Chapter Forty-Eight: Back to Work

Chen Liang’s lunch at the Zhao family home was exceptionally harmonious; not a hint of the comedic drama where the visiting son-in-law gets drunk to prove himself. Zhao’s father and elder brother toasted back and forth, hardly including Chen Liang in their rounds—only occasionally remembering to offer him a cup. Honestly, why would anyone want to compete with a seasoned drinker? That’s just asking for trouble.

In the afternoon, Chen Liang took his beloved Xiaoyu to visit his mentor, Master Tong, for New Year’s greetings. He chose the second day of the new year for a reason known only to himself.

The courtyard was an old-fashioned, secluded quadrangle. As Chen Liang entered with Xiaoyu, he caught sight of his mentor, who wore an expression both displeased and resigned.

“Master, your disciple and his wife have come to pay their respects!” The old man was strict, full of rituals—otherwise, Chen Liang would have truly enjoyed visiting him more often.

After the couple kowtowed three times together, the old man’s mood brightened, his face breaking into a smile as he pulled two large red envelopes from his pocket. “Take these. You rascal—finally bringing your wife home, unlike some people! These years, I haven’t seen even a trace of them.”

Hearing the old man’s sarcastic tone, Xiaoyu felt a bit lost, awkwardly standing in place and blinking at Chen Liang.

Chen Liang hurriedly led her inside, whispering, “Don’t worry, sweetheart! The old man isn’t targeting you. He’s just in a bad mood—let’s pay him no mind.”

“Hey! Someone’s talking about me, aren’t they? Dad, from now on, just say what you mean—no need for hints!” At that moment, a formidable woman in army uniform emerged from the inner room.

“Senior Sister, I’m here!” Chen Liang quickly greeted her, eager to bring his wife inside.

He’d had enough of the father-daughter skirmishes; every time they clashed, Chen Liang felt a headache coming on. This woman was Master Tong’s own daughter, Tong Weiguo—a strikingly robust figure.

Her toughness was more about her aura: indifferent to life and death, brazenly fearless. Though she’d aged, her looks were still impressive.

After all, Master Tong, in the old days, was a renowned gentle rogue of the underworld, and Chen Liang’s mentor’s wife had been a top courtesan in the Eight Alleys. Who knows how she overlooked countless poets and scholars, yet somehow chose Master Tong.

In Chen Liang’s memory, he recalled the first time Chen Er Leng paid respects and met Senior Sister—so awestruck, no less than Chen Liang’s first encounter with Teacher Xiaoyu.

But alas, you couldn’t expect a top courtesan and a gangster to raise a child well.

Senior Sister Tong Weiguo was raised as a boy by her father—straightforward and bold. After coming of age and completing her apprenticeship, she was swept up by youthful enthusiasm and left a note before joining the army.

She was gone for four or five years, only returning after the nationwide liberation. When her parents tried to arrange a marriage for her, she declared she already had a revolutionary companion, and after his sacrifice, would remain a widow in his honor.

Imagine the expressions on her parents’ faces—a courtesan and a gangster raising a daughter with such upright values?

This caused quite a rift, and Senior Sister never returned home until her mother passed away, leaving only her lonely father. Then she set aside her grievances and started looking after him.

After greetings, Chen Liang prepared to set down his gifts and leave. This father-daughter pair was a force to be reckoned with, and he was determined not to get involved.

“Hey, so this is the sister-in-law! She’s really beautiful. Here’s a red envelope from Senior Sister—hold on to it.”

Accepting the envelope, Chen Liang thanked her, quickly put down his things, and made a quiet escape with his wife. Any longer, and the father-daughter would start sparring again—and that would be the end of them!

On the way, Xiaoyu was still confused, so Chen Liang patiently recounted the story of the two, especially Senior Sister’s vow to remain a widow. Hearing this, Xiaoyu’s eyes reddened and she hugged Chen Liang tightly from behind.

“Chen Liang, if that day ever comes, I must die before you. I can’t imagine living in a world without you!”

For a scoundrel like Chen Liang, this was a gift-wrapped answer. “Alright! When the time comes, I’ll carry your share of love, etched into my soul, and live on for you!”

Though who knows—when you watch me from above, seeing me go for foot massages every day, will you leap from your coffin to strangle me?

Oops! Accidentally said what he was thinking!

Heh... ptooey! Scoundrel!

“Hmm! Chen Liang, why are you so good to me?” Xiaoyu, moved by his answer, pressed her face against his back.

Isn’t that obvious? Because you’re beautiful! If you looked like Pigsy’s second aunt and streaked in front of me, if I so much as glanced your way, it’d be considered harassment!

“Darling, love has no reason—because it only cares about who it’s for!”

In these times, Chen’s rustic love talk was unbeatable—just like Xiaoyu, who, after coming home and finding the house empty, was coaxed by him into blushing and joining him for a lesson in the art of untying shoelaces without using hands.

On the third day, the holiday ended. Chen’s father brought home a letter of job introduction for Chen Liang after work.

After waiting so long, today had finally come—Chen Liang’s job quota was here. From tomorrow, he no longer had to fear being called unemployed, because now he was a working man!

Some may not understand why people of this era are so obsessed with having a job.

Because work isn’t just a means to support a family—it’s a person’s reputation.

Otherwise, take someone like Chen Liang—backed by a supermarket, he’d never go hungry and could laze at home all his life, and his family wouldn’t mind one extra idler.

But the reputation suffered—maybe people wouldn’t comment to his face, but who knows what they’d say behind his back.

And in this era, reputation really mattered. For example, look at Yi Zhonghai—nowadays he’s as honest as can be, not daring to make even the smallest fuss.