Reborn 92's Business Tycoon

Chapter 21: Chapter 21: Parents‘ Thoughts

The next morning, after everyone had returned to the classroom from morning exercises, Zhang Qiuling opened her desk and found a bottle of soda inside, along with a piece of paper. She glanced at Xiao Zhijie and saw that he was pretending to study English.

She opened the note and read, 'You must be tired because you were in my head all night last night.' Zhang Qiuling burst out laughing.

Okay, twenty years later, this is a joke that no one will use, but at the time, it was still fine to make these young girls smile.

When it came time for the morning formal class, the two of them continued their bantering.

During the past two days of class, each subject teacher would spend time handing out the tests, and each teacher would say to Feng Yiping, 'Keep up the good work, and pay attention to maintaining it!' Feng Yiping felt bitter, and had to put on an expression of modesty and receptiveness.

During this week of self-study, the teachers all just went over the tests, and sometimes they would lose their temper while doing so, as Wang Yumin was doing now.

She lost her temper as she spoke, talking about the lesson 'From the Hundred Herb Garden to the Three Flavours Study'. 'These simple fill-in-the-blank questions about the vegetable patch, the Chinese honey locust tree, mulberries, wasps and the emperor of the bees are all close to our daily lives. Who among you has never seen them? It's the children in the big cities who haven't seen them. How can so many of you not be able to fill in these questions? During class, I repeatedly said that this paragraph must be memorised, but you all ignored me!

The students in the classroom became quails, and you could hear a pin drop.

Finally, the composition was critiqued, and the general techniques were repeated again, such as how to break the topic, how to establish the idea, how to write a good beginning and ending, etc. Finally, Feng Yiping's composition was read aloud as an example for everyone.

Feng Yiping's 'My Ideal' was different from all the other students' compositions, and it also surprised the few Chinese teachers who marked the paper. If they hadn't been thinking about deducting points for minor mistakes, all three would have given the composition full marks.

The central idea was as follows: Feng Yiping first analysed the similarities and differences between ideals, fantasies, illusions and dreams, and concluded, 'My ideal is to work tirelessly so that each of my dreams will become a reality!'

In the provincial capital, under the sycamore tree in the planter outside the entrance to the provincial conservatory of music, Feng Zhenchang is dressed in a blue work uniform, with arm warmers and still wearing his liberated shoes. Although he is still a bit rustic, he is much more decent and cleanly dressed than in the village. He skillfully scoops chestnuts from the large pot and puts them into a paper bag, which he places on the electronic scale nearby. 'Okay, three and a half jin, that's nine yuan in total. It's a bit hot, so don't hold it underneath, hold it by the bag opening.'

A few girls across the street paid for their chestnuts and, as they walked towards the school, began to peel and eat them, chatting away: 'It's hot,' 'Then don't eat it,' 'It smells good, and it's sweet!'...

Feng Zhenchang smiled. His daughter was about the same age as these girls, but she was already working in a factory. Fortunately, in a few years, his son will also go to university, and it will be a university better than this one.

There was no one at the stall at the moment, so he picked up the thermos fixed to the tricycle and poured the hot water into the canning jar.

Yes, their stall is supported by a tricycle. Mei Yiliang had it modified by a master in the factory, and the petrol barrel was converted into a stove that was placed on top and secured in place. Together with the electronic scales for weighing, although they were all bought second-hand, it cost nearly 300 yuan, and at the time, Mei Qiuping was very reluctant to part with it.

But there are many advantages. This area is a university town with affiliated kindergartens, primary schools, middle schools and high schools. If they don't sell enough in one place, they just ride their tricycle to the next place. Now they sell hundreds of yuan every day.

Take out two steamed buns from the plastic bag, put them in a paper bag, and bury them under the sand in the pot. In three or five minutes, the buns will be hot. This is their lunch.

He was about to take a smoke break and go to the kiosk to make a phone call when Mei Qiuping returned, looking a little pale.

'What's wrong?' Feng Zhenchang asked, sitting on the flower bed and puffing away.

Mei Qiuping stood behind the tricycle, turned the bag of steamed buns in the pot, and took a drink from the canteen bottle, before telling him, 'Dad told me that the novel written by Yiping was published in a magazine called Harvest this month, and he received a 2,300 yuan writing fee?'

'Sizzle,' Feng Zhenchang accidentally burned his hand on the cigarette, and then the cigarette fell onto his trousers. He quickly stood up, shaking and shaking. Mei Qiuping also came over to help, "Haha, you were shocked too?'

'How much did you say?'

'Twenty-three hundred. I also asked Dad repeatedly several times. It's twenty-three hundred, and they've already withdrawn the money," said Mei Qiuping.

'2,300 yuan, such a big deal, and the boy never mentioned it to us at all. When did this happen?'

'Just before the start of the semester, when he said he was going to see Dad. It was more than a month ago.' Mei Qiuping is also a little emotional. Her son is closest to her, and he likes to stick close to her. Now, with such a big deal, her son has kept her in the dark. As for the 2,300 yuan in royalties, on the one hand, she finds it hard to believe, and on the other, she feels that her son has suddenly grown up. Since her son had grown up, he would make his own decisions on some matters and would not ask her about everything as he used to. She should be happy and proud, but for some reason, she felt a vague sense of loss.

The two of them ate steamed buns in hot water and chatted as they ate.

'There's another 5 yuan from the storytelling club.'

'Is the money with Dad now?' Feng Zhenchang asked.

'Yes,' Mei Qiuping said, a little angry when it came to this, "they've already spent more than 300 yuan!'

'Ah!" Feng Zhenchang turned his head and looked at her.

'The tuition and fees were 45 yuan, which was paid. Yiping bought himself two sets of clothes and a pair of shoes, and he also cut some fabric for Dad to make a set of Zhongshan suits, and bought him a pair of leather shoes.'

'This child,' Feng Zhenchang was also a little speechless.

'But he didn't spend it all recklessly,' Mei Qiuping said.

'Yes,' Feng Zhenchang agreed. "If you have money for tuition and fees, you shouldn't owe it. It's also the time of year when you change clothes, so Yiping should buy some clothes.'

'I bought him sportswear that's similar to the school uniform from before. Yiping is growing up slowly and he knows what he likes. I haven't bought him clothes for a few years, but he's grown quickly in the past two years, so none of his old clothes are without patches, and none of them fit." Mei Qiuping sounded a little sad as she talked.

'Yes, now that we are slowly earning money, when we go back at the end of the year, we will go to the provincial capital and buy him a fashionable set,' Feng Zhanchang said. 'What about the rest of the money? Did you ask Dad to buy chestnuts?'

'Dad already bought them. At the time, Yiping told him that the ones bought at home were cheap, so at least buy 500 catties. Dad also bought some on credit in the village, and now he has collected 800 catties.'

'800 catties, that's enough to last for a few months after the New Year.' Feng Zhenchang shoved the steamed bun in his hand into his mouth in one bite, and two female students walked towards him.

In the afternoon, Feng Zhenchang said he was going to the toilet, but he went to the newsstand instead and bought the current issue of Harvest. When he returned, Mei Qiuping naturally complained for a while. It cost a few dollars, and Dad said the magazine would send a few copies. What's the point of spending this kind of money? You haven't even made a few bucks yet, and you're already being so extravagant?

As a result, whenever she had a moment to spare, Mei Qiuping would hold the magazine and read it. Feng Zhenchang would then say, 'It's so expensive, I'll go and talk to the owner and get a refund.'

'Forget it, we've already bought it, and taking it back for a refund would make people look down on us.'

That afternoon, while they were doing business, the two of them struck up conversations with their classmates who had come to look after the business. "Have you read this issue of Harvest? The novel "Not One Less' was written by my son.' Then there were many genuine or fake praises for the harvest.

When it was past 3:00 p.m., Feng Zhenchang rode his tricycle towards the elementary school, then to the high school, and by dinner time, he returned and parked in front of the university. They didn't prepare to go home until the eight o'clock bell sounded from the customs clock tower in the distance. Feng Zhenchang rode the bicycle, and Mei Qiuping walked behind, pushing from behind when they encountered slopes or uneven areas.

It was almost nine o'clock when they returned to their place of residence.

This was a village in the city, although it could not be called a village in the city yet, and in fact the entire provincial capital was a huge village in the city at this time. There were not many newly-built high-rises, the real estate market had not yet been liberalised, and the newly-built residential buildings were also few in number, and they were all old buildings from many years ago. There had been no major demolitions, planning, or development, and the roads were not as many, wide, or straight as they would later become. There were more trees along the roads than later, and they were also larger.

The place where they lived was close to the railway, and the locals had built a small two- to three-storey building in that area, mostly for rent. The distance between the two rows of buildings was less than three metres, and if someone in the front row yawned, it would spread to the row behind, making it very cramped. The cement road in the alleyway had aged or been damaged by pressure, and it was pitted with holes, making it even more miserable when it rained.

When Feng Zhanchang and the others returned, it was already dark. The yellowish light shone through the window bars and the door on the ground floor, casting dappled light and shadows in the alley. People who had scattered to various parts of the provincial capital to make a living had also returned home, and a few children were playing and fighting in the alley.

They greeted each other as they pushed their carts along, 'You're back. You're even cooking fish today. You must be making a lot of money!'

'Oh, no, how about you today? You sold a lot of chestnuts, didn't you!'

At this hour, the neighbourhood not far away has already quieted down. People have finished their dinners and are either taking a walk or watching TV. Those who go to bed early are almost ready for bed. The alley is at its busiest. The housewives have moved the coal stoves to the doorsteps and are cooking. They have come all the way over here, smelling the sweet and sour, spicy and bitter flavours. The family's stir-fried meat with chilli makes Feng Zhenchang's throat go 'gurgle'. He hastens his steps. He reckoned that it had been a long time since he had last eaten meat. He had eaten cold fried rice for breakfast and two steamed buns for lunch, and now the smell of this food really made him a little hungry.

The first floor they rented had two rooms at the front and back, which together were less than 20 square metres. When they put the tricycle in, it was crammed full. There was actually not much furniture: a folding table, a square stool, two backless chairs, and a double-decker wooden bed, which were all purchased for them by Mei Yiliang, who worked part-time in a furniture workshop.

After parking the cart, Feng Zhenchang wiped his face, washed some rice and then had some free time. He took a small cup of the white wine he had bought at the farmers' market, ate some peanuts and took a sip. With something in his stomach, he took out the magazine he had bought that day and put it on the table to read.

Mei Qiuping is not yet at leisure. She also takes the coal stove outside and prepares to cook. First, she fries the tofu on both sides until it is lightly browned, then she takes it off the heat, dices the bacon, and stir-fries it with the pickled chili peppers at home. Then she pours the tofu back in, adds a few cloves of garlic, and takes the pan off the heat. It tastes very good and goes well with rice. There are also eggplants, which are stir-fried over high heat, and then pickled chili peppers and pickles are added.

After the stir-fry is done, I put an aluminium steamer on the stove and knead the dough that I mixed in the morning and let it rise. I form it into a few buns, put them in the steamer and steam them over the residual heat. This will be their lunch the day after tomorrow.

They were both hungry, so they finished eating quickly. They finished the eggplant dish, but there was still half a plate of tofu left. Mei Qiuping washed the dishes and tidied up, while Feng Zhenchang opened a bag and poured out a basinful of chestnuts. He used scissors to cut a small hole in each one. Mei Qiuping finished tidying up and came over to help. Fortunately, they had all been cooked these days, and they quickly finished cooking almost 20 catties. The couple then stopped.

By the time they finished washing up and went to bed, it was almost eleven o'clock. It was quiet all around, except for the sound of trains passing by from time to time not far behind the house. The passenger trains came and went, and the freight trains roared by with a loud thud, shaking the house so much that it felt like the bed was moving.

Fortunately, these days have passed, and they have all become accustomed to the noise. When they lie in bed, they are tired and sleepy, and the noise has little effect on them.

Mei Qiuping is a little sleepless again tonight, tossing and turning.

She calls out to Feng Zhenchang, 'What's wrong?' Feng Zhenchang turns out to have not fallen asleep either.

'Tell me, do you think it's because we're not very capable parents that we're in so much debt? During the New Year, when everyone comes to collect debts, and we can't even afford the usual food and clothing, we're forced to make our own money, even though our son has just finished primary school?'