Lin Hongying disassembled the radio parts and found that the circuit had aged, causing poor contact. The radio was already on the verge of breaking down, and it had likely been intermittently malfunctioning before. The poor village girl had been unfairly blamed for it.  

Well, she would take responsibility for this mess—she promised to return it in working condition.  

From what Lin Hongying knew, radios of this era were second-generation models using vacuum tube technology. In 1952, China’s first domestically produced vacuum tube radio was born, ending the era of relying on imported radio components.  

The Zheng family’s radio looked so old that it was practically an antique from before the founding of the nation, and it must have cost a fortune when purchased.  

At a time when the average monthly wage was only twenty or thirty yuan, this antique could easily be worth one or two hundred yuan.  

Such was the sorrow of an industrially backward country.  

By the 1970s, China began producing transistor radios—commonly known as semiconductor radios—and only then did this “luxury item” truly enter ordinary households, becoming one of the “Three Turns and One Sound” essential for weddings.  

The Zheng family’s radio was an outdated model. When Lin Hongying opened it up, she was taken aback—she had never seen such an ancient radio before. Fortunately, the basic physics principles were similar, and after some tinkering, she quickly figured it out.  

She rewired part of the circuit and cleaned the dust off the speaker.  

While fixing the radio, Lin Hongying opened the system interface to check the price of a “third-generation radio.”  

Unsurprisingly, it was another string of question marks. Good grief, this system’s whole deal is “You can’t afford this, you can’t afford that!” 

Lin Hongying considered upgrading this old vacuum tube radio to a transistor model once she had the resources.  

In her past life, Lin Hongying had graduated from Tsinghua University as the top scorer in the college entrance exams, choosing Agricultural Engineering—arguably the most niche major. Since the field was closely related to mechanics, she had taken up Mechanical Engineering as a second degree at her advisor’s enthusiastic suggestion. She was also quite knowledgeable about electronics, so building a transistor radio would be no trouble for her.  

Grandma Xu watched as Lin Hongying disassembled the radio methodically, organizing the parts by category, and gradually relaxed.  

Not that she had much choice—the radio was already broken anyway.  

As she wiped down the tables and chairs, Grandma Xu chatted with Lin Hongying, asking if she was adjusting well to life in the residential compound.  

She also advised her, “Some of the family members here can be harsh with their words—don’t take it to heart. If you feel wronged, talk to Xiao Shao. Marriage is all about communication and mutual understanding…”  

“Don’t listen to anyone who tells you to foolishly go back to the countryside!”  

Xiao Shao was young but already held a high-ranking position, and everyone who met him spoke highly of him. Over the years, many had tried to set him up, but nothing ever came of it. Now, they were just waiting for an opportunity to drive this village girl back to the countryside…  

Lin Hongying focused on tinkering with the radio, occasionally responding to show she was listening.  

With a click, she pressed the mechanical switch, and a crisp, clear voice came through the speaker.  

“Grandma Xu, I’ll be going now. I’ll come by for tea another time!”  

With that, Lin Hongying left the Zheng household.  

Grandma Xu stood frozen in place, her figure reflected against the snow-white wall as she stared blankly at the departing figure, her mouth hanging open.  

She… she had actually fixed the radio! 

…

That evening, Dr. He, the Zheng family’s daughter-in-law, took off her white coat and glasses and asked, “Mom, didn’t that village girl come today? She hasn’t made dinner yet.”  

Grandma Xu was still in a daze, her hand occasionally brushing over the radio on the table.  

“Don’t call her ‘that village girl’—her name is Lin Hongying!” Grandma Xu snapped out of it and said, “She just brought me five pounds of flour and said she found a new job, so she won’t be coming anymore.”  

Dr. He changed her shoes and replied, “It’s just a nickname.”  

“It’s good that she’s gone. She couldn’t do anything right—she just stood there dumbfounded when I asked her to turn on the light, and when I told her to wipe the radio, she pressed so hard she broke it. She nearly ruined everything in this house. What’s wrong with calling her ‘that village girl’? Old Zheng hasn’t been able to listen to the radio for a long time and has complained about it several times.”  

“If she suffers a bit and goes back to the countryside sooner, it’s for the best. I was planning to introduce Xiao Shao to a girl from our department anyway.”  

Grandma Xu frowned. “Don’t you dare meddle! How do you know Xiao Shao hasn’t already filed a marriage report?”  

Dr. He was puzzled. “I just don’t think they’re a good match. The day Lin Hongying arrived, I saw Xiao Shao at the hospital—he didn’t recognize her at all, didn’t even seem to know he had a fiancée. It’d be strange if he actually accepted this village girl!”  

“How is what I’m doing a bad thing? A talented man and a beautiful woman—wouldn’t they make a better pair than Lin Hongying?”  

“Arranged marriages are bad! Do you know what they represent? Oppression, tyranny, no emotional foundation at all. I say it’s better to cut ties before marriage to avoid tragedy.”  

She couldn’t understand why her mother-in-law was suddenly so argumentative today.  

Wasn’t it obvious to everyone that the two of them were completely mismatched? What was there to debate?

Grandma Xu spat in disdain. “And the match you introduce has an emotional foundation? At least she’s someone Old Shao’s grandfather personally approved of! She’s hardworking and kind-hearted. If it weren’t for her taking care of things inside and outside our home all this time, where would you have had it so easy?”  

“She’s capable—just hasn’t found a job yet. Who are you to look down on her?”  

Mentioning the radio, Grandma Xu patted it and pressed the power button.  

A clearer, louder voice than before came through the speaker: “Good news from An Steel—our worker comrades have overcome hardships, with last year’s steel output twenty times that of 1949—” 

Dr. He’s heart leapt at the crisp, authoritative broadcast.  

Staring at the refurbished radio on the table, her surprise momentarily overrode her argument with her mother-in-law. “Oh! Mom, when did our radio get fixed?”  

“Hongying fixed it today. Be polite when you see her next time.”  

For the first time this year, Grandma Xu grinned so widely her gapped teeth showed.  

She might be old, but her mind was sharp.  

That Lin girl… wasn’t half bad!

…

The next day, Lin Hongying borrowed a bicycle and rode to a nearby farm after asking for directions.  

The streets were drab and gray, plastered with slogans in white and red paint: “Eat without spending, work hard for production!” on one wall, “Prepare for war, prepare for famine, serve the people!” on another. Chalk drawings of soldiers in pine-green uniforms, peasants, and workers—each holding the Little Red Book—covered the walls.  

The passion and simplicity of the era enveloped her.  

Lin Hongying recalled how relations between China and the Soviet Union had rapidly deteriorated during this time, with the latter amassing troops at the border. The Chinese people were enduring hardship—poverty and food shortages—while the Northeast bore the brunt of production and construction tasks, driving rapid economic growth in the region.  

Material scarcity and food shortages defined this era! And this was exactly her field—she could achieve great things here!  

As expected, a recruitment notice was posted at the state farm’s entrance. The top position was for a senior technician, requiring an agricultural degree in farming, forestry, animal husbandry, or fisheries. The salary was a staggering 90 yuan per month, with eligibility for state intellectual subsidies.  

Lin Hongying ignored the other listings—none matched this one’s benefits. As for the requirements… she currently didn’t meet them.  

But if they dared to open public recruitment, it was her opportunity!

She went inside to fill out an application, frowning at the urban residency requirement. Finding a job these days came with plenty of hurdles.  

Memorizing the exam date, she cycled back.  

Returning to the residential compound, Lin Hongying first stopped by Grandma Xu’s to return the bike.  

Grandma Xu thanked her cheerfully for fixing the radio. “That old thing was bought before Liberation—over twenty years ago! But after your tinkering, it works better than ever.”  

“Don’t take Xiao Hu’s mom’s words to heart. She speaks without considering others’ feelings—I’ve scolded her.”  

Noticing Lin Hongying wiping sweat, she handed her a stack of **bathhouse tickets**. “You’re new here and must lack ration coupons. Take these.”  

Lin Hongying didn’t refuse—she genuinely needed a bath—and accepted them gratefully.  

Back home, she sniffed her clothes and grimaced. After a winter without proper washing, they reeked of sour sweat, and today’s cycling had only made it worse.  

With the tickets, she grabbed fresh clothes and headed to the public bathhouse.  

After a steaming bath, Lin Hongying returned, took off her coat, and examined her undergarments with a bitter smile.  

Her cotton undershirt was practically translucent under the light, riddled with holes and shedding fibers. A gentle tug might tear it apart.  

She knew fabric was scarce in this era—China lacked synthetic fiber production, making cloth precious. Families saved fabric all year just to make one or two garments, far from enough.  

Hence the saying: “New for three years, old for three, mended for three more.” Her undershirt had likely served over a decade.  

Shao Qingfeng’s abundance of clothes was due to his privileged background—able to buy high-end garments without ration coupons—and items bought during his studies in the Soviet Union. Since he usually wore his military uniform, his old clothes went unworn.  

Lin Hongying picked out one of his white shirts and changed into it, buttoning it slowly.  

Clothes make the man, as a saddle makes the horse. The change instantly improved her appearance.  

Aside from the shirt being slightly long, it was perfect.  

But the mirror reflected someone alarmingly thin—sunken cheeks from malnutrition, pallid skin, and dry, straw-like hair sticking out like autumn weeds. She took scissors and snipped off the split ends.  

Much better.

Glancing down at her tattered shoes, she resolved to visit the supply and marketing cooperative for a new pair once the weather cleared.