Chapter 61: Going to the City for a Meeting
He stood up with a scowl, leveling a fierce finger at the four of them across the dinner table.
“Another ten kilograms of coarse grains?!” he bellowed. “The four of you already gorge yourselves on thirty kilograms of my grain every single month, and I consider that a wretched waste of food as it is!”
“You’re nothing but a house full of money-losing, worthless daughters. You couldn’t even manage to give me a single son, yet you have the nerve to steal my provisions to subsidize your exiled parents?”
He sneered, crossing his arms. “I haven’t cast you out for your failure to give me a boy, and I haven’t divorced you even though your family was politically stripped and demoted. You should be down on your knees thanking me! Where do you find the absolute gall to beg for more?”
His wife’s eyes filled with tears, but she bit her lip tightly and forced herself to stay silent. Looking down at her tear-stained, miserable face, Wang Chaofan felt an overwhelming surge of disgust.
Without even touching his dinner, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the apartment to find a restaurant, leaving behind his wife and three young daughters to fend for themselves. In his mind, it was entirely bad luck to spend an evening staring at four skeletal, half-dead women.
“Sob… sob…”
The moment the front door slammed shut, his wife buried her face in her hands and wept uncontrollably. Seeing their mother break down, the three young girls huddled close to comfort her, their small stomachs rumbling with hunger.
“Mom…” the oldest cried quietly. “Can we just leave Dad? Can we live without him?”
“Yeah, Mom, I don’t want a dad anymore!” the second sister wept.
Wang Chaofan’s wife looked at her three daughters. The eldest was fifteen, the middle was ten, and the youngest was a mere five years old. If her husband truly abandoned them, how could four defenseless women survive in the city?
“Hush now! Don’t you dare speak such nonsense,” she gasped, frantically covering their mouths, terrified that Wang Chaofan might suddenly march back through the door and overhear them. If he did, they would all endure a savage beating.
She carefully split a single corn bun among the three girls, handing each of them a half, before gathering the remaining pieces and locking them back in the cupboard. She lived in constant fear that Wang Chaofan would return later demanding a midnight meal; if she had nothing to lay before him, he would take his rage out on the children.
The mother and daughters quietly finished their meager meal of cold vegetables and dry, coarse cornbread, left only half-full. But none of them dared to utter a single complaint. They knew all too well that any sign of discontent would only result in their mother being kicked and beaten again.
Sheng Wanyan remained entirely oblivious to the logistics director’s domestic tyranny, and even if she had known, she had zero interest in meddling in a stranger’s household affairs. In her view, a woman who placed her entire destiny in the hands of a volatile man was a fool.
Throughout this period, Wanyan maintained her strict routine of executing a flawless escape the absolute second her shift ended. As the weeks bled into a month, Wang Chaofan failed to catch her a single time.
No matter how dense he might be, the director eventually deduced that the girl was actively evading him. He hadn’t anticipated that the beautiful clerk would be so exceptionally vigilant, discerning his predatory designs after a single encounter.
Still, Wang Chaofan felt no rush. An old proverb dictated that while the monk might flee, the temple remained standing; he could afford to play the long game, slowly tightening his net until Sheng Wanyan had no choice but to fall right into his arms.
Sheng Wanyan, however, couldn’t be bothered to waste a single thought on him. A thirty-five-year-old married man daydreaming about an unmarried young woman was nothing short of pathetic.
Instead, she channeled her focus into her flourishing translation business, stopping by the post office to collect her latest royalties and pick up her new assignments. Along with the documents, the capital editors had included a formal letter expressing immense praise for her rich vocabulary and flawless execution, asking if she would be interested in translating full-length foreign books.
Translating complete manuscripts was significantly more demanding and packed with highly technical terminology, but the newspaper was prepared to raise her rate to a premium 1.5 cents per word. The editorial board noted that if she was willing to accept the challenge, she could mail her consent alongside her next manuscript submission, and they would immediately dispatch the foreign volumes to her.
Since book translations were processed per volume, she would receive a massive, guaranteed payout upon completion. Wanyan realized that taking on full-length books would provide a far more substantial and stable stream of independent wealth. She certainly wasn’t hurting for cash, making it the perfect time to elevate her career.
Reviewing the package sent from the Capital, she noted that the editors had assumed she would accept; consequently, they had only sent a modest batch of forty short articles to tide her over. Coincidentally, she had just finalized the translation of forty articles from her previous stash inside her space.
The timing is absolutely perfect, she thought, organizing her papers. She could mail out her completed manuscripts alongside her formal acceptance letter tomorrow morning, and by the time the bulk books arrived from the capital, she could immediately submit the forty articles she had received today. Her steady stream of income would continue entirely uninterrupted.
She tore open the second envelope and carefully counted her new earnings: a crisp total of 320 yuan for 32,000 words of precise work. Pulling in 320 yuan in a single month was an astronomical fortune in the mid-1970s.
Once she dispatched her latest batch the following morning, she would be cleared to collect another massive payout in a few weeks. Staring down at her treasury, Wanyan felt a profound sense of satisfaction with her new life. Earning 320 yuan a month meant an annual income of over 3,800 yuan.
Combined with her sporadic underground black-market deals and the steady windfalls she pulled from Wu Jiaxiu, she would easily become a “Ten-Thousand Yuan Clan” elite within four years. By the time the economic reforms launched, she would possess more than enough personal capital to buy up premium courtyard estates in the capital and launch her commercial empire.
The moment Sheng Wanyan stepped into the Propaganda office the next morning, Director Li signaled her to step up to his desk.
“Comrade Sheng Wanyan, the municipal committee has just issued an urgent directive requiring every state facility to aggressively elevate their public promotional campaigns,” Director Li announced, gathering his ledger. “The factory manager and I are required to attend an executive briefing in the city center. I want you to accompany us to take the official meeting minutes.”
Director Li had weighed the options carefully and concluded that Wanyan was the most qualified choice for the task. She was young, highly educated, and possessed a remarkably sharp, analytical mind; she would undoubtedly log critical details and policy shifts that senior workers might glance over.
“Understood, Director Li,” Wanyan replied readily.
She harbored no objections to the assignment. This was an exceptional professional opportunity. Traveling in the same vehicle as the factory director would allow her to leave a stellar, lasting impression on the facility’s highest authority, firmly cementing her position within the mill.
“Go back to your desk and prepare your materials. We depart precisely at ten o’clock,” Director Li instructed, waving a hand.
“Will do.”
Wanyan returned to her desk, extracted a pristine leather-bound notebook and two fresh fountain pens from her drawer, and tucked them securely into her canvas bag.
“Wanyan, what did Director Li want?” Wu Jiaxiu whispered the second she sat down, her eyes practically sparkling with curiosity. Around them, the neighboring clerks subtly paused their writing, straining their ears to catch the answer.
“He wants me to travel to the municipal headquarters with him and the factory manager to log the official minutes for a policy meeting.”
“Are you serious?!” Wu Jiaxiu gasped, her face flushing with pure envy. She was actually going to a high-level briefing alongside the factory director himself! “That is incredible, Wanyan! You’re actually traveling with the chief executive!”
She paused, leaning in closer. “Does that mean you get to ride in the official car?”
Sitting across the aisle, Niu Fangli’s face darkened to a thunderous scowl. Historically, because she possessed the highest seniority in the department, Director Li had always selected her for off-site assignments.
Yet, even during her peak travels with Director Li, they had never once been paired with the factory manager. More importantly, those regional trips had never included an official vehicle. They had always been forced to either squeeze onto the sweltering, suffocating municipal buses or balance precariously on the rack of Director Li’s old bicycle. Traveling in the summer meant arriving drenched in sweat, winter brought a freezing chill, and the rainy season was an absolute disaster.
She had given decades of her life to this mill, yet she had never once been permitted to ride in the facility’s singular, coveted state automobile—a luxury vehicle strictly reserved for high-ranking executive deployments.
And now, this newcomer was riding in it alongside the factory director himself!
If the person holding the absolute highest authority in the facility took a personal liking to Wanyan during the drive, the girl’s career would skyrocket. Niu Fangli felt a bitter, toxic resentment tighten in her chest. If Sheng Wanyan hadn’t wormed her way into the office three months ago, this monumental opportunity would have naturally fallen into her lap.
Though she was practically vibrating with jealousy, she was forced to sit in silence and watch the newcomer claim her prize. After all, she knew all too well that Sheng Wanyan was Director Li’s absolute favorite rising star, and openly striking at her would be professional suicide.
