Chapter 25.2

In the evening, during dinner, Su Ting shared the good news with her father and son.

However, He Yan didn’t seem as excited as she had hoped. Instead, he frowned and said: “Do I have to drink milk too?”

“You’re not happy even though you have milk to drink?”

He Yan frowned and said: “It doesn’t taste good.”

Su Ting asked, puzzled: “Didn’t you always drink milk before?”

“Yeah, but that was when Grandma made me drink it. I don’t like it.” He Yan said, his eyes spinning as he grinned at Su Ting. “Mom, can I just drink malt milk powder and not milk? I think malt milk powder tastes better.”

Su Ting thought about all the benefits of ordering milk, but she never expected that He Yan wouldn’t like drinking it.

In her impression, kids usually liked milk. Her colleagues’ children, whether in kindergarten or elementary school, all had milk ordered for them and distributed to the students. It seemed like drinking milk had become a daily routine for kids.

But Su Ting thought that in certain matters, she couldn’t just go along with the child’s wishes. She said: “Milk is good for your health, you have to drink it.”

He Yan argued: “But I haven’t drunk any recently, and I haven’t felt any different.”

Su Ting looked at He Dongchuan, signaling him to step in.

He Dongchuan said: “Milk and malt milk powder, you drink them both if you’re going to drink, or you don’t drink either.”

Although He Yan didn’t like milk, he loved the sweet malt milk powder. If Su Ting hadn’t locked it away, he could drink five or six cups a day.

“Then, if I drink milk, can I have an extra cup of malt milk powder every day?” He could only drink one cup of malt milk powder a day.

He Dongchuan didn’t bargain with him. “No.”

He Yan sulked, pouting and not saying anything.

But He Dongchuan wasn’t swayed. He asked: “Are you drinking milk or not? Not drinking? Fine, since you’re not drinking, the milk we order will be for me, and the malt milk powder too…”

Afraid his dad was serious about not letting him drink malt milk powder, He Yan quickly spoke up: “No! I’ll drink! I’ll drink the milk, okay?”

He Dongchuan said: “Then drink it properly, don’t make that long face, like someone’s forcing you.”

But isn’t it you who’s forcing me?

He Yan grumbled silently to himself but dared not voice his frustration. He jumped off the bench and ran over to Su Ting, saying: “I hate Dad!”

He Dongchuan chuckled. “Heh.”

—–

Because she had to pick up the milk, Su Ting rarely woke up early the next morning.

Actually, waking up early meant she got up at 6:30. After getting dressed and washing up, she arrived at the Women’s Federation at 6:45. This was just when it was the peak time for picking up milk, and a small line had formed in the office.

The people there were all quite excited, many of them had never had milk before, so this was their first time.

The line moved quickly, and in three or four minutes, it was Su Ting’s turn. She walked up to Jiang Aihong’s desk and, as instructed, checked the box with a pen.

When Jiang Aihong handed her the bottle of milk, she said: “The milk station people are going to collect the bottles, so remember to bring the bottle when you come to pick up the milk tomorrow. If you don’t bring it, you won’t get any milk. If the bottle is broken, you’ll have to pay for it, got it?”

Su Ting had ordered milk when she was a child. Although it had been twenty years, the rules were still pretty much the same. She nodded and said: “Got it.”

After getting the milk, Su Ting quickly started heading back.

However, just as she stepped out of the Women’s Federation office, a military wife called out to her: “Comrade Su, there’s a letter for you at the sentry post!”

“Where?” Su Ting stopped and asked.

The woman quickly walked up to Su Ting and said: “At the sentry post by the gate. I saw your letter when I picked up my mail just now. It was delivered yesterday afternoon. You haven’t picked it up yet, right?”

“No, I’ll go check.” Su Ting shook her head, thanked her, and turned toward the entrance.

The Women’s Federation was located in a building just to the right after entering the main gate, only a few dozen meters away from the sentry post. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to walk there.

During this one minute, Su Ting quickly racked her brain, trying to figure out who the letter could be from.

She had sent something to the Su family at the end of April. Since she was feeling anxious, she hadn’t used expedited shipping, so it was supposed to take about ten days or even half a month. Today was only the 13th, so even if the Su family had received the package and sent the letter back immediately, it shouldn’t have arrived so soon.

It was probably a letter from Comic Book magazine, though she wasn’t sure whether it contained a payment for her work or a rejection.

When she reached the sentry post, Su Ting took a deep breath, feeling a little nervous.

The sentry guard couldn’t understand her anxiety. Seeing her, he said: “Comrade Su, there’s a letter for you.”

“Ah, I’m here to pick up the letter.” Su Ting exhaled and walked up to the window of the sentry post. She began to rummage through the stack of letters on the desk.

In her past life, Su Ting had once seen an interview with a writer. She couldn’t remember the exact words, but the general idea was that every time the writer received a reply from a publisher, he could tell from the thickness of the envelope.

If the envelope was thick, it was mostly a rejection letter. If it was thin, he knew it contained the payment for his work.

Su Ting felt the same way now. When she pulled out the thin letter, she knew this time she had made it.

She picked up the envelope, turned around, and smiled at the guard on duty. “Thank you.” she said, then walked away with a light step.

…

Although she was excited inside, Su Ting didn’t open the letter immediately when she got home. Instead, she first poured the milk into two enamel cups and watched He Yan, who had already finished washing up, drink it.

He Yan drank milk as though it were poison, and Su Ting could only watch with a vein popping on her forehead. She took a sip of the milk herself. “What’s the big deal? I think it tastes fine.”

“It’s not sweet.” He Yan said pitifully. “Mom, can I have another cup of malt milk powder after I finish the milk?”

Su Ting asked: “With how much you’ve drunk, do you still have room for breakfast?”

He Yan reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt, sticking his belly out. “Look, it’s still flat. I can eat.”

Su Ting was speechless. “That’s because you haven’t even finished your milk. Hurry up. You can have the malt milk powder after lunch.”

She then opened a drawer, took out a banana, and handed it to him. “Here.”

“For me?” He Yan’s eyes lit up.

Su Ting nodded. “Yeah, I brought it for you to take to school. Don’t eat it now.”

His face immediately brightened. “Okay, I’ll take it to school!”

“No eating during class!” Su Ting emphasized again.

When she first started working, she would always prepare fruit for He Yan to take to school. But this little guy would secretly eat during class and even got caught by his teacher.

The last time Su Ting went to the canteen to get lunch, she happened to run into his math teacher, who took her aside and gave her a long, serious talk. Su Ting was so embarrassed that she almost wanted to make He Yan a plate of stir-fried pork with bamboo shoots right on the spot.

Although Su Ting ultimately refrained from scolding her son, she stopped giving him fruit, fearing he would sneak food again.

Today, because he had behaved well recently, Su Ting decided to let him take fruit to school again. However, if there was a next time, it wouldn’t just be a half-month ban to teach him a lesson.

He Yan, already having learned his lesson, hurriedly said: “Got it! I’ll eat it during the break after the second class.” The second class had a twenty-minute break.

Su Ting huffed but watched him finish his milk, then handed him his schoolbag. Together, they went to the canteen for breakfast.

…

After breakfast, mother and son went their separate ways—one heading to school, the other home.

Once home, Su Ting didn’t rush to clean up the cups. She closed the door behind her, sat on the bed, and carefully pulled the folded envelope from her pocket. She stared at it for a long time, took a deep breath, and then gently tore it open to retrieve the contents inside.

There were two items: a remittance slip for the payment and a letter.

Su Ting first looked at the remittance slip. The amount was clearly written: one hundred and fifty yuan. She looked at it three times, still unable to believe it.

Since it was her first story, Su Ting had deliberately controlled the length while drawing. There were a total of ninety-eight illustrations, averaging three issues per series.

Su Ting had originally thought that, for this story, the payment would be thirty yuan. If it were thirty, Comic Book would continue to publish her work.

That thirty yuan wasn’t something Su Ting had randomly decided on. After regaining her rhythm and familiarizing herself with her style, her drawing speed had increased dramatically.

In fact, this was partly due to the nature of Comic Book. Since it was a continuous story, the backgrounds of several illustrations were often related or similar to each other, or a large image was divided into several smaller ones. Once she finished the first illustration, she already had a clear idea of how to proceed with the others. The characters, too, remained mostly the same, with only small variations in their movements. Once she was familiar with the style, she could sketch them out in no time.

Moreover, aside from the colored front and back covers, Comic Book was black and white. While some artists used black and white contrasts in their work, Su Ting didn’t bother with that and simply drew outlines.

After getting used to the process, Su Ting could sketch an image in just half an hour.

Thus, the ninety-eight illustrations were completed in just over ten days, with Su Ting working only five to six hours a day.

She had inquired about it and found that the salespeople at the Supply and Marketing Cooperative earned only twenty-four yuan, and the workers at the grain station and State-Owned Restaurant were paid similarly. What’s more, their salaries were fixed, meaning there was no increase whether they worked for one year or ten.

Of course, the formal workers at the Supply and Marketing Cooperative and the State-Owned Restaurant received various coupons and certificates every month in addition to their salary. During holidays, they were given various benefits, and their income was stable.

But her work hours were short, and after only half a month, she had already earned thirty. If she put in a little more effort and completed two stories in a month, her monthly income would be sixty. With the collective household registration of the Military Unit providing various supplies, she could live quite comfortably.

Moreover, she was currently in a good relationship with He Dongchuan, so she didn’t need to look for another way out. She could spend half the month drawing and the other half having fun.

But now, the publisher had sent her a remittance slip of one hundred and fifty yuan!

Didn’t everyone say that intellectuals were having a tough time these days? How could creating comics be so lucrative?

But Su Ting thought for a moment. The 70s and 80s were the golden age of comic books, and at this time, the circulation of the Comic Book Journal could exceed a million… it seemed to make sense now.

She looked at the remittance slip repeatedly, then suppressed her excitement, opening the letter from the publisher with trembling hands.

The content of the letter was simple. In summary, her manuscript had been accepted, and the Comic Book Journal would start serializing her work from June. It would run for three issues, with a payment of fifty yuan per issue, totaling one hundred and fifty yuan. They also inquired whether she had any new works in mind, expressing admiration for her work and hoping she would continue submitting comics. The letter concluded with contact details.

After reading the letter, Su Ting lay on the bed, deep in thought.

According to her original plan, it would be better to continue submitting short stories. They were shorter in length, with fewer issues to serialize, which would increase her chances of acceptance.

But when she actually tried to start drawing the story she had in mind, something always felt off. Instead, the idea for a long-form story that had come to her fleetingly before seemed to be growing clearer.

She had hesitated before because she wasn’t sure about the response to her submission. But now, with this letter, Su Ting thought she might as well try drawing a long-form story. After all, with the one hundred and fifty yuan, she could relax for the next six months, so not submitting anything wouldn’t be a big deal.

However, there was no rush. Su Ting stayed in bed, not moving, occasionally bringing the remittance slip to her eyes to admire it again.

…

Today, He Dongchuan was tutoring He Yan, so his turn to shower had been scheduled last.

After finishing washing clothes, he returned to the bedroom, only to find that Su Ting had already applied Snow Cream and was lying against the headboard, flipping through the Comic Book Journal. The fan was placed at the foot of the bed, blowing steadily in her direction.

He Dongchuan walked over, put his arm around Su Ting’s shoulder, and lowered his head to ask: “What are you looking at?”

“You can take a look yourself.” Su Ting handed the journal to He Dongchuan, then turned her head to pick up something from the vanity.

But He Dongchuan wasn’t really interested in the journal; he was just looking for a topic of conversation. So, after taking the journal, his eyes didn’t glance at it. Instead, he followed Su Ting’s movement, his gaze landing on the object in her hand. He asked: “What’s this?”

Su Ting replied casually: “Oh, it’s nothing. Just something the publisher sent.”

Although He Dongchuan had never done any creative work, he had enough basic knowledge to immediately recognize that this was not a rejection letter. And while Su Ting’s tone was calm, the corners of her lips revealed her joy and restrained pride.

He Dongchuan raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised, and asked: “The publisher sent it? What is it? Did you get accepted?”

“I did, they sent me a letter asking me to continue submitting.” Su Ting said, as if just remembering. “Oh, and a remittance slip. It’s the payment for the manuscript.”

“Really? You got accepted? I knew you could do it!” He Dongchuan was very supportive. After expressing his surprise, he played along with her and asked: “How much is the payment?”

Su Ting’s smile grew wider. “It’s not much, just one hundred and fifty, not as much as your salary.”

Seeing the expression on her face—both smug and pretending to be casual—He Dongchuan was tempted but held himself back, playing along with her act. “That much? You’re really amazing.”

Su Ting finally let her smugness show, her pride evident. “I didn’t expect it to be this much. I was hoping for thirty at most.”

He Dongchuan held her in his arms, kissing her lips as he asked: “It’s unexpected, but your work deserves it. Something so joyful happened today. Shouldn’t we celebrate?”

After they slept together, Su Ting came to realize that He Dongchuan’s true nature was a far cry from his appearance.

When he wore his military uniform and was out in the world, he was serious, abstinent, and never smiled. But once he took off his military uniform and got into bed, he turned into a wolfdog—a wolfdog with a head full of dirty thoughts.

However, Su Ting couldn’t deny that she had been gradually influenced by him lately.

Like now, being held in his arms and kissed by him, Su Ting didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Holding up the remittance slips, she admired them and asked: “How should we celebrate?”

When she asked this, He Dongchuan perked up. Although he didn’t speak, his hands reached under her clothes, one pressing against her back to lift her up, and the other hand began to strip her clothes off.

Su Ting raised her hand and exclaimed: “Remittance slips—” Don’t ruin them!

He Dongchuan, who had her pinned beneath him, didn’t look up but followed her left hand, groping upwards through the clothes hanging from her wrist until he found the remittance slips. He took them out and slapped them onto the vanity, then leaned down to kiss her lips. His voice was hoarse as he said: “This is how we celebrate.”

Su Ting: “?!!”

She couldn’t understand at all. Was this a celebration for her manuscript being accepted, or was he just using the excuse of celebrating to satisfy his own selfish desires?