In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

After finishing his meal, Zhang Yong soaked the bowl and chopsticks in an enamel basin, then turned to go to his study for a while to prepare for his next skill.

Unexpectedly, Zhang Defa and Li Guilan didn't go for a walk; instead, they stared at him intently, like two sparrows waiting to be fed.

"Speak up! What exactly happened! If you don't explain clearly, your parents won't be sleeping!" Zhang Defa slammed his hand on the table.

Zhang Yong moved a small stool and sat down, then recounted the important parts of what had happened at the magazine office that day.

The editor-in-chief gave him a test in person, and he wrote a short article. The editorial department was very satisfied and wanted to sign an exclusive commissioned article agreement, with the payment based on the front-page standard.

"What does 'front page standard' mean?" Zhang Defa scratched the back of his head.

"That's one hundred per thousand characters."

"One hundred for every thousand characters..." Zhang Defa repeated to himself, counting on his fingers.

I got stuck halfway through the calculation.

"What if you write 10,000 words?"

"One thousand yuan."

"What about 100,000 words?"

"Ten thousand."

Zhang Defa's eyes were wide open, like bells.

"That...that's like being a ten-thousand-yuan household?! My goodness!"

Li Guilan had already pulled out a small notebook from the cupboard drawer, and was lying on the dining table using a pencil stub to do the accounts, muttering to herself.

"Five hundred yuan a month... that's six thousand a year... plus your dad's and my salaries..."

"My God, our family has ten thousand yuan a year."

She couldn't write anymore; her hands were trembling.

"Mom, you can keep the money," Zhang Yong said. "Buy some grains, oil, rice, and noodles, buy Dad a new pair of shoes, and save the rest. Leave me a little change; I want to buy some books."

"How could we possibly touch your money!" Li Guilan looked up, her face turning serious. "You still have to study, and you still have to get married in the future—"

"Mom! We'll have income every month from now on, so this little bit won't make a difference."

Li Guilan nodded, looked down and flipped through her notebook. When she turned to the next page, her voice softened.

"...I still owe money for two bags of fertilizer back in my hometown."

"Last year when I went back to Linyi to harvest wheat, the wheat was hollow and didn't fetch a good price. The fertilizer I used in the field was all on credit, and I still haven't paid it back."

She pointed to a line of text in the notebook and showed it to Zhang Yong.

Zhang Yong glanced at it.

一行一行的全是欠债，酱油1毛5。化肥15块。买膏药1块6。

Zhang Yong felt a pang of sadness, closed the notebook, and handed it back.

Everyone says that before the reform and opening up, every family was poor and couldn't get enough to eat, but this family never let themselves go hungry even once.

"It's enough to pay back, Mom. Once the royalties arrive, I'll pay back everything I owe."

Li Guilan glanced at him, tears welling in her eyes, and hugged Zhang Yong tightly, saying, "You're such a sensible child... Waaah... Mom hasn't lived in vain..."

Zhang Defa chuckled dryly beside him, quickly changing the subject: "Alright, alright, stop being so sour. Why are you crying on such a wonderful day!"

He scratched his head, then lowered his voice and leaned closer.

"Um... I bought some things on credit from the convenience store."

"What! How much?" Li Guilan's voice rose!

"Not much, just three bottles of grain liquor, a pack of rooster cigarettes, oh right, and a deck of cards."

"...Why are you buying playing cards on credit?"

"I was playing a card game with Lao Wang and the others, and we were missing two cards, so I was thinking of getting a new deck—"

Li Guilan kicked him, yelling, "All you do is drink and gamble!"

Zhang Defa chuckled twice, then suddenly jumped up from his chair and slapped Zhang Yong on the shoulder with such force that Zhang Yong staggered.

"My son, Zhang Yong! He's made something of himself!"

Old Zhang's voice was so loud that the windows were shaking.

Then he grabbed the plastic bucket hanging behind the door, slipped on his slippers, and rushed outside.

"I'm going to get some beer! I'm going to drink 3 jin (1.5 catties) today! No, 5 jin (2.5 catties)!"

Li Guilan shouted from behind, "Put the trash downstairs—don't wear slippers! Put them on—"

Shouting won't change anything.

The sound of Zhang Defa's slippers had already echoed across three flights of stairs, and one could still faintly hear him humming "Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy."

"Through the forest—cross the snow-covered plains—its spirit soars to the heavens—"

I sang off-key all the way to my maternal grandmother's house.

Seeing that Zhang Defa had disappeared, Li Guilan went to the tap, filled a glass with water, and rinsed her hair.

She twisted her body and went out the door.

"Aunt Liu, are you home? Can I borrow a match? My box won't light the stove."

"Oh, Guilan's here! Come in and have a seat!"

"No, no, I can't sit down anymore. Ah Yong was busy at the editorial department all day and got back late. He hasn't eaten yet. You know that 'October' magazine, right? Their editor-in-chief personally drove Ah Yong back."

Li Guilan couldn't hide her smugness.

Zhang Yong leaned against the door frame, listening to his mother's voice from next door, and suddenly felt a lump in his throat.

Li Guilan worked in a cotton mill her whole life, and she couldn't even afford to buy a new piece of clothing all year round.

Once the payment arrived, I arranged it for her.

......

Zhang Defa carried a plastic bucket of bulk beer upstairs.

He kept talking the whole time he encountered three groups of neighbors along the way.

Aunt Zhao from the first floor asked him what he was buying, and he replied, "My son got a contract with October Magazine! Exclusive contributions! Several hundred yuan per article!"

Before Sister Zhao could react, he had already hummed an opera tune and dashed up to the second floor.

Uncle Wang was fanning himself in the stairwell, and Old Zhang wasn't going to let him off the hook, yelling, "Now I can finally relax! My son, Ayong, has made something of himself! I'm going to enjoy my retirement!"

Uncle Wang smiled and offered a few words of congratulations, thinking to himself, "Old Zhang hasn't even had a drink yet, why is he already singing?"

When he arrived at his doorstep, Zhang Defa slammed the plastic bucket onto the table, causing beer foam to rise.

"Come on, come on! We're happy today! Let's all have a drink!"

"Honey, add two more dishes!"

Li Guilan had already brought out two dishes that were added on the spot from the kitchen—stir-fried cabbage with vinegar and stir-fried cured pork with pickled mustard greens.

The family of three sat at the table, and Zhang Defa filled an enamel mug with beer.

Zhang Defa picked up his cup, about to say a few words, when there was a knock on the door.

"Knock knock knock".

Li Guilan wiped her hands and went to open the door.

There were two people standing at the door.

It was Sun Jian and his wife from the fifth floor upstairs.

Sun Jian, in his early forties, worked as a clerk in the district education bureau. He wore a polyester short-sleeved shirt and had his hair neatly combed. He was considered the most respectable person in the building.

Sun Jian's son, Sun Lei, was admitted to Beijing Normal University this year, with tuition waivers and a guaranteed job placement, making him the talk of the town this year.

"Old Zhang, congratulations!" Sun Jian strode in with a grin, his eyes sweeping around the room before finally settling on the plate of pickled vegetables, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Hey, Lao Zhang, I heard Ah Yong got noticed by some magazine? That's great news!"

"That's right." Zhang Defa rubbed his hands together, his face flushed. "The October Magazine. A national-level publication."

"October..." Sun Jian nodded, drawing out his words. "Yes, it's really good."

The middle-aged man found a chair, sat down, and crossed his legs.

Sun Jian's wife stood behind, her eyes scanning the room.

"Old Zhang, it's a good thing that young people have the drive to write articles."

Sun Jian rubbed his fingers together, his tone cheerful.

"However, I've heard that many magazines these days make empty promises and sign contracts, talking a good game, but it's not uncommon for the payment to be delayed for a year or two."

A middle-aged woman chimed in from the side.

"Exactly, exactly. People should be down-to-earth. Just like my son Sun Lei, he got into teacher's college. After graduation, he has a secure job with no worries about income."

"What kind of stuff can you even write?"

"These days, who would pick up a pen and call themselves a writer?"

The living room quieted down.

Li Guilan put down her enamel cup, rolled up her sleeves, and was ready to fight. What was this old woman so arrogant about all day?

Li Guilan has never lost a fight in the factory!

Zhang Yong grabbed his mother's hand and stopped her.

He looked at Sun Jian and his wife, neither angry nor anxious.

"Uncle Sun."

"Um?"

"You're right. Writing articles is definitely not as stable as having a secure job."

Sun Jian nodded, his smile widening.

Zhang Yong raised his head.

"However, there is one point I would like to correct."