Chapter 71: Arriving at Secretary Zhang’s House at the Grain Factory
Still, she knew they had spent far too little time together in person. They were still strangers in many ways, and she felt they needed more time to truly understand one another before they could ever seriously discuss marriage.
In her reply, Wanyan shared the recent highlights of her life, including a rather proud “show-and-tell” of the publicity campaign she had spearheaded. She wrote until her hand cramped, filling five full pages before stuffing them into the envelope. At the last second, she tucked in five yuan and several national food coupons. She added a small note explaining that this was his “pocket money”; she firmly believed that a grown man shouldn’t be caught without a cent to his name, as it made everything more difficult. She didn’t want him sacrificing his health or comfort just to save a few coins. To her, that was a poor trade-over.
Setting the letter aside, she turned her attention to the package from the Kyoto newspaper. Inside were two volumes; one was a particularly thick, technical manual on mechanics. The editors expressed their hope that she could translate it into Chinese, noting how vital it would be for domestic scientific researchers. Wanyan accepted the task but immediately stowed the foreign books in her spatial dimension. In this political climate, keeping foreign technical manuals at home was an invitation for trouble.
The accompanying envelope contained her latest royalties. For the last forty articles—totaling thirty thousand words—she had earned a crisp three hundred yuan. She planned to mail her next batch of forty articles along with her letter to Gu Tingxiao the following morning. She decided not to send anything to her brother, Sheng Wanze, this time; he would be home next month for his wedding, so there was no need for a parcel.
After organizing her money and coupons and locking them away in her spatial box, Wanyan blew out the coal lamp and finally went to sleep.
The next day was her day off. She planned to head into the city to deliver the skincare set she had promised Secretary Zhang. After a quick breakfast, she found a secluded spot near the post office to retrieve the items from her space. For Gu Tingxiao, she had prepared a stash of walnut and chestnut kernels for him to snack on, along with several packs of beef jerky, handmade spicy gluten strips, and three jars of savory beef and chili sauce.
With the parcels sent, she set off for the city. She chose the bus; the city was far too distant for a bicycle ride, and the potholed roads would have made for a painful journey. However, the moment she stepped onto the bus, she instantly regretted it.
The vehicle was packed with people carrying every imaginable burden. The air was a thick, suffocating mixture of sweat and stale breath. Wanyan nearly gagged, but the doors had already hissed shut. She scrambled to find a seat before they were all snatched up. To survive the two-hour ride, she pulled an orange from her pocket, peeled it quickly, and held the rind to her nose, using the citrus scent to mask the stench.
The other passengers watched her with undisguised envy. It was obvious she was a city girl if she could afford such precious fruit. Several older women held live chickens, ducks, and geese in their laps, and it wasn’t long before animal droppings dotted the floor. Wanyan squeezed her eyes shut. If I don’t see it, it isn’t there, she told herself.
When the bus finally reached the city two hours later, Wanyan practically bolted off. She ducked into a corner to take several deep, gasping breaths of fresh air, drinking from her canteen and popping a sour plum into her mouth to settle her stomach.
Following the address Secretary Zhang had provided, she found the grain factory’s staff quarters. It was a proper courtyard house with its own entrance—a clear sign that Secretary Zhang’s husband held a significant position. Wanyan felt a pang of longing for a home like this; it offered so much more privacy than the noisy, nosy environment of a tube-shaped building where neighbors could guess your dinner menu just by the smell.
She knocked on the door and was greeted almost immediately by Secretary Zhang’s voice. “Coming! Who is it?”
When the door opened and Zhang saw Wanyan, her face lit up. “Comrade Sheng Wanyan! You’re finally here!”
Zhang had been counting the days, wondering if Wanyan had forgotten about the hydration set. She knew the Propaganda Department had been swamped lately, so she hadn’t dared to pester the girl.
“I’m sorry to bother you at home, Sister Zhang,” Wanyan said.
“Nonsense, come in quickly!”
The courtyard was spacious, with four separate wings surrounding the center. Zhang explained that they had rooms for her parents-in-law, her children, and herself. The backyard housed a large kitchen and a vegetable patch. A bicycle stood in the front yard near lines of freshly laundered clothes. Zhang led her into the living room and poured a cup of tea.
“Have some tea, Comrade Wanyan,” Zhang urged, setting out a bowl of melon seeds and candies.
“Please, don’t go to any trouble, Sister Zhang. I just wanted to bring this to you. The factory has been quite busy, so I’m sorry it took so long.”
“No rush at all,” Zhang said, though her eyes were glued to the glass jars in Wanyan’s hands.
“I mixed these myself using safe ingredients,” Wanyan explained. “I’ve written the instructions down, but I want to show you the proper technique. If you apply skin products too roughly, it can actually do more harm than good.”
“Of course, of course,” Zhang nodded, looking impressed. She realized that if she wanted real results, she needed to maintain a good relationship with this professional young woman.
“The technique is vital. Sister Zhang, if you wash your face, I’ll demonstrate.”
Zhang hurried to the kitchen for a basin of water, scrubbed her face clean, and returned with a mirror. Wanyan began with the toner, pouring a bit into her palm and gently patting it onto Zhang’s skin, moving from the center outward and from the bottom up. She moved slowly so Zhang could memorize the motion.
“Just a gentle touch,” Wanyan murmured. “The skin will absorb it on its own.”
Zhang sighed; her skin already felt more comfortable than it ever did when she just slapped on lotion.
“For the serum and the cream, you need to rub them between your palms first to warm them up,” Wanyan continued, applying the products with light, upward pressure. Wanyan’s hands were soft, and Zhang closed her eyes, leaning into the pampering. No woman is immune to the desire for beauty, and the process itself was restorative.
“Water first, then serum, then cream. Once in the morning, once at night.”
“Comrade Wanyan, I truly can’t thank you enough,” Zhang said, looking in the mirror with a newfound sense of hope. She had spent so much money and effort on her complexion with no results until now.
“I’m just happy I could help you, Sister Zhang.”
Secretary Zhang nodded. She understood the nature of their bond; it was a mutually beneficial friendship, and she intended to uphold her end of the bargain.
