Chapter 23

Traveling in the snow wasn’t easy.

Xu Wanchun hadn’t been home in half a month.

Watching her mother retrieve a large package from the wooden chest and place it on the bed table—then pull out two smaller ones—she groaned, “The big one’s from Senior Brother again, isn’t it?”

Catching the exasperation in her daughter’s tone, Hehua chuckled as she handed over scissors. “Of course. Jingliang’s still a student himself—I bet he spent every penny on you.”

Truthfully, Wanchun understood her senior brother’s intentions. He was probably grateful that she had cared for their Master and Madam like a real daughter.

Receiving gifts was nice, sure, but if this continued, she worried he might spend his future dowry savings.

Ever since the war ended three years ago and he returned to study at the Military Medical University, he had been sending her care packages.

Even rejecting him in writing didn’t work—every month or two, another big box arrived. This one was the biggest yet.

“I’ll open it later. Mama, can you make the ginger tea?” Before Wanchun could respond, her mother had already left the room.

Her senior brother’s package was a project on its own, so she decided to open the letters first—especially the one from the publishing house.

Thinking about it, she felt a bit ashamed. In the past, she had been too arrogant and naïve.

Just because she had a foundation in art didn’t mean she could instantly create compelling comics.

She had thought that after a year or two of studying current comic trends, she’d nail it easily.

But… turns out, there’s a real gap between science students and art creators.

After two years of hard work, she began submitting her work.

And for over a year? Nothing but silence or rejections.

Even with her adult mindset, it was discouraging.

Still, she couldn’t give up—not after sticking with it for more than three years.

To be fair, editors back then were incredibly kind. Many rejection letters came with detailed explanations, suggestions, and encouragement.

Maybe it was those encouraging words, or maybe her own stubbornness, but by the fourth year, she changed her strategy.

She leveraged her strengths as a science student and began inserting simple physics concepts into each comic chapter.

And finally, it worked—her manuscript sold.

But just as she celebrated her small victory, another blow came…

Xu Wanchun had thought that publishing comic booklets meant the author would share profits with the newspaper agency.

She had even calculated it multiple times: even if she earned just 0.5 fen per copy, with nationwide distribution, each run would bring in five hundred to a thousand yuan at least. If it were reprinted, the earnings would be even higher.

However… at this time, there was no such thing as profit-sharing—only outright buyouts.

And since she was a civilian illustrator, she was paid the intern rate: 0.8 yuan per illustration at the lowest.

Her first published work contained 10 short stories, totaling 200 illustrations.

Which meant that after four painstaking years of effort, she only earned 160 yuan in total.

That was equivalent to about four months’ wages for a factory worker at the time.

It didn’t sound like a small sum, but during herb-collecting season, she and her mother could earn that much in just half a month in the mountains.

The effort and income simply didn’t match up. Xu Wanchun cut her losses in time and stopped sending submissions to publishers.

She only picked it up again because the editor, after sending her two letters of persuasion, actually made a personal visit.

The editor was a young woman who didn’t preach any lofty ideals—she simply emphasized that the editor-in-chief had agreed to raise her rate to that of a mid-level illustrator: 2.5 yuan per illustration, also under a buyout agreement.

Then she brought out a whole sack of letters from readers and asked Xu Wanchun to read them before making her decision.

Honestly, Xu Wanchun had never expected readers to write to her. After all, she started creating comics purely for the money.

She thought she’d earn high manuscript fees and had never imagined it as anything noble.

But after reading about twenty letters, she was genuinely moved by the heartfelt gratitude inside.

The readers thanked her for helping their children find joy in learning through her comics. Some even praised her work as a great public service in spreading knowledge to the masses, pleading with her to continue.

Of course, Xu Wanchun was still a practical person. As touching as it was, the real reason she resumed drawing was the increased payment.

And so she kept going—for another two years.

During that time, she received over a thousand illustration commissions, and the fee per piece rose to 3 yuan.

That meant she earned over 3,000 yuan just from comic work in those two years.

Combined with the money she and her mother saved from selling herbs over the years, they had over 6,000 yuan in savings—a massive sum.

Money moves hearts, but Xu Wanchun didn’t let the temptation cloud her judgment.

Although the turbulent decade was still far off, some early signs of political campaigns were already beginning to show. She knew when to take her wins and bow out.

She figured that this new letter from the publishing house was just another invitation to continue her work—along with her final manuscript fee.

And indeed, she joyfully checked the publisher’s “Payment Notice”—her receipt for withdrawing money from the bank.

After carefully putting it away, she opened the editor’s letter and started reading.

Though the editor was sincere and the tone heartfelt, Xu Wanchun had already decided that in her reply, she’d vaguely say she was out of inspiration and would take a six-month break.

Half a year, then another half—it would add up. After enough of these excuses, they’d give up eventually. After all, there were plenty of professional illustrators out there.

And it wasn’t like she had a monopoly on physics knowledge—someone else could always pick up where she left off.

In the next few years, aside from gathering and selling herbs, Xu Wanchun didn’t plan on taking on anything else.

She had other things to prepare for… like the natural disasters that were looming on the horizon.

Thinking of this, her good mood faded. She sighed and folded the letter back along its original creases, returning it to the torn envelope before moving on to open the package from her grandmother.

The package wasn’t big and was neatly packed—it was probably books again.

Sure enough, she was right. After putting away the medical texts, she picked up the scissors to open the largest parcel.

The orange tabby cat Fuling noticed her sitting up and moved over, resting its head on her leg and purring contentedly.

“You’re so clingy,” Xu Wanchun laughed, giving the cat a good head rub.

Enjoying her touch, Fuling rolled over on its back, showing off its plump belly.

Xu Wanchun was utterly charmed and momentarily forgot all about her senior brother’s package. With a grin, she buried her face in the cat’s soft, chubby belly and gave it a thorough rub.

“You little rascal—go pet Danggui, or he’s going to beat up Fuling again,” Xu Hehua walked in with a bowl of ginger tea and quickly reminded her daughter, seeing her getting lost in play with the orange cat.

Sure enough, the big dog sitting to the side let out a bark upon hearing its name.

Though Danggui had grown into a strong, reliable wolfdog, he was still a jealous little thing. Every time she showed favoritism, he’d secretly bully Fuling later.

Thinking of this, Xu Wanchun burst out laughing and reached over to pat the dog’s head. She couldn’t resist joking, “They say siblings don’t get along because parents are biased. Don’t worry, Danggui—I won’t be that kind of mom.”

Smack! Xu Hehua gave her daughter a light slap and scolded playfully, “What nonsense are you spouting? Since when are you their parent? They’re pets! Hurry up and wipe your hands—drink your ginger tea.”

Xu Wanchun instantly quieted down. She took the hot towel, wiped her hands, then picked up the large bowl and downed the tea in one go.

As soon as she set the bowl down, Xu Hehua came back from outside carrying a footbath. “Take off your socks. Soak your feet and take a nap afterward.”

“You’re the best, Mama,” Xu Wanchun said, eyes glistening with gratitude.

Xu Hehua responded, “Enough with the dramatics… Why haven’t you opened your senior brother’s package yet?”

Xu Wanchun winced as the hot water stung her feet. “You do it for me.”

Knowing her daughter was being lazy again, Xu Hehua picked up the scissors and began cutting. “There’s a letter—read it first… Oh wow, this coat is beautiful! It’s pink, too—try it on, let me see. These boots are gorgeous… and this hair tie—we don’t have anything like it here… Even toothpaste and cold cream…”

As more and more items came out of the box, Xu Hehua grew increasingly embarrassed. “They’re butchering pigs in the village tomorrow. Let’s make some cured meat and buy some pickled rabbit and chicken from the hunters to send to Jingliang. Hopefully, it’ll get to him before New Year’s.”

After finishing the letter, Xu Wanchun folded it and replied, “It should. Let’s just send it anyway.”

Xu Hehua said, “When you write back, tell Jingliang not to send anything else.”

Xu Wanchun sighed. “I’ve said that so many times.”

“This boy is too earnest. Alright… I’ll go check the village tomorrow and find something good to send him.”

After soaking her feet, she was thoroughly warm and dozed off soon after.

By the time she woke again, it was already dinner.

Since it was just family, Xu Wanchun didn’t fuss. She loosely tied her thick hair into a braid and sat between her adoptive mother and her Master’s wife.

Although she was already fourteen—and would be fifteen after New Year’s—in the eyes of the adults, she was still a child.

The dinner conversation naturally revolved around her: Was she keeping up with her studies? Were her classmates easy to get along with? Had she been eating properly? She looked a little thinner…

She was the only child in both households, so she was doted on. But Xu Wanchun didn’t find it annoying—she patiently answered every question, occasionally cracking jokes that had the three adults roaring with laughter.

When her bowl was nearly picked clean, Su Nan added another piece of meat to it. “I know you love sauerkraut pork bones. Your Master had someone specially set aside several kilos so you could indulge.”

She chuckled as she said it—this little girl had been a foodie from a young age.

Xu Wanchun gave the nearly bare bone to Danggui, who had been waiting nearby, then smiled sweetly and flattered, “My Master has always spoiled me.”

That made Doctor Cao beam inside, though he kept a stern face. “Quit sweet-talking. You talk more than you eat.”

Xu Wanchun didn’t take offense. She got up and served each of the three elders a meaty portion before asking if anything new had happened in the village.

Between bites and laughter, dinner lasted well over an hour.

After her Master and his wife returned to their home next door, and mother and daughter finished cleaning the kitchen and washing up, they came back to find the kerosene lamp lit and Xu Hehua flipping through her notebook.

Xu Wanchun walked over. “Are you studying?”

“Not really—just dealing with village matters,” Hehua replied, already taking the abacus off the wall.

“Didn’t you say things have been quiet lately? Not busy?”

“Just tapping the abacus at home—how’s that busy? Compared to working the fields, accounting work is a breeze.”

Xu Wanchun didn’t quite agree. Only after she personally learned about it did she realize how demanding a village accountant’s job was.

They handled everything—from calculating each member’s labor, to distributing collective goods and grain, to drawing up production plans, submitting reports, and managing finances.

And since there were no convenient computers yet, everything was written by hand.

In just two years, her mother’s handwriting had developed real character—proof of how much she’d written.

That’s right. Though democratic village elections had been held for three years, her mother had only been village accountant for two.

At first, Xu Wanchun had deliberately tipped off Uncle Tun to run for village head. Not only would it benefit the Xu family village to have the village head be one of them, but her main goal was to have him nominate her mother for Women’s Director.

It wasn’t that she looked down on the accountant position, but with several villages merged, having both the secretary and the accountant from Xu family village might seem unfair. Better to secure the role she could get first before aiming higher.

Xu Wanchun had done her homework in advance, and as she expected, a year later, Uncle Tun found out that the accountant from Zhao family village had made a complete mess of the books.

The outcome was clear—Uncle Tun held an open exam and declared that even big leaders had said: “Women hold up half the sky,” so both men and women could participate.

In the end, with Xu Wanchun’s not-so-subtle coaching and three to four years of prep behind her, Xu Hehua stood out from the crowd.

This time, after a year of serving as Women’s Director and earning the villagers’ respect, few objected to her taking the accountant position.

Thinking about all this, Xu Wanchun suddenly sounded like a tiger mom. “Did you finish the homework I assigned you earlier? Anything you didn’t understand?”

Xu Hehua didn’t even look up and dismissed her: “Shoo, shoo, your homework can wait till tomorrow. I’m busy right now.”

Xu Wanchun rubbed her nose. “Need help?”

“No need. Go get your sleep.”

“…Fine.”

=

The next morning, just as the sky was turning light—

Xu Wanchun was still curled up, sleeping soundly in the warm kang bed when she was jolted awake by a sharp, piercing scream.

Hair sticking up in all directions, she sat up in a daze, taking a good while to remember—oh right, her mom said yesterday that they’d be slaughtering a pig today.

Watching the pig being butchered didn’t interest her, but it was rare to get a day off. Playing sleds and snowball fights with friends, then joining the pig feast—now that was something to look forward to.

Someone would probably come call her soon.

Thinking this, she could no longer stay in bed. She jumped up, slipped on her shoes, and got off the kang.

Her adoptive mother had left early to record data as the village accountant.

Xu Wanchun dressed warmly and stepped out of the main room—only to nearly get stabbed by a falling icicle.

Worried someone might get hurt, she grabbed a stick and knocked all the icicles down around the front gate before going to wash up.

Breakfast was warming on the stove. After eating, she was scrubbing the dishes with hot water when a familiar voice called from outside:

“Taohua, are you up? Xiao Hu is asking if we want to go ice-skating!”

“I’m in!” Xu Wanchun quickened her pace.

Li Yulan had already stepped into the kitchen and, seeing her busy, helped check the embers in the stove while chatting, “Hey, Taohua, I just saw someone go into your master’s house.”

Xu Wanchun didn’t think much of it, answering without looking up, “Probably just a patient.”

“I don’t think so—they brought a lot of luggage.”

Xu Wanchun blinked. “With luggage?” Who could that be?

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