Chapter 2

“Tape won’t hold it tightly. Is Green Vine the only one making metal chimneys?” Wang Xuejiao grew anxious.

Zheng Yuezhen was indifferent. “Old Yang’s price is at least ten yuan cheaper than others.”

“Only ten yuan…” Wang Xuejiao was about to argue that it wasn’t worth risking so much for a few yuan, but Zheng Yuezhen cut her off. “You haven’t even earned a month’s salary yet, and you’re already looking down on a few yuan!”

That remark left Wang Xuejiao speechless. The original owner had just started at the Security Section less than a month ago. Although the electronics factory was generous enough to pay for those few days, the salary hadn’t been disbursed yet—and honestly, those days’ wages weren’t much.

Her monthly pay was just over two hundred yuan. Having worked only half a month, her paycheck would be at most one hundred yuan. In that light, ten yuan was indeed a significant amount.

Wang Xuejiao knew many people were caught up in the “stock craze,” while others were speculating in real estate in Hainan or buying goods in Shenzhen.

They spoke casually about becoming ten-thousand-yuan households as if it were nothing.

The problem was—she had no capital. Otherwise, just buying a hundred properties now would guarantee future prosperity.

To be honest, Zheng Yuezhen was genuinely a commendable mother. When she was sent to the countryside during the Down to the Countryside Movement, she still studied diligently. Others mocked her as foolish, questioning the point of studying. Yet in 1973, universities began recruiting workers, peasants, and soldiers as students.

Though at that time political vetting was paramount and knowledge secondary, one still needed some intellect. Many passed political checks but were silent when teachers questioned them, making them impossible to engage with.

Back then, Zheng Yuezhen was three months pregnant, enduring morning sickness while studying. People advised her to give up, saying “Life’s a university of society; why exhaust yourself?”

But she was determined to try.

Wang Jianguo once advised her, to which Zheng Yuezhen replied, “No matter what, I have to try. I don’t want to live a regrettable life and blame it on marrying you or having this child for ruining my future.”

Fortune favored her perseverance. She was admitted to a university in the capital. However, Wang Xuejiao had just been born, and relatives and colleagues urged her not to go, saying the child would grow quickly, and missing this opportunity would be regrettable. Some even warned the daughter might not recognize her someday.

Zheng Yuezhen steeled her resolve, switched her daughter to formula feeding, and declared, “I believe my daughter will never not recognize me!”

She went alone to study in the capital. Initially planning to return after four years, the 1977 restoration of the national college entrance exam and graduate recruitment made her decide to stay, returning only after completing her studies.

During that period, Wang Jianguo faced immense pressure. Many speculated his wife must have someone else, reasoning that men are usually ruthless when it comes to their children, but mothers wouldn’t behave this way unless they had an affair or were planning one.

“Women admire strength. Zheng Yuezhen became a graduate student; how could she still look up to me?”

“So next step is to abandon me, her husband!”

Ordinary men might have confronted their wives or threatened divorce to keep them in line.

But Wang Jianguo thought differently: “I’m not a worthless nobody. She’s smarter, but my skills are better. She has knowledge; I can have money!”

In 1977, rumors spread that the south would be designated as an economic special zone, requiring many workers.

Basic workers were in demand.

Elite professionals even more so!

Thus, Wang Jianguo entrusted their daughter to his parents, took unpaid leave, and headed south to engage in business and earn foreign exchange vouchers.

Everyone assumed the couple would divorce. Neighbors had already decided who would get custody and how to divide assets.

Unexpectedly, Zheng Yuezhen returned after graduation and was assigned to a factory.

Originally, her rank entitled her to a single-room apartment at best, but since she went to university after her rural stint and those years counted as work experience—and as a 1977 graduate student—she was granted a three-bedroom apartment, and her other benefits skyrocketed.

Though Wang Jianguo did not become a wealthy tycoon after moving south, his solid electrical skills and dedication earned him a decent income.

Back in Green Vine City, he bought a storefront and started a home appliance repair business, which grew to three shops. The factory often had technical problems they couldn’t solve, and colleagues would bring gifts to seek his help.

Wang Xuejiao knew she had two parents far away who sent her treats. She was dressed like a little princess every day and could have anything she wanted.

While classmates struggled to buy snacks, Wang Xuejiao could buy clothes and shoes on a whim. By 1983, she already owned a piano, beginning a life of practicing while crying.

There was never any “daughter not recognizing parents” nonsense. In fact, several neighborhood children would retort to their scolding parents, “You always compare me to others. Why don’t you compare yourselves to Wang Xuejiao’s parents?”

Growing up in such an environment, Wang Xuejiao’s temperament inevitably became somewhat spoiled and self-centered. This explained why, in the era of job assignments, she would refuse to work when she didn’t feel like it. Her parents felt some guilt over their absence during her upbringing, so they helped her transfer jobs rather than scold her into shape.

Wang Xuejiao pressed her temples in frustration: The family was not poor; why bother saving a few yuan by patching up the chimney with duct tape?

On reflection, it was likely because their money was earned bit by bit, unlike trading scarce materials or stocks, where a blink could turn a hundred into ten thousand.

Money that comes easily is often taken lightly.

“Eat quickly! What time is it? Are you not going to work?” Zheng Yuezhen urged again.

Wang Xuejiao glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s not even eight yet.”

“Work starts at eight-thirty. It’s your first day; are you really going to be cutting it so close?” Zheng Yuezhen scolded. “Did you forget what I told you?”

Wang Xuejiao paused and recalled what Zheng Yuezhen had told the original: “You’re new, so be proactive and diligent to make a good impression on your colleagues and leaders. Address everyone as ‘teacher.’ Arrive early to clean and prepare hot water.”

She also remembered fragmented details — when the transfer to the police station was finalized, her mother took her to thank Qiao Shan’s family. Du Zhigang told her female officers had little to do; the only requirement was to answer calls promptly, be polite to visitors at the window, and that if there was nothing to do while on duty, they could sleep on the provided military cot in the office. If uncomfortable, they could bring their own bedding.

For Wang Xuejiao, who had worked as a customer service rep, waitress, and cashier, this was a breeze.

She had seen customers put half a cockroach in a dish to get a free meal. Surely no one would dare cause trouble at the police station.

Wang Xuejiao was very satisfied with this job. The electronics factory would close in a few years, but the police station would never shut down.

Now, she just wanted a stable job, preferably one with a clear path, so that when she grew older, she could rely on seniority to arrive late, leave early, and occasionally take a half-day off without losing pay.

She was done with the exhausting life of “working late into the night for meetings, burning the midnight oil to finish files by morning, only to be told the company was dissolved the next day.”

Stepping out of the apartment building, she met Du Zhigang pushing a bicycle in the hallway. He patted the rear seat. “Hop on, I’ll take you over.”

“So close and you’re riding?” Wang Xuejiao laughed.

Du Zhigang chuckled, “They’re handing out tangerines today. Too bad you’re a few days late; otherwise, you’d get some.”

“No worries, there’s plenty of time.”

Wang Xuejiao confidently jumped onto the back of the bike. Having been a contract worker, she had witnessed the inner workings of the system. It wasn’t like an overpowered novel hero hiding connections until a showdown; if you wanted peace, you had to be transparent about your strength, like countries holding military parades and exercises to gauge each other, fostering cordial relations.

At the police station, a colleague on the night shift greeted Du Zhigang. He pointed to Wang Xuejiao: “This is the new household registration officer, Wang Xuejiao. Xiao Wei, show her the ID card and household registration procedures.”

Xiao Wei glanced at the clock on the wall.

Du Zhigang noticed: “Don’t worry, there’s still half an hour.”

Xiao Wei gave a sheepish laugh.

At 8:29, Wang Xuejiao had learned everything she needed, though proficiency would come with practice.

Xiao Wei exhaled in relief, took out yesterday’s duty log, wrote a report, and signed it.

Wang Xuejiao noticed the entry read “Nothing happened.”

To see such a fortunate note on her first day signaled that her future shifts would be just as calm and pleasant.

She exclaimed, “Great, nothing’s happened at all!”

Just then, Xiao Wei froze, then dashed to the back room to change out of his uniform. His hand was on the door handle when someone burst into the station shouting, “Fight at the intersection! One has a brick, the other a stick. Hurry! Someone might get killed!”

Xiao Wei resignedly turned around, grabbed a colleague who was heading to the restroom, and followed the others outside. Passing Wang Xuejiao, he lamented, “Never say it’s boring or easy here…”

“Oh…” she replied guiltily.

After they left, day-shift officers arrived one by one. Du Zhigang introduced them: “This is Instructor Liu Zheng, Chief Fang Jiang, Clerk Liu Kangmei—she’s retiring next year—Deputy Director Zhao Yuanchao, and Officer Li Chaomei…”

Tianjin Police Station had seventeen people in total. Du Zhigang quickly rattled off names. Wang Xuejiao smiled and nodded, memorizing more than half but still unable to match faces. She’d take it slow.

Her first day passed pleasantly—meeting people, processing several household registrations and ID applications—and she left work on time. She increasingly felt, “This is the life I want.”

At dinner, Zheng Yuezhen asked, “How’s the police station?”

“Pretty good. Everyone else is swamped, but I only have my own tasks, and not many people come by,” Wang Xuejiao said appreciatively.

Zheng Yuezhen looked at her seriously. “Are you sure you want to work at the police station and not go back to the electronics factory?”

“Huh?” Wang Xuejiao nonchalantly ate her meal.

“Think it over carefully. Once your file transfers, you can’t change your mind.”

So the file hadn’t transferred yet…

The electronics factory looked prosperous now but would be taken over by villains in four years.

Wang Xuejiao pondered briefly. Zheng Yuezhen nodded: “Good, no changes.”

Wang Jianguo also sternly said, “This time it’s your choice. You can’t be capricious anymore. Don’t always rely on your parents’ connections. Your future depends on your own efforts.”

“Don’t worry! By the way, we should buy a new chimney. I heard about two carbon monoxide poisonings at the station today—fortunately not serious, just vomiting and back pain. If worse, entire families could die. We’re not short on money. If not now, I’ll buy it Sunday!”

Wang Jianguo reached for a dish. “I’ll buy it tomorrow.”

The next day at noon, the phone in front of Wang Xuejiao rang, surprising her. Most households didn’t have landlines; calls had to be made from public booths, and according to Xiao Wei, they only received about a dozen emergency calls monthly, with nights being especially quiet.

Wang Xuejiao answered, “Hello, Tianjin Police Station.”

It was Wang Jianguo’s voice from the other end: “Jiao Jiao! I’m at Yongsheng Department Store. Something’s happened—someone’s trying to commit suicide.”

“Which building? What floor? Male or female?” Wang Xuejiao immediately switched to work mode, noting down details accurately.

Learning the person was female, two male officers hesitated before heading out. Li Chaomei looked at Chief Fang Jiang: “Old Fang, for persuading a woman, shouldn’t a female officer accompany?”

There were only two female officers at the station. Sister Liu was skilled in all tasks, and Wang Xuejiao had to ask her for anything beyond the standard procedures.

If Sister Liu went, leaving Wang Xuejiao behind, many matters would pile up until Liu returned.

Wang Xuejiao stood up. “I’ll go.”