RYEY – Chapter 47 A Huge Sum of Money

Xu Laidi hadn’t expected Cheng Qiao to suddenly turn her head. The resentment in her eyes was too late to hide, so she could only lower her head awkwardly. Cheng Qiao gave a cold snort and swung her legs off the bunk bed.

By the time they arrived at the grain-drying yard, the line was already very, very long. Li Huan stood at the very front. As soon as he spotted Cheng Qiao, he quickly called out to her.

Cheng Qiao glanced apologetically at Han Chunmei and the others before walking over. Han Chunmei patted her own forehead—she had forgotten that Cheng Qiao was about to get married.

Zhang Yuefang felt a pang of envy. If only she too had someone close to her who would help her queue up. But when she remembered the reason Cheng Qiao was marrying Li Huan, that envy dissipated like smoke.

“Cheng Qiao, come, stand in front of me.”

“Erlizi, what’s the meaning of this? Everyone’s lining up properly, and you let Comrade Cheng cut in?”

“Accountant Chen, don’t you already know I do this often? Why are you nitpicking today? Don’t tell me you’re taking personal revenge?”

Li Huan narrowed his eyes, fixing Chen Weimin with a sharp glare. The scorn at the corner of his mouth was plain for all to see, his attitude especially arrogant and domineering.

“You—”

Chen Weimin’s reason returned. His daughter wasn’t married yet, and if this rascal got angry and dragged Cheng Qiao straight to the Public Security Bureau, he really would have no way to handle it.

“What are you all doing? Today’s a good day for distributing rations. Everyone should be happy.”

The village head arrived just in time, followed by the accountant holding a thick account book—the record that determined every villager’s share of money and grain.

“Cheng Qiao, you’ve earned a total of 1,320 work points. At seven fen per point, that comes to 92 yuan and 40 fen. Sorghum flour is three fen a jin, cornmeal is seven fen a jin. Which do you want?”

“I don’t want grain. Just give me the money.”

In her space, food replenished itself automatically after being eaten. She lacked money, not grain.

The villagers gasped. At this time, who didn’t want grain? Without it, how would you survive the winter? This little girl was too thoughtless.

As the villagers chattered, Chen Weimin’s eyes flickered. He quickly pulled 92 yuan and 40 fen from the cash box and handed it to Cheng Qiao, along with a pen, gesturing for her to sign after taking the money.

Cheng Qiao signed her name boldly. Seeing her handwriting, Li Huan couldn’t help but admire her. His wife wasn’t just beautiful—her calligraphy was just as elegant.

“Accountant Chen, you promised me before that your autumn harvest work points would count as mine.”

Cheng Qiao tucked the money into her pocket and, a little embarrassed, reminded him. Chen Weimin stiffened—how could he have forgotten that?

The village head nodded and had the accountant calculate Chen Weimin’s autumn harvest points. All of them were to go to Cheng Qiao. The accountant gave Chen a sympathetic look and began his calculations.

“Accountant Chen worked full points every day for 20 days—that’s 200 points in total, amounting to 14 yuan.”

“Heavens, just like that, Accountant Chen’s 20 days of hard work is gone. Fourteen yuan! That could buy so much grain. He’s been ruined by Chunhua.”

“Exactly. So much money. What was wrong with Chunhua? Why push Comrade Cheng off the ox cart for no reason?”

“What else? She couldn’t stand that Cheng was prettier than her, so she went too far.”

“Ah, but Chunhua is actually quite pretty too. It’s just that we’re country folk, working under the sun every day. How could we compare with city girls? Chunhua was so foolish.”

“Look at Comrade Cheng—her bangs are so long she won’t show her forehead. Such a pretty face, but it’s a pity, that little mark on her forehead looks like a mud loach. So unsightly.”

Zhaodi was also in line. Though she was the accountant’s wife, she still had to follow the rules—otherwise, people would suspect she had “ideological problems.”

Hearing the villagers gossip, her heart eased. As long as no one mentioned her daughter’s secret crush on the rascal, things were fine. Otherwise, if it came out that her daughter had nearly cost Cheng Qiao her life over a man—and that man was Li Huan—then their Chen family’s reputation would be utterly destroyed.

Chen Weimin clearly thought the same. Though it pained him to lose so much money, he settled the account without hesitation and even signed his name proactively.

When the accountant saw Cheng Qiao still standing there after collecting the money, he frowned. Li Huan looked at the village head and spoke up:

“Village head Xu Laidi from the educated youth spot still owes my Cheng Qiao money. Shouldn’t that be settled too?”

At that, the crowd fell silent. They all remembered that night—Xu Laidi had written an IOU. She still owed Cheng Qiao 200 yuan.

Everyone’s gazes shifted to Cheng Qiao and Li Huan. In such a short time, Cheng Qiao had already pocketed more than 100 yuan. Add Xu Laidi’s 200, and she had over 300 yuan.

Some quick villagers even calculated her dowry and the Chen family’s compensation. Good heavens—in less than a month, Cheng Qiao had over 800 yuan. That was an enormous sum.

“Comrade Cheng, why don’t you marry my eldest son instead? He’s much more hardworking than this rascal.”

One aunt suddenly shouted. Then other village women with sons of marriageable age joined in, determined not to let Cheng slip away.

The village head and Chen Weimin exchanged glances. For a moment, they too considered making her their daughter-in-law. But one look at Li Huan’s dark expression made them lower their heads.

The accountant swallowed hard. If anyone was quick with numbers, it was him. Now he really regretted not winning over this sweet-faced fool earlier. What a miscalculation.

“You dare try to steal my wife? Come, let’s see if my fists are tougher than your mouths!”

Li Huan picked up a big rock from the ground and strode toward Dalang’s mother. Dalang hurriedly stepped in front of her, grinning awkwardly, saying his mother had only been joking.

Dalang was stockier than Li Huan, though not as tall. But even this burly man clearly cowered before Li Huan. The women who had joined the ruckus all shrank their necks.

“Go ahead and calculate how many work points Xu Laidi earned.”

The village head, sensing things were turning dangerous, coughed and asked loudly.

The accountant flipped to Xu Laidi’s page and read out: “Xu Laidi, total of 1,578 work points. At seven fen per point, that comes to 110 yuan and 46 fen.”

Expression numb, Chen Weimin pulled 110 yuan and 46 fen from the cash box and handed it to Cheng Qiao. Just as she reached for it, Xu Laidi rushed forward and snatched it away.