After returning, they first lived with his second uncle and caused a lot of trouble. Not only did he snatch the brigade accountant position from his second uncle, but in 1966, he also wanted to stir up trouble.

At that time, the city was in turmoil, but the village was peaceful.

The villagers were busy with farm work and had no time for such nonsense.

This bastard, considering himself a big shot from the capital with inside information, wanted to connect with the city’s turmoil.

Even if he became a brigade accountant, the villagers didn’t recognize him.

Who did he think he was?

He wanted to start a movement, but no one cooperated with him.

So, he decided to target his uncle, wanting to settle old scores about running an inn and cart yard, and being a landlord’s son.

Of course, he spoke nicely to Old Lu, saying it was just a formality to gain some political achievements, hoping to become a cadre at the commune.

Fang Dihua was furious…

An urgent telegram was sent to his father, who then called the commune and gave his eldest son a thorough scolding.

Despite the reprimand, his son remained stubborn.

He continued to complain about various issues, such as not being allowed to dig up graves, raise chickens, or plant vegetables, and even opposed the prohibition of ancestor worship.

In the end, the brigade leaders couldn’t stand his behavior and gave him a couple of sharp reprimands, which finally made him more compliant.

If it weren’t for his influential father in the capital, who would have let him be the accountant?

Compared to Old Man Lu’s abilities, he wasn’t even fit to be his shoeshine!

Who, in their right mind, would leave a comfortable life in the capital and return to the countryside in disgrace?

He boasted about not being able to adapt to the capital’s dust storms and the taste of its stinky tofu, but that was just a facade.

He was definitely sent back!

The brigade secretary, rolling his eyes and smoking a cigarette, ignored him completely.

Seeing that neither the brigade secretary nor the brigade leader was agreeing with him, Lu Shaocai felt awkward and frustrated.

He pretended to browse through old newspapers and fiddled with the financial reports from various production teams, all the while scheming: Was his second uncle acknowledging that the third brother had died?

If so, the funeral had to be a grand affair.

As the eldest cousin, he could host it and collect a substantial amount of funeral donations.

Would the county officials come?

If they did, maybe he could use the opportunity to curry favor.

If the county officials didn’t come, the commune secretary and director definitely would. He would make sure to compliment them well.

Many other people would likely come, too. They couldn’t come empty-handed and would probably bring gifts.

This money shouldn’t go to his second uncle. As the host, he would have his wife and son collect it, which could later be used as a bride price for his eldest son.

He was plotting well but didn’t consider the brigade leader’s comment that Old Man Lu wanted a simple funeral without a memorial service, only requesting gravesites.

Instead, he focused on his own ideas and imagined plenty of opportunities for profit.

Since Lu Shaotang was a martyr, he could collect donations for the memorial service, and there would be additional expenses for the headstone and future grave visits.

The county and commune would also likely provide regular support.

He imagined that annual support of fifty pounds of flour, ten pounds of oil, ten pounds of meat, several pounds of cotton, and two bolts of cloth wasn’t too much to expect.

The more he thought about it, the more pleased he became.

Sitting back in his chair with his feet propped up on the old desk, he leaned back triumphantly.

The chair tilted precariously on its back legs, creaking under the strain.

The old brigade secretary, fuming with anger, walked away muttering to himself, cursing under his breath.

Although it was over forty miles from Lu’s village to the county town, Fang Dihua was strong and rode quickly.

Lin Shu felt it was only a short time before they arrived.

“Here we are.”

“It would take at least two or three hours to ride back by myself, wouldn’t it?”

What a difference.

But the key point is that Fang Dihua isn’t even out of breath.

Fang Dihua isn’t like those country folks who get so nervous coming into the city that they can’t open their mouths as if they’ve been glued shut with super glue, and don’t know whether to move their left leg or right leg first.

When she meets people, the first thing she asks is where the Xinhua Bookstore is, and she goes straight there without wasting any energy.

Lin Shu: “Mom, let’s go to the hospital first.”

Fang Dihua: “The bookstore is close, it’s just in front of us.”

At this time, the Xinhua Bookstore was a simple, modest two-room shop.

There was even a stall selling children’s picture books at the entrance, with four or five kids sitting on small stools reading books.

Lin Shu knew that her mother-in-law was like a donkey that needed to be groomed the right way.

Fine, let’s buy some books first.

She looked at the popular picture books of this time, finding them quite new.

They didn’t have any at home yet.

The Lu family also had books, but they were the old handwritten copies left by Old Lu, mostly traditional books with almost no illustrations.

What child could resist these illustrated picture books?

She decided to buy some to bring back for Lu Ping and the others, especially for Tian Tian and Pan Pan.

Childhood shouldn’t be without the company of picture books.

While Lin Shu was looking at the picture books, Fang Dihua was eyeing an old lady selling ice cream by the roadside.

By the end of May, the temperature was quite high.

There was an old lady wearing a white Dacron blouse, her hair in a bun, fanning herself with a big palm fan, sitting on an iron folding chair with a wooden cart in front of her.

The cart had a white painted box with the words “Ice Cream” written in red paint.

Fang Dihua found it interesting.

Didn’t they say that speculation and profiteering were not allowed?

There weren’t any stalls on this street. How could this old lady sell ice cream here?

This old lady probably had some special status.

She hesitated whether to buy a sweet ice cream for Lin Shu.

Since his son got married and left, Fang Dihua felt she owed her daughter-in-law.

Also, Lin Shu could communicate with Ma Shenxian. Fang Dihua thought she should buy her a more expensive ice cream.

But since Lin Shu seemed to want to buy picture books, should she still buy the ice cream?

Lin Shu looked back at her: “Mom, hurry and buy the books. I’ll wait for you here.”

Fang Dihua reluctantly gave her two yuan.

This was all from San’er’s salary that he sent back, which included Lin Shu’s share.

However, Fang Dihua never gave her money because Lin Shu couldn’t save it and was always coaxed into giving it away to others for free.

Lin Shu happily took the money: “Thank you, Mom.”

She squatted next to the kids and started picking out some picture books to take back for the children.

There were two children among them wearing short sleeves and shorts, with sandals and white nylon socks.

Wow, how fancy.

Then Lin Shu noticed that the children had been badly bitten by mosquitoes.

It seemed that mosquito repellent and insect repellent weren’t common in the city either, as their little legs were covered in big bumps from the bites.

One of the children, engrossed in a picture book, kept scratching his legs until they bled.

Lin Shu had a small bottle of purple herbal ointment with her, which she had brought along for a chance to visit the county hospital.

She decided to help the child by applying the ointment.

The child felt a cool relief and stopped itching.

He looked at Lin Shu in surprise and said, “Wow, Auntie, you’re so pretty. Hey, it doesn’t itch anymore!”

The bookstore manager heard his son talking and immediately came out to see what was happening.

He saw a shabby, thin woman crouching there, flipping through books and applying ointment to his son’s legs.

He became wary, remembering that a child had been stolen from the back street recently and hadn’t been found yet.

He approached and asked sternly, “What are you doing?”

Lin Shu turned around and held up the book she was holding. “I’m buying books.”

The manager was taken aback.

This woman was quite attractive. Her big, bright eyes made him nervous.

A child thief wouldn’t look this good, would they?

She had a clear gaze, not the look of a bad person.

He cleared his throat. “Buying books? Can you read?”

Seeing Lin Shu’s shabby attire, his tone was somewhat mocking.

Lin Shu wasn’t offended.

She responded, “How many characters do you need to know to be considered literate? Recognize all the characters in the Xinhua Dictionary or the Kangxi Dictionary?”

The manager felt a bit embarrassed by the subtle mockery in Lin Shu’s sweet voice. “What were you doing with the ointment?”

He was concerned she might be trying to get close to the child to steal him.

If she tried that, no matter how pretty she was, he’d send her to the police station.

Lin Shu explained, “He was itching badly, and I happened to have some purple herbal ointment, so I applied it for him.”

The manager was skeptical and scoffed, “My son’s mosquito bites don’t even get better with the commercial repellent I bought. How could your ointment work?”

His son was sensitive to heat and mosquitoes, leading to large, itchy welts.

The child often scratched until his skin bled and scarred, and the marks would last all winter.

Lin Shu smiled and didn’t respond to his taunt about her patchy clothes.

The child took the opportunity to speak up, turning to his father and saying loudly, “Daddy, the pretty auntie’s ointment worked! My legs don’t itch anymore. Can you buy me this ointment?”