Chapter 11

Chapter 11

After talking things over for a while, the mother and daughter went their separate ways.

Once lunch was finished, Xu Meng ran to Chang Xi’s house and dragged her into studying.

Chang Xi wasn’t usually one for studying, but with Xu Meng egging her on, she had no choice but to open her books.

By dusk, Xu Meng refused to study any longer—she had to protect her eyesight.

In the evening, she pulled Chang Xi into reading for another hour or so before going to bed early at around nine o’clock.

The next morning, Feng Yanwen got up early to buy tourist maps wholesale, while Xu Meng waited at the intersection for Zhang Shufen. In addition to settling yesterday’s payment for the watermelons, she took fourteen more today. After thinking for a moment, she grabbed an extra one—for herself.

Zhang Shufen was grinning from ear to ear. “I’ll come earlier tomorrow.”

Xu Meng smiled. “No need to come so early. We leave late too. Just deliver them to our doorstep around this time tomorrow, and I’ll pay you for today’s batch then.”

Once the fifteen watermelons were offloaded, the cart was much lighter, and Zhang Shufen happily went on her way.

The three kids were good as gold too. They knew their sister had hidden a watermelon in the house—surely for later. One helped fetch water and carry small buckets, another helped pack the watermelons, and the third kept out of trouble while playing nearby. All good kids. Just as they finished preparing, Feng Yanwen returned with two hundred tourist maps.

“This is my first time buying in bulk,” Feng Yanwen explained. “I originally wanted to get just a hundred.”

Thinking back to their first watermelon purchase and worried that two hundred might be too few—now that she could earn over forty yuan a day—she steeled herself and bought two hundred.

Xu Meng asked about the wholesale location—it was close by.

Back then, the city was more compact, with everything clustered in one area. The place Feng Yanwen mentioned was only a half-hour walk away. “If we run out, we can always get more. I didn’t dare buy too many at first either. If they don’t sell, we can’t eat them or return them, right?”

Feng Yanwen let out a sigh of relief. Without realizing it, she had come to greatly value Xu Meng’s opinions.

They arrived at the train station around the same time as the previous day.

No one could resist Xu Meng’s lively hawking. Some came over just to watch the commotion but ended up buying a slice and standing nearby to eat. Xu Meng got chatting with them—if they were tourists, she’d slip in a pitch for the tourist maps. Soon, more people gathered, listening to her describe the capital’s sights while snacking on watermelon and chatting.

It felt a bit like live-stream shopping from her past life!

Back when live streams were popular, Xu Meng had often scrolled through them on her phone and was very familiar with the style. She mimicked those hosts effortlessly.

In her past life, Xu Meng had done all sorts of jobs, including a spell as a tour guide. Describing scenic spots came naturally to her, and soon a crowd gathered around her stand. Many were hooked by her storytelling, eager to hear her travel tips, and most ended up buying a map.

The pricing was similar to other vendors—a twenty fen profit per map—but no one else offered her smooth-talking spiel.

Feng Yanwen marveled. She hadn’t realized how outstanding her daughter had become.

Tourist maps were an essential for visitors to the capital.

By noon, all two hundred maps were sold out.

They even realized later that the maps sold better and were more profitable.

Earning money made Xu Meng as happy as a clam, full of enthusiasm for life.

“Hey little girl, no more maps left?”

“Nope, really none left. But there’s a newsstand outside that sells them too.”

“Ah, the guy at the newsstand can’t hold a candle to you when it comes to talking. Still, thanks—even without buying anything, I got to listen to you for quite a while.”

"I'll ramble on—just enjoy the show," Xu Meng said with a grin.

Who could say no to such a sweet, pretty girl? Feeling awkward, the man ended up buying a slice of watermelon anyway.

"See, I can handle taking money too," Xu Meng quickly urged Feng Yanwen. "No time to waste—you’ve got to run back and grab more maps."

Feng Yanwen thought to herself that if she’d known maps made more money than watermelons, she would’ve bought extra in the morning. But no one has a crystal ball—and every penny counted now.

She hurried off again to the wholesaler and this time picked up five hundred maps. Buying in bulk brought the cost down two cents per map. They sold both items together until the watermelons ran out, then packed up around four in the afternoon. Though not all the maps were gone, they could carry over what was left for the next day.

Back home, they counted the day’s take. With the addition of map sales and two extra watermelons sold, their income had increased by over twenty yuan compared to yesterday. Feng Yanwen took it in stride this time.

Xu Meng thought to herself, *Good, Mom is gradually gaining experience.*

Then Feng Yanwen sighed, “Mengmeng, if money is this easy to make, why don’t more people do it?”

Xu Meng chuckled. “You wouldn’t believe how many people are making big money out there. We’re just picking up crumbs.”

And she wasn’t wrong. While the earnings looked good to Feng Yanwen, ten-thousand-yuan households were already everywhere by then. In retail alone, future tycoons from Zhejiang’s shoe and garment factories were already handling hundreds of thousands, even millions. Their nickel-and-dime profits barely registered in comparison.

This wasn’t Feng Yanwen being short-sighted—plenty of people couldn’t earn anything at all. For those in the 1980s and 1990s, opportunities and risks went hand in hand, and most hadn’t yet ventured beyond their immediate surroundings. With little capital to speak of, she and Xu Meng had simply caught the right wave—like the saying goes, even a dead fish can swim downstream.

As summer arrived, the weather grew hotter, and Xu Meng’s watermelon hustle took off.

After adding maps to their inventory, they averaged about a dozen melons and three to four hundred maps daily. Despite the exhausting heat and constant running around, plus nightly study sessions, the rewards were solid—a steady 70–80 yuan each day.

Soon, they had saved 500 yuan.

With 500 yuan in hand, they naturally wanted more.

Money was there for the taking—if you played your cards right. Not everyone selling maps at the train station could match their popularity. Every evening, Xu Meng reflected on her performance, looking for ways to improve. Lately, she had compiled Beijing’s common bus routes, scrawled them on scraps of paper, and stapled them to each map. She outworked everyone, plain and simple.

“The watermelon gig’s a summer fling,” Xu Meng explained. “Once school starts, we’ll put it on hold. You can hold down the map stand. It won’t be a goldmine, but it’ll pay the bills.”

Feng Yanwen had been thinking the same. Once Xu Meng returned to school, she’d focus on maps. Beijing would always draw crowds.

In the future, navigation apps might replace maps, but no traveler would set out without one.

Xu Meng organized key locations across Beijing and even detailed transportation options, paying kids to scribble out copies.

Yes, handwritten—one by one.

Printing cost a fortune, but kids worked for peanuts. In Changxi Alley alone, plenty of middle and high school students were willing to earn two yuan a day copying notes at lightning speed.

That little touch made her maps sell.

Xu Meng was relieved that people back then weren’t as quick to copy. For ten whole days, no copycats caught on—her watermelon margins stayed a secret.

After moving into a new rental, life got sweeter by the day.

Free from the Xu family’s drama, Xu Meng had more time to study, and even Feng Yanwen felt less worn out.

Paradoxically, hustling all day drained them less than housework ever had. Housework was invisible labor. Take Li Xiuzhi’s scorn? Simple: Feng Yanwen’s work left no trophies.

When Feng Yanwen left, Li Xiuzhi had gloated, waiting for her to slink back, tail between her legs.

But no such luck. Days passed, then weeks—and still no return. Instead, Xu Jiefang grew resentful, and even Granny’s smug satisfaction curdled.

The original intention was simply to take the edge off Xu Meng’s pride, but it ended up chasing her off—and once she left, there was no word from her at all.

Granny Xue started off quite calm, even forbidding Xu Jiefang from going after her and declaring, “If she dares come back, I’ll break one of her legs.”

But after waiting ten days with no sign of her return, Granny Xue felt deeply embarrassed.

“What kind of nonsense is this? Porridge all day long—don’t think I don’t know you’re feasting out there!” Granny Xue waved her cane and yelled insults in the yard.

Back when Feng Yanwen was around, meals were more varied—if they had porridge in the morning, they’d have noodles at night; if noodles in the morning, then rice at night.

Once Feng Yanwen left, though, the cooking naturally fell on Wang Meili and her sister-in-law.

These two were both spoiled rotten. Over the years, aside from pitching in for holiday feasts, they rarely stepped into the kitchen. Forget about making dumplings, buns, or noodles—even their first pot of rice came out burnt, making Granny Xue curse up a storm.

Eventually, they took the lazy way out: just cook porridge. It was easy.

They’d make a big pot in the morning and sip from it all day.

Others managed fine—they had jobs and got lunch at work—but not Granny Xue.

This life was worse than before. A woman who had endured hardship all her life, how could she stand it? So every mealtime, she raised hell until even her daughters-in-law turned against her, skipping cooking altogether and eating out.

How could Granny Xue tolerate that?

“Look at you! Can’t even cook a decent meal! What good are you married in here? None of you deserve to be ladies! You good-for-nothing wenches—did your mothers croak and your ancestors’ graves get desecrated? Too busy to even boil a pot of rice!”

Li Xiuzhi was the first to fire back. She stormed out of the house and snapped, “With so many mouths to feed, why must we two do all the cooking? I work and earn money too! You’re the one loafing around all day, yet expect us working folks to cook for you? Got no shame? Stop acting old—Granny Sun next door is five years older and still manages three meals a day! Who’s really the idle one here?”

Talking about “working folks” versus “idlers” with such superiority—that was typical of Li Xiuzhi, the eldest daughter-in-law.

Li Xiuzhi was a bus conductor, one of the Eight Great Workers from the 1960s and 70s—a job once full of perks.

Today, the bus company wasn’t what it used to be, and high-paying jobs had sprung up everywhere. Being a conductor was no longer a cushy post, but Li Xiuzhi had carried her sense of superiority for half her life and remained a respected figure in the family. Her mindset was stuck in the past, and she looked down on Feng Yanwen, the English teacher, calling her a penniless scholar.

Cooking? Back then, it was unthinkable.

Li Xiuzhi used to keep her temper in check, but now she stopped holding back entirely, shedding any pretense of elegance and turning into exactly the kind of harpy she once despised.

And this old woman still expected to be waited on!

She was also fed up with the whole family. Though her son Dawei had potential, she couldn’t bear dragging this entire household along.

In the past, when the family faced a *class enemy*, they stood united. But now that Feng Yanwen was gone, Granny Xue found fault with her two daughters-in-law at every turn.

“What kind of talk is that? Who doesn’t enjoy life after marrying into a family? Only I’m so unlucky, always worrying about this and that!”

“Fine then, don’t worry. At forty-something, you’re lounging around stuffing your face all day—just breathing feels like too much effort for you,” Li Xiuzhi sneered. “Then why not stop breathing altogether?”

Lazy as Granny Xue was, she couldn’t stand being called out for it. Enraged, she raised her cane to strike.

“Who raised you?! How dare you speak to me like that!”

“This is how I talk. If you’re hungry, why don’t you cook your own noodles? Just sit there waiting to be served—whoever wants to wait on you can do it. I sure won’t anymore.”

Granny Xue flew into another rage, cane raised high—

But in her fury, she missed a watermelon rind underfoot. She slipped, tumbled backward, and landed flat on her back…