Chapter 11

The old house of the Zhang family had been passed down from their grandparents when the family split. It had only one bedroom. It was a wooden structure—low, damp, and dark.

The family had already agreed to find a new site and build a new house. This time, they would build a multi-story home.

There would be two flat-roofed rooms in the front, which could be used for drying grain upstairs, and two two-story buildings in the back.

Although they were building multi-story houses, those from the 1980s were very different from the tall and bright modern buildings seen today.

The current plan was to build what was called a “five-beam structure” (五路頭). Those with better conditions might build a “seven-beam structure.” A main beam ran down the center of the house, and one beam extended to each side—this was called a three-beam structure. Two beams extending to each side made a five-beam. It was said that in the old days, even nine-beam structures were built by wealthy families.

Zhang Xiaoshu didn’t talk much. It was Li Xiaofang who handled most things, coordinating the construction with the two uncles and a cousin.

The four families were building their houses together in a row, which saved the cost of three walls. They used five-hole slabs for the flooring, also known as precast slabs.

In the early 1980s, most people still lived in single-story houses. After the household responsibility system was implemented, every family’s income began to grow. With the rise of township enterprises, almost every household had a worker.

They earned a bit from farming and selling grain, a bit from selling silkworm cocoons, and a bit from factory jobs. In just a few years, multi-story houses sprang up like bamboo shoots after the rain.

Even Shen Jianzhen’s family, poor as they were, managed to build a multi-story house. Though it was rumored that they borrowed more than 8,000 yuan to do it.

In her previous life, when Zhang Hongying’s family built their house, they had almost no debt. Everyone knew the Zhang family had always been relatively wealthy and well-off.

But this time, Zhang Hongying didn’t go work in a factory. She quietly withheld the wages she earned from the tailor shop. As a result, the Zhangs needed to borrow money to build the house. It was said they ended up borrowing 2,000 yuan.

Zhang Hongying was amazed—so even the old house had been partly built with her contribution, not entirely by her parents. If she ever argued with Zhang Hongxing again over splitting the family property, she would make sure to include this debt in the calculation.

Everything Zhang Hongxing failed to do, she had already done. As for carrying on the Zhang family line—well, she had done that too.

Zhang Hongxing lived off the family until the age of thirty, while Zhang Hongying began earning money to support the family just after turning thirteen. If they argued again, she might as well say he didn’t even deserve the old house!

Their old house wasn’t torn down—they built the new house on another plot—so they didn’t need to stay with neighbors. Many others had to move in temporarily with friends or relatives during construction.

Zhang Hongying left early and came home late every day, unable to help much with the household work. Li Xiaofang was tired and overworked and didn’t like her attitude. The once-obedient daughter was now just a little schemer.

Zhang Hongying couldn’t keep making clothes for her either. If she spoiled her, she wouldn’t be able to afford it later. So every day, when she came home, she would bring a little fruit or candy.

At the time, transportation was limited. Besides local fruits like bayberries, oranges, and loquats, everything else was rare.

Lychees cost eight yuan per jin! And her daily wage could only buy half a jin.

But local fruits were cheap—a jin cost just a dime.

Zhang Hongying often bought fruit with her wages and kept them at the shop, claiming it was to honor her master. In truth, the master barely had time to eat fruit. The old, unimproved fruits were incredibly sour—tiny and mouth-puckering.

Every day, Zhang Hongying would hide one or two fruits in her pocket to bring home to Li Xiaofang, claiming her master had bought them and she had secretly taken a couple for her mother to try.

Li Xiaofang fell for it every time. It was a trick Zhang Hongxing used all the time in her past life.

Zhang Hongying handed over her entire paycheck, and if she wanted anything, she had to ask Li Xiaofang. How could she possibly afford to buy her gifts?

Zhang Hongxing, on the other hand, kept his wages for himself and still asked them for spending money. Every time he came home, he’d bring a little something for Li Xiaofang, which always made her happy.

She was always saying, “Our Hongxing is so filial,” or “Our Hongxing is so capable.” But when it came to Zhang Hongying—she hardly mentioned her.

Yet Zhang Hongying could make Li Xiaofang happy for a whole week with just ten or twenty cents. That trick worked well. She was quite pleased with herself and planned to keep using it.

Then came the wave of factory hiring.

Too many factories were being built. As long as you weren’t completely incompetent or bedridden, you could find work and have a bowl of rice. Even disabled people could be hired if they could handle the labor.

Tractor factories, lumber mills, furniture plants—suddenly every farmer in the commune had an extra job. Even transplanting rice seedlings had to wait until after work.

Their house was an hour’s walk from town. Older people who didn’t know how to ride bicycles had to walk two hours a day for work, which was too exhausting. So fewer people from the village joined in.

Even Zhang Hongxing’s classmates were dropping out of school to sign up for factory jobs. Half the classroom emptied overnight.

Still, eleven was a bit too young to start working. Even if parents lied about their kids’ age, their young faces gave them away. It was said the education department sent officials to talk to the factory managers, and those kids were eventually sent back to school.

They finally agreed that workers had to be at least thirteen years old.

The commune had only 30,000 people, and even fewer young women. Yet just the garment factories numbered seven or eight, not to mention the knitwear factories.

All the young people were absorbed into these factories, and still it wasn’t enough.

Eventually, news of job openings spread to neighboring provinces, and a wave of outsiders flooded in, bringing energy and change to the commune.

Originally, the town had only one street—with a grain depot, police station, post office, an elementary school, and a junior high. The market was just a space under a canopy.

With so many outsiders, new commercial facilities sprang up quickly.

Thousands of workers poured into the town, and several new hotels opened. Qingzhen (the town) entered its peak—also its most chaotic—period.

Near the bus station, a small commodities market was planned.

Zhang Hongying had heard about it in her past life. It had many clothing vendors and tailoring shops, but she was always too busy to visit.

Now, the market was offering storefronts for sale.

Master Wang, who had nothing better to do, asked Zhang Hongying, “What do you think, should I buy a storefront and move the shop there?”

Zhang Hongying replied, “How much does one cost? What’s the rent?”

Wang did the math and found that buying was actually more cost-effective. But then she said, “Thing is, I’m going back home in a few years. What if I can’t sell it?”

Zhang Hongying thought about it. Her mind was sharper than ever: “Master, if the market opens, people will shop there instead. If we keep our shop somewhere else, business might drop.

So here’s an idea. You buy the shop, but put it under my name. I’ll pay for it with my future wages.

Since your shop will stay open here for a few more years anyway, I’ll just keep working for you without pay until it’s paid off.

It’s like you’re giving me my salary in advance, but you save on rent.

If you just put the money in the bank, the interest wouldn’t cover the rent for a shop.

Or, you can buy it yourself, and sell it to me when you leave.”

Wang thought it over and agreed.

The shop cost just over 3,000 yuan—Zhang Hongying’s wages for three years would be enough. Wang and her husband were running the tailoring business together and planned to stay at least three more years. It was a good deal.