To celebrate Yang Yuan getting a job, the Yang family had a lavish dinner that evening.
Yang Wenping’s cooking skills weren’t up to par, so Mother Yang took charge in the kitchen after work. She steamed a pot of mixed-grain rice, cut a fresh batch of mung bean sprouts, stir-fried cabbage with the two liang of meat she’d bought that morning, and served leftover pork skin aspic—the last of what remained from New Year’s.
Father Yang also shared some rice wine with Yang Wenping, and father and son each had half a cup, drinking quite contentedly.
Before bed, Yang Yuan ran to the east room, shut the door, and asked her mother in a low voice, “What’s going to happen about that Zheng Yuyin business? Big Brother has been off all day.”
Mother Yang answered on instinct, but caught herself after just one word. “You little girl, what business is it of yours? Stop prying into grown-ups’ affairs.”
“I’m just worried about Big Brother. When Fourth Brother runs into something like this, how can a little sister not feel for him?” Yang Yuan stuck her neck out stubbornly, refusing to admit she was simply curious.
Mother Yang shot her a glance that said everything. No matter how Yang Yuan wheedled and acted cute, she couldn’t pry a single word out of her mother.
“All right, it’s getting late. Your father and I have work tomorrow. Take this money and these coupons, go see your second sister and buy yourself some good fabric. When you start at the textile factory in new clothes, you’ll look sharp. Now off to bed.” Exasperated by her pestering, Mother Yang handed over the money and coupons to send her on her way.
Yang Yuan wasn’t convinced. “Second Sister is still at home on maternity leave.” She wouldn’t be at the supply and marketing cooperative anyway.
“Then go to her house and visit her! With your sister’s connections, no one at the co-op would dare shortchange you on fabric. Go on, go.”
Yang Yuan left reluctantly, lying in bed unable to sleep.
The job was settled, and Song Can would soon be sent down to the countryside. Once she delivered the promised cotton, she’d have no more entanglements with the original female lead of the book.
She finally felt truly relieved. From now on, she would immerse herself in this era and live her own life well.
The Song household had been eerily quiet these past few days, as if everyone were holding their breath.
Father Song neither agreed to nor rejected Step-mother Song’s proposal, which made her feel victory was assured. In her mind, no matter how Song Can resisted, she couldn’t escape this family—so they’d let her be quiet for a couple of days and face reality. There weren’t many days left anyway; willing or not, the job had to be handed over.
After Father Song learned that the job couldn’t be transferred to the younger Song brother, he hadn’t said a single word, which chilled Song Can’s heart even further.
The younger brother was Song Qi. His apprenticeship was quite far from home, so he brought his bedding and only returned once every five days. But ever since hearing that Song Can was being sent to the countryside, he had come home every day.
“Sis,” Song Qi said, looking at his sister with great worry.
“What’s there to be afraid of? It’s just being a sent-down youth. If others can do it, so can I.” Facing her younger brother, Song Can was still gentle. She brushed the dust off Song Qi’s clothes.
“I won’t be home anymore, and Dad doesn’t stand up for you, so look out for yourself. Your apprentice stipend is nine yuan, and it’ll go up later. Work hard and try to become a full worker as soon as you can.”
“Nine yuan is enough for food and living expenses, as long as you don’t overspend, and in six months you can even get yourself a new set of clothes. Even when your stipend rises, don’t hand money over to the family. Save it yourself—in fact, every now and then you can make up an excuse to ask Dad for some money.”
“Xiao Qi, as long as that stepmother and Ma Yingying are around, this family is a bottomless pit. Especially once the little brother grows up—there’ll be even less in this family for you. Once I’m gone, you have to learn to plan for yourself. Remember that.”
Tears glistened in Song Qi’s eyes, and he nodded hard.
That night, the siblings talked for a long time. Song Qi came home every day, but he had grown much quieter. Sometimes his pitch-black eyes would stare unblinking, lost in some thought, making Ma Yingying shiver and curse her bad luck.
Aside from a few nationally usable grain and cloth coupons, most of the tickets Mother Yang found could only be used in the city. Song Can also worried that if she was assigned to a remote place, even money wouldn’t buy her anything.
Song Can began buying things, but with a step-mother and Ma Yingying at home, she couldn’t keep anything she bought in the house.
To the east of the Yang family lived an elderly widow surnamed Wang. Her sons had all died, and after her husband passed away, she had lived alone. Since they were neighbors, when Yang Yuan and Song Can were little, they both loved going to the old lady’s house to play, because there was always something tasty to eat there.
Song Can brought a jin of egg cakes to Grandmother Wang’s house, hoping to store her things there for a few days. Grandmother Wang naturally had no objection, and when she heard Song Can was being sent to the countryside, she grabbed her hands and cursed Step-mother Song from top to bottom.
“That woman is a real piece of work—her heart is wicked clear to the ends of the earth. She has sons and daughters of her own, yet she accumulates not an ounce of virtue. Her heart is blacker than the bottom of my cooking pot. She looks like a person, but she’s never done a single decent thing in her life.”
“Don’t you worry, granddaughter. Grandma Wang will keep an eye on things for you. That woman won’t have a good second half of life. That little boy she’s spoiled rotten—he’d sooner die than be filial to her. And Ma Yingying’s no good either. Counting on that girl to care for her? Hah, fat chance.”
“And that father of yours, the muddle-headed fool…”
Aside from Song Can and Song Qi, Grandmother Wang cursed every last one of the Song family, then held Song Can’s hands with great tenderness, told her all about how to live in the village, and in the end even taught her hands-on how to light a fire and cook on an earthen stove.
Leaving Grandmother Wang’s house, Song Can was moved to tears. Since her mother died, no one had ever genuinely cared for her like this, teaching her step by step, personally, how to survive. It was different from Song Qi’s concern—here she didn’t have to pretend to be a grown-up; she could speak of the fears in her heart.
She wiped away her tears and wrapped her cotton coat tightly around herself as she headed to the supply and marketing cooperative. No matter how hard things got, she would keep living, and she would live better and better. Being sent to the countryside was nothing—there would always come a day she could return. Sooner or later, she would come back.
Figuring that even if the Yang family couldn’t give her cotton, they would at least give her a cotton quilt, Song Can first went to the state-run tailor shop and bought two cotton-padded outfits and cotton shoes. She only had two cotton outfits and the pair of cotton shoes on her feet, all several years old and long since lost their warmth. Even in the city she felt cold—if she went to the countryside like this, she’d freeze to death.
After paying with money and coupons, she slipped the tailor an extra two yuan, saying she was being sent to the countryside and asking them to hurry the work along and make everything extra thick.
Then she went to the supply and marketing cooperative and bought yarn and fabric. City coupons could only be spent here, so even if it was hard to carry, she had to take it all with her.
The yarn could be knitted into sweaters. For fabric, she chose green, blue, and black—when the weather warmed up, she could make single-layer clothes from them. She also set aside six chi of army-green fabric for Song Qi, so he could have a new outfit. She bought fine cotton cloth as well, planning to use it for undergarments.
Thermos, basins large and small, an enamel mug, soap, toilet paper—these were things Step-mother Song would never let her take from home, so she had to buy them all herself.
Her arms were nearly full and she couldn’t carry any more, so she had to stop shopping for the day. Song Can tallied up her assets: among her coupons there were still sugar coupons, pastry coupons, and non-staple food coupons that she had no use for. She could trade them with others—better yet, trade them for national grain and cloth coupons, or if not, for cash.
When Song Can got home, neither her stepmother nor Ma Yingying was there. Only Father Song had come home early today; he was playing with Younger Brother Song. Only at times like these did the expression on Father Song’s face actually look like that of a father.
She had long stopped caring. As usual, she headed back to her small cubby, but halfway there, she changed her mind. Carrying a little stool over, she sat down beside Father Song, planning to properly savor some “father-daughter bonding.”