Chapter 5: Chapter 05 She Wants to Be a Salted Fish and Lie at Home_1
Translator: 549690339
Song Liang patted his shoulder. "You should trust your uncle when he's staking his life to vouch for you. Study hard, don't tell anyone, and don't ask where I got the news. We'll see what happens in a month. Can't you wait until then?"
Then he stood up and gestured for Song Yunuan and Song Mingsheng to head home.
After they had left, Sun Zhiqing seemed to finally react; he hurriedly ran to the house, took out the items he had hidden under the bed, thought for a moment, then hid them again. He decided not to give them to Lin Qing just yet; he would wait until after a month.
When they got home, his grandparents weren't there; they said they had gone to the county town.
Xia Guilan told her daughter to rest well and asked her son to stay at home to keep her company, while Song Liang, burdened with heavy thoughts, went off to work with his wife and sister.
He was the brigade leader, and now, during the spring plowing season, he had to lead the work.
After walking a few steps, he heard his daughter complain from behind, "My dad's job as brigade leader is so unimpressive—no authority, no popularity, and our house is still as poor as a church mouse."
Song Liang's face reddened at her words.
Not wanting to listen anymore, he quickened his pace.
Still, her voice carried over:
"Erdao River is so poor, the villagers are disunited, and resources are scarce; it's difficult to develop. My dad would be better off quitting his job to start a business; that way, I might even get to be a rich second generation."
Song Yunuan clenched her little fist. Yes, she would find a way to resign from the brigade leader position.
It was the best time to start a business and accumulate wealth quickly.
Even selling roasted sunflower seeds could make one a ten-thousandaire.
She ran a few steps, planning to discuss resigning with her parents as soon as possible, but the three of them were walking so fast that they soon disappeared from sight. She had no choice but to take her brother inside to prepare for a nap.
The two of them were dozing off when she vaguely heard someone in the courtyard calling, "Little Nuan, Little Nuan... It's your little uncle."
Following that, Old Mrs. Song scolded from behind, "Keep it down, don't startle Little Nuan."
Song Yunuan paused for a few seconds before getting up and opening the window.
Pushing the bicycle in was Song Nian, Old Man Song's third son, who lived in the county town with his wife and son, working as a temp at the lumber mill.
The little uncle was dressed in a Zhongshan suit, with a fountain pen pinned to his chest, his hair parted in the middle and slick with oil. If one didn't know better, they might think he was the director of the lumber mill.
In reality, he was the one carrying lumber, doing the hardest and most tiring work and earning the least, having to rent a place to live. He couldn't contribute a single penny to his parents, and Old Mrs. Song even had to covertly subsidize them.
If not for this, the Song family wouldn't be so poor.
"Although my little uncle is selfish, he does have a heart. After my dad committed suicide, he went to plead with Lin Qing to spare the Song family. Lin Qing said as long as he went to jail to deal with Wang Zhuzi, he would let them go, so my little uncle went inside. He got charged with setting fire to the lumber mill's warehouse and ended up being dealt with alongside Wang Zhuzi. So stupid!"
Old Mrs. Song's chest was quivering, but she pretended not to hear, kicking her dazed youngest son, "What are you daydreaming about? Didn't you have something to tell Little Nuan?"
Song Nian, who had been given a hint with gestures and kicks by his parents beforehand, fell face-first to the ground.
Song Mingsheng stood on the windowsill, covering his mouth to hide his laughter.
Song Nian hurriedly got up, took a deep breath, and tried to steady himself. Then he walked to the window and spoke to Song Yunuan, who was looking outside. "Little Nuan, I've inquired for you. Er Zhong is willing to accept you, but you have to wait until school starts in September, and your record needs to be transferred here as well."
The original host was seventeen years old and had graduated from junior high last year but didn't pass the entrance exam to the high school in the provincial capital.
Song Yunuan wasn't very keen on studying.
This family was not bad; she just wanted to be a lazy fish and lie around at home.
"There's another piece of news. Our county has built an electronics factory that's hiring. If you're interested, I can take you to the county town to sign up."
Song Yunuan thought for a bit. "I'll go sign up tomorrow. School doesn't start until September anyway."
The Song family had no objections. Now, whatever Little Nuan said was law.
...
The next morning, Song Nian took Song Yunuan to the county town.
Since Song Nian had to work as well, they left just after six in the morning; it took half an hour to get to the county town.
Halfway through the ride, Song Nian hurriedly called out, "Little Nuan, get down."
Song Yunuan had already hopped off.
They stood at the very edge of the road—this was a crossroad.
Three black cars sped from the left side of the road toward the direction of the county town.
Even though the drivers slowed down upon seeing country folk by the roadside, the uncle and nephew duo still ate a mouthful of dust each.
Fortunately, Song Yunuan covered her mouth in time, just to hear Song Nian boasting, "Little Nuan, those cars are from Beidu, very impressive. I've heard they don't even need to look at the traffic lights when crossing the street."
"That awesome? So what are they doing here?"
Song Nian pointed to the distant mountains shrouded in the morning haze and lowered his voice, "There's a Nanshan test flight base of the Dragon Aviation Command Headquarters from Beidu over there. It even has guards. Ordinary folks don't know, and you shouldn't talk about it casually. Don't tell the villagers."
Song Yunuan looked skeptically at her little uncle, who dreamt of becoming an official, "How do you know about such a top-secret matter?"
Song Nian said with pride, "I've been there before."
Song Yunuan praised, "Little uncle, you're really amazing."
The two continued biking on.
Song Nian actually felt a bit guilty. How could he have possibly been there? He had only been assigned last winter to deliver office desks for the base, and after leaving them at the base's county town external office, he had left.
The clerks at the office all wore uniforms, each with a stern face, intimidating to anyone, and he wouldn't dare to pry. All this was just coworkers bragging.
He didn't even recognize the cars; it was pure fabrication. Fortunately, Little Nuan didn't ask further, otherwise he would've been caught in the lie.
However, that road did indeed lead to the test flight base.
Song Yunuan didn't believe her little uncle's words, but she did believe that the cars were from Beidu, with the middle one being a ZH001 Su National Production Hunter III, a top model of the eighties.
The glass was even bulletproof.
Even decades later, it would still be a custom model exclusively for the bigshots.
Don't ask how Song Yunuan knew. If you did, it was something she wouldn't be entitled to own even if she inherited a fortune of over a hundred million. Remembering her past life, Song Yunuan suddenly felt stifled.
By now, those three cars had long disappeared from view.
Song Nian pedaled fast, worried about being late and getting fired, not avoiding potholes and stones, which made Song Yunuan feel like she was on a trampoline.
The sadness, too, was bounced away.
After a bumpy journey, they finally arrived at the electronic plant's registration office located in the center of the county town.
Song Yunuan hopped off the bicycle and curiously looked around.
The county's main roads were all made of concrete.
Electric poles lined the streets, with wires stretched out like a spiderweb overhead, said to be the symbol of urban modernization.
Little cars were seldom seen; it was mostly bicycles.
There were also villagers driving ox carts and mule carts.
On both sides of the street were department stores, state-run restaurants, and even newspaper and stamp collecting service points...
The essence of the eighties hit them full in the face.
It felt like an old photograph.
At this moment, a very long queue had formed at the gate of the electronic plant's registration office. Finding a job was difficult nowadays, and ordinary factories weren't hiring anymore, let alone openly recruiting.
One could guess that some people had come to line up before six in the morning.
Song Yunuan told her little uncle to go to work; she could manage on her own...
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