Chapter 25: The Thousand-Yuan Household

The competition took place at the Mazu Temple, and surprisingly, the village elders treated it quite ceremoniously. They directly took out three incense sticks, bowed toward the sea, and chanted prayers.

“Today, as we undertake the restoration of the Mazu Temple but face disputes, we beseech the goddess Mazu…”

With the sound of a gong, Zheng Fei began to paint. His brush moved swiftly, the lines crisp and clean, without a trace of hesitation or muddiness.

Zhao Dagang, who had been set up for the challenge, had no choice but to step up, though upon seeing Zheng Fei’s work, his expression darkened noticeably. Now he was certain—the murals on the walls were painted by Zheng Fei himself.

This was not just the student surpassing the master; it was a gulf far beyond that.

It reminded him of a day many years ago when a stern man in a Zhongshan suit had told him bluntly, “You have no talent in this craft. You’re not cut out for it. From tomorrow, you don’t need to come anymore.”

At the time, young and defiant, Zhao Dagang refused to accept this, believing effort could change everything.

And indeed, through relentless hard work, he managed to single-handedly complete the murals of an entire temple.

He was certain that when Zheng Fei came to him six months ago as an apprentice, the boy knew nothing.

He would simply play with mud nearby and occasionally watch him paint—only watch.

Unexpectedly, Zheng Fei not only learned the skills but soon surpassed him by a wide margin.

Zhao Dagang had once doubted, but now he finally understood what his master had meant by “talent.”

Zhao Dagang tried to take up the brush multiple times but eventually gave up. He simply could not defeat his former apprentice.

He turned to Gao Xiaoshuai and said, “Let’s go.”

“Master, aren’t you going to compete?”

Without looking back, Zhao Dagang left Da Xi Village. On the way back to the city, he suddenly looked seriously at his apprentice and said words almost identical to what his own master had told him years ago:

“Xiaoshuai, you’ve studied under me all these years. I’ve taught you all I can. What Zheng Fei said is true—you might not be suited for this line of work. From tomorrow, you don’t need to follow me anymore.”

Hearing this, Gao Xiaoshuai’s head buzzed. His family had been waiting for him to graduate and earn a living on his own.

But to end this way—looking at the little old man before him, a fire of anger ignited within him.

“No talent? You could have told me that sooner!”

After years of serving him, a light dismissal like this to kick him out was utterly unacceptable.

Perhaps in his rage, Gao Xiaoshuai pushed Zhao Dagang into the dock.

Zhao Dagang hadn’t expected such a reaction. Gulping water, he shouted:

“I can’t swim!”

“Pay me for all my losses over the years, and I’ll pull you up.”

As Zhao Dagang drifted farther, a group of young people heading back to the city saw him and immediately stripped off their clothes to pull him back.

Gao Xiaoshuai was restrained and about to be taken to the police station, but Zhao Dagang explained:

“Comrades, sorry to trouble you. We’re just having a father-son quarrel. He didn’t mean it—he’s a bit out of his mind.”

Gao Xiaoshuai broke down in tears, cursing Zhao’s entire ancestry repeatedly.

…

Zheng Fei hadn’t expected Zhao Dagang to leave so decisively. Yet this incident only increased the villagers’ respect for him.

Their titles shifted from “young comrade” and “junior master” to “Master Zheng.”

After a month and a half of hard work, Zheng Fei finally finished the clay sculptures, murals, and door gods of the Mazu Temple.

The temple now gleamed anew, and the villagers planned to hold a consecration and blessing ceremony half a month later.

They all hoped Zheng Fei would attend, but he was truly busy.

The murals were so exquisite that whenever villagers spoke of their home, they boasted, “You must visit our Mazu Temple—it’s truly beautiful.”

Several neighboring villages heard of this and came to admire the work.

Sometimes, when skill is high enough, there’s no need to seek out business; it comes to you naturally.

During this period, Zheng Fei received a new commission. After finishing in Da Xi Village, he had to rush to Jing Shui Village to repair their Guan Di Temple.

The payment was even higher—five hundred yuan, including food and lodging, non-negotiable.

Holding over forty “Da Tuan Jie” notes in his hand, Tao Tao was stunned. He had never held so much money before.

If they were bus tickets, this amount could buy three bicycles; if meat coupons, enough to purchase two pigs.

Zheng Fei pulled out four notes.

“This is what I promised you.”

Tao Tao hesitated, embarrassed.

“You did all the work on the murals and statues. I barely helped—mostly just played in the mud. You don’t have to give me so much.”

Zheng Fei shot him a look.

“Take it or I’ll give it to your parents.”

At this, Tao Tao reached out.

“If I give it to them, it’ll probably go to my two older brothers again. I earn money for them to get married—no way.”

Zheng Fei hadn’t expected to stay on Chongming Island for over four months.

It was summer when he arrived, and nearly winter when he left, but in that time he had filled his pockets.

Now, Zheng Fei was a man with a thousand yuan in hand.

When they returned to Tanzi Bay, Zhu Xiaotao shouted, “I’m finally back!”

Old Master Sun, upon seeing Zheng Fei, still spoke bluntly.

“Half a year to finish one Mazu Temple? At your speed, you won’t make much money.”

Zheng Fei smiled.

“I did three.”

Old Master Sun was astonished.

“Three in just over four months?”

Zheng Fei nodded.

“Well, the skill is good, and people kept recommending me. If I weren’t really exhausted, probably every temple on Chongming Island would beg me to paint for them.”

“Sounds like bragging.”

Zheng Fei wasn’t lying. If he hadn’t turned down several villages, he might have stayed on the island for the New Year.

Back home, little Yun, with her twin ponytails, jumped up excitedly upon seeing him and called out toward the room.

“Grandma, brother is back!”

Hearing this, an elderly lady emerged, beaming with happiness upon seeing Zheng Fei.

“I heard from Old Master Sun you went to work for other villages on Chongming Island?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been gone so long, we were worried sick. When you worked with Zhao Dagang, you were gone at most two months.”

As she spoke, Huang Grandma pulled out twenty yuan from a drawer.

“I’ve already collected your various ration coupons for these months. Since you didn’t come back, I was afraid they’d expire, so I sold them secretly. This is the money from the sales.”

Local residents had fixed ration coupons for grain and meat, which had to be used within the month or they’d become void.

Places like Tanzi Bay and Panjia Bay saw many villagers come to work with no ration coupons of their own; they had to buy meals using coupons from residents.

Thus, ration coupons were quite valuable here—if you wanted to sell, there was always a buyer.

“Thank you, Grandma.”

Zheng Fei took two “Da Tuan Jie” notes, and Huang Grandma sighed.

“By the way, Xiao Fei, I have something to tell you. There aren’t many jobs in the city now. Xiao Yun’s parents have decided to move back to the countryside after this Spring Festival.”

Hearing this, little Yun’s eyes welled with tears.

“Grandma, I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to be separated from brother.”

Zheng Fei had already guessed this. They had often talked about their old home and planned to build a house there once they earned enough money.

He had originally intended to respect their choice. Life in Shanghai at this time was indeed tough.

But if they left the city and returned to rural life now, it would be like joining the party in 1949—years of effort would be wasted.

“Brother Hong, is he around? I want to have a proper talk with him.”

“He went out and won’t be back until tonight.”