Chapter 39: Zhan Jianjun and the Monkey Stamp

The weekend lasted only two short days, yet in Cheng Kaiyan’s eyes, whether in the 1980s or in the later generations, it passed in the blink of an eye.

On the first day, he rested after receiving an injection. On the second, he rested while listening to the radio.

Now, because of his illness, he had taken several days off and had not gone to work.

Early that morning, the sky remained overcast, and the courtyard was damp. Cheng Kaiyan placed a radio on a stool and, while listening to the weather forecast, practiced the primary and secondary school radio exercises beneath the eaves of his own house.

The past two days had tormented him badly. Now that he was finally beginning to recover, he naturally wanted to exercise a little.

As for why he was not practicing Master Ma’s Primal Form and Intent Taiji—

That was because Cheng Kaiyan himself had no idea whether the thing actually worked.

Still, Master Ma truly came from a family with an inherited martial tradition. His Primal Form and Intent Taiji certainly helped strengthen the body and loosen the sinews.

Otherwise, how could a man in his sixties or seventies still leap about with such vitality every day, recover after being knocked out, and bounce back to life? An ordinary old Zhang would probably have had to lie in the hospital for half a year.

Speaking of Master Ma, he had graduated from university and enlisted in the army, thereby avoiding assignment to the countryside. In the first year that the national college entrance examinations were restored, he was admitted to university. He was currently studying at Nanyang Teachers College, and in another two years he would undoubtedly become a reserve official for the provincial government. He had managed to step on every major turning point of good fortune.

After completing a set of primary and secondary school radio exercises, Cheng Kaiyan hurriedly wiped away his sweat with a dry towel and thought, “I’ll teach it to that old fellow Qi Gong later and let him experiment with it.”

“Ring-ring…”

The faint sound of a bicycle bell drifted in from outside the courtyard.

Colonel’s Alley was a large alley with plenty of foot traffic. The Central Academy of Fine Arts had not yet moved away and was still located here, so students passed through every morning and evening.

“Kaiyan, are you feeling better?”

The wooden-and-metal door of the Zhan family’s house next door opened.

A lean, bespectacled middle-aged man came out carrying a washbasin, with a white dry towel draped over his shoulder.

He raised one large hand—smack!—and in no time, the water in the enamel basin splashed across the courtyard, sending up a broad spray.

“Good morning, Uncle Zhan!”

Cheng Kaiyan greeted him. This was Xinyu’s father.

Like Cheng Kaiyan’s family, the Zhan household was a highly educated family.

Zhan Jianjun taught at the Central Academy of Fine Arts, while Aunt Wang Qiang was a dancer.

Last year, Professor Zhan Jianjun had been appointed an associate professor by the Central Academy of Fine Arts. This year, after the academy’s Oil Painting Department restored its studio-based system, he was promoted to full professor and became director of the Third Studio.

At the same time, his oil painting *Jade Peaks* had been selected for the Asian Modern Art Exhibition held in Japan that year.

His oil painting *Twilight* had won the First-Class Prize for Outstanding Works of Fine Art in Beijing. Among the contemporary oil painters at the Central Academy of Fine Arts, he was unquestionably one of the leading figures.

Even during his period of labor reform, his superb oil-painting technique had led the authorities to ask him to paint an especially famous work: *The Five Heroes of Langya Mountain*.

The illustration in later generations’ sixth-grade primary school textbook was this very painting.

“Much better. Another day or two and I should be fully recovered.”

Cheng Kaiyan answered with a smile, while thinking about Huang Yongyu’s Monkey stamps. He would ask about them in a moment.

“That’s good. By the way, I bought several packets of White Rabbit milk candy yesterday. I’ll bring you one to help restore your strength.”

Uncle Zhan nodded with a smile. He had watched Cheng Kaiyan grow up.

After Zhan Xinyu was born, he and his wife, Wang Qiang, were both busy with work.

When she was one or two years old, Cheng Kaiyan had practically been the one playing with and looking after her. As a result, the two families were exceptionally close.

“Then I won’t stand on ceremony. Besides, you know perfectly well that whenever there’s even a little food in my room, that girl Xinyu devours every last bit of it.”

Cheng Kaiyan rolled his eyes as he spoke.

In this era of material scarcity, White Rabbit milk candy was regarded almost as a nutritional supplement. Its advertising slogan claimed, “Seven White Rabbits equal one cup of milk.”

That was why Zhan Jianjun had suggested that Cheng Kaiyan use the candy to nourish himself.

“Haha, you’re her elder brother, after all. I’ll have Xinyu do some hard work for you later. Just order her around a little more.”

Hearing Cheng Kaiyan’s complaint, Zhan Jianjun burst out laughing.

“By the way, Uncle Zhan, was this year’s commemorative Monkey stamp designed and illustrated by Professor Huang Yongyu of the Central Academy of Fine Arts?”

Cheng Kaiyan decided to ask him directly.

“This year’s stamp was indeed designed by Professor Huang. I estimate it will be issued next month. What is it? Are you planning to collect stamps?”

Zhan Jianjun was not surprised. New stamps were issued almost every year.

Moreover, in places such as Beijing and Shanghai, there were especially large numbers of stamp collectors. Good stamps would be snapped up as soon as they were released; there was never any concern that they would not sell. People sometimes queued for several streets.

Of course, that was limited to economically developed regions. There was a rumor that an official at a post office in Jiangcheng, worried that the Monkey stamps would not sell, had paid out of his own pocket to buy fifteen complete sets. He then forgot about them in his house. When he found them again in the early years of the new millennium—

Good heavens, each set was worth several hundred thousand!

He had struck it rich.

Cheng Kaiyan also planned to buy several sets and store them at home.

However, in Beijing, if he simply queued up and tried to buy them normally, he would most likely fail to get any.

“Yes.”

Expectation shone in Cheng Kaiyan’s eyes as he looked at Zhan Jianjun.

“All right. How many sets do you want? I’ll speak to Professor Huang later and ask him to get some for you.”

“Not many. Let’s say ten sets.”

Cheng Kaiyan tentatively raised two fingers and crossed them to indicate ten.

The 1980 Monkey stamp had an issue price of eight fen. A complete sheet of eighty stamps cost 6.4 yuan, so ten sheets would cost sixty-four yuan—more than a month’s wages.

“Fine. That still counts as buying only a small number. Some collectors buy dozens of sets at a time.”

Zhan Jianjun nodded and agreed. He then went home, brought out a packet of White Rabbit candy, tossed it to Cheng Kaiyan, and left shortly afterward.

“Ten sets is still considered a small number? Looks like there were quite a few wealthy people even in the 1980s.”

Cheng Kaiyan shook his head, but did not dwell on it. Ten sets would be enough.

Besides, he did not have the money for more, did he?

And it would take at least seven or eight years before he could cash them in. That was too long. There was no need to pour all his available funds into them. Ten sets would do.

In some historical novels, certain protagonists would rather go without food than miss the chance to invest their entire fortunes in Monkey stamps. It was utterly ridiculous.

Back in the bedroom, Cheng Kaiyan rummaged through his desk and gathered every bit of cash he had on hand before counting it.

After returning to the city, he had handed the fifteen hundred yuan he possessed over to his mother. She had given him ten yuan as two months’ spending money.

He had written more than ten thousand words of *The Submarine at Night*, earning fifty-one yuan and sixty-four fen.

His job had paid him ten yuan in wages.

At home, he ate and drank without spending money, and his mother paid for everything he bought.

Apart from meals, his expenses amounted to only a few fen in the morning and one or two jiao at noon. His monthly spending came to merely six or seven yuan—practically nothing.

During that period, he had also given fifteen yuan to Elder Sister Shang Cui.

He counted the banknotes in his hand. The total came to fifty-one yuan and seventy fen.

“This still isn’t enough. I’ll have to wait until next month’s wages arrive, or until the royalty statement for *Fragrant Grass* comes. Three hundred thousand words! At ten yuan per thousand words, that’s three thousand yuan. Becoming rich overnight is not a dream!”

“The manuscript should arrive in another couple of days, right?”

…

That afternoon, Jiang Ting arrived by bicycle.

Having heard that he was ill, she had even brought beef, mutton, malted milk, and other supplements to visit him.

It was only a fever and a cold, not some injury that had damaged his bones and tendons. Why had his maternal aunt made such a production of it?

Still, it was enough to show how much Jiang Ting cared about him.

Cheng Kaiyan felt a little moved and thought, “In the future, I’ll have a little fairy of my own and let her show you filial respect.”

Over the next few days, Cheng Kaiyan recovered and returned to work as usual.

Since the end of the semester was approaching, there were no classes. Cheng Kaiyan spent the days borrowing books from the library, then returned to the office to brew a pot of Da Hong Pao tea he had brought back from Ye Shengtao’s place, reading and drinking at the same time.

“Professor Jiang, Cheng Kaiyan, Director Fang says there’s a meeting in the office.”

Lin Xiaohong knocked on the office door and came in to call them.

The meeting lasted half an hour and concerned only two matters:

supervising the final examinations and the poetry competition.

The university’s final examinations would be held the following week, and Cheng Kaiyan had been assigned to supervise several of them.

As for the poetry competition, after the examinations ended, the entries would be publicly reviewed and scored in the school auditorium.

Once the scores had been tallied, the first, second, and third prizes would be awarded. The winning works would also be published in the university newspaper for the teachers and students to appreciate.

Then, at the end of the month, winter vacation would begin. Everyone would prepare New Year goods, and the New Year celebrations would follow.

“But the timing is a little tight. By the time the poetry competition awards are presented, a letter from Jiangcheng will probably have arrived as well. Then I’ll have to go to Jiangcheng and stay at a guesthouse.”

Cheng Kaiyan pondered this silently.