Chapter 14

Once the property deed was in her hands, Zhang Hongying felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders.

The shop was rented out, bringing in thirty yuan a month in rent.

She had bought the property for less than a thousand yuan, and with a monthly rent of thirty yuan, she’d earn back three hundred and sixty in a year—breaking even in three years. If she could get a few more deals like this, Zhang Hongying would be on her way to getting rich.

But back then, people never thought about buying property to rent out. Whatever money they earned, they used to fix up their own homes first.

No matter how much they had, it all went into home renovations.

Life in the countryside was simple. You got married using the house your parents gave you, split from the family, had kids, raised them, then built a house so your children could get married. By the time you finished paying off the debt from house-building and weddings, you were nearly dead.

And their children would repeat the same cycle.

Meanwhile, the small commodity market in Qing Town was almost complete.

A shop cost 3,000 yuan and could rent for sixty yuan a month, and yet Master Wang was worried that as an outsider, Zhang wouldn’t be able to sell it when she left?

Zhang Hongying was eager for more of these “too good to be true” opportunities.

But she had no money left. After working for two years, and with Master Wang helping her take the fall for something, she’d managed to save 1,200 yuan. After buying the property, she had less than 300 left.

Thankfully, the crippled man who rented the place would be paying rent—three hundred yuan a year.

Zhang Hongying proactively waived two months’ rent, asking only that he keep her identity a secret. She told him that she was trying to secretly save some personal money without her parents knowing.

As for outsiders, she just said: “The house was sold to someone—you wouldn’t know them anyway. Someone from a big city.”

As long as no one caught her in the act, nobody would run to Li Xiaofang and spill the beans.

Unlike in her past life, where she had been foolish and nearly lost a lifetime of hard-earned money, Zhang Hongying was now only fifteen and had already saved enough for her retirement. All she needed to do now was lay low and wait for the right moment to escape under Li Xiaofang’s nose. Her wealth only needed time to grow.

After a happy family meal of wontons, Li Xiaofang seemed satisfied and praised her, “Good girl, the filling in these two wontons is spot on—delicious. Too bad it’s far. Otherwise, we could bring your master a bowl too, maybe she’d be so pleased she’d give you your wages early, or even let you go and do business on your own.”

Zhang Hongying just smiled. No one would give up their own interests over a bowl of wontons. It was just that Master Wang wasn’t greedy—people back then still had some sense of morality.

But she knew that next year, she couldn’t get away with bringing home nothing. If Li Xiaofang came storming over accusing the master of cheating her, the whole secret could be exposed.

So she reassured her, “Mama, Master said I’ve been doing a good job. Starting from the second half of the year, she’ll give me thirty yuan a month as living expenses!”

Li Xiaofang was delighted. “That’s great! Thirty yuan a month adds up—you could just about pay off what you owe your uncle.”

This time, she didn’t even bother mentioning saving the money for Zhang Hongying. She just assumed it as her own, already deciding how it would be used.

But what could Zhang do? She had to give them some hope.

Li Xiaofang groaned as she massaged her back: “My back keeps getting worse—raising silkworms is such a burden.”

Zhang didn’t respond, so Li Xiaofang complained a few more times. Zhang Xiaoshu chimed in, “Raising silkworms is too tiring. Maybe next year we don’t raise the expensive osmanthus silkworms—just do half a batch.”

Li Xiaofang refused. “Hongxing has to go to school, and we still need to get him a wife. When Hongying gets married, even if she doesn’t need eight silk quilts, we’ll need at least four, right?

If we slack off now, what will we do when we’re old?”

Zhang Hongying secretly gave the two of them a look of pity.

They had no idea that the son they poured their hearts and money into wouldn’t care about them in the future. He wouldn’t care about his in-laws either. He only loved himself.

Despite earning a million a year as a couple, they wouldn’t even buy an oxygen machine for Li Xiaofang. Even after a highway was built, making the trip back to the village just 30 minutes, they barely returned once a year.

And that oxygen machine—Zhang Hongying bought it herself when she couldn’t bear to see Li Xiaofang gasping for air. She spent two months’ wages on it.

This life, Zhang didn’t want to be their safety net anymore.

Whoever got how much family property could put in that much effort.

If they didn’t know to set aside some money to save themselves, she couldn’t help them.

After the small commodity market opened its units for sale, Master Wang indeed bought a shop unit.

Using Zhang Hongying’s name. By the time all was said and done, it would cost her three years’ worth of wages.

Shops weren’t easy to sell. Most people preferred renting by the month. Nobody had experience running small businesses, and no one knew what the local people’s purchasing power would be like.

Renting meant you could walk away after a bad month. Buying and getting stuck with it—that was a nightmare.

But Zhang Hongying knew that this little town, thanks to a boom in township enterprises, would soon draw in a flood of migrant workers. It would have thirty years of prosperity, with its population growing from 30,000 to 200,000.

Only when the U.S.-China trade war hit and the clothing factories moved out would things finally go quiet.

During those thirty years, many young people would marry and settle down here. The small commodity market would thrive for three decades!

Even when e-commerce took off and young people shopped online, older folks would still go to the marketplace.

Zhang Hongying already had a plan: she’d hold on to the shop for over ten years, and sell it in the 2000s when business was booming—then use the money to buy a home.

The clothing industry here would thrive for years, providing jobs for many. Even as a mere seamstress, she once earned fifteen or sixteen thousand yuan a month at her peak.

But after the factories moved away, Qing Town didn’t just quiet down—wages dropped sharply.

Back then, sewing a garment paid at least seven or eight yuan, sometimes more than ten. Later, it dropped to two or three yuan. Pillowcases paid just 1.30 per piece.

She used to watch dramas while sewing.

Sewing machines became electric—she had one for stitching and one for overlocking. Her garage was crammed full.

Though skilled workers didn’t find the job too tiring, it still took a toll on the body.

All day hunched over sewing, her back became stooped, and her neck suffered. By the time she was over fifty, her vision declined and she couldn’t keep doing it. That’s when she got a job at a tourist attraction.

Just thinking about it made Zhang Hongying angry—she only slept five or six hours a night, sweating buckets in the summer, frozen to the bone in the winter, hands and feet covered in chilblains. While others snuggled in bed, she was still sewing. Did people think she did it because she liked to suffer?

And now, the house she built with all that hard-earned money—some high-earning brat dared to try and take it from her?

That thought alone twisted her face with rage.

Master Wang noticed her expression and, feeling a bit guilty, said kindly, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay you rent the same as everyone else.”

That was an unexpected bonus.

Through her own labor and three years of wages, Zhang Hongying now owned two shops.