Chapter 40: A Student Should Focus Earnestly on Their Studies

After seeing Editor Mo off at the entrance of the alley, Zheng Fei returned home, where Old Man Sun, who was busy smoking, couldn't help but ask, "You’ve been hiding in the house all this time—have you just been drawing comic books?"

Zheng Fei figured Old Man Sun wouldn't understand the difference between manga and traditional picture-story books, so he didn't bother explaining. "Well, since I don't have a regular job, I might as well stay home and draw them."

Old Man Sun gave him a disdainful look. He claimed he had no job, yet he had refused the offer from Director Wang to join the neighborhood production group. He had even heard from He Guangliang in Daxi Village that several other villages had tried to hire him to paint murals, all of which he had turned down.

"Are you really going to publish a book?"

Zheng Fei nodded. "Almost. The publication review has already passed; the editor just came over to discuss some final details."

Even though he had guessed as much, hearing Zheng Fei confirm it still surprised Old Man Sun, though he felt genuinely happy for him. "Now that you’ve found your path, you must work hard. Don't be like you were with the murals—don't give up halfway."

Zheng Fei replied, "That goes without saying."

He wouldn't tell Old Man Sun that he had never intended to make a long-term career out of temple work; he had only painted those murals to make ends meet. After all, unlike writing, the creative cycle for manga was long, and he had to prioritize not starving to death.

In his previous life, he had seen many graduates without any financial foundation dive headlong into the manga industry, fueled by passion and a vow to create something revolutionary. Less than six months later, they were battered and bruised by the brute force of a man named "Reality," and scolded into submission by a landlady named "Landlord." In the end, most chose to be practical, willingly becoming the "mistresses" of capitalists, warming their beds every day.

Zheng Fei wouldn't admit to anyone that he, too, had once been one of those fools.

...

Winter days are short.

Before the sky had even darkened, the news that Zheng Fei was publishing a comic book had already spread like wildfire. The alleyways were filled with the smoke of coal stoves as people cooked dinner, but today, nobody was asking one another what they were cooking; instead, they were all discussing Zheng Fei.

Auntie Zhang, while washing vegetables, said to those around her, "Have you heard? Zheng Fei is just like his father, Zheng Yuanshan—he’s going to publish a comic book too."

"Really? Without his father teaching him personally, he can actually draw them?"

"Sun Zhisheng from the textile factory said so himself. It must be true."

"So, our Alley 31 has produced another artist. It seems we aren't all blockheads here; there's still some culture in this neighborhood."

"What do you mean by that? You're the blockhead."

"By the way, I heard the royalties for these books are quite high. How much money will Zheng Fei make?"

Auntie Zhang shook her head. "How would I know? If you want to know, go ask him yourself."

However, some in the alley reacted to the news with disdain, searching for a cynical angle. Wang Qiusheng’s mother said sourly, "I find this whole thing a bit strange. Zheng Yuanshan’s illegitimate daughter just arrived, and suddenly Zheng Fei’s book is about to be published? Could it be that these drawings aren't by Zheng Fei at all, but by his father?"

Upon hearing this, others chimed in, "That's very possible."

Auntie Huang, who happened to be passing by, snorted. "You haven't even seen them and you're already spouting nonsense. I live right next door, so how could I not know? That boy is incredibly hardworking; he draws until eleven or twelve every single night."

Wang Qiumei, Wang Qiusheng's mother, was rendered speechless. What had been bothering her lately was that Qiusheng had suddenly stopped helping his father pull the manure cart, making their already tight budget even tighter. With her two older sons about to get married, one of the families had demanded the "three rounds and one sound" as a dowry. A sewing machine cost between 150 and 200 yuan, and a bicycle cost about the same. With her family's circumstances, they had no way to afford it, and the whole family had been frantic.

Unexpectedly, at this critical moment, Qiusheng had stopped helping the family and even started working as an independent trader, selling sunflower seeds everywhere. He had even said, "If they demand the 'three rounds and one sound' and we don't have the money, then let's just not get married. It’s not like you can't get married without those things. If my future partner tries to threaten me with that, I'll just find someone else."

These words had given Wang Qiumei chest pains for days. She was convinced that Zheng Fei was the one acting as a bad influence behind the scenes; ever since his son stopped hanging around with Zhao Dagang, Qiusheng had picked up all sorts of bad habits.

...

The Sanwan and One Alley area was a slum, poor not just in terms of wealth, but in every aspect. If one went to the International Settlement, they might hear someone singing or playing the piano every two blocks. But here, finishing primary school was considered a stroke of luck—there was no spare money for extracurricular classes.

Hearing that someone from their area was publishing a book was like dropping a heavy rock into a calm lake. Word spread rapidly. For these past few days, the most discussed topic in the neighborhood was the unemployed youth named Zheng Fei who was about to publish his book.

Zhao Dagang, who had been pushed into the river and was still bedridden, remained silent for a long time after hearing the news. Gao Xiaoshuai, who was responsible for looking after him, felt his own heart stirred by the news as well.

...

Upon learning that her brother’s manga was about to be published, Zheng Shuyao was so excited that even her chores felt easier. With nothing to do for the moment, she cleaned the house until it sparkled, though she didn't dare touch her brother's desk. She had been in Shanghai for two days, and with such a happy event happening, she wanted to share the news with her parents.

"Brother, I want to write a letter home to tell Mother and Father that I arrived safely. Also, can I tell them about your book? Father will be so happy when he hears it—maybe his health will even improve a little faster."

Zheng Fei nodded, feeling that his little sister was still too reserved, as if she needed his permission for everything. "In the future, you can decide these things for yourself. You don't need to ask me."

Zheng Shuyao twisted the hem of her clothes, hesitant to say what was on her mind. "Brother, I don't have money for stamps."

Zheng Fei paused, remembering it was the 1980s, and pulled out a ten-yuan note. "Take this for now."

Seeing the ten-yuan bill, Zheng Shuyao was at a loss and quickly waved her hands—it was a significant amount of money. "Brother, you don't need to give me so much."

Zheng Fei said seriously, "Keep the rest for yourself. Buy some candy or sunflower seeds if you like. I’m going to be very busy soon, so I won't have time to look after you. If I can't make it home, just grab some noodles at the alley entrance."

With Auntie Huang’s family leaving soon and his promise to Editor Mo, he knew things were about to get hectic.

"Brother, can I help you?"

Zheng Fei asked curiously, "You know how to draw?"

"Father taught me a little. I can do simple line drawings."

Hearing this, Zheng Fei felt a sudden pang of jealousy on behalf of the original owner of his body; as the eldest, he had truly had the hardest life. If his sister helped, it would certainly speed up the progress of the manga, but after some thought, he said, "The first semester is over. I’ll buy you textbooks and try to help you catch up with the curriculum, so just focus on your studies at home for now."

"Brother..."

"If you came to the city and didn't study, you might as well have stayed on the ranch. When it's time to study, you must study hard. If you don't get into a good university, I’m sending you back to the ranch."

Zheng Shuyao was so scolded that she didn't dare lift her head. "I understand. I will study hard."

...

At that same moment, on Chongming Island in Daxi Village, a few men in suits were observing the murals in the Mazu Temple.

"May I ask, which master was hired to paint these murals in your village's Mazu Temple?"

"We didn't hire a master; a young man helped us paint them."

"A young man?"

"Yes, that's right. He’s about twenty. He’s incredibly talented—even better than the teacher who taught him."

One of the middle-aged men remarked, "I think with this level of skill, we should definitely invite him to participate in the restoration work at the Jing'an Temple."