The bamboo baskets have been selling fast lately, so Grandpa Lu wanted to take the opportunity to weave some more.
After the New Year, Siyuan will start school and need to pay tuition fees. High school also requires tuition fees, and his daughter hasn’t sent any money back yet. He kept it a secret; otherwise, his son and daughter-in-law might have opinions.
His grandson is doing well in school, and since he is still capable, he wants to earn some tuition fees to help out.
When he thought of his daughter, a look of worry involuntarily appeared on Grandpa Lu’s face.
Four years ago, his daughter and son-in-law said they were going to sea to fish with a fishing boat, saying the salary was very high, but they would only be able to return after two years.
But with an annual income of one thousand per person, after two years, they could build a new house for the family.
Unable to resist the temptation, they went, full of anticipation.
They thought they would be back in two years, but four years had passed, and they had only written back once halfway through, sending some money, although it wasn’t much.
Usually, Siyuan doesn’t mention his parents, but Grandpa Lu knows the child still misses them; he just doesn’t bring it up for fear of worrying him.
He sighed deeply and looked down, continuing to weave bamboo baskets.
Shen Mianmian, who was burning the fire while counting money, heard a sound and looked outside. She saw the old man weaving bamboo baskets with his head down, appearing somewhat lonely.
She casually asked, "Grandpa, are you worried about something?"
Siyuan paused from kneading the dough and said, "He probably misses my mom!"
Doesn’t that mean he’s thinking about Siyuan’s mother?
Mianmian had previously heard a bit about Siyuan’s parents; they went out to work and hadn’t been back for several years, leaving him in his grandfather’s care.
From the tone of Siyuan’s voice, there seemed to be some blame towards his parents!
After all, it was someone else’s family matter. Seeing that Siyuan didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, Shen Mianmian didn’t ask further and continued counting money.
Siyuan had thought she would continue the conversation and then ask some questions about his parents, giving him the chance to vent the frustration in his heart. But after waiting for quite a while, she didn’t speak up.
He couldn’t resist glancing at her, and what he saw made him indignant. The girl was swiftly counting money, her eyes reflecting the image of Chairman Mao on the bills, completely oblivious to what he had just said.
He snorted in irritation, turning his head and huffed through his nostrils, "Money-grubber, so tacky."
"Tacky and shallow — that’s my nickname," Shen Mianmian retorted, still counting money without looking up.
Siyuan was at a loss for words with her.
Shen Mianmian divided the money into three parts: one part was from Siyuan’s bamboo basket sales, one part was the cost of the winter melons, and the other was pure profit.
At the time, there were many people buying winter melons, and they were so afraid of not getting any that no one haggled. The melons were all sold at two and a half yuan each.
She’d rather lose out than give short weight; she had cut down on some of the weight for the two hundred and forty jin of winter melons, but the money she made was still considerable.
After deducting the cost of one yuan and twenty cents, she had actually made a profit of four yuan and seventy cents.
In an era where a steamed bun cost one cent, this was a substantial amount of money for a middle school student like her.
To think, her father only made about thirty yuan a month working in the kiln, which was already considered a higher income. Many people working in the city only made about twenty yuan a month.
In just over two hours, she had earned four yuan and seventy cents. If she could keep this up every day, she’d make over one hundred yuan a month, nearly half of her father’s half-year salary. Chapters fırst released on 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵✶𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✶𝓷𝓮𝓽
"How much did you earn? You’re smiling so much." Seeing Shen Mianmian’s eyes crinkle into crescents, Siyuan asked curiously.
"Four yuan and seventy cents," Shen Mianmian said happily, gesturing with her fingers.