Chapter 307

By December, the north had plunged into freezing cold, and universities entered their final exam crunch period.

Unlike primary and middle school, failing a college exam wasn't just a matter of calling your parents to scold you.

So no matter if you were a sports fanatic or a romantic poet, you had to hunker down and grind through your books, lest you stumble and ruin your future.

The library was packed to bursting, dorm heaters flickered between hot and cold, so the Lone Army Literature Society suddenly filled up with people.

Because the society had a "secret fund" and burned premium smokeless coal without restraint—so warm you'd sweat even in a sweater.

And on that stove sat a giant steel pot, always simmering: either thick eight-treasure porridge or pork trotter and radish soup for beauty and health—anyone could help themselves.

With these conditions, no one wanted to leave on a winter night; for a time, the Lone Army Literature Society became even more popular than the library.

And Li Ye, the leader who could "bring in business," naturally grew more beloved by everyone—after all, whoever brings benefits is always supported, as it has always been since ancient times.

Li Ye scooped half a lunchbox of eight-treasure porridge from the big pot and handed it to Zhou Zhihe.

"Fourth, you haven't finished writing 'Twelve Hours in Chang'an' yet! Don't rush into learning screenplays—review your coursework instead. Don't end up barely passing like last semester."

Although 'Twelve Hours in Chang'an' wasn't long, it was perfect for TV adaptation, so Li Ye had planned for a film/TV version from the start.

So Zhou Zhihe had gathered many screenplays, studying and observing them, and now he still wasn't in a hurry to review his coursework.

Zhou Zhihe took the lunchbox, slurped a mouthful, let out a satisfied "ah," then pouted: "Can we not talk about this? I just got careless last semester."

"This time, watch me cram for ten days—I'll rank in the top ten, or I'll write my name backward."

"Fine, fine, you're amazing—I, with my genius intellect, still wouldn't dare claim top ten!"

Li Ye stopped arguing with Fourth; he knew the guy was brilliant—if given half a month, he'd easily pass, maybe even crack the top ten.

Li Ye walked over to a desk in the corner of the literature society.

It was the "chief writer's" spot—quiet, a little lonely.

Mu Yuning saw Li Ye approach and handed him several sheets of manuscript.

Li Ye picked them up, scanned them, and made pencil marks in a few places.

"Here, I think it's dragging—cut a few dozen words. This description of Zhang Xiaojing is too soft—he's a rough man with fine details, coarse on the surface, not this delicate."

Mu Yuning's writing was strong—elegant vocabulary, refined prose—but as a woman, writing 'Twelve Hours in Chang'an' inevitably had mismatches.

Li Ye never treated her as a teacher; whenever something felt "off," he pointed it out directly and demanded revisions.

After hearing Li Ye's comments, Mu Yuning took the pages back, marked revisions in red ink, and showed no irritation.

This had become their standard mode of communication—avoid speaking if possible.

In the literature society, Mu Yuning wasn't a teacher but a "writer"; Li Ye was the "editor." The less they talked, the less awkward it felt.

But today, Li Ye spoke more than usual.

He handed Mu Yuning a leave slip: "Professor Mu, I'm taking a day off tomorrow. Here's the slip. Also, I won't be returning to the dorm tonight—I'm letting you know in advance."

Mu Yuning took the slip, signed it automatically, then suddenly asked: "You're not coming back tonight? Where are you going?"

Li Ye said: "Tomorrow, one of my senior brothers is getting married. I need to go help out tonight—staying on campus won't work."

Mu Yuning asked: "Is it Zou Mengcheng or Peng Rui?"

Li Ye replied: "Peng Rui."

Mu Yuning nodded slowly, granting his leave, then picked up her pen and resumed writing.

But Li Ye caught a flicker of disappointment in her eyes.

A heartbroken person fears most seeing someone they once knew get married—especially since Peng Rui was two years younger than Mu Yuning.

………

At nine p. ., Li Ye repeatedly warned Sun Xianjin to shut down the society by eleven, then hurried out of campus and returned to Zaojunmiao.

Seeing the east wing of Zaojunmiao lit up, Li Ye called out: "Sis, is the car fully fueled?"

Li Yue pushed open half the window: "Full tank. The trunk has the meat and wine you asked for. Also, two new women's outfits on the back seat—the bridal dresses you mentioned. Check if you can deliver them in time."

Li Ye grinned: "Already here? What do you think of the clothes?"

Li Yue squinted and smiled: "They're beautiful, but the color's too bright—only worn once in a lifetime. Impractical. Wasteful."

Li Ye studied his sister's expression, then squinted back: "What's wasteful? When you get married, I'll design you a queen's gown."

"Enough, enough. Don't worry about my affairs—go take care of yours!"

"Slam~"

Li Yue shut the window, cutting Li Ye's words mid-sentence.

Li Ye clenched his fist, stayed silent, but mentally marked someone down.

You don't even bother to flatter me first? Do you even know the rules?

Li Ye drove the Volga straight to Xicheng Tax Bureau. After asking around, he found a three-story slab building with two red lanterns flickering in the cold wind.

Nowadays, every unit had a union; for weddings or funerals, they hung lanterns to show care for their honored workers.

Li Ye parked, carried a box of lamb, and two bundles of baijiu, following the festive noise up the dim staircase to the third floor, where he spotted his two senior brothers and sister whispering in the hallway.

Yu Xiufen spotted him before he reached them: "Hey, look, look—I told you our junior brother would show up tonight—and he wouldn't come empty-handed!"

Li Ye walked over smiling: "Senior Sister Yu, you made me search all over! Why aren't you inside? Enjoying the cool air?"

Senior Brother Zou Mengcheng teased: "Yes, we're enjoying the cool—so cool we almost want to strip bare. Your mouth's gotten even sharper."

The quiet Wang Zhiyuan smiled at Li Ye: "Too many people inside now. When Peng Rui's colleagues leave, we'll go in. We'll wait out here for now—it's fine."

Li Ye squinted, glanced through the window pasted with " Xi," and understood Wang Zhiyuan's meaning.

Peng Rui's new apartment was a single room—barely fifteen or sixteen square meters. After placing a wardrobe, a desk, and a large bed, there was almost no space left.

Now, over a dozen friends and coworkers crowded into that one room, playing cards at two tables, with not even an extra chair—so Yu Xiufen and the others had stepped out to "get some air."

Li Ye shook his head: "Tax Bureau's such a big unit—why is the new-married housing so shabby? One room for who?"

"What's shabby?" Yu Xiufen snapped. "This is top-tier housing—fully ventilated, with water and electricity, toilet right outside. Even when you join the unit, you might not get a place like this after two years."

"And why are you so sharp-tongued? We're all familiar, so it's fine—but if you said that at work, you'd offend someone, you know that?"

Li Ye blinked, looked at the toilet twenty meters away and the communal kitchen, and truly felt the housing shortages of the 1980s—and the "happiness" of living in this era.

Though the unit housing was tiny, you paid nothing. In a few decades, without a hundred or eighty square meters, you couldn't even find a girl to marry unless you paid decades of interest.

Unless you looked like Hu Ge.

"Alright, Xiufen, stop scolding him,"

Senior Brother Zou Mengcheng sighed at Li Ye: "Didn't you hear? The first day he came to Jingda, he used the collective household registration to buy a house. He's not like us."

Li Ye's house purchase on his first day of school was initially unknown—Mu Yuning kept it secret.

But after his "30, 00 yuan manuscript fee" was exposed at the debate, someone dug into his background. The logistics office wasn't a sealed wall—Li Ye's status as a "property owner" leaked out.

Yu Xiufen looked at Li Ye and sighed too.

"You're right—he's not like us. We beg and plead just to get one room; he has three houses, rotating through them daily. It's heartbreaking."

Li Ye glanced at Yu Xiufen and added fuel: "What's wrong, Senior Sister? Is your marriage with Senior Brother Wang stuck on housing?"

Wang Zhiyuan was from the '79 class; after graduating this summer, he stayed on campus and finally won over Yu Xiufen—Li Ye knew this.

Yu Xiufen rolled her eyes, annoyed: "You really don't know how to speak, do you? Why bring up the sorest topic? Who isn't stuck on housing? If your Senior Brother Zou had a house, he'd have kids running around already."

"Hehe, hehe,"

Li Ye grinned smugly: "Senior Sister, you're misjudging good intentions. If begging your unit doesn't work, why not try me?"

Yu Xiufen froze, then waved her hands: "You don't understand—if we rent outside, the unit will never give us housing."

"Besides, you're only a sophomore—you'll graduate before you know it. That house will be needed for marriage soon."

"Alright," Li Ye said regretfully. "Then I'll just rent out my two houses—three or five yuan rent a month. Might as well help someone else."

"Wait—how many houses do you have?"

Yu Xiufen grabbed Li Ye's sleeve, eyes wide like a sister interrogating a mischievous younger brother.

"Two—one near the Zoo, one near Youth Lake."

"Why buy so many? Are you burning money?"

"That's a joke—are you studying economics?"

Li Ye sneered: "Do you know what inflation is? What's an asset? Has your teacher taught you nothing?"

"You're bourgeoisie?"

Of course Yu Xiufen and the others knew—but whether they dared to admit it? That varied by person.