Chapter 34

Lin Zhao rolled her eyes; the woman across from her, with her inverted triangle eyes, clearly hadn’t expected such a bold response, her face contorting with rage.

At eight sharp, the bronze bell clanged.

Instantly, a flood of people surged in, carrying the stench of sweat.

Several hands clutching receipts slapped against the glass counter.

“Comrade! Comrade!! Here’s the money and cloth coupons—give me three feet of fabric first!” The girl with pigtail braids leaned half her body over the counter, the blue cloth coupon darkened by sweat.

Beside her, a woman in a patched shirt clutched a crying child and shouted louder, “I got here first! I want a bar of soap—here’s the money and coupons!”

“There are children here! Don’t push!” someone at the front bellowed.

“Comrade, get me five meters of hemp rope!”

……

Lin Zhao had memorized the locations of goods in advance and, having witnessed such chaos before, remained utterly calm—collecting money, fetching items, giving change, all with fluid precision.

She could read, had a good memory, knew exactly where every item sat on the two counters, and served the people with remarkable efficiency.

The other girl arrived late and knew nothing; suddenly swarmed by so many people, she was backed into a corner between shelves, her white shirt hem crumpled like pickled vegetables from being gripped.

She was utterly lost, her lips moving slightly as she murmured something—but all around, voices roared, and no one could make out what she said.

“Comrade, why are you standing so far away? I need a fruit can and a towel—hurry up, I’m late for work!”

The crowd at her counter pressed and urged.

The county’s supply and marketing cooperative had just expanded—it was sizable, with about ten counter sections.

Some counters were packed; the counter where the fat old clerk worked sold seeds and wasn’t crowded, but she didn’t come over to help, instead watching the clumsy girl with cold amusement.

Li Fen was a kind soul who couldn’t stand to see a pretty girl struggle; after finishing her own tasks, she stepped in to help, teaching the girl as she worked.

In a short time, Lin Zhao understood everyone’s character at the cooperative.

One warm-hearted sister, Li Fen; two others who seemed less pleasant.

It didn’t matter.

Sales clerks had lifetime jobs—no one could touch anyone else.

Director Jiang, uneasy about the two new recruits, had arrived early and stood with his hands behind his back in the shadow of the grain and oil section, his gaze sweeping over Lin Zhao’s perfectly neat braid.

This military family member tied hemp rope into a neat figure-eight knot, as if she’d spent ten years immersed in the cooperative.

Seeing Lin Zhao more skilled than veterans and the other girl gradually adapting, he nodded inwardly and slipped away without a word.

Lin Zhao and the others worked nearly an hour before the influx of people gradually thinned.

Li Fen was used to this workload; she bent down, found her towel, wiped her face, and smiled at the two new girls: “How’s it going? Getting used to it?”

Lin Zhao’s forehead glistened with sweat, her bangs damp: “It’s fine, just too hot.”

“It’s hot, I know—hang in there. In two months it won’t be this bad,” Li Fen comforted.

She turned to the other new girl and asked with a smile: “What’s your name?”

“...I’m Wang Ju.” Her voice was a whisper, so faint even background noise drowned it out.

Li Fen was straightforward and disliked dealing with shy girls, afraid even a slightly louder voice might make them cry.

“Oh, oh.” Li Fen awkwardly stammered two “ohs,” forcing a polite smile: “Welcome, welcome! I’m Li Fen.”

“Sister Fen,” Wang Ju whispered, then added, “Thank you for helping me earlier.”

To hear her, Li Fen had to lean in and strain.

The straightforward sister waved her hand: “No big deal, we’re colleagues—helping each other’s only natural.

When I first started, I knew nothing either; it took senior staff days to show me the ropes.

Just memorize your counter—where everything goes. It’s fine if you’re clumsy at first; after half a month or a month, you’ll know where everything is even with your eyes closed.”

Wang Ju was tense, unsure where to put her hands.

“What if I can’t remember?”

This…

Li Fen didn’t know how to answer.

There were only so many items—just get familiar, how could you forget?

Lin Zhao chimed in: “Try first. If you really can’t remember, write it down in a notebook.”

Some people truly blanked out when nervous.

Wang Ju’s eyes lit up; she looked at Lin Zhao and whispered thanks: “Thank you.”

Li Fen shook her head inwardly—how could a sales clerk be this timid? Customers couldn’t even hear you.

The cooperative’s hours were 8 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Lin Zhao grabbed a quick lunch, and the moment clock-out time came, she packed up and headed home.

The moment she left.

Liu Chunhong tossed her rag onto the counter and cursed: “What an attitude! No wonder she’s a connection hire—zero sense of decorum. Seniors haven’t left yet, and she’s already gone. Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable! Who are they hiring—sales clerks or ancestors? If my daughter came in, she’d never act like this.”

Li Fen had a good impression of Lin Zhao and replied: “It’s quitting time—they didn’t leave early.”

“If you really want to get your daughter a job, just give her yours. Don’t bully new comrades—you’re a senior, act like one.”

Saying that, Li Fen walked out.

She genuinely hoped Liu Chunhong would see sense—these two new women had broken through countless obstacles just to land permanent positions. What did that mean? It meant they had powerful patrons!

If they clashed, who would end up at a disadvantage?

Liu Chunhong knew Li Fen was right, but still scowled darkly.

“Who’s bullying new comrades? When did I stop being a senior?! I’m still capable—why should I give up my job? What would I do if I did? A job’s only valuable if you hold onto it! Li Fen talks so wisely—why doesn’t she give her job to her sister?!”

“It’s Lin Zhao and Wang Ju—those flashy girls—who stole my daughter’s job! The moment I heard, I went straight to the director. He said it wasn’t decided yet, so I thought my daughter still had a chance—I spent money and coupons everywhere trying to secure it. In the end, I got nothing. How can I not blame them?”

She hadn’t even sabotaged them—that was already generous.

The more Liu Chunhong thought, the angrier she grew, glaring at the direction of Lin Zhao’s counter, her eyes hardening.

“I know you’re upset, but they’ve already been hired. Let it go,” a senior coworker who was close to Liu Chunhong tried to soothe.

Liu Chunhong said nothing.

She couldn’t let it go.

Her family couldn’t suffer this loss in silence.

Her daughter’s swollen, tear-stained eyes flashed before her—Liu Chunhong resolved to make life unbearable for those two newcomers.

The morning had been bright sun; now the sky turned overcast, wind blowing across faces, cooling the heat.

Lin Zhao walked calmly, first going to the post office to mail a letter, then asking the clerk: “Comrade Liang, is there a letter for me?”

Liang Yi said: “Yes, just arrived this morning. Wait a moment—I’ll find it.”

She crouched down and began rummaging.

Moments later, she stood up, holding a letter: “Here you go.”

“Starting today I’m working at the cooperative—no need to send letters to the village anymore. I’ll come pick them up every few days,” Lin Zhao said with a smile.

Liang Yi’s eyes widened in surprise: “You’re a sales clerk now?!”

“Yes, started today,” Lin Zhao replied.

Liang Yi stepped forward, pressing against the counter, grabbing Lin Zhao’s hand, and lowered her voice: “Congratulations, Comrade Lin! If you ever get any defective goods, don’t forget me—I’ll never let you be at a disadvantage.”

“Of course,” Lin Zhao agreed. “We help each other—you’ve helped me plenty these past years. I remember.”

Liang Yi beamed, about to say more, but someone entered—she swallowed her words.

Lin Zhao winked at her, waved the letter, and strolled slowly out of the post office.

Outside, she eagerly tore open the envelope.

This letter was unusually thick.

She found a quiet spot, sat down, and unfolded the paper.

Inside were two coupons: one for a bicycle, one for a watch.

“!!”

Lin Zhao froze, her pale fingers lifting the coupons to the sunlight, blinking as if verifying reality.

They were real coupons!!

Joy spread across her face; her eyes crinkled in a smile.

Lin Zhao carefully tucked the coupons into her shoulder bag and began reading the letter.

[To Comrade Lin Zhao:

Greetings.

Your letter has been received and read with great joy.

Learning you will soon assume your post at the cooperative, I am deeply relieved. I have written to Mother to arrange care for the children—you may now devote yourself fully to socialist construction.

Knowing the distance between the brigade and the county cooperative is considerable, I’ve arranged through a comrade to obtain two coupons: one for a Forever bicycle, one for a Shanghai watch. The former eases your commute, the latter ensures punctuality at work—may you use them well.

These are essential for production and daily life; promptly purchase them at the county department store with these coupons. Enclosed is a remittance slip for three hundred yuan (Remittance No.: Ge No. ****).

Though far apart, wherever the red star shines, it is warm soil—take care.

With revolutionary salutes,

Gu Chenghuai

Night of June 20, 1966]

Lin Zhao read the short letter several times, her smile never fading.

Soon after, she returned to the post office.

Not long after, she returned to the post office.

I sent Gu Chenghuai a jar of meat sauce and a can of meat.

Liang Yi smiled at her, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Lin Zhao kept her expression calm, watching as she packed everything away before leaving.

Bicycles were bulky items, sold at the Supply and Marketing Cooperative, but required advance orders; she planned to tell the procurement officer tomorrow and ask him to reserve one for her.

As for the watch, it was simple—she could buy it tomorrow!

With a plan in mind, Lin Zhao walked straight to the state-run restaurant and bought several meat buns to take home.

She hadn’t seen the children all day; as a mother, her heart ached with longing, and she walked quickly.

The eldest and second sons also missed their mother and waited early at the village entrance; Tie Chui watched as the two boys didn’t play, staying with them at the entrance.

Three little children, one large and one small dog, sat quietly at the village entrance waiting.

“Wang—” Da Huang suddenly stood up, barked once, and ran forward.

Er Zai leapt to his feet, shouting: “Da Huang! Where are you going, come back!!”

Da Huang stopped, standing in place; seeing the little master still, he barked once more toward the end of the road.

Da Zai realized something and sprinted forward; Su Po followed him, and the quiet dirt path suddenly came alive.

“Mama!” Da Zai’s excited voice rang out.

Lin Zhao quickened her pace, taking three strides to reach Da Zai. “Why are you here?”

“I came to meet Mama,” Da Zai lifted his small face, his clear eyes fixed unblinkingly on Lin Zhao, reflecting her image brightly—as if a fledgling guarded its nest, waiting for its mother bird’s return.

“Mama, I missed you.”

He was a reserved, shy little boy; this was the first time he’d said he missed his mother. Lin Zhao’s heart softened, and she whispered gently, “I missed you too—I missed you all day.”

At these words, Da Zai, who had been slightly embarrassed, smiled at the corners of his mouth.

“Mama, how was your day?” he asked.

“Good. How about you? Are you all well?” Lin Zhao asked.

“We’re good too. This morning, Nai gave us steamed egg custard and mixed milk powder for San Zai and Si Zai. At noon, Nai cooked us thick rice porridge, served with the pickled vegetables you made—it was delicious! My brother and I each had a big bowl.” Da Zai answered his mother’s questions thoroughly, then asked, “Did you eat?”

He meant lunch.

“I ate. Something quick.” Lin Zhao said.

Da Zai took the net bag from his mother’s hand. “Mama, you work hard. My brother and I are big kids now—we can handle chores at home. Tie Chui helped us too. Mama, just focus on your job and don’t worry about home.”

He’d learned that last part from Gu Mu.

The child’s hands were soft, his fingertips slightly rough—the marks of always helping with chores.

Lin Zhao’s heart softened; she looked down at her eldest son and stroked his small face.

“How could I not worry?” Such a thoughtful child.

“Don’t wait here anymore. Go play. I’ll come back when I come back—I’ll find you. What if a big vehicle passes on the main road? You’re so short, drivers won’t see you from their seats—it’s dangerous.”

Da Zai explained, “We didn’t wait on the main road—we waited at the village entrance. Nai told us to. It was Da Huang who suddenly ran off, barking. I knew it must be you coming back, so I ran out.”

“I know you’re good children,” Lin Zhao said, softening her tone.

Her gaze passed over Da Huang, squatting there, and Su Po, circling her ankles; her eyes grew gentle.

“Da Huang and Su Po are good too.”

Er Zai saw his brother helping their mother carry the bag and, having nothing to hold, said: “Mama, can I carry your backpack?” His eyes shone with hope.

Lin Zhao took off the bag and gave it to him; Er Zai mimicked her, slinging it over his shoulder—the green shoulder bag nearly dragged on the ground, but Da Zai quickly grabbed it before it touched the dirt.

“Er Zai, you have to hold it like this—don’t dirty Mama’s bag! Mama needs to carry it tomorrow!” he taught his brother seriously.

“I know,” Er Zai said loudly, walking forward while holding the bag.

Tie Chui walked beside him, cheerful and happy.

Entering the village entrance, Lin Zhao said: “Tie Chui, thank you for helping Da Zai and Er Zai with chores and keeping them company. Auntie will treat you to buns.”

Before Tie Chui could speak, Er Zai’s eyes lit up instantly, his voice clear: “Mama, you bought buns again?!”

“Yes. Since you’re good, I bought you meat buns.” Lin Zhao said.

Er Zai let out an “Ow!” and turned to throw himself into his mother’s arms, burying his head against her chest, shaking with laughter. “Thank you, Mama! I love meat buns.”

What don’t you like to eat?

Lin Zhao smiled.

Tie Chui licked his lips, gazing affectionately at Third Auntie, and said politely, “Thank you, Third Auntie.”

Back home, after washing the three children’s hands, Lin Zhao gave each one a bun.

“Eat a bun to fill your stomach first. Later, I’ll make cold noodles—okay?”

Er Zai bit into his meat bun, cheeks bulging. “Okay. Everything Mama makes is delicious.”

After saying this, he and Tie Chui went out to play in the village.

Da Zai sat on a small stool, leaning against his mother, Su Po circling his feet.

“Why aren’t you going out?” Lin Zhao wrapped her arm around Da Zai’s shoulders. He was still thin, small in her embrace, eating carefully—unlike Er Zai, who always got food all over his face.