant for her.
Even so, she did her very best. And when she left the classroom, she was sure the old principal had looked quite satisfied.
But seeing her chances slim, she redoubled her efforts at writing.
If she couldn’t earn eight work points, she could at least earn some industrial coupons.
The submission theme was “Labor is most glorious.”
So every day, paper and pen in hand, Yang Dai walked the fields, observing people at work. It wasn’t the busy harvest season, but no one was idle.
Mother Han disliked Yang Dai’s “three days fishing, two days drying the net” attitude.
But Han Lin shielded her. And Yang Dai had a proper excuse—she was writing for the paper.
So even if her mother-in-law fumed, she swallowed her complaints.
After a few days, Yang Dai finished her first piece. Since it was her first attempt in this era, she even illustrated it—a picture of brigade members laboring in the fields.
Once done, she couldn’t wait to submit it.
Han Lin obliged, borrowing a bicycle from her mother and taking her to the commune.
Yang Dai went straight to the post office and mailed her article, eager to explore further.
But just then, Han Lin suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her into a corner, hiding her away.