Old moe asked, "So, did you come to jing City for business, or to visit relatives and friends?"
"Neither," yang milan replied honestly. "To tell the truth, I came here just to earn some money and support my family."
Old moe wasn't surprised. Everyone was struggling these days—just having enough food to eat was considered fortunate. Anyone with even a little ability was looking for ways to earn extra money and improve their lives.
"So, does that mean you won't be staying long in Ningcheng?" Old moe asked again.
"I've only taken three days off from the team," Yang milan said. "I'll have to return the day after tomorrow."
After eating and drinking, Yang's milan next concern was finding a place to sleep for the night. But private hotels no longer existed—only state-owned guesthouses. Not only were they expensive, the service was terrible. Even worse, the single rooms were reserved for officials, leaving ordinary people with no choice but to share a room with strangers.
Yang milan didn't like the thought of that at all. But since he had no relatives in Ningcheng, the guesthouse seemed to be his only option.
After thinking it over again and again, he finally decided to stay in the guesthouse. But just as he stepped out of the state-owned hotel and was about to head there, someone suddenly called his name.
Looking up, Yang milan saw it was Old moe from the jinhua Bookstore, standing outside and waving to him.
Yang milan crossed the street with a smile. "Brother moe, are you on your way home?"
"I just got off work," Old moe said warmly. "I saw you coming out of the restaurant, so I thought I'd stop you for a chat. Is that convenient?"
"Of course, Brother moe. As long as I'm not keeping you from getting home too late."
"Haha, don't worry. My job is easy. Going home a little later won't matter."
With that, Old moe unlocked the bookstore door again and invited Yang milan inside. The two of them sat down across from his desk.
"Xiao milan " Old moe began, "after you left earlier, I suddenly thought of something. The higher-ups have been assigning translation tasks to bookstores in every city and province. We're expected to complete them and submit regular reports.
"But jing City is remote, with no universities. Talented translators are rare. Every month, I have to beg people to take on the work. It's exhausting, time-consuming, and expensive."
He leaned forward. "If your translations meet the standard, it'll be a huge help to me."
Yang milan immediately understood. "Brother moe, you can rest assured about the quality. With me here, you won't have to worry about those tasks anymore."
"That's wonderful! You don't know how hard it is to find a reliable translator these days. Every time work comes in, I'm forced to do it myself until I'm completely worn out."
Yang milan smiled. "If there are more assignments from above, just hand them to me. You'll be able to finish your quota, and I'll be able to earn money. It's a win-win."
A trace of regret flickered across Old moe eyes, but he quickly said, "I've already sent your manuscript to the provincial capital overnight. If there are no problems, we'll hear back tomorrow. If it passes, I'll settle your payment immediately."
"Thank you, Brother moe."
"You're welcome. Helping you is also helping myself," Old moe said with a smile.
---
"By the way, Xiao milan, you haven't found a place to stay for the night yet, have you?"
"Not yet. I was planning to stay at the guesthouse."
"Why go there? Come to my home instead. Ask your sister-in-law to make a few dishes. We can drink together tonight!"
"That wouldn't be right," Yang milan refused politely. "I'd be disturbing you and your family."
Old moe tried to insist, but Yang milan cut him off. "Brother moe, I appreciate your kindness, but not this time. I didn't prepare anything today, and it wouldn't be proper to visit your home empty-handed. Besides, I need to spend the evening translating if I want to improve quickly."
Seeing Yang's milan sincerity, Old moe gave in. "In that case, why don't you stay here at the bookstore? There's a small private room I use during lunch breaks. It has a bed and quilt—enough to get by for one night."
"Stay in the bookstore?" Yang milan hesitated.
"It's no trouble. The environment here is much better than a guesthouse, and it's perfect for your work. You don't even need to pay a deposit for the books."
At last, Yang milan agreed. Compared to the noisy guesthouse, the quiet, book-filled room was far more suitable for him.
Here's a smoother, novel-style English translation of the last part you shared:
Moe invitation was sincere. After a moment of hesitation, Yang milan finally nodded.
"In that case, I'll trouble you, Brother moe."
Old moe laughed heartily. "Hahaha, it's no trouble at all!"
Afterwards, Old moe showed Yang milan the location of the small private room inside the bookstore. At Yang's milan request, he also brought out two English journals for him. Then, after locking up the door, Old moe finally left the bookstore for the night.
The text you've shared is about Yang's mian late-night translation work and how it unexpectedly turns into a financial breakthrough for him. Here's a smoother summary in better English:
---
After Old moe left, Yang milan sat back at the small round table and continued translating under the dim light of a bulb. The bookstore was quiet, with only the sound of his pen scratching against paper. Time slipped away unnoticed, and by the time he finished translating the two books, dawn had already arrived. He realized he had worked through the entire night.
From afternoon until morning, Yang milan completed three journals, which contained 21 short stories, as well as two novels. According to the agreed payment, each short story earned him 5 yuan, totaling 105 yuan, and the two novels, calculated at 3 yuan per thousand words, earned him another 27 yuan. Altogether, he made 132 yuan.
Though this sum was small compared to the special state allowance he once received in his previous life, in his current situation it was a huge windfall. To put it into perspective, in the 1970s an industrial worker in the county town earned less than 30 yuan a month, and many laborers only made a dozen yuan. One hundred and thirty yuan was equivalent to nearly half a year's salary for an ordinary worker.
Yang's milan own family had only managed to save 100 yuan in four years of marriage, even with the help of his father-in-law, the village party secretary. In one night, Yang milan had earned more than four years of savings. More importantly, he now realized he had discovered the key to wealth.
Although tired, he felt deeply satisfied as he looked at the thick stack of manuscripts in front of him. He had not worked this hard in a long time, but the reward was worth it.