Li Fengmei had an energetic personality.

Once she agreed to partner with Xia Xiaolan, her heart was already in Shangdu.

Grandmother Yu’s place wasn’t taking new tenants, so Xiaolan needed to find accommodation for her uncle’s family of three. For this task, she approached Hu Yongcai’s wife, who was quite experienced in such matters.

“It shouldn’t be too far away, and either single-story or apartment building is fine.”

Hu Yongcai’s wife remarked thoughtfully, “So you’re all moving to the city?”

Xiaolan nodded modestly: “Life in the countryside is hard. Making a living in Shangdu should be easier.”

Only those with some savings dared to make such moves. Both Liu Yong and Xiaolan had money saved up – otherwise, who would dare abandon their farmland and move their entire family to the city? Urban life wasn’t like the village where you could produce what you needed; everything from rice to salt had to be purchased. You couldn’t just live off savings forever – city life forced people to work hard for money.

The term “migrant worker” wasn’t popular yet. The few who left for work usually went south, and most individual businesses in Shangdu were still run by urban residents. Xiaolan and Liu Yong were among the first farmers to seek their fortune in the city during the 1980s.

Hu Yongcai’s wife admired the boldness of Xiaolan’s family. In those days, few farmers abandoned their fields to make a living in the city.

Individual businesses made good money, yet no factory workers gave up their jobs to set up stalls.

Running a personal business was considered shameful, plus there were risks from weather and potential losses. Wage workers had guaranteed income and stable and comfortable lives. While some work units didn’t pay high wages, they offered great benefits! Everything from food to daily necessities was provided, from housing to children’s education – work unit schools covered from kindergarten through high school… These work unit employees lived comfortably but became dependent. Later, when mass layoffs came, these “iron rice bowls” had to start over.

Starting as a small vendors in middle age was more bitter than actively venturing out like Liu Yong.

Of course, Hu Yongcai’s wife couldn’t see that far ahead yet. While she praised them verbally, would she give up her stable job to run a private business?

Not a chance!

The apartment they finally found for Liu Yong wasn’t too far from Grandmother Yu’s place – a suite in an apartment building belonging to Shangdu Railway Bureau’s dormitories.

Everyone needed housing, and those who could rent out rooms certainly had their connections. Xiaolan went to see the place – it had shared bathrooms on each floor, an independent kitchen, and a room plus a small living room, not quite a one-bedroom but a standard “one-and-a-half room”… 1980s housing layouts were completely different from later commercial buildings. In the ’80s, living rooms were small and bedrooms large, with living rooms just for dining, unlike commercial housing with small bedrooms and grand living rooms for show.

The rent was only 15 yuan per month, but the landlord, not wanting to collect rent monthly, hoped for a year’s payment upfront.

Xiaolan wanted to look further – one room seemed inconvenient for her uncle’s family of three.

But Li Fengmei was quite satisfied: “We can just put a small bed in the living room!”

Hu Yongcai’s wife found Xiaolan’s concern strange: “Don’t people usually live together? Just put up a curtain in the big room – and your cousin is a boy anyway.”

Who didn’t live crowded together? Even Shangdu had relatively spacious housing – in places like Beijing and Shanghai, entire families squeezed into one room, with men, women, old, and young all sleeping on the same platform bed.

Besides, housing was hard to find now. Only in work units like the Railway Bureau, where young workers were assigned dormitories, were there spare rooms to rent… If they didn’t act fast, even at 15 yuan per month, which wasn’t cheap, families desperate for housing would take it.

They rushed to arrange Taotao’s school transfer too, thanks to Zhou Cheng’s “Caidie” cigarettes. These made impressive gifts – with Hu Yongcai’s connections, Liu Yong gave several cartons of cigarettes, treated them to meals at the state-run restaurant, and secured Taotao’s transfer to a nearby primary school.

What did it matter if they had rural household registration? Were rural people not allowed to have money?

Li Fengmei still had two pigs, and she called the village butcher to slaughter them. The villagers found it peculiar:

“It’s not even New Year, yet Yong’s family is butchering pigs?”

“Their two pigs were well-fed with oil dregs, they’re quite fat even for early slaughter – must be over 180 jin each?”

“What a pity, two more months and they’d reach 200 jin!”

200-jin fat pigs were rare. Pigs raised without feed grew slowly, and only 200-jin pigs could produce three-finger thick fat. Any housewife who could buy such meat would brag about it for quite a while.

Several villagers helped tie the pig’s four legs and hold it firmly on a long bench. The experienced butcher thrust his knife into the neck – a white blade going in, coming out red. A basin with salt water caught the hot pig’s blood, which would slowly congeal into blood curd.

Fresh pig’s blood was precious – northerners liked to stuff it into sausages and stew it with pickled vegetables, Sichuan was famous for its intestines with blood curd, and in Anqing they stir-fried it with green onions.

After the pig was bled out, they used hot water to scald and scrape off the hair.

The butcher and his helpers quickly cleaned one pig. Though not quite 200 jin, it wasn’t far off.

Red meat, white fat – onlookers couldn’t help but salivate.

“Yong, are you selling any of the meat?”

Being from the same village, Liu Yong couldn’t charge high prices. With meat rare on dining tables, people wanted to buy a couple of in for a treat.

“Of course, we’re selling!”

Liu Yong wanted to sell both pigs whole, but Li Fengmei said that wasn’t cost-effective, plus they needed to keep some meat. So they slaughtered both pigs, gave away the odds and ends to those they should, and sold the excess meat, trying to maximize the value of their carefully raised fat pigs.

Only after the pig slaughter did Qijing villagers learn that Liu Yong was moving his wife and child to the city.

“It’s all for that kid’s schooling!”

That was Liu Yong’s explanation, though villagers were skeptical.

Had they struck it rich?

They were leaving their fields for others to farm.

Liu Yong hadn’t struck it rich, but he was hoping to. How could he get rich staying in such a backward place?

After dealing with their pigs and poultry, Liu Yong’s family of three headed to Shangdu with some pork and their belongings. On the day Liu Yong left, Chen Wangda’s eldest daughter-in-law was beside herself with worry:

“The Liu family has gotten too high and mighty!”

Making some money was one thing, not borrowing from anyone was fine, but moving to the provincial capital?

Renting a place was easy, that didn’t cost money to buy. But when it came time next year to pay grain taxes and fees, who knew if the Liu family could manage?

“Chen Qing’s grandfather talked about allocating fields to Liu Fen and her daughter, but now they’ve moved to the provincial capital – would they even care about these fields?”

Chen’s eldest son said impatiently, “Why do you care so much? Planning to overthrow my father and become village chief yourself?”

His wife rolled her eyes.

As if she enjoyed worrying! Wasn’t she just trying to get something for their family? Everyone said Liu Yong’s family had made big money. The eldest daughter-in-law remembered that telegram as thick as a letter remembered Xia Xiaolan’s introduction letter to Yang City and suspected Xiaolan had found a wealthy match. The money wasn’t Liu Yong’s, it might be Xiaolan’s – when one person succeeds, even their uncle’s family rises with them.

Frustratingly, Liu’s little boy couldn’t be fooled. Though he ate plenty of fruit candy, when asked about his cousin’s business in Yang City, he claimed to know nothing.

Hmpf, playing dumb ran in the family.

Previously, Chen’s eldest daughter-in-law had mostly good intentions toward the Liu family and Xiaolan’s mother and daughter, but her attitude had gradually changed – perhaps because initially, as the village chief’s daughter-in-law, with Chen Qing being such a catch locally, she had been in the position to choose matches for Chen Qing. People can be sympathetic and merciful when they’re in an advantageous position, but when Xiaolan went from being pitiable to not needing help, even surpassing Chen Qing, the eldest daughter-in-law’s pity became unbalanced.

As Liu Yong moved to the city with his wife and child, carrying their bundles, Zhou Cheng was officially reporting for duty in Beijing.

After reaching Beijing, he left the goods for Kang Wei to handle, sent Xiaolan a telegram, and was called back to his work unit.

“Well, well, our Zhou Cheng finally decided to return.”