The few pieces of furniture returned could hardly fill the Fang family’s new house, but Old Fang wasn’t in a hurry to buy new furniture. They hadn’t hired a housekeeper, and Teacher Mu had already started working, while Old Fang was idle, waiting for work arrangements. Although he had manuscripts that needed urgent transcription, his flexible schedule meant household chores naturally fell to him. Under these circumstances, he naturally preferred the house to be as empty as possible.
On Sunday, Fei Ni accompanied Fang Muyang to visit his parents. People who hadn’t worked for years tend to throw themselves completely into work once they get a job, and Teacher Mu, having just resumed teaching, had been spending even Sundays at school. Some students had such poor foundations that they lacked even middle school knowledge, making it impossible for them to keep up with her teaching. She had no choice but to use her rest time to provide mandatory remedial classes.
Old Fang had been paying for his outspoken mistakes all these years, and having finally emerged from that situation, he couldn’t hold his tongue upon seeing his son and daughter-in-law: “Your mother kept advising me to be cautious with my words after returning, but look at her now—barely started working and already forcing students to take remedial classes. Isn’t she afraid of being labeled as another ‘white expert’ and getting driven off by students? Though I can understand your mother’s position—many students’ foundations are too weak, some even worse than middle school students. Even with mandatory remedial classes, they can’t keep up with your mother’s teaching. The university selection system must be reformed.”
Fei Ni couldn’t help asking, “Dad, do you think there’s a possibility of restoring the college entrance examination?”
Old Fang, confident that his daughter-in-law wouldn’t spread his words outside, couldn’t resist sharing his insights. After meeting his daughter-in-law several times, Old Fang had determined she was discreet. As for his son, there was no need to mention—, during their most difficult times, he had hoped his younger son would distance himself from them for a better life, but the rebellious son had stubbornly refused.
In this aspect, Fang Muyang had an advantage over his siblings because everyone knew about the discord between father and son, and Fang Muyang got along well with children from working-class families, occasionally using family money to treat them, “equalizing wealth” with those children. Even the Zhonghua cigarettes that his father rarely smoked were secretly given by Fang Muyang to the doorman. Fang Muyang felt entirely justified in this—his mother, to completely separate herself from the capitalist class, had donated all the savings, fixed-interest bonds, gold, houses, and valuable items left by his grandmother. Because of this, Fang Muyang believed he had the same right as his parents to control family money, spending it however and whenever he wanted, without needing their consent.
Old Fang remembered that although his rebellious son found ways to spend their money, he had no concept of money, gold, or fixed-interest bonds. When he learned the house had been donated, his first concern was what would happen to his grandmother’s beloved roses. A few days later, Old Fang heard that his mother-in-law’s house had been broken into—no property was lost, but the roses in the garden had been dug up, though they were already scheduled for removal. Old Fang hadn’t seen the roses at home, but he was certain his younger son was responsible, because the day after the roses were taken, Fang Muyang’s clothes became dirty and torn. Neither he nor his wife pursued the matter; instead, they bought Fang Muyang new clothes, intending to treat this child better. A few days later, Fang Muyang stole the family household registry book and sold his new clothes at the consignment store, and some days after that, he dismantled the family radio. Old Fang had no choice but to resume his previous method of disciplining his son.
After sharing his views, Old Fang added, “Learning doesn’t have to be limited to school; you can study at home too. If you and Muyang have any questions, you can always come to your mother and me for guidance.”
Fei Ni was naturally willing, but Fang Muyang had no interest in consulting his father, not even bothering with superficial courtesy.
The Fang house was already large, and with so little furniture, it seemed even bigger. Old Fang showed his son and daughter-in-law around their home. Coming to a sun-facing bedroom with nothing in it, Old Fang pointed and said, “This will be your room in the future.”
Old Fang was a very responsible father. Having neglected the rebellious son’s education for so many years, he naturally wanted to make up for it when given the chance, especially now that he had no work and could supervise his son’s studies at any time.
Neither Fang Muyang nor Fei Ni responded. Fang Muyang naturally didn’t want to live with his parents, even if their house was a hundred times better than his own. Fei Ni was unwilling because once she moved out of the house allocated to her by the Cap Factory, she would lose the legitimacy of owning it. The house was distributed to workers in need, and leaving it empty for a long time would indicate she didn’t need it, meaning it would have to be given to others. Moving out was easy, but moving back would be difficult.
Old Fang didn’t rush them to move in immediately; it would take some time to furnish the house properly.
The bathroom in the new house was well-equipped, with hot water for bathing. The kitchen still needed cooking appliances, and the study only had a large desk holding Old Fang’s manuscripts.
When Old Fang wrote, he only focused on writing freely, never thinking about the future. These manuscripts spanned over ten years. After the earlier manuscripts were lost, he had secretly rewritten them from memory on scrap paper, feeling he needed to leave something behind. Though there were many interruptions, he ultimately persevered. A regular sheet of letter paper held three thousand characters, and without glasses, it was impossible to make out what was written without carefully examining each character. His condition didn’t allow him to stare at them for long, his eyesight was deteriorating, and doctors had warned him against straining his eyes. A few days ago, he had thought about finding someone to transcribe them but hadn’t found anyone reliable, so he could only organize a little each day by himself.
Old Fang didn’t expect his son, who hadn’t finished middle school, or his daughter-in-law with a high school education to understand his manuscripts, but he still generously let them look.
Fei Ni discovered many meaningless word combinations in the manuscripts, but when she read them in her mind, she realized they were meaningful—though written in Chinese characters, they were awkward phonetic translations of English words. With her father-in-law’s education, he could certainly have translated them more accurately, but he had been too cautious. Even in manuscripts meant for his own eyes, to prevent others from discovering them, he not only frequently used English but also wrote it phonetically rather than properly, and deliberately made the phonetic translations inaccurate.
The next day, Fang Muyang cycled to his parent’s house to collect the books that Teacher Mu had borrowed from the library for her.
Fang Muyang received not only the books but also a paper package from Old Fang containing two hundred ten-yuan notes. Old Fang told him to quickly repay what he had spent on Fei Ni’s money.
“Be careful about spending someone else’s money for too long, or you won’t be able to hold your head up in front of your wife. You must give this money to Fei Ni, don’t spend it yourself.”
Fang Muyang smiled, “I’m taller than her—if I lift my head, I won’t see her at all. If you don’t trust me so much, why don’t you give it to her yourself?”
“Debt is debt, goodwill is goodwill—this should come from you.”
Fang Muyang bought two cans of abalone, giving one to his parents and taking the other home. When he arrived home, the first person he saw wasn’t Fei Ni but a man he didn’t recognize.
At first, he thought the man was Fei Ni’s friend, but after her introduction, he learned the man was from the newspaper, specifically waiting at their door to commission him for a serial comic strip for the paper.
Fei Ni had brewed red tea for the guests. When Fang Muyang returned, the teacup was empty. She added more tea and brought over some snacks on a small plate, letting Fang Muyang and the visitor talk at their leisure.
She went to the desk under the loft bed and immersed herself in the books Fang Muyang had borrowed for her.
She read voraciously, the books isolating her from others.
These days, good things keep happening to the Fang family. They had gotten their house back and received their back wages, and now Fang Muyang’s career was also going well, with newspaper editors actively seeking him out. She was very happy for them. But as for herself, it seemed she hadn’t made any progress this year—her work remained the same as a year ago…
Fang Muyang quickly concluded his conversation with the guest, saying he would discuss specific details at the newspaper office.
After seeing the guest off, Fang Muyang walked behind Fei Ni, flipping through the book while asking her, “What do you think of this book?”
Just as Fei Ni was about to speak, the page turned to reveal a ten-yuan note.
“Who’s so careless to leave money in books?”
“I don’t think it’s just one—keep flipping.”
From one book, Fei Ni found more than ten ten-yuan notes.
Fang Muyang laughed, “They say there’s gold to be found in books—this must be what they meant.”
Fei Ni vaguely guessed the source of the money from Fang Muyang’s smile. “Payment for your work?”
Fang Muyang took out the paper package and opened it for Fei Ni to see.
Looking at the two hundred ten-yuan notes together, Fei Ni could only think of one source, and she asked Fang Muyang, “Your father gave you this?”
Fang Muyang continued smiling at her: “This isn’t my money, it’s yours. The old man told me to return it to you.”
“Return it to me?”
“The other day, you spent money buying him clothes and other things. He’s paying you back.”
“But I didn’t spend nearly that much—all together it wasn’t even two hundred yuan,” Fei Ni thought for a moment and said, “We should return this money to them.”
Fang Muyang pinched her cheek, “You little miser, you weren’t so generous when you made me hand over my salary.”
Now, Fang Muyang had to hand over two-thirds of his monthly salary to Fei Ni for safekeeping. To prove he wasn’t lying, he even had to show his pay stub. For his manuscript fees, he only had to hand over half.
Fei Ni also smiled, “How can your money be the same as others?”
“The old man isn’t short of money now, and if you return it to him, he won’t have anywhere to spend it. With all that money in hand, he hasn’t bought a single piece of furniture. If we don’t help him spend it, the money will just sit there,” Fang Muyang took out a stack of money and gave it to Fei Ni. “How about this—you keep this thousand, and I’ll use the rest to buy some things for him.”
“Alright.” Fei Ni remembered what her brother had told her at noon, “My brother came to see me at noon, asking if you could draw design sketches for a sofa and cabinet. I thought we had some ready, so I promised to give them to him tomorrow.”
“No problem, but don’t you already have cabinets and a small sofa? A bigger sofa wouldn’t fit anyway.”
“I’m not sure either, I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
Fang Muyang didn’t plan to choose slowly. He took his father’s money to the consignment store and bought a rosewood desk with chairs, bookcases, and a chest of drawers.
He made several trips to the consignment store until the house was full of furniture. With the remaining money, Fang Muyang exchanged it at a premium for purchase coupons and went to the Friendship Store to buy two electric fans—summer was coming, and his parents’ home didn’t have any fans, nor did his own home. He delivered the fans along with carpets, thin blankets, and bamboo mats to his parent’s home.