Chapter 9: Strength Is the Ultimate Proof

Zheng Fei truly had not expected that two national grain coupons would be enough to summon a neighborhood committee official. It was almost like a scene from a spy thriller.

In this day and age, people were incredibly sensitive to the flow of money. Zheng Fei believed the root cause was his status as an "unemployed youth." An unemployed youth was synonymous with having no job and no money. For someone like him, who had no parents to rely on, any sudden wealth would lead everyone to assume it came from illicit sources.

Since Director Wang had asked, Zheng Fei did not bother to quibble. On the spot, he explained his work drawing portraits for tourists at the Bund. This time, he didn't try to be clever; he slightly adjusted his story, claiming that tourists had seen him drawing at the Bund, were impressed by his skill, and had asked him to sketch a portrait or two. In the end, they were so pleased with the results—calling them works of art—that they insisted on paying him with cash and grain coupons. He had initially refused, but they were so enthusiastic that they simply left the items and ran off.

The crowd of onlookers grew, and the stairwell was soon packed. Several elders chimed in, "Xiao Fei, you really need to be honest about this. Stop now before you make a grave mistake."

Zheng Fei frowned and swept his gaze over them; it felt like the neighbors didn't believe him either. But then again, it made sense. Only half a month ago, he was just an unemployed youth with no marketable skills. This transformation was indeed too rapid for them to process; they needed time to adjust.

Zheng Fei pulled over a chair and said to Director Wang, "Director, please sit for a moment. Let me draw your portrait right now, and you'll see I’m not lying." For the current Zheng Fei, no amount of talk was as effective as demonstrating his ability.

"Very well. If you can prove it, the community will not pursue this any further."

Zheng Fei brought over his easel and picked up a knife to sharpen his pencil. After observing Director Wang for a moment, the sound of "scratch, scratch, scratch" echoed against the paper. The onlookers were stunned, their eyes wide with disbelief. The boy who usually couldn't do a thing—the one even the mural painters looked down upon—actually possessed such a talent.

A little girl, Hong Xiaoyun, started clapping. "Big Brother, you're really amazing!"

Auntie Huang sighed, "If not for his status, with this kind of skill, he could have been working at a newspaper office."

In less than twenty minutes, the sketch was finished. Wang Chunfeng, who had been sitting stiffly, felt her legs go a bit numb. But when she saw her portrait, she blushed slightly, feeling a bit embarrassed. Zheng Fei had captured her as she looked in her youth.

"You child, you're a sly one," she laughed. "I'm nowhere near as young as you’ve drawn me. I’m old now, and there are quite a few gray hairs."

"In my heart, you have always been this young and beautiful. If it weren't for you, our neighborhood wouldn't be this harmonious and stable."

"You have a silver tongue, don't you?"

Zheng Fei had no shame when it came to flattering people, but he knew that maintaining a good relationship with neighborhood officials was absolutely necessary.

"Director Wang, if you like it, please take this portrait as a gift."

"That won't do. You drew it. If you give it to me, it would look like I'm demanding things from you."

"But it’s your portrait. It wouldn't be right for me to keep it. When I draw for people at the Bund, I always give them the portraits. Isn't it all about serving the people?"

Hearing this, Director Wang realized the implications of his words. This boy was quite sharp.

"Fine, I will accept the drawing. But in the future, please report such activities to the community office in advance so we don't have to make special trips."

"Understood, Director Wang."

Wang Chunfeng looked at the sketch, liking it more the longer she looked. "By the way, Xiao Fei, with such a talent, would you like to join the production group? I can apply for a position as an artist for you."

Zheng Fei smiled. "You know as well as I do, my status is a bit complicated."

"I can help you resolve that. I'll write a letter reporting your situation truthfully; that should be enough."

Zheng Fei’s mouth twitched. If there was a way to solve it, why hadn't she helped him earlier? "With my mediocre skills, I wouldn't want to embarrass the collective. Everyone there is so talented; I’m really not worthy."

Director Wang frowned. "Fine, it’s your decision. Regardless, I’ll keep a spot open for you. You can come anytime."

Zheng Fei wasn't stupid. Because there were so many unemployed youths, the neighborhood had set up many production groups—some for sewing, some for knitting. They were all meant to settle the returning educated youth. But he had heard that when payday came around, they only took home about ten yuan. If he joined, the money he made at the Bund would belong to the collective to be divided among everyone. That would be foolish.

The matter was finally resolved. As the crowd began to disperse, Zheng Fei spotted the primary school student who had borrowed his eraser, standing right next to his father. It was Brother Wang’s child—no wonder he had looked familiar that day.

Zheng Fei found Brother Wang with a brand-new eraser. "Sorry about earlier, I was in a rush. I borrowed half an eraser from your son, and I promised to return a new one to him."

Having just witnessed Zheng Fei’s drawing skills, Brother Wang finally understood why he had needed the eraser. Seeing Zheng Fei return a brand-new one, Brother Wang scolded his son on the spot: "Wang Haoran, you borrowed it properly, so why did you tell me you were robbed? You made your father run around making a fool of himself! I'm going to tan your hide for this!"

Wang Haoran burst into tears. He felt incredibly wronged—not only had his eraser been taken, but even though the other person returned it, he was still getting a beating!

Zheng Fei felt awkward. "Brother Wang, talk it out. Don’t hit the child."

...

Zheng Fei’s best friend arrived shortly after hearing the news. With the sound of footsteps thumping up the stairs, he called out, "Brother Fei, are you alright?"

Zheng Fei laughed. "I'm standing right here, what could possibly be wrong?"

Zhu Xiaotao looked confused. "You scared me! I thought you were going to be made an example of. Wait, didn't you go out with that half-baked master yesterday? How are you back so soon?"

"What else could happen? I kicked him to the curb."

"Amazing! Brother Fei is the best."

But the next second, both of them were captivated by the portrait of Lord Guan on the wall. When Director Wang had arrived earlier, Zheng Fei had specifically covered it up, and with the dim light in the room, she hadn't noticed it. This era was full of contradictions: opening up while suppressing private businesses, cultural freedom alongside layer upon layer of censorship. To avoid unnecessary trouble, Zheng Fei had kept it hidden.

"You didn't draw this, did you?"

Zheng Fei didn't bother to hide it. "This is my room. If I didn't draw it, did you?"

"Incredible! You've got talent!"

Wang Qiusheng took a few looks at the Lord Guan portrait, but he was more interested in the sketch on the table. He picked it up and asked, "Did you draw this woman too?"

"Yes."

Wang Qiusheng grew excited. "She’s stunning! Where did you meet her? Can you introduce us?"

"I met her in the future."

"Stop joking, I'm serious."

Zheng Fei gave him a look of disdain. "I met this woman in a dream. It was a night in 2020, she was wearing sexy pajamas and lying by my side..."

"Nonsense."