Chapter 80: Revealing Translation to Sheng Wanze
Sheng Wanyan turned back to her desk, picked up the manual and her translation notes, and walked back over to Sheng Wanze.
She had never intended to keep this a secret from her family forever; she had simply been waiting for the right moment so they wouldn’t worry. Now that Sheng Wanze had caught a glimpse of it, it was actually the perfect opportunity to explain things. That way, she could openly bring more luxury items into the household without raising eyebrows.
“This is an official translation project I took on,” she said, presenting the documents. “I have a formal work permit and an institutional seal.”
Sheng Wanze closely examined the back of the book, which bore the official red stamp of the Capital Newspaper, before looking at her credential card. The title printed on the ID explicitly read National Translator, with Sheng Wanyan’s name stamped clearly beneath it.
In this strict political era, possessing foreign literature without a verified state seal was a severe offense that could land someone in a labor camp. Seeing the official credentials, Sheng Wanze let out a massive sigh of relief, though he still shot his sister a deeply suspicious look.
“When on earth did you learn a foreign language?”
Wanyan had already mapped out a flawless excuse. Since her brother was stationed far away at the regiment base all year round, he had no intimate knowledge of her daily routine during her high school years.
“Back in high school, I was browsing through a bookstore and met an elderly scholar who was fluent in foreign languages,” she explained smoothly. “He noticed how genuinely interested I was, so he kindly took me under his wing and tutored me for two years. I fell in love with the work, so I just kept practicing on my own.”
Sheng Wanze nodded slowly, fully accepting the explanation. He hadn’t expected that while her standard school grades had slumped, she had been quietly dedicating her brilliance to such an advanced discipline.
“So you don’t need to stress about the finances here,” Wanyan added with a small smile. “Between my regular factory wage and my monthly royalties, I have more than enough to keep the elders well-provided for. The publication house pays an incredibly generous rate, so I have plenty of—”
“Say no more. Keep that money for yourself,” Sheng Wanze interrupted firmly. He wasn’t ignorant of the world; he had several comrades hailing from the Capital and possessed a rough understanding of the high-tier stipend rates for national translations. Moving a massive, technical volume of this size easily commanded a premium rate of fifty yuan a month.
“This is your own hard-earned income. There’s absolutely no need to report a single cent of it to Mom and Dad, and you don’t have to surrender it to the household pool. Keep your royalties secured in your private savings.”
He paused, looking at her with a soft, protective expression. “You already work a demanding shift at the mill every weekday. When you’re translating at night, don’t overexert yourself. Make sure you go to bed early; your health is more important than any paycheck.”
“I know, Brother…”
Wanyan looked up at him, a sudden wave of warmth washing over her as memories of her previous life flashed through her mind. In her past existence, Sheng Wanze had carried himself with the exact same selfless protective instinct. He had never once pried into her personal bank accounts or demanded to know her net worth; his only perpetual concern was that she might be running short of spending cash.
Even though their personalities and daily interests were entirely different in this life, his profound, unyielding love for his younger sister remained completely unchanged.
Sheng Wanze let out a soft sigh and reached out to affectionately ruffle her hair, deeply moved by how remarkably sensible she had become. His little sister was only twenty years old and unmarried, yet her every movement and calculation carried the weight of a seasoned elder—entirely mature, fiercely independent, and grounded.
She lacked the bright, carefree vanity typical of girls her age. She had simply been forced to grow up far too early. An old maxim dictated that the most sensible children rarely received any candy; if the Sheng family had been packed with multiple siblings clamoring for attention, a quiet, self-reliant girl like Wanyan would have easily been overlooked.
Sensing his emotional gaze, Wanyan slapped his hand away with a playful scowl. “Don’t you dare mess up my hair!”
Sheng Wanze froze, instantly dropping his hands with a sheepish chuckle before turning back toward his bedroom. “Go to sleep early.”
Wanyan carried the cash her brother and sister-in-law had gifted her back to her desk, staring down at the bills with a bright, knowing smile. How could she possibly fail to deduce who had truly orchestrated this late-night transaction?
It was a well-established household fact that Sheng Wanze had been stripped of every single copper coin in his pockets. This private allowance was explicitly Pan Yue’s doing. As the eldest sister-in-law, Pan Yue possessed a beautiful, incredibly refined emotional intelligence, always ensuring those around her felt deeply respected and comfortable. Even when transferring financial aid to her husband’s younger sister, she had carefully engineered the perfect excuse. Framing the cash as simple pocket money from a brother stripped away any potential burden of charity or awkwardness.
The following morning, Mother Sheng rose before the sun. Having secured a formal day off from her shift, she escorted the newlyweds down to the state savings bank. She assisted them in withdrawing exactly 600 yuan in cash, before taking the remaining 400 yuan from her personal cash box and depositing it directly into their passbook.
The account where Sheng Wanze’s historical military salary had been preserved now held a pristine balance of exactly 2,000 yuan. Mother Sheng handed the book over, noting that this nest egg belonged exclusively to their little family, locked away so that no outside force could ever touch it.
Upon returning to the apartment, Mother Sheng immediately fired up the kitchen stove to prepare a sumptuous final lunch featuring two heavy meat courses. Once the family had eaten their fill, she threw her entire energy into organizing the travel provisions for their long-distance train route.
She didn’t spare a single asset for her boy, boiling exactly ten fresh eggs. She also packed ten soft, white-flour buns along with six savory egg-and-scallion pancakes. The remainder of the bundle consisted of durable trail rations—specifically, a massive stack of hearty cornbread cakes.
The couple would be confined to the transit cars for nearly half a month, and Mother Sheng was terrified that packing highly perishable foods would cause them to spoil and stench up the compartment in the heat. She could only provision them as tightly as possible; if their stash ran low close to the northern borders, they would simply have to purchase supplementary state meals from the dining car to fill their stomachs.
Once the canvas bags were fully secured, Mother and Father Sheng escorted the newlyweds down to the regional transit terminal. Grandpa and Grandma Sheng couldn’t bear the sorrow of the platform, standing tightly by the main iron gates of the building to wave them off until their figures blurred.
As Father and Mother Sheng rattled through a final string of parental instructions near the bus terminal, Pan Yue felt a sudden, profound wave of sadness tighten her throat. Her new mother-in-law had treated her with such unblemished, exceptional devotion during her stay; her life within the Sheng household had been so beautiful that she could scarcely bear the thought of leaving.
“Alright, the boarding whistle is blowing. Get on up,” Father Sheng commanded, his brow furrowed as he turned to his son. “Keep a hawkish eye on your luggage at every single stop. The transit cars are packed with all sorts of characters, and countless eyes will be watching. Maintain your absolute vigilance throughout the route.”
This was far from Sheng Wanze’s first long-distance military deployment, and he understood the dangerous undercurrents of the public transportation networks perfectly. “Don’t worry, Dad. I know the drill.”
Sheng Wanze hoisted the massive array of canvas packs over his broad shoulders, while Pan Yue stood closely by his side, balancing the lighter supply baskets in her hands.
“Go on then,” Mother Sheng murmured, her voice laced with emotion. “Build a beautiful, strong life together in your new home.”
Though a profound sorrow weighed heavily on their chests, Father and Mother Sheng forced bright, encouraging smiles onto their faces as the newlyweds stepped onto the vehicle. They stood frozen on the concrete, watching the exhaust smoke until the bus completely vanished beyond the city intersections, before slowly lowering their heads and beginning the long walk back to the apartment.
There was no telling how many seasons would bleed past before they would lay eyes on their boy again.
“Let’s get back,” Father Sheng muttered, looking down at his wife’s thoroughly miserable, tear-stained profile. A sudden wave of emptiness gripped him, and he silently thought to himself that if they had been blessed with a larger houseful of children, the apartment wouldn’t feel quite so hollow and helpless the moment one flew the nest.
Mother Sheng let out a long, heavy sigh and stepped through the apartment door. The collective mood within the household remained profoundly subdued for the remainder of the afternoon, with each elder quietly retreating to their respective bedrooms to rest. Rather than sitting in the central living room sighing at one another, they recognized it was infinitely better to privately process their emotions so they could return to the business of daily life.
When Sheng Wanyan walked through the front door after her shift at the Propaganda Department, she intuitively gathered the low energy of the room without needing to ask a single question. She quietly set her bag down and marched straight into the kitchen to prepare a comforting dinner for the family.
“Grandpa, Grandma, Mom, Dad! Dinner is served!” she called out warmly toward the bedrooms.
Prompted by her bright voice, Mother Sheng was the first to emerge from her room. Wanyan had intentionally avoided preparing heavy meats tonight, opting instead to present a light, soothing menu: a delicate bowl of steamed egg custard, a vibrant, sweet-and-sour tomato and potato soup, and a soft, pristine white bun for each person. The bright, tangy notes of the broth instantly cut through the elders’ emotional fog, successfully whetting their appetites and drawing them to the table.
Within a few days of quiet processing, the resilient Sheng clan completely shook off their melancholy, flawlessly returning to their vibrant, disciplined routine.
However, the moment Mother Sheng discovered that the slick young couple had successfully sneaked the five kilograms of premium brown sugar back into the kitchen pantry before their departure, she was absolutely furious—yet her heart melted with an immense wave of warmth. Now, her singular maternal focus shifted completely; she prayed night and day that Wanze and Pan Yue would conceive a child at the earliest possible date. She was still young and full of vitality, more than capable of traveling north to help nurse and raise her grandchild.
As the calendar flipped deep into November, a heavy, pristine blanket of snow began to fall over the city of Chengdu.
With the temperature plummeting beneath the freezing mark, Sheng Wanyan officially swapped out her light uniform for a heavy, cotton-padded winter coat and thick trousers. Although the local avenues were routinely buried under dense drifts each night, the municipal sanitation crews flooded the corridors before dawn, clearing the main walkways so the state workers could commute to their shifts without disruption.
In this harsh historical era, the laborers assigned to the grueling, freezing tasks of the dawn sanitation crews were invariably elderly citizens flagged with questionable political backgrounds or class lineages. They were forced to execute the most backbreaking, exhausting labor for the city.
One morning, while navigating her frozen commute to the cotton mill, Wanyan’s eyes caught sight of an elderly street sweeper collapsed facedown against the ice. The old man was dressed in a painfully thin, tattered long coat and threadbare trousers that were riddled with prominent holes. The crude fabric offered zero insulation against the biting wind, barely serving to cover his frail body.
Wanyan paused, her eyes scanning the empty, indifferent street. She wasn’t a naive saint who believed she could salvage every broken soul in the province, but her conscience absolutely refused to let an elderly man freeze to death directly before her eyes.
She had witnessed more than enough of the chilling indifference of human nature in this world. Stepping forward without a word, she dragged the unconscious old man into the shelter of a recessed brick alcove. She massaged his frozen hands until he slowly stirred awake, pressed a fresh, warm white bun from her basket into his trembling palms, and quietly turned on her heel to vanish into the falling snow before he could even ask her name.
