After working tirelessly through the night, Yang milan produced an astonishing amount of translations—something that would normally take even the best translators days to complete. His incredible speed and accuracy came from his experience in his previous life, where he had professionally studied English, published articles, and translated many books. His proficiency was so high that even native speakers could not match him.
When old moe arrived at the bookstore the next morning, he was stunned by the massive stack of manuscripts Yang milan had completed. Even if someone wrote nonstop at normal speed, it would have been impossible to achieve such output in one night. Moe realized that Yang milan was no ordinary person—he was a treasure.
Instead of disturbing him, moe quietly called the provincial capital to report Yang's milan talent. Later that morning, Yang milan was informed that his manuscripts had passed review with an accuracy rate of over 98%. He was now officially recognized as a translator. This not only secured him income but also gave him access to state support.
Moe explained that special talents like Yang milan would be compensated not only with money but also with rare coupons—rice, meat, oil, and even industrial ones—which were extremely valuable in the 1970s. Yang milan requested food coupons first, knowing they were essential for his family. Though he also wanted industrial coupons for a bicycle (since he had to travel long distances to mail manuscripts), he felt embarrassed to ask too much at once. Moe promised to report his requests to higher-ups.
Grateful, Yang milan joined Xu for a celebratory meal at a state-owned restaurant. They feasted on meat dishes and drank Moutai, a luxury he had not enjoyed in years. Even though in his previous life Yang milan had lived in abundance and would have dismissed such simple food, his young reborn body craved it, and he found himself savoring every bite.
After the hearty meal, they returned to the bookstore. Moe organized books while Yang milan eagerly resumed translating. Moe even considered giving him more advanced professional texts, realizing Yang's milan abilities were far beyond ordinary.
This part explains the limitations Zhou Yang faces despite his talent. Here's a smooth retelling:
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Although Yang's milan skills were extraordinary, he was still only a newly recognized translator. Since the authorities had not yet conducted a political review of him, he could not be entrusted with confidential documents.
Old moe explained this clearly to him. Yang milan nodded in understanding and wasn't bothered by it. He knew very well that in this era, enemy spies existed everywhere. The higher-ups could never hand over sensitive information to someone without a verified background—no matter how talented that person might be.
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Since Yang milan was still a newcomer, his manuscripts had to go through reviews by higher authorities, and he himself had to undergo political investigations before being fully trusted. Only then would his skills be put to greater use. For now, he could only work on publicly available journals and magazines from Western countries.
But Yang milan didn't mind at all—his real goal wasn't state secrets, only to earn money. To him, there was little difference between translating professional books and translating magazines. The only thing that mattered was the pay.
That afternoon, he once again amazed Old moe by completing two more journals at lightning speed. Moe who had originally thought Yang's milan ability was only slightly below that of top experts in the provincial capital, realized he had underestimated him. Yang's milan translation level was at least equal to those experts—perhaps even stronger.
Overjoyed, moe invited Yang milan to the state-owned restaurant again after work. He wanted to build a good relationship with this rare talent. However, Yang milan knew the meals were expensive—ten yuan or more, with even a single bottle of Moutai costing four yuan. Considering that moe only earned a little over thirty yuan a month, Yang milan couldn't bear to let him spend so much on him again.
Friendship, Yang milan believed, required balance. If one always took advantage of the other, the relationship would not last. So this time, Yang milan insisted on paying for his own dinner. Still strapped for cash, he didn't order wine or meat but instead treated Old moe to two bowls of hot noodle soup.
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