Over the next few days, Shen Zhihuan finally understood the meaning of “words becoming prophecy.”

Requests began pouring in from all corners.

Some people wanted to buy cotton. Others asked for quilts, milk powder, or even cement.

The most ridiculous of them all was from Tie Dan’s family in the east end of the village, who came asking to buy a regular position at a cement factory.

Shen Zhihuan rewarded them with a big eye-roll.

Why not just ask for airplanes, cannons, or atomic bombs while they were at it?

A regular job? Ridiculous.

Eventually…

Li Qiuhua began locking the door from the outside before heading to work, preventing any more disturbances while Shen Zhihuan rested.

At noon and after work, she would come straight home, close the door, and ignore anyone trying to strike up a conversation.

After a few soft refusals and cold shoulders, the visitors finally gave up.

Meanwhile, under Wang Tiezhu’s enthusiastic direction, the literacy classes also gained momentum.

The instructors were, of course, the seven educated youths, and the classes were held in the production team’s small assembly hall.

Every evening after dinner, Wang Tiezhu would sound his loudspeaker, summoning illiterate young women, housewives, uncles, and aunts from the village, all carrying their small stools, to the hall.

At first, everyone was excited and interested. But after a few days, the novelty wore off. The strict prohibition against idle chatter dampened their enthusiasm, and fewer and fewer people showed up.

Eventually, some nights saw just one or two students for all seven teachers.

Frustrated, Wang Tiezhu picked up his loudspeaker and let loose a round of scolding.

That night, he personally attended the class and took roll call, ensuring no one dared to skip again.

From then on, everyone finished their dinner early and sat waiting at home. The moment the loudspeaker blared, they promptly headed out.

Shen Zhihuan, having attended school before, didn’t need to report to the assembly hall every evening.

Li Qiuhua, on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky. She couldn’t recognize a single character and had to drag her stool to the hall nightly to endure lectures she barely understood.

Back home, she practiced writing with a stick in the sand.

Watching Li Qiuhua’s scrawls, Shen Zhihuan laughed so hard her sides ached.

School was about to start, Xiao Weidong still didn’t have a schoolbag or stationery. Shen Zhihuan persuaded Li Qiuhua to take a day off.

First, they visited the post office to exchange a remittance slip delivered a few days earlier for eleven Great Unity banknotes.

The family of three then headed straight to the city’s department store.

At the stationery counter, Xiao Weidong froze, his eyes wide with excitement as he looked at everything.

The selection of schoolbags wasn’t vast—just green shoulder bags with different designs. Weidong eventually chose one with a red star in the center and the words “Study Hard, Make Progress Every Day” printed on either side.

For one cent per pencil, Shen Zhihuan waved her hand and bought thirty.

She also picked up twenty each of lined and grid notebooks, five erasers, two fountain pens, and two calligraphy brushes—even though Weidong wouldn’t use the latter two anytime soon.

She added several calligraphy practice books, both for fountain pens and brushes, as well as writing notebooks.

Of course, she also bought ink and inkstones.

Seeing Shen Zhihuan continue to add items to their haul, Li Qiuhua’s brows knitted tighter and tighter.

“That’s enough!” Li Qiuhua gently tugged on Shen Zhihuan’s sleeve, speaking softly.

“Weidong, is there anything else you want?” Shen Zhihuan crouched to ask him.

“No.” Weidong glanced at the crayons in the display case, then quickly at Li Qiuhua, and shook his head.

But Shen Zhihuan caught his little movements.

“Comrade, could you give me two boxes of those crayons?” she said, pointing to the largest set with the most colors.

The saleswoman, delighted by such a large purchase, quickly fetched the crayons. After all, the more she sold, the higher her bonus.

Weidong’s face immediately lit up with a bright smile, showing off his tiny white teeth.

Li Qiuhua, on the other hand, could only rub her temples in exasperation.

Most families with multiple school-aged children didn’t even spend this much.

When it came time to pay, Li Qiuhua sighed as she packed the items into their basket.

Next, they bought cooking oil, canned food, malted milk, milk powder, and snacks.

Thanks to Qin Bin’s abundant supply of ration tickets, Shen Zhihuan frequently exchanged for what they needed.

With both money and tickets in hand, she saw no reason to skimp on her family’s comfort.

Fully loaded, the three left the department store and headed to a state-run restaurant.

Soon, their table was laden with meat buns, braised pork, and shredded pork noodles.

Watching the spread, Li Qiuhua felt another pang of distress.

Just yesterday, they had bought meat at the village store, and today they were eating out again.

In the village, families who ate meat once a month were already considered well-off.

Even the former landlords hadn’t lived this indulgently…

“Mother, money is meant to be spent. What’s the point of earning it if you don’t use it?” Shen Zhihuan said, placing a piece of braised pork into Li Qiuhua’s noodle bowl.

“When you get married, there’ll be so many expenses—social obligations, daily necessities. If you don’t save now, are you going to depend on a few pennies from your in-laws to raise your kids like your elder sisters?”

Li Qiuhua sighed.

“…”

Shen Zhihuan was speechless.

Marriage wasn’t even on her radar.

She’d rather focus on improving her health and enjoying life for a few more years.

As for having children? Her frail body might not even survive childbirth.

Looking around at the other diners, she decided against explaining her lack of marital plans.

Nearby, two young men were chatting.

“Did you hear? A girl fainted outside the cinema today,” one in a striped sailor shirt said.

“I did. Someone said it was heatstroke,” replied the one in a white shirt between bites of noodles.

“In this weather? Heatstroke? Do you believe that?” the sailor-shirted man scoffed. “I heard from the ticket lady that she’s been squatting outside the theater for over ten days. She doesn’t buy tickets, doesn’t leave, just stares at the ticket window.”

The man gave his companion a knowing look.

“Guess why?”

“Why?”

“She’s pregnant, of course,” the sailor-shirted man said with a smirk.

“No way! She looks so young!” the other exclaimed, shocked.

“Apparently, some small-time cadre took advantage of her and then disappeared. Now she’s pregnant and desperate. She doesn’t know where the man lives; she only knows that he likes to watch movies. So, she’s left with no choice but to wait for him outside the cinema,” the sailor-shirted man said, shaking his head.