Transmigrating to the 1980s: Making Money Flirting with Men and Raising Babies
Transmigrating to the 1980s: Making Money Flirting with Men and Raising Babies Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Favoritism

“Manman, don’t stoop to your sister-in-law’s level. She’s just a chatterbox who doesn’t know how to talk properly!” Jiang Qi walked over and pulled Qin Man aside.

Song Mei’s face turned red with anger, and soon her eyes reddened as well. She put her hands on her hips and started complaining.

“You all are just biased! You favor the younger brother because he’s educated and has a future. Meanwhile, all the big and small chores, the dirty and tiring work, fall on Jiang Cheng. Just because Qin Man gave birth to a son, does that make her so special? What’s the big deal?

I’ve been married into the Jiang family for years, helping with household chores and working in the fields. Even if I don’t have major achievements, I’ve at least put in my fair share of hard work! Shouldn’t things be fair? Qin Man, just because she’s a little slow-witted, doesn’t have to do anything, yet she still gets to eat boiled eggs every day. And me? I’m always told to give in! This is favoritism, pure favoritism—just like her family doted on her before!”

Jiang Qi was known for her good temper, but seeing her eldest daughter-in-law making such an unreasonable fuss, she couldn’t help but set things straight.

“I don’t like what you’re saying. What do you mean by favoritism? Ah Cong is successful because he studied hard since childhood. We treated Ah Cheng the same, letting him study too, but he simply wasn’t cut out for it and quit early on.

You say you help with household chores, but I cook for the entire family, I do the laundry, and even sweeping the yard is something you grumble about—let alone working in the fields! Haven’t I and your father ever talked to you about this?

And all this over a single boiled egg from this morning? Just because you didn’t get the last one, you have an issue? But tell me, have you ever been left out whenever there’s something good to eat?”

Jiang Qi felt utterly disappointed. Other families’ daughters-in-law were respectful and obedient to their mothers-in-law, but because she had a good temper and never liked to argue, Song Mei dared to be so opinionated.

“I…” Song Mei was left speechless. She turned around and stormed back into the west room, slamming the door shut. So dramatic.

Qin Man finally understood—her mother-in-law was a good person, but this sister-in-law was definitely not easy to get along with.

Song Mei was just a petty person who only acted tough at home. Outside, she was as timid as a wilted cucumber.

“Ah, Manman, that’s just how your sister-in-law is. Don’t take her seriously, alright?”

Jiang Qi sighed. She always believed she treated her three children fairly. No matter how hard life was, she and her husband made sure they had the opportunity to study and become literate.

As the saying goes, a teacher can lead the way, but how much a student learns depends on them. Everyone has their own destiny.

“It’s fine, Mom. Do we have any baijiu (white liquor) at home? I want to use it to ripen some persimmons. In a few days, we can sell them at the county market. Isn’t Jiang Cong going to the city for work soon?

He’ll need to rent a place and settle down, and I thought we could sell these persimmons to make some extra money for his living expenses and travel costs.”

Qin Man’s temper flared up quickly but also subsided just as fast. She wasn’t one to hold grudges, and she never bothered arguing with her sister-in-law. If something upset her, she’d vent right away and move on.

“During the New Year, your dad bought a few bottles of Red Star Erguotou (a type of baijiu). We only drank one bottle, so there are two unopened ones left. But are you sure baijiu can ripen persimmons?”

Jiang Qi had never heard of this method, so she remained skeptical.

In those days, a bottle of Red Star Erguotou cost 1.5 yuan—a bit pricey!

“Of course! Just rub the persimmons with baijiu and leave them for three to four days, and they’ll ripen. Right now, there are no persimmons available on the market, so out-of-season fruits like these are the most valuable. When we sell them at the farmers’ market, we can charge five cents per persimmon. If we sell 200, that’s 10 yuan!”

Coming from the future, Qin Man had plenty of practical knowledge and spoke with confidence.

Jiang Qi nodded, agreeing to the plan. She went to her room and brought out the two bottles of Red Star Erguotou for Qin Man.

“Take these persimmons to the firewood storage to work on them. Just make sure your dad doesn’t find out—he treats this liquor like a treasure! He rarely drinks it himself, only taking a few sips during special occasions.”

Qin Man couldn’t help but laugh at that. Taking the baijiu, she promised, “Once I start making money, I’ll buy two bottles to replace them. Is that okay?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just use them. I’ll help you move the persimmons to the firewood storage. It’s really not convenient to keep them in the main hall.”

Jiang Qi and Qin Man worked together to move the half-ripe persimmons to the firewood storage.

Since it was still early, Qin Man started rubbing the persimmons with baijiu. The firewood storage was cool, making it a perfect place for ripening. To avoid waste, she poured the liquor into a basin and rolled each persimmon in it to evenly coat them. Then, she placed them neatly in a bamboo basket.

She used up about one bottle of baijiu for the 200 persimmons. After finishing, she left the door open to let the alcohol smell dissipate and covered the baskets with cloth. Now, they just had to wait three to four days.

When Jiang Ze returned later, he didn’t notice anything. Jiang Qi and Qin Man exchanged a knowing look and secretly chuckled.

Jiang Cong arrived home at dusk. He had spent the whole day writing articles at the county newspaper office. His writing skills were excellent—his articles were well-structured and logical. If he hadn’t already been assigned a job through his university, the newspaper office would have loved to keep him.

However, the salary in a small county was too low—only 41 yuan per month. The benefits weren’t as good as working as a teacher in the city.

After dinner, Jiang Cong put the 2 yuan he had earned from writing into a metal biscuit tin where he kept his savings. Inside, there were scattered bills adding up to about 20 yuan, along with a few ration tickets.

Ever since farmland had been divided among households, ration tickets had gradually become obsolete. By the late 1980s, they were completely phased out and even began to be collected for recycling. In ten or twenty years, they might become valuable collector’s items.

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