Chapter Nine: Aunt’s Visit

"This is Xiaoli’s aunt, Jiang Ting, currently a professor in the Department of Literature at Beijing Normal University," Xu Yuxiu introduced.

Xiaoli? My fiancée, Liu Xiaoli? And this woman is a professor at Beijing Normal University? Haven’t we been out of touch for a long time? Why the sudden visit?

Cheng Kaiyan’s thoughts flickered, but he greeted her warmly, "Hello, Aunt Jiang. I’m Cheng Kaiyan."

The beautiful woman before him merely nodded, responding with a curt hum.

A bit cold, he thought. Strictly speaking, he was her niece’s fiancé, yet she seemed difficult to approach. However, she was gracious and respectful toward his mother, Xu Yuxiu, addressing her as "Sister Yuxiu" repeatedly.

"Kaiyan, go boil some water for tea," Xu Yuxiu instructed.

Cheng Kaiyan was happy to oblige; he had no desire to be the one offering warmth to a cold shoulder. He turned away, scooped a kettle of water from the kitchen vat, and brought the stove into the room, placing it between them. The glowing coal briquettes radiated heat, and both women instinctively reached out to warm their hands.

In old Beijing, there were two ways to stay warm during winter: the *kang* (heated brick bed) and the coal stove. Every household had a stove—for warmth, boiling water, and even cooking.

*Gurgle, gurgle.*

The blackened kettle on the stove vibrated as the water began to boil. Cheng Kaiyan sat down and began to ponder what to write for his next long-form piece.

Educated youth?

This was an era of profound transformation, and literature was no exception. Literature during this period first emerged in the form of "Scar Literature," which ruthlessly exposed trauma, emphasized humanitarianism, and sought to restore human concern to writing. It ignited a literary fever that would last over twenty years; a new poem would be recited by the entire nation, and a new article would be read by all.

The wave of literary enthusiasm surged again and again. With the breakthrough from the "Great Self" to the "Small Self," flowers bloomed everywhere, faster than one could pick them. Consequently, the status of writers, poets, and scholars soared.

This year, Liu Xinwu’s *The Class Teacher* and Lu Xinhua’s *The Scar* sparked nationwide debates and resonated deeply with society. This year, Chen Gongmin published *Tool Theory or Reflection Theory—On the Relationship Between Literature, Art, and Politics* in *Drama Arts*, challenging the view that "literature and art are subordinate to politics," marking a deepening of ideological liberation in the arts. This year, Liu Zaifu’s lectures on "literary subjectivity" and "duality of personality" drew thousands of listeners, packing every hall.

This was the golden age of literature!

...

"It’s been so many years. How are your sister and brother-in-law doing in Harbin?"

"She’s the same as always, working at the magazine office. My brother-in-law was transferred to a nuclear test site after graduating from Harbin Institute of Technology, which is how he escaped disaster; otherwise, he wouldn't have avoided being exiled to a labor farm."

Jiang Ting nodded, her expression calm.

"As long as they're safe, that's what matters." Xu Yuxiu offered a forced smile. Both had graduated from Harbin Institute of Technology, but because one stayed in academia for theoretical research while the other went to the front lines of a nuclear test site, their fates had diverged sharply.

"By the way," Jiang Ting rubbed her now-warmed palms, her gaze landing on Cheng Kaiyan, who was lost in thought while staring away. "This young man has been discharged. Where is he working now?"

Hearing this, Xu Yuxiu replied, "Him? He’s still nursing his injuries. He plans to take the university entrance exams, so he’s studying at home while he recovers."

"I see." Jiang Ting gave Cheng Kaiyan a cold, fleeting glance. It didn't surprise her; there were many unemployed young people these days.

She hadn't come to the Cheng household to chat or reminisce; she was burdened with a difficult task entrusted to her by her niece: to call off the engagement. That was right—Jiang Ting was here to represent Liu Xiaoli in breaking off the marriage. The current pleasantries were merely the calm before the storm.

"Should I introduce him to a job?"

"That won't be necessary; he has his own plans." Xu Yuxiu was tempted, but after a moment's thought, she gently declined. She didn't mind him studying at home, but she worried about the gossip from neighbors and didn't want to add to his stress.

"Sister Yuxiu, don't be so quick to refuse. I’ve just been transferred to the Literature Department, and I’m in need of a teaching assistant. I don’t know anyone else there, and I’m not used to working with others. Since he’s 'one of our own,' I’d be comfortable having him around. Plus, the work is light and the pay is decent. According to the national teaching staff salary standards, it's a Grade 13 assistant position, with a salary of 56 yuan a month once he’s confirmed."

Jiang Ting wasn't surprised by the refusal and continued to explain.

Fifty-six yuan? Xu Yuxiu was stunned. That was as much as a veteran teacher with over twenty years of experience made!

"That’s after confirmation. Before that, it’s thirty yuan a month," Jiang Ting added, watching the mother and son.

"What do you think, Kaiyan?" Xu Yuxiu looked at her son, seeking his input.

"I shouldn't trouble you with that, should I?" Cheng Kaiyan wasn't sure how to read this woman—one moment cold, the next, surprisingly helpful.

Jiang Ting offered reassurance. "There's no rush to decide. It won't be too late once I've settled my affairs here; I haven't even finalized my course schedule yet."

"You're truly being too kind," Xu Yuxiu said politely.

"Given our families' relationship, it’s no trouble at all. You and my sister have been friends for so many years; you’re closer than sisters."

"Speaking of which, how is Xiaoli doing in Jiangcheng? I heard she made her stage debut after graduating?" Xu Yuxiu asked.

"Xiaoli's talent and charisma have made her a standout at the theater. She’s recognized as a star dancer and is now the 'lead flower' of the Jiangcheng Song and Dance Theater. She wrote in her last letter that she’s been made a permanent employee. While her classmates are level-two art assistants making 29.5 yuan, she was classified as a level-one art assistant, earning 37 yuan a month. My sister and I even went to Jiangcheng for the National Day performance. The famous dancer Yang Liping herself couldn't stop praising her, calling her 'graceful as flight, with extraordinary temperament.'" Jiang Ting spoke of her niece with pride.

"That is truly impressive. I must go see her if I get the chance." Xu Yuxiu smiled, genuinely happy for Xiaoli’s success.

However, hearing about the "level-one art assistant" classification reminded her of Cheng Kaiyan’s employment. The grading of art workers had existed for a long time. In the 1956 national wage reform, the legendary Peking Opera artist Mei Lanfang was classified as a Level 1 Artist, with a monthly salary of 336 yuan. A Level 1 Artist was equivalent to a Grade 8 administrative official. After reaching Level 1 Art Assistant, the next step would make her a true dancer, and the salary would jump to over a hundred yuan. By then...

*Gurgle, gurgle.*

The boiling water interrupted their thoughts. Cheng Kaiyan removed the kettle, the wooden handle feeling warm in his hand. He placed three cups on the chairs, added a pinch of tea to each, and poured the clear, hot water from high above. Jasmine petals swirled in the cups, and soon, a faint, floral fragrance filled the room. This wasn't the broken tea leaves Cheng Kaiyan usually kept; this was premium tea for guests, the kind that cost five yuan a catty. Old Beijingers loved tea, and even families who weren't wealthy would keep good leaves for guests. Of course, they wouldn't drink such quality daily—they’d stick to the cheaper stuff.

"Thank you." Jiang Ting offered a polite smile, taking the cup with both hands.

From that one gesture, Cheng Kaiyan knew she was a woman of great refinement. He wondered what his fiancée looked like. If she was beautiful, gentle, generous, elegant, wealthy, and talented... well, going along with the arrangement might not be so bad.

He glanced at Jiang Ting again. If she was anything to go by, her niece couldn't be bad.

Jiang Ting noticed his gaze and her brows furrowed slightly. She took a sip of tea and praised, "Good tea..."

"It’s nothing special. As long as it suits your taste."