Chapter 14 – First Bucket of Gold

Early in the morning, the milk deliveryman’s bicycle clattered downstairs, the glass bottles clinking melodiously.

Lin Xiaqing craned her neck out the window, but the summer foliage was too dense. The thick shade of the trees blocked her view, so she didn’t manage to catch how the milkman delivered the bottles into the inpatient building. Still, she knew—this morning’s mouthful of fresh, unpolluted 1980s milk would be so delicious that even her toes would curl in delight.

Besides, milk just tasted better in glass bottles. Beverages were strange that way—plastic and industrial paper packaging just didn’t do them justice. Whether it was milk or soda, drinks in glass bottles were simply more enticing. In winter, the warm glass of hot milk soothed hands; in summer, the condensation on chilled orange soda bottles shimmered like a mist from fairyland, bringing relief from the scorching heat.

The milk was as delicious as she imagined. Lin Xiaqing clicked her tongue in satisfaction, while Jin Yang, upon receiving her account book, was struck with increasing surprise and found her even more curious.

What kind of rural village girl in this era knew double-entry bookkeeping? She was like a professional accountant. Jin Yang had never seen anything like it—and likely, neither had most of the world.

Summer clothes dried fast, and after collecting the laundry from the rooftop, Lin Xiaqing came back red from the sun.

Jin Yang, sitting by the window reading the newspaper, peeked out as she returned, eyes slipping over the edge of the paper.

Lin Xiaqing noticed a new fabric handbag in Qiao Chunjin’s hands—one she hadn’t seen before. It was an old-style ladies’ purse made of canvas with a wooden crescent handle, rather unique.

Qiao Chunjin pulled out beige cashmere yarn and several brown knitting needles. The needles, aged and polished smooth by time, looked like heirlooms passed down by a skillful hostess—possibly even intended for the next generation’s talented daughter-in-law.

She told her daughter, “Dongbao’s mom brought the yarn and asked me to knit a sweater for him when I have the time.”

Who was Dongbao? And wasn’t it inappropriate for a patient to be knitting instead of resting?

Before Lin Xiaqing could speak up, Qiao Chunjin was already beaming. “Dongbao is the kid in the next ward with appendicitis. His mom said she’s not good at knitting and that the yarn was a premium batch her sister-in-law brought from Guangzhou. She’s afraid she’ll ruin it, so she asked me to knit the sweater and offered 40 cents as labor pay. I figured, kids don’t like turtlenecks—they’re scratchy—so I can skip that part. I knit fast. It’ll be done in three days.”

So the chubby aunt next door had come by early again.

To Qiao Chunjin, this felt like the God of Wealth knocking at their door. Hospital stays were expensive, and everything outside cost money. Taking on small jobs to help the household felt like a blessing. Even if the income was small, it still lessened her daughter’s burden.

Jin Yang slowly lowered his newspaper, his eyes sharp. He clearly thought these two were too naïve and couldn’t help but remind them: “That woman said she doesn’t know how to knit, but those old needles of hers are clearly worn from years of use. Who’d believe she doesn’t know how to knit?”

It was obviously a ploy to get close—starting with simple Qiao Chunjin to pave the way for a marriage proposal later.

Thanks to Jin Yang’s sharp insight, Lin Xiaqing was suddenly enlightened. She thought, What a clever man. He must’ve grown an extra pair of eyes in his belly—his attention to detail was incredible.

She told her mother, “Mom, Jin Yang’s right. If those needles are that old, Dongbao’s mom must know how to knit. You’re here to rest, not exhaust yourself. I’ll return the bag later.”

Seeing how sensible she was, Jin Yang felt a surge of pride, and his newspaper once again rose like a stage curtain.

But Qiao Chunjin didn’t want to lose the chance to earn a little extra. She was willing to sacrifice anything, even her own health, if it helped her daughter.

Her daughter had been racking her brain to make money. Yesterday afternoon, she went out seeking business opportunities and didn’t come back until late. Qiao Chunjin had been beside herself with worry.

She still wasn’t used to this suddenly bold daughter. In her memory, Xiaqing had always been timid—too scared to even explore their own village thoroughly. Now she was charging through the county like it was nothing. Her illness must’ve scared her daughter so badly that she was willing to go all out.

Feeling heartache and guilt, Qiao Chunjin just wished she had three heads and six arms to finish the sweater in a day and hand over the hard-earned 40 cents to her precious daughter.

The mother and daughter tugged at the yarn-filled bag back and forth. In the end, Lin Xiaqing had no choice but to give up, letting her mother have her way.

Jin Yang felt a twinge of jealousy. He never had a mother and had never experienced this kind of wholehearted maternal love. If only the thing in his hand was a mirror instead of a newspaper, he might’ve admired his own sad reflection.

He asked, “You mentioned going back to the village to bring stinky sauce to sell. Since I’m close by, can I get a head start and pre-order?”

Lin Xiaqing’s eyes lit up. “Of course! You’ll be my first customer, and that’ll bring me good fortune. You’ll be part of my first bucket of gold.”

She already considered Jin Yang a mysterious tycoon. Opening her business with such a client was a great omen.

“I’ll bring you one bottle? I’ll even mark the cap and pack it to the brim.”

She actually wanted to gift it, since thanks to him, everything during the hospital stay had gone much more smoothly.

Jin Yang said, “One bottle isn’t enough. Since this is your grand opening, for good luck, I should buy at least ten.”

Hands on hips, Lin Xiaqing scolded him: “Be sensible! You’re a lone bachelor. How are you going to finish that many bottles?”

Jin Yang, of course, replied, “I can give them away.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you even have friends or family in He County?”

Jin Yang thought for a moment. “No.”

She clapped her hands. “There you go. Stop wasting money. Giving you too many would just be wasteful.”

Jin Yang insisted, “No, I need the image.”

His aunt was coming next week, and he planned to give the jars as gifts when she returned to Beijing—plus she always had a big entourage. Ten bottles probably wouldn’t even be enough.

Suspicious, she asked, “Do you really need them?”

Jin Yang smiled, “Mm-hmm. Just deduct the cost from my account.” He was genuinely impressed by her accounting skills.

Though he suddenly realized—he hadn’t even asked what kind of sauce it was. Sesame paste? Broad bean paste?

Oh well. As long as it was sauce, old Beijingers would be used to it.

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That afternoon, before heading back to the village, Lin Xiaqing set aside some of the snacks Fang Heping had brought and repackaged them into a new kraft paper bag. She added the precious malted milk and canned fruit, planning to bring them back for Zhu Er’s family.

In her past life, gift-giving during holidays had always been a chore—it required precision and tact. But this time, she found joy in preparing gifts for those who had helped her. Within limited means, she cobbled together a festive-looking bundle.

Before leaving, she washed and dried Jin Yang’s food container, filled it with a couple of peach cookies and some sweet sticky pastries. Apples oxidized too quickly, so she simply washed them clean. Even the milk bottle from that morning, she scrubbed again and again to eliminate the sour smell, then filled it with tea. Everything was placed neatly on Jin Yang’s bedside table. He definitely wouldn’t go hungry now.

The dozen-mile trip home was saved by Fang Heping’s bicycle. Without it, no matter how fast she walked, she’d be trekking from dawn till dusk.

The big black bicycle rode like a dream. The sun roasted her skin while the wind flapped her shirt. She thought she might need a straw hat, but it didn’t matter. The sunlight beat down like whips, cruel and merciless, yet it only fueled her determination. Pedal faster, faster—she was off to earn her first bucket of gold. Every bit of hardship was worth it.

Back home, Lin Xiaqing was now familiar with her surroundings, used to the poverty and backwardness—not in a resigned way, but with the quiet acceptance that no other word captured better than peace of mind.

The empty jars from the glass factory were stacked under the woodshed. Fang Heping hadn’t charged her yet, saying they’d settle later. She didn’t protest much. Less upfront cost meant better cash flow. In business, locking up too much capital while waiting for returns was deadly.

And she barely had any capital—just 50 yuan borrowed from Zhu Er and 10 yuan from Jin Yang. Even paying for Qiao Chunjin’s treatment was a stretch. Saving any cash was vital.

After washing and sun-drying the jars, she headed to Zhu Er’s house to borrow a tricycle cart and ask how the preparations were going.

Zhu Er was napping on a bamboo bed, snoring loudly. On the central wall of the hall was a black-and-white photo of a woman in her thirties, round-featured and modest, gazing at Zhu Er with tender eyes.

That must’ve been his late wife. His two sons resembled her quite a bit.

Jolted awake, Zhu Er scrambled to find his shirt, embarrassed to be bare-chested in front of a younger woman.

Lin Xiaqing pointed to the shirt on the beam. He chuckled awkwardly. “There it is.”

“Second Uncle, these are some snacks I brought back from the county. Please try them.”

But Zhu Er wouldn’t touch them. “I’m a wild boar of a man. Delicate food’s wasted on me.” He pushed the bag back toward her.

He told her her two older brothers had gone to catch piglets from other farms. With the heat, many families were selling sickly piglets cheaply.

Strangely, pigs at Zhu Er’s never fell ill. Over the years, none had died early. People often asked if he had a secret recipe, but he always replied, “You’ll have to ask my wife.”

They thought he was stingy, hiding the secret. But he wasn’t lying—he simply raised pigs with the same care his wife had used raising their sons. And when pigs got sick, he always acted early and wisely.

Even when a sow prolapsed from mating and was on the verge of death, he patiently stitched her back up—like the world’s most meticulous tailor—and she survived.

Naturally, Lin Xiaqing didn’t take the snacks back. She placed the bag squarely on the table. “If you won’t eat them, I’ll give them to Auntie Mute.”

She waved at the photo. “Hi hi! You look so gentle.”

Zhu Er chuckled helplessly.

Then he remembered, “Ah, almost forgot! I went fishing last night and got lucky—caught over ten catties of grass carp. I’ve already chopped and sun-dried the fish chunks per your instructions. With this heat, they should be ready by now.”

He rushed out to check, afraid the fish might have over-dried.

Lin Xiaqing had already seen them when she arrived. The fish chunks were dried to just the right texture. She planned to fry them crispy in lard and mix them with her signature stinky sauce and spicy chili oil—perfect for free samples during her sales pitch.

To lure customers, she had to go all out—even if it meant using her precious lard to fry the fish. Only when people were satisfied and drooling would they willingly spend money.

Back home, in the smoky kitchen, she busied herself frying fish, her face smudged with soot. She also planned to prepare a Russian-style cabbage soup to bring back to Jin Yang. Tomatoes in the garden had ripened, and though she had no time to make ketchup, a rustic version of borscht would do. It wouldn’t be as good as the one made by his old nanny, but the hospital canteen wouldn’t offer such exotic flavors anyway. Hopefully, he’d be pleasantly surprised.

In that moment, standing over the stove amid the steam and smoke, Lin Xiaqing felt freer than a god.

A wisp of smoke, a graceful silhouette—how fate had twisted and turned. In the 1980s, she had not only escaped her cage but found a world of her own and a loving family. For that, she was grateful. She felt alive again, and most of all, she felt like she belonged.

Lost in thought, she was startled when a large hand suddenly gripped her shoulder.

Thinking Zhu Er had come, she turned around—only to see someone else entirely.

And instantly, she was terrified to her core.