Melon seeds were considered a luxury treat among snacks in this era. While peanuts were relatively more common, as they could be grown in collective farms, but even these were scarce during times of food shortages.

Melon seeds were rarer. Unlike peanuts, Melon seeds required special coupons to purchase, just like many other supplementary foods such as candy, tofu, pastries, and sesame paste. Urban residents who ate “commercial grain” might receive a small allocation of peanut or Melon seed coupons during holidays, but those were very few.

Rural families, usually eat pumpkin seeds which came from homegrown pumpkins. However, with no private plots allowed in these days, even growing pumpkins was limited. At most, a family might harvest a small handful of seeds to dry and roast, but only if they had the time and inclination.

Luo Cheng opened the package of Melon seeds he brought from his system inventory and tasted one. The flavor was delightful—spiced with a five-spice seasoning, and the seeds were large. In southern China, people tended to prefer savory or spiced flavors over sweet ones, though in places like Jiangsu, sweeter snacks were more popular.

The peanuts Luo Cheng had previously offered to his sisters had been ceremoniously placed on the table—a small plate for display. Nobody touched them, adhering to the unspoken rule that snacks like these were reserved for when all guests arrived. Each person would only get a few to sample, nothing more. The idea of casually cracking seeds and chatting was a luxury reserved for high-ranking officials.

“Shi Shi, come here. Take these Melon seeds and share them with the younger siblings. Aunt, you have some too,” Luo Cheng said, handing the package to his fourteen-year-old sister, Luo Shishi.

Luo Shishi had briefly rummaged through her brother’s bag when he first returned but had refrained from digging further out of respect. Now, seeing the Melon seeds, she was taken aback. The package was small, less than half a pound. How could she divide such a limited amount, knowing more relatives would arrive later?

Luo Cheng had entrusted her with the task precisely because of the challenge. As a grown man, he couldn’t go around handing out a specific number of seeds to each person.

“No need for me. Let the children have them,” Luo Cheng’s aunt declined. She saw the small package and knew there wouldn’t be enough to go around. She’d rather let her kids enjoy it.

Taking a moment to think, Luo Shishi decided to give each child ten seeds. Although the portion was small, the seeds were light and flavorful, ensuring everyone got a taste.

Even Luo Cheng’s eleven-year-old cousin, though a bit older, obediently lined up with the younger children to receive her share. Each child savored their seeds slowly, cracking one at a time and chewing slowly to make the flavor last as long as possible.

“Chengzi, now that you’re back, what’s your plan? Will you be looking for a job?” Luo Cheng’s aunt asked with keen interest. She was immensely proud of her nephew, who was the most accomplished person in the Luo family. If even someone like Luo Cheng ended up working on a farm, she wouldn’t have anything to brag about in her in-laws’ household.

“Hmm, the army gave me a recommendation letter. I served as a communication soldier, so I can drive and repair cars. I’m planning to visit the township Revolutionary Committee this afternoon to see if they have any suitable jobs.”

In larger cities, Luo Cheng could have gone to a neighborhood office for job placement, but Longyang Township was too small to have such facilities. The Revolutionary Committee handled administrative tasks and arranged work for incoming personnel, but they rarely dealt with job-seekers. Most local jobs—at schools, grain stations, or police stations—were already filled.

Additionally, job placements typically matched a candidate’s skill set. Luo Cheng’s expertise with vehicles might not align with available roles in such a small town.

“You know how to drive and fix cars, Chengzi?” Luo Cheng’s aunt exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief.

In those days, even owning a bicycle was a big deal. Cars were nearly mythical to many, especially in rural areas. Her nephew’s skills made him stand out even more.

“Yeah, I can drive cars, trucks, and freight vehicles. It’s nothing special, really,” Luo Cheng replied modestly.

He left out the part about knowing how to operate excavators and other machinery. While he could drive various vehicles, he hadn’t had much real-world experience, particularly on public roads. His repair skills were also rudimentary—enough to identify faults and replace parts, but not enough for complex fixes or engine overhauls.

In the technical school, he’d learned enough for basic maintenance, but professional-level repairs, let alone modifications, required a deeper understanding of mechanics. In his experience, modifying or upgrading a vehicle wasn’t as simple as swapping out parts. Mismatched components could cause more problems than they solved.

“You’re amazing! I’ve only ever heard of cars in Yian City. Here in Longyang town, we don’t even have a proper bus route!” his aunt remarked with admiration.

In these times, many people had never even seen a car, let alone ridden in one. Some hadn’t even visited a city their entire lives. The bus fare to Yian City was only 20 cents, but for many, walking was the preferred option to save money.

Luo Cheng smiled politely at his aunt’s praise. In the modern world, his skills wouldn’t be considered impressive. Finding a job would be a challenge even with his qualifications.