Chapter Eleven: Reading

After the family finished their meal and tallied the money, a jubilant Yang Kaishan urged everyone to head home and get some sleep.

Before leaving, Wang Zhaodi asked tentatively, "Dad, I’d like to visit my parents' home tomorrow to ask my brothers—Xiaowen and Xiaowu’s uncles—if they’d like to join us in this work. What do you think?"

Sun Chunni’s heart stirred at her sister-in-law's words. Although the old saying goes that a married daughter is like spilled water, one should still lend a hand when a genuine opportunity arises. After all, tradition dictates that one must wait for their uncles to arrive before burying a mother; the principle of kinship remains the same.

Yang Kaishan remained silent for a moment, leaving Wang Zhaodi feeling a bit anxious. Finally, he spoke: "Very well. Go after you finish harvesting the wheat ears tomorrow morning. Tell them to head to the city to meet us once they’ve finished their own harvest. But since they might not be able to return at night, tell them to bring bedding; the night dew is heavy. Chunni, you should call your brothers as well. You’re all family, so help each other out, but be careful—make sure word doesn't leak out."

"Understood! Right away!"
"Oh, thank you, Dad!"

Wang Zhaodi and Sun Chunni were overjoyed. Yang Chunsheng then led his family away. On the walk home, Yang Xiaolan noticed her second brother walking with a slight limp and asked, "Second Brother, what’s wrong?"

"It’s nothing. I think I’ve got some blisters on my feet."

Hearing this, Wang Zhaodi immediately told her eldest son to help him along. Yang Xingwen supported his brother as they limped the rest of the way home. Once inside, Yang Xiaolan quickly lit the kerosene lamp, and Wang Zhaodi found a needle and adjusted the wick, instantly brightening the room. After turning the flame up, she had her youngest son wash his feet. Once they were dry, she brought the lamp closer to inspect them.

The soles of both his feet were covered in blisters, some of which had already burst. Heartbroken, Wang Zhaodi sterilized a needle in the flame and carefully lanced the blisters, squeezing them out. Yang Chunsheng went to the east room, retrieved a bottle of his prized aged liquor, and poured some over the soles of Yang Xingwu’s feet. The sting made Yang Xingwu wince, though he didn't cry out.

"You’ve just recovered from a major illness, and then you walked over a hundred miles in two days—it’s no wonder you have blisters!" Wang Zhaodi lamented. "Don't go tomorrow. Stay home and rest properly. You won't be able to walk for a day or two!"

"That won't do. I’ll come back to rest after we finish harvesting the wheat ears tomorrow! This is a rare opportunity; we have to seize it."

"Fine, you can help with the wheat, but then come home and rest. Your brother and I can manage; we’re familiar with the process now," Yang Chunsheng decided, insisting that his second son take a day off.

"Exactly, Little Brother, just leave it to me! Big Brother will definitely sell faster than you!" Yang Xingwen declared, patting his chest confidently. The four hundred yuan they had seen at their grandfather’s house had stirred him deeply. If he could keep this up for a few more days, he would have enough money to get married. At that thought, he felt filled with energy.

Seeing his family in such high spirits, Yang Xingwu felt a deep sense of warmth. With his brother’s help, they went to the west room and crawled onto the kang. Although they had ridden an ox cart part of the way back, the father and his three children had covered 180 miles over the past two days; they were asleep and snoring the moment they lay down.

Before dawn, the family was up again to harvest wheat. Once the ears were gathered and loaded, Yang Kaishan set off for the city with his two sons and grandson, picking up his son-in-law’s family waiting along the road.

After a night’s rest, Yang Xingwu’s feet felt much better. Upon returning home, he ate some pancakes made by Grandma Zhang before heading back to the kang to rest. Wang Zhaodi settled the household matters before leaving for her parents' home, as did Sun Chunni and Liu Cuihua at the old house.

When Yang Xingwu woke from his nap, the day was bright. He got up, found the house empty, and after a quick wash, he began looking through the high school textbooks his parents had brought home from school.

Examining the materials from the perspective of a professional teacher, he found them less than perfect. A mature curriculum should progress from simple to complex, with exams following suit: 50% easy questions, 30% medium, and 20% difficult. However, after flipping through the books for a while, he realized why so many people failed to get into university—the knowledge points were scattered and overly complex, and the exams were packed with difficult questions.

He opened the math textbook, deciding to review the subject he was most proficient in. The pace of education in this era was quite rapid, and the volume of knowledge was immense.

Reflecting on the history of education, it was understandable. In the 1970s, China had proposed a "nine-year compulsory education" system, but it was structured differently: five years of primary school and four years of middle school, with junior and senior high each lasting two years—a far cry from the modern system.

In this era, schools were categorized in four ways: village primary schools (which only went up to third grade), preschool or "nurturing classes" (half a grade), senior primary schools (fourth and fifth grade, usually in town), and complete primary schools (preschool through fifth grade).

After primary school, one had to pass an entrance exam for junior high. After two years of junior high, one could apply for a technical secondary school; passing this meant a guaranteed job and a transition from a rural to an urban status—the ultimate dream for the original owner of this body. The difficulty of getting into a technical school back then was on par with getting into university, a pressure that had caused the original owner significant psychological stress and pushed him to study harder, resulting in the current Yang Xingwu.

Many top students, wishing to ease their families' financial burdens, preferred technical schools. High school was relatively easier to get into, but after two years, one would face the university entrance exam. At this time, "universities" included vocational colleges and technical schools, not just standard undergraduate programs. Even if some institutions weren't top-tier, they were still stepping stones.

There were also complete secondary schools that combined junior and senior high into a four-year program. However, he knew from history that many of these would soon transition to a three-year system, and primary schools would move to a six-year system.

Yang Xingwu hadn't started primary school until after the new millennium, and even then, his village school was still a five-year program, with struggling students assigned to a sixth year. That had been his own closest encounter with educational reform.

After finishing the math textbook, he moved on to the English book. As for why English? That was because the foreign language teacher at their school specialized in it. Although the state gave candidates the right to choose their language, the lack of qualified teachers meant students were often forced to take whatever subject their teacher was qualified to instruct.