Chapter 45: Guo Yuelin’s Relatives

Guo Yuelin: “…” Both copies are in your hands. You’re going to add fine print without telling me?

“No need. If you say they exist, then they must exist.”

Feng Mian had almost finished eating when Guo Yuelin stepped forward, “Don’t move, I’ll wash the dishes. Your hand is injured.”

“A small injury, it’s nothing.”

“I’ll do it.” He stubbornly took the bowl from her.

Feng Mian sheepishly said, “Okay, there’s a shampoo bottle on the stove, but it’s not shampoo inside. It’s for washing dishes. Squeeze some into the water—it cleans better.”

“Got it.”

Guo Yuelin went to wash the dishes, and while at it, heated some hot water.

Feng Mian lit a candle she had bought and sat down to read the newspaper.

A piece of news caught her eye.

A man who ran a barbershop was struggling because policy didn’t allow him to open a shop. He carried his tools on a shoulder pole every day and did haircuts on the street—very inconvenient and difficult.

So, he began writing letters to the relevant departments, hoping the government would help solve his problem.

Officials came to investigate his situation, and after approval, allowed him to open a shop—not because policy had changed, but because he temporarily didn’t have the proper business license.

Feng Mian held the newspaper tightly, her mood stirred.

Because she knew this was a sign of policy loosening.

Soon, more and more people would write to the government, and after a certain meeting, personal business licenses would begin to be issued.

She vaguely remembered the first batch of business categories to be opened would include inns, restaurants, barbershops, small goods and grocery stores, clothing stores, bicycle repair shops, watch repair shops, and so on.

Feng Mian made up her mind—tomorrow she would write a letter too.

She definitely wanted to be among the first to get a business license, maybe open a grocery store, since she wasn’t sure what goods she would be able to get.

Guo Yuelin brought out some water, “Mianmian, you wash first.”

Feng Mian snapped back to reality and saw that Guo Yuelin had brought her a basin of foot-washing water.

“Thank you!”

Soaking feet in hot water at night is very comfortable. She didn’t hesitate, took off her shoes and socks, and put her feet in.

Guo Yuelin went to the kitchen and after a while brought water for washing her face, along with a towel and even her facial cleanser.

She was momentarily stunned, then thanked him again.

“Thanks, really sorry. You worked hard all day and I make you boil water to wash my feet and face.”

Guo Yuelin rubbed his nose, feeling uncomfortable when she thanked him. The more polite she was, the more distant it felt.

Feng Mian’s facial cleanser was stored in a plastic bottle with no label. She scooped a little out to wash her face, which afterward smelled nice and clean.

While she washed her face, Guo Yuelin filled the hot water bag with warm water.

The water in the jar was empty again. He’d have to get up early tomorrow to fetch some more water.

Feng Mian went to the bedroom, lit a candle, drew the curtains, and started her nighttime skincare routine.

Guo Yuelin looked through the curtain and saw her shadow—she was patting and rubbing her face, making slapping sounds.

Why was she slapping her own face?

“Mianmian, why are you hitting your own face?”

Feng Mian was startled and stopped.

She guessed he might have misunderstood.

“Oh, patting the face makes it look better.”

Guo Yuelin: “…”

He sat on the bed staring at the shadow behind the curtain.

Even though they lived together now, the curtain felt like an unbreakable wall, separating them into two worlds.

That curtain was really ugly.

Irritated, Guo Yuelin covered himself with the blanket and refused to look.

But at night, every sound was unusually clear—being covered under the quilt couldn’t muffle it.

He really couldn’t resist anymore, so he lifted the quilt and glanced over.

Why was she still fussing over her face?

Hmm, she really cared about her appearance.

Guo Yuelin silently began to think about which of his friends could buy some good snow cream for her.

The next day, Guo Yuelin got up early to fetch water, then made breakfast together with Feng Mian.

They made two pancakes, cooked some thin porridge, and prepared a small side dish.

Feng Mian thought that having an extra person around really was inconvenient—breakfast had to be cooked fresh, which was quite troublesome.

When she was alone, things were simpler; if she wanted porridge, she just ordered eight-treasure porridge.

But then she reconsidered—eating too much of that wasn’t good for health. Cooking fresh was a bit more troublesome but had its benefits.

After breakfast, Feng Mian tidied the room and then wrote a letter to the relevant government department.

Guo Yuelin continued working.

Around noon, the team leader’s little grandson ran over and told Guo Yuelin there was a phone call.

This one phone was not only convenient for Fengjia Village, but several nearby teams relied on it to contact relatives and friends outside.

It was an old-fashioned phone, without a dial keypad—you had to turn a rotary dial to call out.

Soon the phone rang, and a familiar voice came through.

“Yuelin?”

“It’s me, Uncle Chen.”

“Why did you suddenly move? I called your old number, but the person who answered said you’re not there anymore and gave me this number.”

He paused for a moment, then added, “I also heard from the person answering that you became a live-in son-in-law for someone? Did something happen? Are you in trouble?”

“No trouble, it’s not what you think. My wife has no parents, she’s alone. I’m living with her to keep her company. Her parents left her a house, so I live with her there—it’s better than marrying her and living in a woodshed.”

The other side was silent for a long time. After a while, he sighed, “Ah, that’s a tough life. Sounds alright though. Definitely better than you marrying her and living in a woodshed.”

“Yes.”

“Then live well with her. If I want to find you later, I just call this number, right?”

“Yes.”

“Your cousin sent a letter. Do you want to pick it up here, or should I send it to you?”

“Please help send it over, Uncle Chen. I’ll give you the address.”

“Alright. Also, here’s some good news: there’s some progress on your maternal grandfather’s case. The old man might be reinstated as an official soon.”

Hearing this, Guo Yuelin felt a surge of happiness.

But then he thought about his uncle and mother being gone, and that his maternal grandfather still didn’t know.

He wondered if his grandfather could bear the news when he found out.

He stayed silent for a moment but still thanked the person on the other end.

“Uncle Chen, thank you for helping mediate all this.”

“You’re welcome.”

…

In the morning, Feng Mian made another trip to the county town and sent the letter she had written to the appropriate address.

She then visited the market to see what was being sold.

She bought some fish, meat, vegetables, and fruit available in the market.

At this time, agricultural and sideline products could only be self-produced and self-sold—that is, local grains, chicken, duck, and so on could only be sold locally.

Only after someone declared that “letting mountain produce rot on the mountain is ‘socialism,’ but transporting it out to meet urban demand is ‘capitalism’—how does that make sense?” did the sale of grains to big cities and to outside areas gradually open up.

By mid-afternoon when she returned, she sat by the stove, brewing tea while scrolling through her phone.

She placed an order for a few hundred pairs of old-style nylon stockings. Although the shop had several colors, Feng Mian only bought the flesh-colored ones.