Therefore, when his manuscript was submitted to the higher authorities, Yang milan himself also had to undergo their investigation.
Only after passing the review would his abilities be truly recognized by his superiors and given proper use.
Before that, he could only practice by working with less important journals and magazines that were published publicly in Western countries.
Fortunately, Yang's milan purpose in translation was not to access any state secrets, but simply to make money. For him, there was no difference between translating professional books and magazines—the only difference was the pay.
Yang milan spent an entire afternoon translating two journals at an astonishing speed.
His efficiency once again shocked Old moe,forcing the bookstore manager to reevaluate Yang's milan strength!
At first, Old moe thought Yang's milsnforeign language level was only at a professional standard, slightly worse than the foreign language experts in the provincial capital.
But now, it seemed he had underestimated Yang milan —his level was at least that of an expert, maybe even stronger than the professionals.
Delighted, Old moe invited Yang milan to the state-owned restaurant again after work. He wanted to build a good relationship with this young man, since such talent was very rare.
But this time, Yang milan didn't let Old moe treat him. He knew lunch wasn't cheap—at least more than ten yuan, when a bottle of Moutai only cost four yuan.
Although Old moe was a state official with a stable job, he earned just over thirty yuan a month. A single meal could cost one-third of his monthly salary, yet he still insisted on treating others.
But true friendship requires give and take. If you always take advantage of someone, the relationship won't last.
So Yang milan insisted on paying for his own dinner. However, because he wasn't wealthy, he didn't treat Old moe to meat and wine, but instead ordered two simple bowls of hot noodle soup.
---
The next morning, Yang milan woke early, packed his simple luggage, and prepared to return to Babaoliang office, since he had only been granted three days of leave.
There was only one long-distance bus from jing City to shallow County each day, departing in the morning. Yang milan planned to say goodbye to Old moe before heading to the bus station.
Although Old moe was reluctant to see this translation genius leave, he knew Yang milan was an educated youth assigned to work in the countryside. There was no reason for him to stay in the city long-term.
Besides, Yang's milan political review was still incomplete, so it was impossible for him to remain in jing City before that.
Fortunately, the higher-ups approved his request for advance payment of royalties—a piece of great news for Yang milan .
He was thrilled when Old moe handed him more than a dozen big-denomination bills along with a small stack of smaller notes.
Though this money couldn't make him rich, it was enough to improve his family's living conditions.
After thanking Old moe again, Yang milan left the jinhua Bookstore carrying over ten English journals and boarded the return bus.
After several hours of bumpy travel, he arrived in shallow County before noon.
Instead of returning directly to the village, Yang milan stopped in the county town to shop, since he now had both money and tickets.
Shallow County was small, with only one supply and marketing cooperative located in the town center.
When Yang milan entered, he saw several saleswomen serving village women wearing headscarves. Their skin was rough and dark, and their patched clothes made it obvious they were villagers there to sell eggs.
Egg-selling was one of the few commercial activities allowed in rural areas. Many families relied on it to buy oil, salt, sauce, and vinegar. Locals even jokingly called it the "Chicken Butt Bank."
As Yang milan entered, dressed in a clean tweed suit and carrying a canvas crossbody bag—a fashionable look of the time—he immediately drew the attention of several clerks.
He was a handsome young man, which made him stand out even more in the cooperative, where most staff were women.
A saleswoman with pigtails came over and asked, "Comrade, what can I get for you?"
Yang milan glanced at the shelves and said, "Ten kilos of rice, five kilos of meat, and two bottles of sorghum liquor. Also, weigh out two kilos of sugar, one kilo each of white and brown sugar, a bag of White Rabbit candy, and a box of malted milk! Oh, and give me a bar of soap, two towels, three toothbrushes, a box of toothpaste, and a box of vanishing cream."
The salesperson was stunned.
In this era of scarcity, people usually bought very little at a time. Not only were people poor, but supplies were limited. Yang's milan large shopping spree was shocking—like a supermarket discount frenzy in later generations.
Everyone in the store—buyers and sellers alike—paused and stared at Yang milan.
But Yang milan ignored the looks. His money was legally earned through labor. He hadn't stolen or cheated anyone, so he wasn't afraid of gossip.
Besides, his family was struggling, and he had to use his earnings to improve the living conditions of his wife and daughter.
He would never let Li mercy and his daughter continue living a hard life just because others might gossip.
So, after his shopping spree, Yang milan left the cooperative loaded with supplies, becoming the subject of an unforgettable story.
Since he had more than ten journals and many bags of goods, carrying them home on foot was unrealistic.
He went east to the mill, hoping to find villagers grinding flour who might give him a ride.
Luckily, he ran into Niu Dazhuang from his brigade, loading a mule cart.
Yang's milan eyes lit up. "Dazhuang, are you heading back to the village?"
Niu Dazhuang was surprised but nodded.
"I just came back and bought some things. Can I ride with you?" Yang milan asked.
"Sure, let me finish loading and we'll go."
Soon, the cart was packed with flour and wheat bran, and Yang milan added his own goods.
As they left the city, Niu Dazhuang asked, "yang milan , everyone in the village says you don't want mercy anymore. Is that true?"
Yang milan was shocked, then frowned. "Who said that? How could I not want my own wife?"