Reborn in 1982, the prodigal son returns

The next morning, Lin Nuo didn't go into the mountains; instead, he went to the village chief Liu Guicun's house first.

Liu Guicun was squatting in the yard brushing his teeth, with a mouthful of water in his mouth. He gurgled for a while before spitting it out onto the ground with a "plop".

He looked up and saw Lin Nuo standing at the courtyard gate, grinning.

"Hey, Nuozi? Has the sun risen in the west? You never come here unless you need something."

He tossed the toothbrush into the enamel mug and wiped his hands on his trouser leg.

"Speak, what's the matter this time?"

"Hey, Uncle, you're smoking."

Lin Nuo walked in, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and handed one over.

Liu Guicun took it and put it in his mouth. Lin Nuo struck a match and lit it for him. As the flame approached, Liu Guicun squinted at him, took a puff, and inhaled the smoke.

"Uncle, I'd like to build a chicken coop. Do you know anyone who can help me order some red bricks from a brick factory?"

Liu Guicun raised his eyelids and looked him up and down a few times:

"Red bricks? You've struck it rich, kid? Those are only used for building houses. You're using red bricks to build a chicken coop?"

Lin Nuo was taken aback. Having spent so much time in the city in his previous life, his first thought was "building things with red bricks," and he'd completely forgotten about this detail. He scratched his head, a little embarrassed.

"Then...what should we do?"

Liu Guicun squatted down, held the cigarette between his fingers, flicked off the ash, and said slowly:

"Nuozi, how much money do you have?"

"Around two hundred yuan."

"Two hundred yuan for red bricks?"

Liu Guicun clicked his tongue:

"A brick costs two cents. How many bricks would you need to build a chicken coop? The cost of bricks alone would bankrupt you. How would you buy chicks and feed then?"

Lin Nuo was stunned for a moment.

Is it that expensive?

He was being too naive. He squatted down, looking Liu Guicun in the eye, and spoke sincerely:

"Uncle, please show me the way."

Liu Guicun took a drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled. He squinted his eyes, thought for a moment, and then spoke:

"Adobe bricks. You make adobe bricks to build the chicken coop."

"Adobe bricks?"

"Yes. Mix yellow mud with straw, pour it into a wooden mold, and let it dry in the sun before using. It doesn't cost a penny, but it takes a lot of work. It'll be perfect when the ground thaws in the spring."

Liu Guicun paused, then tapped the cigarette ash off his shoe:

"If you're building a house, adobe bricks won't do; they're not sturdy enough. But for a chicken coop? They're more than enough. Your dad used adobe bricks to build the east room back then, and it's still perfectly fine after twenty years, isn't it?"

Lin Nuo's eyes lit up. In his past life, he knew nothing about these things. His father had handled the construction of the house; he couldn't even distinguish between bricks and tiles. He nodded, his tone firm:

"Okay. Uncle, how do you make these adobe bricks? This is my first time doing this."

Liu Guicun stood up, patted the dirt off his knees, and took out a rake and a wooden mold from the corner of the wall.

He squatted down, placed the mold on the ground, and gestured with a rake a couple of times:

"First, dig up yellow clay, add straw and water, and tamp it down with your feet. Once the clay and straw are mixed evenly and there are no hard lumps, shovel it into a mold, smooth it out, unmold it, and dry it in the sun. That's all there is to it. There's no trick to it, it's just hard work."

He stood up and handed the rake to Linno:

"If you find it too much trouble, I can call a few people for you. It's spring now, and there are plenty of able-bodied men in the village. If you provide meals, one lunch a day for each person, and there's some meat, more people will definitely come. Your family has helped people in the village before, so they won't refuse."

Lin Nuo took the rake and weighed it in his hand. The iron head was heavy. He nodded.

"Alright. Uncle, then I'll leave this to you."

Liu Guicun waved his hand:

"What's the trouble? Your father helped me back then, so it's only right that I help you."

He paused, then added:

"As for your older brother... I heard from your father that his father-in-law is paralyzed, so don't expect too much from him. Your father is still quite healthy, so let him keep an eye on things for you."

Lin Nuo felt a warmth in her heart. Liu Guicun wasn't one to say anything sweet, but he always thought of things that were on your mind.

"Uncle, I'll head back now. I'll treat you to drinks another day."

"No rush to drink."

Liu Guicun patted him on the shoulder:

"When you've raised your chickens, how about you treat me to a chicken meal? Consider it an honor for me."

Lin Nuo smiled:

"Uncle, I'll remember what you said."

"Get lost, get lost, stop talking nonsense."

Lin Nuo turned and walked to the door, and Liu Guicun called out again from behind:

"Nuozi! Your father used to be the most respectable person in the village, don't embarrass him."

Lin Nuo turned around, looked at Liu Guicun's face, roughened by the wind, and nodded seriously.

After returning from the village chief's place, I went to see my older brother, but he wasn't home. It seems I shouldn't disturb him for now. I also went into the mountains to dig up some medicinal herbs, probably because I have something else on my mind.

We didn't gain much.

I did see some squirrels jumping out; it really is almost spring, as long as there isn't a sudden cold snap.

At night, the kerosene lamp in the east room was lit.

Su Wanqing sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), with several sheets of paper spread out in front of her. She held the Yong Sheng 101 fountain pen in her hand and wrote stroke by stroke.

Ever since Lin Nuo gave her a pep talk, Su Wanqing has been writing with increasing enthusiasm.

Lin Nuo took off her cotton-padded coat and sat down next to her. Looking down, she saw that she was still writing about school life. The writing was childish, like a toddler learning to walk, but it had a simple charm.

Lin Nuo couldn't help but chuckle.

Su Wanqing looked up, her cheeks slightly flushed, and reached out to cover the manuscript. Lin Nuo was faster; she gently pulled the manuscript over and held it up to look at it.

Su Wanqing couldn't reach it, so she slapped his arm in frustration:

"Give it back to me!"

"Teacher Su,"

Lin Nuo put down the manuscript paper, her eyes smiling:

"You wrote very well, but it's a bit... too formal, and too childish."

Su Wanqing pursed her lips and remained silent, the tips of her ears slowly turning red. She knew her writing wasn't good, but being told so directly by Lin Nuo still made her a little resentful.

She was, after all, a person with higher education, so she naturally disagreed with Lin Nuo's bluntness.

Looking at her, Lin Nuo's heart stirred. A wicked idea popped into his head, and his mind, finding it feasible, immediately began to act. He put the manuscript back on the table, turned around, and faced her directly.

"Teacher Su, let's make a bet."

"What kind of bet?"

Su Wanqing looked at him warily.

"I'll also write a short story and submit it."

Lin Nuo's lips curled up:

"If I write better than you, you'll have to listen to me tonight."

Su Wanqing's face flushed red, from her earlobes all the way down to the base of her neck. She naturally understood what Lin Nuo meant; recently, Lin Nuo had been having some strange ideas.

However, she has always disagreed.

Su Wanqing bit her lip, wanting to call him "shameless," but looking at Lin Nuo's confident expression, she felt indignant. Although her writing was immature, it was at least sincere.

Before Lin Nuo got married, he was a good-for-nothing who didn't even finish junior high school. What could he possibly write?

"good,"

She raised her head, her chin slightly tilted back, a hint of defiance in her eyes:

"If you don't write well, you're not allowed to touch me tonight."

Lin Nuo smiled mischievously, and Su Wanqing felt inexplicably flustered.

He pulled out a few blank sheets of paper from under his pillow, picked up the fountain pen, unscrewed the cap, and wrote six characters on the paper: “The Sad Little Wangzhuang”.

Su Wanqing leaned closer to take a look. The handwriting was crooked and messy, truly ugly. A smile played on her lips as she thought: With handwriting like this, what good things could she possibly write?

The ominous feeling I had just had was all an illusion.

Lin Nuo wrote calmly and unhurriedly.

He wrote a story he had read in a magazine called "Story Club" in his previous life.

He had read those magazines countless times. After Su Wanqing left in his previous life, he started studying and reading. He never expected that they would come in handy in this life.

In Xiaowangzhuang, there were two neighboring families, one surnamed Wang and the other surnamed Li. The Wang family's chicken pecked at the Li family's vegetables, and the Li family's dog bit the Wang family's chicken.

What started as trivial matters escalated into a bitter feud between the two families. One day you'd throw dirty water in front of my house, the next day I'd throw stones into your yard. The conflict eventually reached the village chief, who mediated at least three times, resulting in the two families shaking hands and making peace in person, only to resume their rivalry immediately afterward.

Finally, the sons of the Wang family and the sons of the Li family met at the village entrance, and before they could finish exchanging three sentences, they started stabbing each other.

One died, the other went to jail. The two families knelt at the village entrance and wept, weeping for each other and for themselves.

The story is vividly written. Lin Nuo captured the rural people's "stubbornness to save face even at the cost of suffering" spirit to the core. Aunt Wang clearly felt sorry for those chickens, but said, "A few broken eggs, who cares?"; Grandpa Li clearly wanted to apologize, but the words that came out were, "Your chickens should be killed."

The characters' dialogue is incredibly corny, but every word hits home.

Su Wanqing initially found fault with the work, but as she watched, her smile faded and her brows furrowed. Seeing the places where the two sons had used knives, her fingers unconsciously clenched the corner of the blanket, her knuckles turning white.

After Lin Nuo finished writing the last word, he put down his pen, gently blew on the ink, and then handed the manuscript paper to her.

"Teacher Su, please give me your guidance."

Su Wanqing took it and read it through again from beginning to end. Her eyes slowly widened, her pupils reflecting the crooked and messy handwriting on the manuscript. Although the words were ugly, the power of words lies not in their form.

She looked up at Lin Nuo, her eyes filled with something she couldn't quite explain—surprise, shock, and a touch of frustration.

She read so many books, yet her writing was not as good as a hunter's casual stroke of the pen.

"When...when did you learn to write this?"

Su Wanqing's voice was a little tense.

Lin Nuo smiled, reached out and took her hand, gently rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand:

"I learned this in my past life, Teacher Su, do you believe it or not?"

Su Wanqing didn't understand the sentence, but she didn't ask. She lowered her head and looked at the article "The Sad Little Wangzhuang" again, her lips pursed, and she didn't speak for a long time.

After a long while, she said in a muffled voice:

"You write better than me."

Lin Nuo didn't rush to "collect the debt." Instead, he took the manuscript back, turned to the last page, and pointed to a line of text:

"Do you think it would be better if this were changed to 'Aunt Wang's hair turned white overnight'?"

Su Wanqing was stunned for a moment, then looked up at him.

Lin Nuo's eyes shone brightly in the kerosene lamplight, devoid of any smugness or mockery, but earnest. He was genuinely discussing writing with her.

Su Wanqing buried her face in his shoulder, her voice muffled: "All these years of studying have been for nothing."

Lin Nuo reached out and hugged her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head, his voice very soft:

"How could that be? Teacher Su's only problem is that she's not good at writing stories."

The two of them just sat there.

After a while, Su Wanqing lifted her head from his shoulder, wiped the corner of her eye with the back of her hand, and her voice returned to normal, though with a hint of nervousness:

"So... what do you want?"

Lin Nuo's heart skipped a beat when he saw her red eyes and slightly upturned lips. He reached out and gently brushed the stray hairs from her face, his fingers tracing her earlobe.

"Teacher Su,"

He leaned close to her ear, his voice low and hoarse:

"you guess?"

Su Wanqing instinctively tried to back away, but Lin Nuo's hand was already around her waist. She struggled, but couldn't break free, her voice muffled:

"You...you're cheating..."

"How did I cheat?"

Lin Nuo grinned mischievously:

"You made the bet; if you write well, you'll do as I say."

"But you... what you are doing is..."

Su Wanqing's voice grew softer and softer.

"What's wrong?"

Lin Nuo pulled her closer into his arms:

"Teacher Su, you can't accept defeat."

Su Wanqing fell silent, her ears turning bright red.

Lin Nuo didn't give her any more chance to struggle and blew out the kerosene lamp.

He finally got his chance.

A rustling sound came from the darkness.

"Lin Nuo..."

"Um."

"Don't... I haven't finished reading that manuscript yet..."

"I'll see tomorrow."

"But……"

"No buts."

"Well……"

Silent all night.

The next morning, Lin Nuo emerged from the east room feeling refreshed and stretched. Her shoulders were a little sore, but her steps were as light as if she were walking on cotton.

I've finally achieved my goal; I've put some of those magazine readings from my past life into practice.

Zhao Xiuying was cooking porridge in the kitchen when she heard the noise and poked her head out, looking him up and down:

Why are you so happy today?

Lin Nuo chuckled, didn't answer, went into the kitchen, ladled out a bowl of porridge, and squatted down to drink it.

Soft footsteps sounded behind her. Su Wanqing came out of the east room, wearing a dark blue cotton-padded jacket, a red scarf around her neck, and her hair was a little messy, as she hadn't had time to comb it.

She saw Lin Nuo squatting against the wall drinking porridge and glared at him fiercely, but the glare wasn't very effective; her lips were still a little swollen.

Lin Nuo looked up and grinned at her.

Su Wanqing lightly spat and turned to go into the kitchen. Zhao Xiuying watched her walk, unable to suppress the smile on her lips, and quickly lowered her head to pretend to stir the porridge.

After finishing his porridge, Lin Nuo put down his bowl, took out the manuscript "The Sad Little Wangzhuang" from his pocket, and read it again. He thought for a moment, folded the manuscript, and put it in his pocket.

"Mother, I'm going to town to mail a letter."

Zhao Xiuying was stunned for a moment:

"Send a letter? To whom?"

"Submit an article to the county newspaper."

Zhao Xiuying opened her mouth, as if to ask something, but then swallowed her words. She understood less and less about what this child was doing lately. But it didn't matter; as long as it was something important, she would support her.

"Okay, come back soon."

Lin Nuo pushed open the courtyard gate and walked briskly towards the village entrance.

It seems like you can make a lot of money by submitting articles for writing now. Lin Nuo also has other ideas. If he dictates and Su Wanqing writes, they might just create a female literary giant.