Chapter 263: Chapter 263: Harvesting Velvet Antlers

When Ji Linhai left, Gu Qinghuan asked him to take Zhong Zijun’s share of the money as well, so she could be happy with the fruits of her hard work after a long day.

After coaxing the two children to sleep, Gu Qinghuan quickly moved the wriggling aquatic creatures into her space and put them up for sale.

The profit from being a middleman was indeed sweet. She’d spent the whole day at home doing nothing, yet ended up the biggest winner, earning nearly eighty yuan.

She took the money with a clear conscience—after all, without her, there was no way they could have sold these ordinary eels and loaches for such high prices.

As soon as the eels and loaches were listed, they sold out in seconds.

With the addition of eels today, eel lovers rushed to place orders, afraid they’d miss out if they were even a second late.

Those who bought yesterday left great reviews.

One expert even left a detailed comment:

“The loaches sold by this shop are definitely 100% wild. Wild loaches have darker coloring, which helps them hide, while farmed ones are lighter. Wild loaches may look a bit yellowish, while farmed ones appear more black. Wild loaches are lively and flip around in a basin, while farmed ones are much calmer. The loaches I received from this shop were still flipping around, which proves it. If more become available, I’ll definitely buy again.”

This person seemed quite interesting—probably middle-aged or older, and very methodical in their speech.

Gu Qinghuan replied beneath the comment: “Thank you for your review.”

Not long after, many people noticed that the shop owner had actually replied to a message.

After all this time, no one had figured out the shop owner’s identity, and they’d never directly responded to any questions—just quietly sold their goods.

Everyone was very curious.

So soon, a flood of messages appeared under her reply.

“Boss, do you live deep in the mountains?”

“Shopkeeper, when will you sell ginseng again? I want to preorder!”

“Do you have wild velvet antler? I want to buy!!!”

“Boss, are you a man or a woman? Human or ghost? Why are you so mysterious and elusive?”

…

Gu Qinghuan was about to ignore them and go wash up for bed, when she happened to spot the message: “Do you have wild velvet antler? I want to buy!”

Velvet antler? She seemed to remember having a few deer—there should be some stags, right?

Velvet antler is the soft, growing antler of male deer like sika deer, made up of blood vessels, nerves, skin, and hair, and is rich in blood and nutrients.

Every year, velvet antler grows and sheds once. The growth period is about six months, and the shedding period about three months.

When velvet antler matures, it gradually hardens and calcifies into solid bone—that’s the deer antler.

Once the antler is fully mature, it naturally falls off, and new velvet antler grows again.

Velvet antler starts growing around the first lunar month each year. The first harvest is usually in late June, and the second in late August.

But because of differences in deer breeding and birth times, there’s no fixed harvest date—just a general timeframe.

Gu Qinghuan didn’t actually know much about velvet antler, so she quickly looked up some information.

Velvet antler’s greatest effect is boosting kidney function and vitality. It’s an extremely valuable tonic, and because it’s believed to enhance virility, it’s in high demand.

A single top-grade velvet antler can be worth tens of thousands of yuan. Even the cheapest red deer antler goes for two thousand yuan per jin.

Some velvet antler even sells for 1,500 yuan per gram.

Reading this, Gu Qinghuan was instantly interested.

She headed straight to her ranch.

Sure enough, among all the animals, she immediately spotted two stags with antlers.

And two does without antlers.

She used her mind to bring the two stags over, and after a quick inspection, found that their velvet antlers were ready for the first harvest.

No need for knives—she simply used her mind to harvest the velvet antlers. The two deer didn’t feel a thing and kept munching contentedly on their feed.

For stags, their antlers don’t serve much purpose. They grow and shed every year, and each deer can be harvested for velvet antler twice a year. If not harvested, the deer will eventually knock off the old antlers themselves on walls or trees.

Harvesting velvet antler doesn’t harm the deer—in fact, it’s a form of protection for them.

After harvesting, Gu Qinghuan rewarded them with some diluted spiritual spring water.

The lamb she’d taken in before had now grown up, happily living on the ranch with its mother. Thanks to frequent feedings of spiritual spring water, they were noticeably different from other sheep, with a lively spark in their eyes.

Seeing Gu Qinghuan enter, the two sheep hurried over, circling her for a drink of spring water.

She obliged, and the sheep bleated happily.

After playing with the lamb for a while, Gu Qinghuan put the freshly harvested velvet antler up for sale.

Fresh wild velvet antler, guaranteed genuine or ten times compensation. Fair price, first come, first served.

Price: 200 yuan each.

Total: Four pieces.

In an instant, Gu Qinghuan received 800 yuan.

That guy who’d asked about velvet antler probably never expected that his casual request would actually be fulfilled—and with velvet antler so fresh it was still streaked with blood.

Yet he didn’t manage to buy any!

It was a tragic story—four pieces of velvet antler, and he didn’t get a single one!

He was so desperate, he commented: “Are there really so many people needing a boost? I’m offering big money, boss, can we talk privately?”

Others, seeing that Gu Qinghuan was so responsive, immediately messaged her privately.

“Shopkeeper, do you have wild Polygonum multiflorum?”

“Boss, do you still have Maotai? I’ll pay whatever price!” The goods in this shop were just too hard to get.

“Boss, do you still have schisandra berries?”

…

Gu Qinghuan shook her head and ignored them.

It was late—time to wash up and sleep.

On the last day of Qingming Festival, everyone brought even more loaches and eels than yesterday.

They’d been catching them non-stop at night and whenever they had a spare moment during the day.

So today’s haul doubled, and Gu Qinghuan earned nearly 200 yuan.

Everyone else’s earnings also grew significantly.

On average, everyone did well. Zhu Chunlin and Ji Linhai earned a bit less, since they worked alone.

Zhong Zijun and Chen Fengqin each made over sixty yuan.

But Chen Fengqin said there wouldn’t be as many in the future—the past two days of loach catching had drawn the villagers’ attention, and several people had secretly asked her why she was catching so many.

She could only laugh it off.

The village’s loaches and eels would run out sooner or later. They never expected to make money off this forever—just a nice little windfall.

It was the same for Zhong Zijun. She had lots of chores during the day and could only sneak out at night to catch loaches.

Otherwise, it’d be troublesome if people found out.

Gu Qinghuan was about to return to work at the commune, so she arranged with everyone: just keep the loaches and eels at home during the week, and she’d collect them all when she came back on weekends.

Collecting once a week was just right.

Zhong Zijun had made over eighty yuan in the past few days and was so happy she couldn’t stop smiling. She generously gave Gu Qinghuan twenty yuan to buy new clothes for herself and the two kids.

A mother always worries her children will suffer.

Zhong Zijun had noticed her daughter had been wearing the same outfit for days, looking dull and listless, so she brought it up.

Gu Qinghuan was still wearing the clothes she’d arrived in.

She had plenty of winter clothes, but had been too busy to prepare for spring and summer, so she’d just been making do.

Anyway, as a teacher she didn’t need to dress up—better to avoid drawing attention.

But Zhong Zijun’s reminder was timely. She should get some new clothes for herself and the kids.

In the end, Gu Qinghuan didn’t take Zhong Zijun’s money. As a daughter, how could she accept money her mother had worked so hard to earn?

Instead, she bought several bolts of cloth from the vending machine and sent them to Zhong Zijun and the others to make clothes—plain-looking but comfortable fabric.

As for herself, she bought three shirts from the vending machine: one plain white, two with small floral prints, and two simple pairs of black pants.

The shirts were in the style popular in the seventies and eighties—plain and rustic.

But on Gu Qinghuan, they didn’t look dowdy at all. Instead, there was a unique beauty—youthful and pure.

Maybe that’s why people say, “If you’re good-looking, you’ll look good in anything.”

With her looks and temperament, even a sack would look good on her.

With her hair in two braids, who could even guess her age?

For the kids, Gu Qinghuan chose simple, pure cotton clothes—nothing flashy.

She’d probably never learn to make clothes in this life, so she might as well just buy them!

The two kids were delighted with their new clothes.

The first thing she did upon returning to the commune was mail out the packages.

On the last day of Qingming Festival, while everyone else was busy catching loaches, Gu Qinghuan hid in her space and made another 150 jin of beef jerky.

Ming Ruxue and Gu Lanting had loved this before, but she’d been too busy lately to make any. Now that she had time off, she made some to send to them."

"Chapter 264: Sending Beef Jerky, Trouble Arises

This time, Gu Qinghuan sent a total of thirty jin* of beef jerky to the people at the Western-style house, so they could share it among themselves.

She also sent ten jin each to the Xiao Zhuo family, the Fang family, and the Xu Lei family, and didn’t forget about Zhang Zheng and He Qiang either.

Basically, she made sure to take care of all the families she was familiar with.

The only exception was Wang Xiaowei—it wasn’t convenient to mail things to her. Considering she worked for others and often had no control over her own situation, Gu Qinghuan decided not to bother her.

Every family got ten jin. Why not give more? Mainly because this stuff has a shelf life—she made it herself without any preservatives, so if she gave too much at once, it might spoil before they could finish it.

Ten jin of beef jerky is actually quite a lot—a big bag, in fact.

After dividing it up, there were still seventy jin left. Gu Qinghuan sent thirty jin to Xu Huaian, using the address he’d previously mailed her from.

She figured he might need to share some with his comrades, so he’d go through it faster, hence the bigger share.

There were forty jin left at home. Gu Qinghuan carried ten jin over to Zhong Zijun, and she didn’t play favorites with Ji Linhai either—he got ten jin as well.

The remaining twenty jin she kept at home for her family to eat slowly. Sometimes the two kids would get hungry and could have a snack, and she herself liked this kind of treat.

She didn’t send any to her eldest uncle’s family this time—she’d sent quite a lot last time, and if she kept sending things too often, it would draw too much attention, which wasn’t good.

She brought ten jin of beef jerky to her dorm, but before it even had a chance to warm up, she ran into Lin Xiaomeng, that “bandit,” who insisted on buying some.

No matter what, Lin Xiaomeng demanded five jin of beef jerky from her.

Gu Qinghuan could only say she’d bought it outside for three yuan a jin, that it was a chance purchase, and she didn’t know the seller’s details.

Even so, Lin Xiaomeng insisted on buying it from her, pulling out fifteen yuan on the spot and taking away five jin of beef jerky.

Gu Qinghuan was speechless. Was it really about the money? Her labor was the most valuable part—cutting and roasting the beef had worn her out so much her hands were still shaking.

Oh well, let her have it.

But it seemed Lin Xiaomeng had come into some money lately, to be able to spend fifteen yuan just like that on a bit of beef jerky.

Lin Xiaomeng had indeed made a windfall recently.

The wheat and rice she’d planted in her “space” had been harvested.

After keeping enough for her own family, she sold the rest on the black market. In times like these, food was in high demand, so she got a good price and made a tidy profit—a business with no real cost.

She decided she’d focus on reselling grain in the future. Other ways of making money were hit-or-miss, but the grain she grew herself was hers to keep.

Her “space” was big—she just needed to work hard, clear more land, and plant more crops, and the harvest would always be decent.

Lin Xiaomeng had already made up her mind: she’d save the money she earned, and use Xu Huaizhi’s salary for household expenses.

When things got better in the future, she’d use her savings to buy as many houses as she could in the capital. Becoming a rich woman wouldn’t be bad at all.

Gu Qinghuan, meanwhile, continued her tough life as a teacher.

But some people clearly weren’t planning to let her off the hook.

She could clearly feel that everyone was deliberately avoiding her today, whispering behind her back, acting all mysterious, and looking at her with disdain.

But she was busy, so she didn’t pay it much mind.

At lunch, Lin Xiaomeng warned her, “Be careful—someone’s making trouble for you over that meal you treated everyone to last time!”

Gu Qinghuan was calm. She hadn’t done anything wrong. When the time came, things would work out—she’d just go with the flow.

By the afternoon, things had escalated. She’d just finished a class when Principal Chen called her in for a talk.

Principal Chen didn’t make things difficult for her and got straight to the point.

“Teacher Gu, I won’t beat around the bush. Some teachers have reported that you privately hired students to work for you and treated them to a meal as payment. This is a serious issue of conduct.

They also mentioned your family background—your mother and your maternal relatives were labeled as counter-revolutionaries, intellectuals, and sent to the cowshed for re-education.”

“Principal Chen, I admit the children did help me, but it was without my knowledge at first.

After I found out, I treated them to a meal as thanks. I don’t think this is a conduct issue—it’s just a gesture of gratitude between teacher and students. There’s no need to blow it out of proportion.

As for my family background, although my mother, grandfather, and grandmother were sent down, I never thought they did anything wrong. Their only ‘fault’ was being highly educated and knowing too much.

If you feel you need to take action against me because of this, I have nothing more to say.”

Gu Qinghuan explained herself calmly, waiting for Principal Chen’s decision. The innocent have nothing to fear, and she didn’t want to say anything unnecessary.

It wasn’t like she had to be a teacher—if it came to it, she could go back to Xujiatun and sell eels, which paid better anyway.

When she finished, Principal Chen nervously got up and closed the door.

“Xiao Gu, I know you feel wronged, but walls have ears—don’t say things like that!

Let’s just pretend you didn’t say any of that, and don’t bring it up again.”

Principal Chen was an intellectual himself, and for years he’d been walking on eggshells, afraid that one careless word would get him labeled a reactionary.

He sympathized with intellectuals and believed many of them were innocent, but times were hard, and everyone was walking a tightrope.

He also believed that any family that could raise someone as outstanding as Gu Qinghuan couldn’t be bad.

“I understand. Thank you, Principal Chen.” Gu Qinghuan appreciated his kindness—he was a rare good man.

“Don’t thank me just yet. I know you’ve been wronged. Where there are people, there’s gossip, and rumors spread easily.

No investigation, no right to speak. I’ve already looked into things with the children.

They were so scared you’d be punished that they cried on the spot and said lots of good things about you, repeatedly assuring me it was all their own idea and had nothing to do with you.

I have to say, Teacher Gu, you really have a special charm. You haven’t been with them long, but you’ve already won their hearts. If only we had more teachers like you.

I wasn’t wrong about you.”

Gu Qinghuan felt a warmth in her heart—those lovely children.

But she didn’t interrupt. She knew Principal Chen wouldn’t be saying all this without a reason.

Sure enough—

“But now the rumors are everywhere, and what happened to your mother is true. If we keep you as homeroom teacher, it might cause more trouble and stir up resentment.

But I really hate to lose you. In all my years, I’ve rarely seen a teacher as talented as you.

To calm things down, I’ll have to remove you as homeroom teacher, just to give everyone an explanation. You’ll still teach their classes, though. Is that alright?” Principal Chen lowered his tone, as if asking for her understanding.

Gu Qinghuan was a little upset—after all, she hadn’t done anything wrong, yet she was being punished because of rumors.

In her previous life, she never put up with this kind of thing—if one place didn’t want her, she’d just go somewhere else.

But she also understood that keeping her on was a risk for the principal—public opinion could be dangerous.

She could ignore those who treated her coldly, but she couldn’t refuse the principal, who was bending over backwards to keep her.

Fine. She hadn’t really wanted to be homeroom teacher anyway—it was forced on her, and now she could relax a bit. She just felt sorry for the kids, having to change teachers again so soon.

At least she could still be their Chinese teacher.

“Alright, as long as you can settle things, I have no objections.

If it really can’t be helped, I’ll accept whatever the school decides.” Gu Qinghuan nodded.

Principal Chen finally relaxed and smiled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep things under control. Just focus on teaching.”

Before leaving, Gu Qinghuan casually asked, “Principal Chen, was it Wan Rong who reported me?”

Principal Chen didn’t answer, but Gu Qinghuan could tell from his expression that it was indeed Wan Rong.

After all, in this small school, the only person she’d ever offended was Wan Rong.

She didn’t really care about being homeroom teacher or not.

But being put in such a passive position by someone else—of course she wasn’t happy.

At heart, Gu Qinghuan was someone who always paid back a grudge.

Wan Rong had better hope she didn’t get the chance.

When Lin Muyang found out, he tried hard to explain to Principal Chen that Gu Qinghuan had done nothing wrong, and the real problem was with those twisting the truth.

But the matter was already settled.

He thought Gu Qinghuan would be very upset, but she ended up comforting him instead, saying it was fine—she seemed to be in good spirits.

Principal Chen brought Gu Qinghuan and Lin Muyang to the class to announce the news: Gu Qinghuan would no longer be their homeroom teacher, and Lin Muyang would take over again, but Gu Qinghuan would still teach their classes.

The disappointment in the children’s eyes was obvious. Kids back then weren’t like those in later generations—they didn’t have a voice or the courage to question their teachers’ decisions.

They were used to obeying the teachers and the school, so they could only feel sad in their hearts—no one dared to ask why.

Wang Qingchuan and the other kids who had helped thought it was their fault that Gu Qinghuan was removed, and felt sad and guilty, quietly wiping away tears.

After Principal Chen left, Wang Qingchuan couldn’t sit still and snuck out.

“Principal Chen, didn’t we already explain? It wasn’t Teacher Gu’s fault—she didn’t know. It was all our idea. Why punish her?” Wang Qingchuan asked, tears in his eyes.

He was actually very nervous and scared to question the principal like this, but he still wanted to get an answer.

Gu Qinghuan caught up just in time to hear this, and was deeply moved—her efforts had all been worth it.

“Principal Chen, you go ahead. I’ll explain things to him,” Gu Qinghuan said, signaling the principal to leave.

This wasn’t something that could be cleared up in a few words.

“Alright, Xiao Gu, talk to him properly.”

---

*Note: 1 jin ≈ 500 grams ≈ 1.1 lbs."

"Chapter 265: The Meaning of a Teacher, When Children Are Wronged

Gu Qinghuan led Wang Qingchuan to her dormitory. Along the way, many teachers glanced at them, but Gu Qinghuan paid them no mind.

She took out a clean handkerchief and gestured for him to wipe his face.

“Your eyes are all swollen from crying. Is it really that serious?” Gu Qinghuan said, both touched and amused.

“Miss Gu, I’m sorry. It’s all my fault for taking them to help you without asking. Otherwise, none of this would have happened… It’s all because of me!” As soon as Wang Qingchuan brought this up, his tears started falling again, unstoppable.

From a child’s perspective, losing her position as homeroom teacher and being criticized by the principal was a huge punishment for Gu Qinghuan.

“Good kid, thank you for truly caring about me. But I’m not stepping down as homeroom teacher because of this incident—there are other reasons. It really has nothing to do with you.”

“But I was so scared. I almost cost you your job. Aren’t you really angry?” Wang Qingchuan looked at her through tear-filled eyes.

“You’re still young. There’s a lot you don’t understand yet. You don’t need to take everything upon yourself.

When I was your age, I was just like you—very sensitive, always feeling like every problem was a huge deal, like I’d never get past it.

But looking back now, all those things I thought were earth-shattering turned out to be nothing much.

Looking back, the little boat has already passed through a thousand mountains.

Those difficult moments are all in the past now. Every hurdle I thought I couldn’t cross, I’ve crossed.

If you’re going through something right now that feels overwhelming, suffocating, and stressful, please believe me: months or years from now, when you look back, you’ll realize it wasn’t such a big deal after all.”

“Really?”

“It’s true. One day, you’ll have a strong heart too. Don’t be afraid when things happen. As long as you haven’t done anything wrong, no one can do anything to you.

I, your teacher Gu, don’t need to be a teacher to live a good life, because I believe in myself. No matter what I do, I’ll succeed.

That’s the confidence my knowledge and abilities give me. I hope one day you’ll have that same confidence, okay? Now go study!”

Gu Qinghuan had been that age once too. She’d also been sensitive and timid for various reasons, so she understood Wang Qingchuan’s feelings all too well. She hoped to give him positive guidance.

“Thank you, Miss Gu!” He stood up and bowed deeply.

Gu Qinghuan’s words echoed in Wang Qingchuan’s ears, loud and clear. Years later, he still remembered every word she said, and they all came true.

Although Gu Qinghuan hadn’t taught him for long, she had a positive and lasting impact on his life.

A good teacher can change a child’s life.

When Wan Rong found out Gu Qinghuan had been removed as homeroom teacher but was staying at the school, she was a bit displeased but couldn’t say much more.

After all, she had to give Principal Chen some face.

She thought Gu Qinghuan would be devastated, but instead, Gu Qinghuan was doing just fine. Not only did she not fall apart, she actually seemed more relaxed.

Without the pressure and responsibility of her students’ advancement on her shoulders, Gu Qinghuan felt much lighter. For someone with such a strong sense of responsibility, being a homeroom teacher was almost a kind of torment.

Now she had time to cook delicious food for her two children—and to treat herself, too.

After eating at the school cafeteria for so long, she’d nearly lost her sense of taste.

Many teachers were quietly watching this standoff between her and Wan Rong, but it didn’t end in mutual destruction as some had expected.

Gu Qinghuan just went on living her life, making each day a little work of art.

There were always beautiful flowers in a glass vase on her desk, the scent of food often wafted from her room, and her two children not only excelled in their studies but were always neat and tidy.

What a lucky woman!

Seeing that Gu Qinghuan wasn’t affected, Wan Rong refused to give up and started spreading rumors around the school, saying Gu Qinghuan’s man was crazy, that she was divorced and raising someone else’s kids.

People were skeptical—after all, Gu Qinghuan was so outstanding, both in looks and intellect. Why would she marry a madman?

On the surface, everyone was polite, but undercurrents swirled beneath.

Gu Qinghuan knew many teachers were waiting to see her make a fool of herself—the look in their eyes said it all, full of gossip.

But she never bothered with them. She just did her own thing, letting the winds blow from all directions.

In a world of crows, even a swan is guilty.

She didn’t want to waste time on people who didn’t matter. It was pointless.

But Gu Qinghuan wasn’t a perfect saint.

She had her own dark side. For example, her patience with Wan Rong, who loved playing petty tricks, was at its limit. She was just waiting for a chance to see her fall.

When people couldn’t get answers from Gu Qinghuan, some even started asking Lin Xiaomeng.

Wan Rong was present too, but even Lin Xiaomeng couldn’t stand it anymore and snapped.

“You people spend all day gossiping instead of working. What’s the point?

Gu Qinghuan’s man is a retired soldier, a first-class hero. Some people here aren’t even fit to carry his shoes, yet they keep running their mouths.

How she lives her life is none of your business. Worry about yourselves first!” She said this deliberately for Wan Rong to hear.

Wan Rong knew Gu Qinghuan and Lin Xiaomeng were sisters-in-law, and everyone says sisters-in-law are natural enemies.

She thought if she handed Lin Xiaomeng a knife, she’d use it to stab Gu Qinghuan. But instead, Lin Xiaomeng took a jab at her, leaving Wan Rong fuming.

Neither of these sisters-in-law are easy to deal with. One day, she’d get rid of them both.

Lin Xiaomeng, for all her self-interest and desire to keep out of trouble, at least had a conscience and knew right from wrong.

The world isn’t always black and white. No one is flawless, and no choice is absolutely right.

Lin Xiaomeng’s explanation made everyone see how hard Gu Qinghuan had it.

A woman who treats her stepchildren so well, whose kids are healthy and well cared for—that’s proof enough. No need for more explanations.

Chen Fang also stepped up to scold the gossiping family members—on Principal Chen’s orders, of course.

“You people spend all day wagging your tongues. Why not go plant some more crops?

Miss Gu just can’t be bothered with you. If it were me, I’d slap you right across the face!

Let me be clear: if I hear anyone gossiping again, I’ll help Gu Qinghuan deal with you!”

Chen Fang still had some authority in the family compound.

For a while, the gossip died down, and things were much quieter.

When Gu Qinghuan heard about this, she brought some homemade snacks to thank Chen Fang.

“Sister Fang, sorry to trouble you. Honestly, I don’t take it to heart—they’re not worth my time or feelings.

But I still want to thank you for speaking up for me.”

Chen Fang was a little embarrassed.

“It was mostly my brother—he was worried you, a young woman, couldn’t handle all the gossip.

Please be understanding. The school family compound is full of people from the countryside, not the most refined.”

“You and Principal Chen are very thoughtful. Thank you.”

On her way back from Chen Fang’s house, Gu Qinghuan saw several children surrounding Dabao and Beibei in the courtyard.

A few women nearby were knitting and gossiping, but didn’t bother to stop the kids.

“You two aren’t really Miss Gu’s children—we all know it now!”

Lately, Dabao and Beibei had been the envy of the other kids in the compound.

Miss Gu was so gentle, always made delicious food, and bought them snacks.

How come such a beautiful, kind mother wasn’t theirs?

Now that they knew Dabao and Beibei weren’t her biological children, the other kids felt a bit relieved—so they weren’t so lucky after all!

The cruelty of human nature knows no age.

“So what?” Dabao tried to stay calm in front of the older, taller kids.

Beibei clung tightly to her brother’s hand, trembling with fear. She remembered being bullied in the village when she was little.

“You’re just a couple of orphans pretending to be something you’re not.

Acting all generous, giving us candy and cookies—who wants them!” the ringleader shouted.

Gu Qinghuan often prepared snacks for the kids and taught them to share, but she hadn’t expected to encounter such ingrates.

Some of the onlooking kids felt uneasy—it wasn’t right to eat someone’s food and then turn around and bully them.

But if they wanted to keep playing with the older kids, they had to join in picking on Dabao and Beibei.

“We have a dad and a mom! Our dad is Xu Huaian, our mom is Gu Qinghuan.

If you don’t want my stuff, give it back!” Dabao shouted, holding back tears.

Gu Qinghuan didn’t rush over to protect them. She wanted to see if Dabao could handle it himself.

She was pleased with his answer—it showed her efforts to give the children a sense of security hadn’t been in vain.

“She’s not your real mom. You’re just unwanted strays.

I’m not giving it back—what can you do about it?” After all, once you’ve eaten something, you can’t give it back.

Dabao was no longer the kind of kid who’d just charge ahead with brute force.

He knew he and his sister couldn’t beat these older kids, so he chose to back down for now.

“My mom says, ‘Always compete with your peers, never argue with fools.’

I don’t want to waste words with you. Move aside, I’m going home,” Dabao said firmly.

The women nearby laughed. “Listen to that, Miss Gu’s kid is quite the show-off, talking all fancy.”

The ringleader was enraged.

He hated studying, but all the teachers praised Dabao for his talent and academics.

Why should this unwanted brat get all the praise?

“Who are you calling a fool?”

“Whoever argues with me is a fool!”

Tension filled the air. The ringleader threw a punch at Dabao’s head.

But Dabao wasn’t about to back down—he fought back.

He’d never been afraid of a fight, but he worried about his sister getting hurt."

"Chapter 266: Convincing with Reason, Crushing with Strength

Boys are naturally combative—once someone started fighting, the rest swarmed in, and chaos broke out.

Beibei was left behind, crying her eyes out, all the while shouting, “Brother, don’t hit my brother!”

A few old women knitting nearby clearly saw a bunch of kids ganging up on Dabao, but pretended not to notice, turning their heads away and continuing to chat.

Gu Qinghuan knew she couldn’t stay hidden any longer.

She stepped out from behind the big tree where she’d been hiding. “What are you all doing?!”

Her voice was laced with barely contained fury.

The children froze at the sound, instinctively stopping what they were doing and standing obediently in place.

Dabao’s hair was a mess from the scuffle, and the other kids didn’t look much better—each of them bore marks from the fight.

Beibei, seeing Gu Qinghuan approach, ran over in tears and hid behind her, sobbing.

The old women, seeing her arrive, shrank back in fear—after all, they knew they were in the wrong.

“You all stand right there! Don’t even think about running off!”

But Gu Qinghuan didn’t immediately scold the children.

Instead, she shouted, “Whose children are these? Come and claim your kids!”

She had no intention of letting this go quietly. In fact, she wanted to make a scene—the bigger, the better—so everyone could see what she was capable of. Otherwise, people would keep pushing their luck.

Usually, when these old women gossiped, she could ignore it, let it go in one ear and out the other. After all, that’s just the way they were—petty and destined for mediocrity.

She could overlook slights against herself.

But she would not allow her children to be wronged for no reason.

In a child’s eyes, even a small incident can shatter their confidence. She had to stand up for them!

These older kids kept calling her children “bastards.” She had every reason to believe someone was egging them on behind the scenes.

Today, she would make an example out of them!

Gu Qinghuan’s shout rang through the courtyard, and most people heard it and rushed out.

Those who hadn’t heard were dragged out to watch the commotion.

“Big news! Teacher Gu is angry! Come on, let’s go see!”

…

Soon, nearly everyone in the courtyard had gathered.

“Teacher Gu, what’s going on?”

“Teacher Gu, what happened to my child?”

…

Gu Qinghuan cleared her throat.

“I called you all here for two reasons: first, to claim your children; second, to have a discussion about parenting.

You’re all teachers—educated, cultured people. So tell me, how do you raise children who go around calling others ‘bastards,’ bullying the younger ones for fun? Is this what teachers’ children are like?

If you can’t even teach your own children properly, maybe you shouldn’t be teaching anyone else’s!” Gu Qinghuan’s anger was barely restrained, and her words were harsh.

Her words left the teachers and their families exchanging uneasy glances. Teacher Gu was usually so gentle, but when she spoke up, she really made an impact.

She didn’t use a single curse word, but her scolding was scathing.

The parents of the children involved looked thoroughly embarrassed.

“Teacher Gu, what do you mean by that?”

“Are you saying only you know how to raise children?”

“My kid is the best—I don’t believe he’d say something like that!”

…

Gu Qinghuan calmly recounted exactly what she had witnessed.

She also mentioned the old women who had stood by and watched.

The burly PE teacher, Mr. Li, came over and kicked one of the old women.

“I told you to watch the kids! I told you to teach them properly! All you do is cause trouble!” he scolded loudly.

Chen Fang quietly whispered to Gu Qinghuan, “The kid who started the fight is Mr. Li’s son. The woman he’s hitting is his wife.

They’re from the countryside. She spends all day gossiping in the courtyard, and her kid bullies others because he’s bigger. She never does anything about it—lots of teachers have complained.”

Mr. Li’s wife cried out in pain.

Once he’d vented enough, two male teachers stepped in to break it up. “Mr. Li, let it go. It’s just a small matter.”

Mr. Li took the opportunity to stop.

He led his son—who now looked as meek as a quail—over to Gu Qinghuan. “Teacher Gu, I’m so sorry. My troublemaker of a son has caused problems again. I’ll have him apologize to you.”

“Not to me—to my two children!” Gu Qinghuan corrected.

“Yes, of course, that’s only right.” Mr. Li seemed apologetic enough on the surface, but who knew what he was really thinking?

But that didn’t matter.

Gu Qinghuan only cared about the attitude. She wanted to show these teachers and their children that her kids were not the neglected “bastards” they claimed, and anyone who tried to mess with them would regret it.

“Some of you might think I’m making a big deal out of nothing—that this is just kids fooling around.

But children are innocent and naive. It’s the adults who aren’t. Who taught them to use such filthy words?

I know many of you are curious about my private life. I didn’t want to say anything, but some people just keep pushing.

So let me make this clear: my husband is a retired soldier. During his service, he was awarded a first-class merit, along with countless other honors. In my eyes, he’s a true hero.

The children of a man who once defended our country do not deserve to be slandered like this.

These two may not have been born from my body, but they live in my heart. They are my children.

If I ever hear such talk again, don’t blame me for cutting ties.”

With that, Gu Qinghuan picked up a thick stick the kids had been playing with, and snapped it in half with her bare hands, tossing the pieces to the ground with a sharp crack.

Her message was clear: next time, she wouldn’t just talk—she’d take action.

Lin Muyang quietly slipped out of the crowd. He’d heard from students that Gu Qinghuan was arguing with people in the residential compound and had come to help.

But when he arrived, he saw she had everything under control—first reasoning with everyone, then showing her strength, and settling the matter without any trouble.

Her way with words was even better than his—logical, convincing, and so intimidating that no one dared speak up.

Even her physical strength was impressive. How much force did it take to snap such a thick stick in half?

Clearly, he had underestimated Gu Qinghuan.

Wan Rong shivered in the crowd, recalling their last argument. Thank goodness Chen Fang had stepped in to mediate—if she’d gone head-to-head with Gu Qinghuan, she’d have been flattened for sure!

The other parents quickly quieted down. Well, if an apology was needed, so be it—it wouldn’t kill them.

The old women who used to gossip about her instantly fell silent.

Gu Qinghuan had simply chosen not to stoop to their level before. This time, Mr. Li’s son had really picked the wrong target.

Led by Mr. Li, the parents lined up, each bringing their child to apologize to Gu Qinghuan and her two children.

Gu Qinghuan’s plan to make an example had succeeded perfectly. From now on, she could finally enjoy some peace and quiet."

"Chapter 267: Opening Up

After apologizing, Gu Qinghuan didn’t dwell on the matter. She simply took the two children home.

“Mom, you were amazing today!” Beibei’s eyes sparkled with admiration.

“In the whole compound, no mom is as awesome as mine. My mom is even better than Sun Wukong!” She’d recently been reading picture books about Sun Wukong and had become quite fond of the character.

Gu Qinghuan gently ruffled her little head, worried that the other children’s words today might have hurt her two kids.

“So, are you happy?”

“Of course I’m happy! Mom, I love you so, so much!” Beibei threw herself into Gu Qinghuan’s arms. She was still young and couldn’t express everything she felt, but that didn’t mean she didn’t understand.

“Mom loves you both very much, too.”

For a moment, Gu Qinghuan was deeply moved.

She pulled both children into her arms for a hug.

Gu Qinghuan looked at them seriously and said, “If anyone ever says things like that again, just do what you did today—stand up for yourselves. Mom will always have your back.

You’re not orphans. You have both a mom and a dad, and I love you very much.

Even though we’re not related by blood, just like any mother in the world, I want nothing more than for you to be happy.”

This was the first time Gu Qinghuan had brought up such a sensitive topic in front of them. She believed that after all the time they’d spent building their relationship, the children were ready to face these issues head-on. She didn’t want to avoid it anymore.

The truth was, they weren’t her biological children—but so what?

She loved them just as fiercely and sincerely.

A glimmer of tears flashed in Dabao’s eyes.

How could they not be her real children? In his heart, there was no better mother in the world than Gu Qinghuan!

Not related by blood, but closer than if they were.

Gu Qinghuan had fulfilled all his hopes for a mother: gentle, patient guidance, careful nurturing, leading by example, and giving him the confidence he’d never had before.

Ever since Gu Qinghuan entered his life, he’d finally been able to be a child again. No more worrying about survival, no more skipping meals, no more living in fear. He could speak his mind and have his own thoughts.

Now, he could even go to school, decide his own future, and change his destiny.

For the first time, he knew what it felt like to be loved and cared for.

To be her child in this life—even if only a stepson—was happiness enough. He was content.

A thousand words condensed into one sentence: “Mom, thank you. I want to be your son for my whole life.”

From now on, I’ll work hard, study well, become someone amazing, earn lots of money for you, buy you a big house, a car, and let you sleep in every day.

These words Dabao only said in his heart, not out loud.

Even at his young age, he already understood that unrealistic promises were better left unsaid. Actions spoke louder than words; time would prove everything.

But Gu Qinghuan instantly burst into tears.

She’d known Dabao for so long, and he’d always been reserved and thoughtful, rarely saying anything so emotional.

When he sincerely said, “I want to be your son for my whole life,” Gu Qinghuan knew she could never let these two children go.

Their bond as mother and children had been sealed the first time her heart softened toward them.

The taste of that bowl of plain rice porridge was something the two kids would never forget.

All the emotions Gu Qinghuan had bottled up over this time finally poured out, and she couldn’t stop crying.

“Mom, don’t cry! Brother, look, you made Mom cry!” Beibei hurriedly tried to wipe Gu Qinghuan’s tears, shooting her brother a fierce glare as she scolded him in her cute, childish voice.

Dabao quickly tried to comfort her too, “Mom, I… please don’t cry.”

But his attempts were useless.

When it came to comforting people, girls were just better at it.

Beibei dug into her “treasure box” and pulled out a piece of her treasured chocolate.

“Mom, I’ll give you my chocolate. Don’t cry, okay? Aunt Xue said that eating something sweet makes people happy when they’re sad. If you eat this, you’ll feel better.”

Sure enough, Gu Qinghuan broke into a smile through her tears.

“Silly girl, Mom isn’t sad. I’m happy—so happy that I cried. Because my precious kids are just wonderful.”

“Really? If you’re happy, then you don’t need this chocolate?” Beibei tilted her little head.

She might be small, but she was clever. The way her tail wagged, you could tell exactly what she was thinking.

“Let me think… Suddenly I do feel a little sad. What should I do? I really want to eat some chocolate!”

Beibei reluctantly handed over her chocolate, looking like she was making a heroic sacrifice. “Here, you can have it!”

Gu Qinghuan took the chocolate, pretended to put it in her mouth, and after enjoying Beibei’s pitiful expression for a moment, popped it back into her mouth instead.

“Haha, just kidding! Mom doesn’t want it—you eat it.”

If she really wanted chocolate, there was plenty in her space. She just didn’t like the stuff. No wonder people enjoyed teasing kids so much—it really was fun.

“Hmph! Bad mom!” Beibei pouted.

“Hmph! Who was just saying how much she loved her mom? Changed your mind already?”

Dabao watched the mother and daughter banter, feeling both amused and secretly relieved. He’d better not make Mom cry again—he really didn’t know how to comfort her at all.

After this incident, Teacher Li brought over ten eggs to apologize. Gu Qinghuan accepted them without a second thought. After all, her two kids had suffered emotional pain—why shouldn’t she accept them?

The compound was peaceful for a while, but it was only surface-level. Whatever undercurrents there were in private had nothing to do with Gu Qinghuan.

Several big things happened in May.

The commune received a quota for recommending workers, peasants, and soldiers to university.

There were a dozen or so spots for the whole commune, with each brigade getting one, and one extra spot given to the commune school.

The main candidates were workers, peasants, and soldiers with good political standing, good health, and at least a junior high education.

After being recommended, they’d be reported to the local county or township Revolutionary Committee for approval. Once the school reviewed and confirmed them, they could go to university.

After graduation, these students would be assigned jobs according to the “return to your original unit” principle—most would go back to where they’d come from, while some would be assigned to different posts by the state.

The “worker-peasant-soldier students” were a unique product of this era—a kind of experiment. Despite their shorter study time, the amount of knowledge they learned was no less than that of today’s four- or five-year undergraduates.

True gold stands the test of fire. Most of them became strong and resilient, hardworking, loyal, and idealistic, making extraordinary contributions in ordinary positions.

Gu Qinghuan admired these people, but clearly, this opportunity would never be given to her. Besides, she had better prospects, so she didn’t pay much attention to it.

Still, the whole commune was abuzz.

Such quotas didn’t come every year. This year, each brigade got one spot—it was incredibly precious.

Every family with a scholar was quietly hoping their child could leap out of rural life and onto a bigger stage."

"Chapter 268: Lin Muyang’s Scar

The internal atmosphere at the commune elementary school became tense and competitive because of this matter.

Due to various reasons, universities had very loose age restrictions for students—there were teenagers of seventeen or eighteen, as well as middle-aged students in their thirties. Their educational backgrounds varied widely too: some were high school graduates, others had only completed elementary school.

So, whether it was the middle-aged or the younger teachers, everyone was eager to seize this rare opportunity, itching to give it a try.

Gu Qinghuan and Lin Xiaomeng, however, remained calm and detached, not getting involved in their discussions at all.

On one hand, as educated youths sent down to the countryside, they didn’t quite meet the requirements; on the other, both of them were waiting for next year’s nationwide resumption of the college entrance examination, so their ambitions lay elsewhere.

As soon as Wan Rong heard the news, her first thought was to use her father’s connections in the commune to secure a spot directly.

But she was told that this year the authorities were strictly controlling the process, and it was impossible to reserve a spot for her—she’d have to find a way to win it herself.

Of course, there were many ways to “win” such a spot. Wan Rong understood this perfectly well; it wasn’t her first time handling something like this.

On the surface, the recommendation quota seemed fair, requiring everyone to vote. But in reality, it wasn’t fair at all, because people’s minds could be swayed by outside forces.

Wan Rong was an expert at using human nature to her advantage—a skill passed down in her family.

Lin Muyang also planned to compete for a spot at the Workers, Peasants, and Soldiers University. He even wrote a speech for the occasion.

When Gu Qinghuan found out, she wanted to subtly remind him that there might be better opportunities ahead.

But Lin Muyang was clearly fixated on this chance, visibly excited and full of anticipation.

Gu Qinghuan couldn’t bear to dampen his enthusiasm, so she kept quiet. In fact, securing a place at the Workers, Peasants, and Soldiers University would be quite good.

Later, she learned from Lin Muyang himself that he was actually a live-in son-in-law—a “zhuixu.” No wonder he’d rather hide in the dormitory eating dry steamed buns on weekends than return home to his wife and child and a warm bed.

This, too, was connected to the great upheaval of the era. It had to be said: that catastrophe changed the course of many lives.

Back then, Lin Muyang’s family was poor, but he studied hard and achieved excellent grades. He had a real chance at getting into a good university. But fate played a cruel trick on him—he happened to come of age during the political turmoil, and the universities were shut down.

His parents had already exhausted themselves to support his education. When they learned the news, his father fell ill and passed away suddenly.

His mother developed a severe lung disease that required expensive treatment.

But their impoverished family couldn’t afford her medical care. Lin Muyang was full of passion and filial piety, but powerless to save his mother—he was in utter agony.

It was at this lowest point that he met his current wife, who had been his high school classmate.

Girls are often drawn to strength, and because of Lin Muyang’s outstanding performance at school, this classmate had always admired him in silence.

When she learned of his family’s plight, she offered to help him through the crisis with her own money—but on one condition: she wanted to marry him.

When you’re rich, even distant relatives come to visit; when you’re poor, not even neighbors care. At that time, Lin Muyang had reached the end of his rope. He’d already borrowed from every relative, but none were willing to help—instead, they mocked him, saying he’d dragged his family down and caused his father’s death.

It was a dead end for Lin Muyang—either way, he was doomed.

He was a filial son and couldn’t bear to see his mother suffer. No matter what, he had to find a way to get her treated. In the end, with tears in his eyes, he agreed to his classmate’s condition.

He married her in exchange for his mother’s medical expenses.

But her conditions didn’t stop at marriage. As an only child, she demanded that he marry into her family, and that any children they had would take her surname.

For a man, this was tantamount to giving up his own name—a painful choice. But for his mother’s sake, Lin Muyang gritted his teeth and agreed.

They married in haste. She spent a large sum on medical care, and Lin Muyang’s mother was saved, but she required long-term bedridden care.

When his mother accidentally learned that her son had sold his marriage to save her life, becoming a live-in son-in-law who would spend his days at the mercy of others, she was so furious that she pulled out her own IV and committed suicide.

Lin Muyang lost both parents in quick succession and became a son-in-law with no rights of his own. His life was plunged into utter darkness.

Although his wife treated him decently, his parents-in-law regarded him as nothing more than a tool for carrying on the family line. In their home, he had no rights at all and was constantly subjected to insults and abuse.

After his wife gave birth to their son, he used the excuse of needing to work to “escape” to the commune elementary school to teach. Sometimes he wouldn’t go home for months.

With his abilities, he could easily have taught at a county school, but he chose to stay here to avoid the endless troubles of his home life.

His parents-in-law, satisfied now that they had a grandson, stopped keeping such a close eye on him. Only at school did Lin Muyang feel like a real person.

He had once wanted to be a good father, a role model for his child.

But as his son grew, he realized that was just wishful thinking. His son was spoiled and unruly, and far from being close to his father, he actually looked down on him for being so weak and submissive at home—often insulting or even hitting him.

Poor Lin Muyang—a teacher by profession, yet unable to teach his own child.

He had tried to change his fate by other means.

For example, by attending the Workers, Peasants, and Soldiers University.

That time, he had actually secured a recommendation through proper channels and went home happily to tell his wife the good news.

But instead of praise or encouragement, he was met with hysteria. She forbade him from attending the university.

She even conspired with her parents to lock him in the house, completely ruining the hard-won opportunity that could have changed his life.

At that time, he truly contemplated suicide. Rather than live like a pile of mud, he thought, it would be better to die.

But in the end, he thought of his parents, who had worked so hard to get him this far, and gave up on the idea.

After that, he became even more withdrawn and reluctant to go home.

So when he heard about this new opportunity, a voice in his head told him: “Lin Muyang, go for it. This is your last chance. If you don’t go now, there may never be another.”

He had never told anyone before, but going to university was an obsession deep in his heart. Step by step, from a cowherd boy in the countryside, what kept him going all along was the dream of attending university."

"Chapter 269: University Quota, Yujie Soap Factory

To be honest, after learning about all these things, Gu Qinghuan found it hard to imagine and couldn't help but feel sorry for this poor man.

The humorous, cheerful, and poised Teacher Lin—who would have thought he also carried such raw, bloody scars? Every step he took was like walking on the edge of a blade, stabbing himself, bleeding endlessly.

There was nothing more to say. If this was what he wanted, then as a friend, all she could do was support him.

Lin Xiaomeng quietly told her that Wan Rong had secretly tried to win over a dozen teachers at the school, persuading them to cast fake votes in hopes of securing this rare university spot for herself.

She even approached Lin Xiaomeng, though Lin Xiaomeng refused.

Wan Rong had really gone all out this time. Apart from her direct competitors and Gu Qinghuan, she tried to approach everyone else.

Of course, not everyone was buying it. For example, Chen Fang, an old hand whose brother was the principal, would never stoop to collude with Wan Rong.

And then there were people like Lin Xiaomeng, who simply didn't want to get involved.

But most of the others were swayed by her.

Gu Qinghuan realized this was her chance to get revenge—and she could help Lin Muyang at the same time.

Given Lin Muyang's influence at the school, if no one interfered, the spot would definitely be his.

Since Wan Rong wanted to go to university so badly, Gu Qinghuan was determined to destroy the thing she wanted most and deal her a fatal blow.

If Wan Rong had gone through proper channels, Gu Qinghuan wouldn't have stood in her way. But since she insisted on cheating, she couldn't blame Gu Qinghuan for being ruthless.

Wan Rong had tried to harm her more than once before. Even though she hadn't succeeded, it was disgusting enough. Being soft on your enemies is being cruel to yourself.

Gu Qinghuan used her space to hide and, before the election meeting began, took photos of Wan Rong meeting with other teachers—even clearly capturing the exchange of goods.

And it wasn't just one teacher.

If these photos were handed over to the police or the commune, Wan Rong's university dream would be shattered, and her family might even get dragged down with her.

But if that happened, the teachers who colluded with her would also be implicated.

Most of the teachers at the commune elementary school would be involved, and the school would have to be completely reorganized.

In the end, all people are just ordinary mortals, driven by emotions and desires. Selfishness is human nature.

Those who went along with Wan Rong weren't necessarily bad people—they were just acting in their own interest.

If everyone involved was dismissed because of Wan Rong, where would the school find enough suitable teachers to teach the children in the short term?

As things stood, while not every teacher was perfect, the ones left were the best after rounds of selection.

Gu Qinghuan couldn't guarantee that a new batch would be any better, so she couldn't make up her mind.

Her personal vendetta was now in direct conflict with the bigger picture.

Should she hand over the ""evidence"" and bring Wan Rong down for good, or let her off this time?

In the end, it was those lovely children who helped her make up her mind.

Gu Qinghuan decided not to expose the matter for now—but Wan Rong could forget about participating in the school's selection.

Wan Rong loved tattling on others, so Gu Qinghuan decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.

She took the photos straight to Principal Chen.

At first, Principal Chen didn't believe her, but after questioning the teachers in the photos, he realized something was up.

How could Wan Rong dare!

If this got out, most of the teachers would be implicated—how would the school function then?

Fortunately, Gu Qinghuan was sensible and didn't want to make a big scene, leaving the matter for him to handle.

Principal Chen understood that the teachers who took Wan Rong's bribes weren't necessarily bad people—they were just desperate and struggling. Everyone has their own difficulties.

He decided, for the sake of the school and the students, to let them off this time.

But he made it clear to those teachers: this was their first and only warning. If it happened again, he would report them immediately.

Wan Rong's candidacy was revoked. She stormed off to confront Principal Chen about the reason.

No one knew exactly what was said, but after that, Wan Rong became much more subdued and never brought up the matter again.

With Wan Rong disqualified, Lin Muyang naturally received the school's recommendation for the Worker-Peasant-Soldier University.

He was outstanding to begin with, just overshadowed in this small place. After a passionate speech, he was almost unanimously voted in. He truly deserved the spot.

Everyone congratulated him.

The election ended, with some happy and some disappointed.

Lin Muyang was a responsible person. Even though he had been selected for Worker-Peasant-Soldier University, with the entrance exams for the two eighth-grade classes coming up, he didn't slack off for a single day, continuing to teach his classes. Besides, there was still a review period before he could actually enroll.

It would be a few more months before he officially started university, so he still had to finish teaching the graduating classes.

Everyone was moved by his dedication.

When Gu Qinghuan returned to Xujia Village for the weekend, she learned that their village's Worker-Peasant-Soldier University spot had also been decided.

Amazingly, it went to that good-for-nothing, freeloading Xu Huaiyu.

No doubt, Xu Mingshan had a hand in this.

Lin Xiaomeng was as disgusted as if she'd swallowed a fly. ""What did Xu Huaiyu do to deserve this?""

Sure enough, after asking around, she found out Xu Mingshan had used work points and other incentives to sway most people into voting for Xu Huaiyu.

Plus, Xujia Village really didn't have many educated people left. Among the short, Xu Huaiyu was at least the tallest—he'd at least finished high school.

Most of the young people his age hadn't even finished elementary school, so they couldn't compete.

Chen Fengqin had actually wanted her own son to try, but her eldest hadn't even graduated from junior high, so she was too embarrassed to compete, wasting her husband's popularity for nothing.

She was so angry she kept nagging her second son at home to study hard, so he'd be ready when opportunities came.

Who would have thought the commune would allocate a university spot to their brigade this year? That old fox Xu Mingshan did have some foresight—his kids had all finished high school.

In the end, only three people participated in the selection. Xu Huaiyu was the only one with a high school education; the other two had only finished junior high and didn't have the same support, so they couldn't compete.

After getting the spot, Xu Huaiyu was so proud he practically grew a tail, eager to announce it to the world.

People in the village used to call him a freeloader, but now he was about to become a university student—who would dare say anything now?

Liu Guifang walked around the village every day, wishing she could wear a sign saying, ""My son is a university student.""

Compliments rained down on her.

""Auntie, you really know how to raise kids. All your children are so promising!""

""Like father, like son. Brother Mingshan and Sister Fang are both outstanding, so of course their kids are pillars of the nation.""

""Once your third son graduates from university, won't the state assign him a job?""

""My goodness, your ancestors must be smiling down on you. Huaiyu is going to be a university student!""

...

Xu Mingshan was finally able to hold his head high, walking with a spring in his step. The Xu family finally had a university student; he could face his ancestors with pride. He'd changed the family's fate single-handedly.

Because of this, he neglected Xu Huainian's affairs, fully absorbed in his son's university plans.

Xu Huainian knew that if he wanted to open a soap factory in the village, he couldn't get around Xu Mingshan—he had to get his approval.

On the surface, the two had always gotten along, and he even had to call Xu Mingshan ""uncle,"" but in reality, they couldn't stand each other—they just couldn't say it out loud.

He racked his brains to get Xu Mingshan's support for the factory, and as luck would have it, the university quota came up.

Xu Huainian didn't expect his own kids to go to university—they just weren't cut out for studying.

But he couldn't let such a good opportunity go to waste; he had to use it to get something for himself.

So, he made a private deal with Xu Mingshan: if Xu Mingshan supported his factory plan and promised not to go back on his word, Xu Huainian would vote for Xu Huaiyu and turn a blind eye to Xu Mingshan's little tricks.

It wasn't really against his conscience—after all, Xu Huaiyu was the most educated of the three candidates.

Both got what they wanted, and everyone was happy.

Xu Huaiyu's nomination was submitted, and once approved, he'd be a university student.

On Xu Huainian's side, the application to open the factory was also approved.

Xujia Village's ""Yujie"" Soap Factory was officially established.

The name ""Yujie"" (Jade Purity) was suggested by Gu Qinghuan—pure as jade, a fitting and evocative name for a soap brand.

Xu Huainian was the factory director; his wife, Chen Fengqin, was the accountant and also temporarily in charge of production. Once the factory expanded, they'd assign new roles.

Although Gu Qinghuan wasn't directly involved, Xu Huainian still gave her two titles: Head of Sales and Product Consultant.

As for workers, for now, only Xu Huainian's eldest son, Xu Wenping, was involved.

At the beginning, they didn't dare to start too big. Xu Huainian used Xu Huaiyu's university admission as leverage to get Xu Mingshan to agree to a fifty-yuan startup fund from the public account.

Chen Fengqin cleaned out the old communal canteen from the days of collective meals to use as a temporary workshop. A wooden sign at the door read: Yujie Soap Factory.

Gu Qinghuan gave Xu Huainian a procurement list, reminding him to buy supplies in batches from different places.

If the product formula leaked, they'd lose their advantage.

Handmade soap, scented soap, pig fat soap—these recipes were no secret in later generations; you could find countless formulas online.

But in this era, things were different. ""If you teach your apprentice everything, the master starves""—many skills were family secrets.

Xu Huainian clearly understood the importance of this and personally handled the purchasing.

Previously, when Gu Qinghuan made traditional handmade soap herself, she had to make do with whatever local materials she could find due to lack of supplies.

The finished product was mediocre—just barely usable, nothing like the dazzling variety of soaps in later generations.

If they wanted to produce in bulk and sell, they couldn't stick to the old ways—they needed to buy more professional materials.

Some costs simply couldn't be cut.

Handmade soap is basically made from three main ingredients: fat, alkali, and water.

There are many types of fats: coconut oil, palm oil, rice bran oil, castor oil, olive oil, sunflower oil, almond oil, grape seed oil—the list goes on.

Each oil has its own unique properties and benefits."

"Chapter 270: Buying Materials and Making Soap

Previously, Gu Qinghuan had made lard soap. To be honest, that pot of lard alone was worth quite a bit, which drove up the production costs significantly.

If she were to use lard to make soap for sale, she’d end up losing money for sure.

Given the current circumstances and limited budget, Gu Qinghuan decided to prioritize the cheapest option: rice bran oil.

Rice bran oil is extracted from rice bran using a pressing method. It’s rarely used for cooking and is mostly used for making animal feed, soap, hardened oils, glycerin, stearic acid, oleic acid, paint resins, and other industrial materials.

This oil is nothing special, but it’s cheap, and soap made from it is strong at cleaning and feels refreshing to use.

However, this kind of oil wasn’t available locally—they’d have to go to the provincial capital to find it.

Besides oil, the other key ingredient is alkali—in this case, sodium hydroxide, commonly known as caustic soda.

Caustic soda is easy to buy anywhere, but you have to pay attention to the purity. It needs to be at least 92% pure; otherwise, too many impurities can easily cause the process to fail.

These two ingredients are the most important for soap-making. The rest—like colorants, essential oils, and various fragrances—are optional.

To keep costs down, Gu Qinghuan decided to skip essential oils altogether.

If they could get colorants, great; if not, that was fine too.

Xu Huainian rarely ever left the county in his life, but this time, he went all the way to the provincial capital.

After asking around, he actually managed to find cheap rice bran oil and colorants. He was smart enough to get the manufacturer’s contact information, so next time, he could just call their office and have things mailed over.

Of course, he’d have to pay the postage himself, but that was still way cheaper than making another trip.

As for caustic soda, it was available everywhere. He bought some and, unwilling to pay for shipping, carried everything back to Xujiatun himself. The trip left him exhausted.

In his big bamboo basket was a huge white oil drum—one hundred jin (about 50 kg) of oil.

“Fengqin, guess how much this oil cost per jin?” Xu Huainian said excitedly.

“How much?” Chen Fengqin was busy helping him take off the basket and handing him a towel to wipe his sweat.

“Less than twenty cents per jin! This is a hundred jin of oil, plus the big drum, and I only paid twenty yuan in total! Isn’t that cheap?

It’s just a pity this oil can’t be eaten—it’s only for industrial use.

I also got the caustic soda Qinghuan mentioned—ten jin for only forty-eight cents, not expensive at all.

The colorant was a bit pricey, though. This tiny bottle cost two yuan, but the manufacturer said it’s concentrated, so just a drop goes a long way.

I bought red and pink, both look nice and bright.”

Xu Huainian listed out everything he’d bought to Chen Fengqin, proud as could be.

“So you only spent twenty-four yuan and fifty cents to get everything you needed?”

Chen Fengqin had thought the fifty yuan budget wouldn’t be enough! She hadn’t expected that they’d get almost everything for just half the money.

“Not quite. Including the round-trip travel expenses, I spent just over twenty-nine yuan.

I was out all day and didn’t even buy anything to eat—food in the city is too expensive. The flatbread I brought in the morning was long gone. Hurry and get me something to eat, I’m starving after carrying all this back.”

Now that he was home, Xu Huainian finally realized how hungry he was.

With all the materials ready, Gu Qinghuan had also arranged for Carpenter Xu to make the custom molds and drying racks they’d need.

Everything was set—just waiting for the final push.

Gu Qinghuan took some time to return to Xujiatun to teach the couple how to make soap.

Step one: Prepare the materials. Use a small scale to weigh out precise amounts—no more, no less. The proportions have to be exact for success.

Step two: Dissolve the caustic soda. Make sure the sodium hydroxide is completely dissolved in water, with no visible granules left. This step is a bit dangerous and requires caution.

Step three: Mixing. When the temperature of the lye and the oil are both between 20°C and 40°C, pour the oil into the lye.

Step four: Stirring. This step really tests your strength—stir clockwise for about half an hour.

At first, the saponification reaction is slow, but the longer you stir, the thicker it gets.

Without an electric mixer, they had to do it all by hand—there was no other way.

When the mixture is as thick as soybean paste and you can draw a figure eight on the surface that doesn’t immediately disappear, the consistency is just right.

Next, you can add extras like colorants or fragrances and mix well.

Step five: Pour into molds. Gu Qinghuan had previously asked Xu Huainian to order a batch of flower-shaped molds, which were now put to use.

Gu Qinghuan added a few drops of red colorant, stirred it in, and poured the mixture into the flower molds. Once unmolded, the soap would be flower-shaped—very attractive.

Let the soap sit in the mold for three days, then unmold and air-dry. Once the surface is smooth and no longer sticky, you can cut the soap.

After cutting, the bars need to be left in a ventilated place for a while. Once they’re fully saponified, they’re ready to use.

From start to finish, it takes at least a month before the soap can be used.

Gu Qinghuan demonstrated the process once, then guided the couple through it themselves.

It wasn’t difficult—mostly physical labor. The most crucial part was the first step: measuring the ingredients. Any mistake there could cause the whole batch to fail.

Also, safety was important when dissolving the caustic soda. The rest was just hard work.

The couple carefully wrote down Gu Qinghuan’s recipe and followed it strictly. They succeeded on their first try, though the final quality of the soap would only be clear after full saponification.

Gu Qinghuan supervised them through a few more batches. Once she saw they had the hang of it, she left them to practice on their own.

In two days, the couple, along with their son, turned all the oil into soap.

They didn’t have enough molds at first, so they had to make more on the fly. Since this was a collective factory, there was no extra cost—Carpenter Xu didn’t charge them.

Five days later, the first batch of finished soap was ready.

Gu Qinghuan personally led Xu Huainian, his wife, and Xu Wenping in cutting the unmolded soap into evenly sized bars, stamping each one with the characters “Yu Jie” (Jade Purity).

With that, the soap-making was basically complete. All that was left was to let time do its work and wait for the soap to finish saponifying.

The first batch was all red, flower-shaped soap, with dried osmanthus flowers that Chen Fengqin had collected from the village mixed in. The soap had a faint, pleasant fragrance.

Inside the red soap, you could see little yellow flower buds. The color combination was gorgeous—classically beautiful, and it looked expensive.

Who would have guessed the cost was only three cents per bar?

Chen Fengqin did the math: all the materials and expenses totaled about thirty yuan, and the finished batch yielded around a thousand bars, not counting the scraps.

That meant each bar cost just three cents to make. And since things like fragrance would last for many batches, the cost per bar would drop to just over two cents next time.

Making it themselves was incredibly cost-effective.

However, Gu Qinghuan brought up a new issue—one they’d overlooked: packaging!

Clothes make the man, and packaging makes the product. Without attractive packaging, the soap wouldn’t sell, and Xu Huainian had no idea where to start.

Gu Qinghuan decided to make a trip to the provincial capital to find a packaging factory and order a batch of boxes to test the waters.

For the first batch, she didn’t choose the fanciest packaging—after all, this was just a trial run. As long as the quality was decent, it would do.

The boxes were printed with a magnolia blossom and the characters “Yu Jie.”

In the lower right corner, in smaller print: “The best love for your family.”

The whole design was simple and elegant.

Each box cost one cent—ten yuan for a thousand.

Plus travel expenses.

The small workshop’s initial startup funds were almost used up.

Whether they could make money now depended on how this first batch sold.

Chen Fengqin and Xu Huainian were under a lot of pressure. Ever since they’d taken the lead in setting up the factory, they’d been the target of ridicule from many in the village.

Some accused them of using the collective’s money for personal gain and not doing any real work.

Others kept asking where the soap was—if they were always talking about production, why hadn’t anyone seen any actual product?

Xu Mingshan, that old fox, was also stirring up trouble behind the scenes.

In short, no one had any faith in their little workshop.

Only they themselves understood the value of these soaps. Once they finished saponifying and were sold, the money would come rolling in, and then they’d see who dared to say anything.

The couple pressed on despite the pressure!

But someone was secretly up to no good.

Xu Lao’er (the second Xu brother) had heard from someone that the soap was really good, so he snuck into the workshop at night to steal some.

Luckily, Xu Huainian had been prepared and had his eldest son, Xu Wenping, sleep in the workshop every night to guard against sabotage.

Xu Wenping caught Xu Lao’er in the act. He was tall and strong, and Xu Lao’er was no match for him—he subdued him in no time.

Xu Huainian was furious. If Xu Lao’er had succeeded, all their efforts would have been wasted.

He refused to tolerate such behavior and reported Xu Lao’er to the commune for stealing collective property.

Xu Lao’er had finally met his match—he was publicly criticized for several days and sent to do the dirtiest, hardest work, like shoveling manure.

This served as a warning to others in the village who might have similar ideas.

Xu Huainian became even more vigilant, sleeping in the workshop himself and making sure someone was always on guard, afraid even a single bar might go missing.

Now that the soap was almost ready for sale, the next question was pricing.

Gu Qinghuan found out that most soaps on the market sold for about thirty cents per bar.

Since theirs was just starting out, they could sell it a bit cheaper to break into the market first."

"Chapter 271: Xu Huaian’s Worker-Peasant-Soldier University Quota

After careful consideration, Gu Qinghuan set the price for Yujie Soap: retail price at 0.2 yuan per bar, wholesale price at 0.15 yuan.

Of course, this wholesale price only applies to orders of 100 bars or more at a time.

If someone orders 1,000 bars or even more, the price is negotiable.

Xu Huainian and his wife knew nothing about the market, so they just listened to Gu Qinghuan. She was educated and knew much more than they did.

Now that Gu Qinghuan was no longer a homeroom teacher, her life was much more relaxed, and she could finally spend her weekends doing her own things.

Recently, she’d received letters from both Gu Lanting and Xu Huaian.

Lanting wrote that Huaqing University had established a night school, offering ten majors: general mechanics, general electrical engineering, automation, auto repair, metallography and heat treatment, welding, forging, foundry, chemical equipment and principles, and environmental protection.

They were currently enrolling students, with programs ranging from half a year to two years, and classes held two evenings and one afternoon each week.

Enrollment was based on voluntary application, recommendation by peers, approval from one’s work unit, and agreement from the school. The main target was working staff, as a way to supplement their education without affecting their jobs.

Gu Lanting would be officially graduating soon. While starting work, he wanted to enroll in the night school to learn more.

His letter this time was mainly to ask for Gu Qinghuan’s opinion.

Gu Qinghuan knew he was eager, wanting to shoulder the family’s responsibilities as soon as possible.

So she wrote back, telling him that it’s always good to learn more. As long as it didn’t affect his life, he should study whatever he wanted—learning should always be a free choice.

Previously, when she sent beef over, Zhang Zheng had also written back to thank her, saying he’d already arranged a job for Lanting.

So Gu Qinghuan wasn’t too worried about him.

As for Ming Ruxue, her parents had already paved the way for her.

Now, Gu Qinghuan only needed to worry about herself.

Xu Huaian’s letter brought some great news.

He had been recommended by his organization to study further at Huaqing University—not the night school, but as a worker-peasant-soldier university student.

Even though it was a worker-peasant-soldier quota, it was still the best university in the country.

This was fantastic.

Back when Gu Qinghuan talked about wanting to take the college entrance exam, she could clearly see how uneasy and worried Xu Huaian was.

He was afraid the gap between them would keep growing.

Even though being a worker-peasant-soldier student was different from a regular university student, it was still university, wasn’t it?

Gu Qinghuan was genuinely happy he got this opportunity. It was unrealistic to expect Xu Huaian to take the college entrance exam with her again, so this was the best arrangement.

Actually, it wasn’t just luck that Xu Huaian got this chance. When he found out he could study at the worker-peasant-soldier university, he was overjoyed.

To close the gap between himself and Gu Qinghuan, he fought tooth and nail for this opportunity.

The army had relatively more worker-peasant-soldier quotas—about one in a hundred could get in.

To get a recommendation from his superiors, he had to be outstanding—not just in physical skills, but also in academics.

The academic test was called the “cultural battle.” If your foundation was too weak, you couldn’t be selected.

Xu Huaian hadn’t touched a book in years and was completely in the dark, but he had determination and perseverance.

With only five days to prepare, he studied day and night, barely resting, gnawing on cold steamed buns when he was hungry, and drinking a sip of the spiritual spring water Gu Qinghuan had given him when he was too tired.

He pushed through five days and nights like this, managing to review all the key knowledge from junior and senior high school.

After the exam, he collapsed at his desk and had to be carried out.

Of course, the result was that he took first place in both the academic and physical tests, earning the recommendation without any suspense.

His fellow soldiers asked why he worked so hard, since he probably would have been selected even without pushing himself to the limit.

Xu Huaian said, “I don’t want a ‘probably’ or a ‘maybe.’ I want a hundred percent, so I have to give a hundred percent.”

He wouldn’t allow himself to make even the smallest mistake.

His comrades all said he was ruthless—with himself.

He kept all the hardships of this process to himself and never told Gu Qinghuan.

Zhuo Jiang had formed six special operations teams, and Xu Huaian was now the team leader. His main job was to train the teams in group combat and field survival skills.

Coincidentally, now that this busy period was over, he didn’t have any major tasks.

He could take this opportunity to rest while attending university. If any important missions came up, the organization would arrange for him to return.

Gu Qinghuan wrote back to congratulate him, and sent a kiss along with the letter.

—

Because she’d been busy as a homeroom teacher, Gu Qinghuan hadn’t delivered goods to Lu Jianye in a while.

Today, she specially made a pot of spicy cold rabbit for Lu Jianye and sold him ten Shanghai-brand watches.

She also took the opportunity to discuss some other business with him.

“Uncle Lu, does your grocery store sell soap?” Gu Qinghuan asked.

“We do, but not many people buy it. Most folks get their daily necessities at the supply and marketing cooperative or the department store. But sometimes people ask, so we stock a little, though it doesn’t sell much,” Lu Jianye replied, puzzled.

“How much do you pay for your soap?”

“Purchase price is 0.25 yuan, retail price is 0.3 yuan, and the more expensive ones go for 0.35 or 0.4 yuan.”

“Well, our village has just produced a batch of soap, and I’m helping to sell it. Our wholesale price is only 0.15 yuan, a whole dime cheaper than what you usually pay, and the quality is guaranteed. Here, this is a sample,” Gu Qinghuan said, taking out the sample she’d brought.

Lu Jianye hadn’t expected this and couldn’t help but laugh.

“So you’re here to sell soap today?”

“Exactly! I’m responsible for the livelihood of our whole village, Uncle. Try it out first—I guarantee you’ll be satisfied.”

Without waiting for his response, Gu Qinghuan fetched a basin of water and had him wash his hands.

Lu Jianye reluctantly opened the package, took out the flower-shaped soap, and commented, “Looks pretty good! But let’s see how it works.”

He wet his hands, ready to wash.

“Wait a second,” Gu Qinghuan said, suddenly inspired. She opened her lunchbox and deliberately dripped some chili oil onto Lu Jianye’s hands.

“Okay, now you can wash.”

Gu Qinghuan had already tested this batch herself—the cleaning power was even better than she’d expected.

Lu Jianye skeptically lathered up and scrubbed.

Not only did his hands come out spotless, but there was also a faint scent of osmanthus.

“Not bad at all!” Lu Jianye had thought it would look good but not work well, but it surprised him.

No more words were needed. She’d just brought him ten watches, which alone would net him nearly 500 yuan in profit.

This little favor was easy enough.

He’d tried the soap himself and found no problems; it was as good as, if not better than, previous stock, and a dime cheaper per bar.

He could answer to his superiors.

Besides, even if he bought 100 bars, it was only 15 yuan—hardly a risk.

So Lu Jianye readily agreed, “Alright, I’ll take 100 bars to try out. If they sell well, I’ll order more.”

“Thank you, Uncle Lu! Can I decide how to sell the soap? Don’t worry, I won’t affect your other business,” Gu Qinghuan pressed her luck.

Lu Jianye shook his head helplessly. “Do as you like! I’m curious to see how you’ll sell it.”

Gu Qinghuan already had a plan in mind.

Early the next morning, she brought Xu Huainian along, carrying a full basket of goods.

After delivering 100 bars to Lu Jianye and getting 15 yuan, she set up a separate, prominent shelf for the soap, with a sign reading: “20 cents.”

She also put the sample bar she’d used with Lu Jianye out for customers to try.

In those days, shop assistants acted like big shots—selling was beneath them.

Gu Qinghuan did her best to get the product noticed and open up the market quickly.

Whether it worked or not, this was the critical moment.

After making the delivery, Gu Qinghuan bought four bottles of Maotai from Lu Jianye—no ration coupons needed.

Then she and Xu Huainian hit the road to sell.

They visited the county’s supply and marketing cooperative, department store, and all the major retailers.

Just like sales reps in later years, they went door to door.

The nicer ones would politely say, “No, thank you.”

The less friendly ones would snap, “You think we’re a junk shop? We take anything? Get lost!”

Gu Qinghuan was treated a bit better, thanks to her looks—most people couldn’t bring themselves to scold a beauty.

But Xu Huainian had it rough, getting rejected again and again, but still having to grit his teeth and keep going.

Making money was just too hard.

By sunset, they finally met up again.

Gu Qinghuan had managed to secure orders for 300 bars of soap, while Xu Huainian hadn’t sold a single one.

He was so anxious he was nearly in tears. What was wrong? Why couldn’t he sell even one?

Gu Qinghuan could only say that everyone has different talents.

Xu Huainian wasn’t exactly an honest, reserved type, but clearly he wasn’t cut out for this. Maybe even Chen Fengqin would do better.

So Gu Qinghuan decided to handle sales herself for now.

She’d originally said she’d only provide the formula and not get involved, but in the end, she couldn’t just stand by. Gu Qinghuan was never one to be truly hard-hearted.

People who are tough on the outside but soft inside always suffer most.

The two of them went to the commune’s supply and marketing cooperative.

Because Gu Qinghuan was a regular customer, the ladies at the counter all knew her. When they heard she was here to pitch a product, they immediately called the manager.

With her silver tongue, Gu Qinghuan managed to secure another order for 100 bars.

Of course, the main reason they agreed was to support a product made in their own commune.

It was rare for anyone in their small area to start a factory, so of course they wanted to support her.

Still, they didn’t dare order too much—just 100 bars.

That was already pretty good.

Xu Huainian was overjoyed and admired Gu Qinghuan even more.

After a day of hustling, they’d sold half their soap—only 500 bars left.

That evening, Gu Qinghuan called everyone together for a meeting."

"Chapter 272: Hitting the Sales Trail—Soap Is a Hit