Chapter 146: Self-Funded Travel

“Serves you right! You were still thinking about making a move on his aunt, huh? Now you’ve learned to behave, haven’t you? Next time, use your head. That kid’s sharper than a monkey—one day if you push him too far, he’ll take the whole operation back, and you won’t even have a place to cry. When your brother comes back and finds out, you’ll be in for a beating!” The woman across from him started mocking again.

“Come on, come on! Do you really think my brother would know if you didn’t tell him? Do you think that book of mine is a banned book or something? Is it really that serious?” Sun Jun wasn’t ready to give up. He had only read half of *Ode to Gallantry* and the curiosity just kept gnawing at him.

“Whether it’s serious or not, why don’t you try and see? If you’ve got the guts, don’t give it to him!” The woman’s words cut even deeper.

“*Ode to Gallantry*, *The Smiling, Proud Wanderer*, *The Flying Fox of Snowy Mountain*, *A Deadly Secret*... Damn it, I’ve read them all! Can’t you get some fresh titles? You’re such a useless disappointment!” Hong Tao, looking like a dog beaten down, left the Progress Mall. He quickly glanced over the few books in his hands but was disappointed—they were all ones he had read in a past life.

Still, it wasn’t a total waste. If he didn’t read them, he could pass them to his uncle. With these martial arts novels, his uncle’s status in class would soar. Any boy—top student or troublemaker—would have to beg to borrow his books. Hong Tao didn’t even have to imagine the outcome; he already knew.

Sure enough, that very night, after his uncle received the books, he locked himself in his room and didn’t come out until the next day. At lunch, he showed up with dark circles under his eyes and was engrossed in a book while eating. What impressed Hong Tao even more was that his uncle had covered the books with calendar paper as makeshift dust jackets, while his official textbooks were falling apart and had no covers at all. These casual reads were getting better treatment than his schoolbooks.

Hong Tao never worried about his uncle’s studies—not because he didn’t care, but because he had given up hope. Grandpa had never intended for his uncle to go to university. Instead, he was counting on him to take over the family business after high school. In Grandpa’s eyes, university was an illusion; starting work and earning money a year earlier was the real deal. Landing a formal position at a state-owned enterprise was a lifetime achievement.

In those days, a state-owned enterprise was like a small country. From the day you became an official employee, it supported you for life—through sickness, old age, and death. Not only you, but your children as well. Those with official jobs had all medical expenses covered by the state. You just needed to get a “triplicate form” from the company clinic, then go to the hospital for treatment—X-rays, surgeries, medicine—everything was reimbursed. The hospital kept one copy, you gave one to the company, and kept one for yourself. Official employees were fully covered, and their children got half the costs reimbursed.

Besides healthcare, there was housing allocation based on seniority—those who started working earlier got priority. Some large companies even had dormitories for unmarried employees. Additional perks included company bathhouses, cafeterias, cinemas, and more. Some companies handed out popsicles in summer, bread in winter, or money for heating and cooling expenses. Even condoms and women’s sanitary products were distributed monthly. Labor departments and unions wielded significant power back then; when an employee died, the company would send vehicles and people to help with the funeral, providing full support from start to finish.

Hong Tao wasn’t sure exactly when this tradition of “passing the torch” ended, but according to his past memories, his uncle took over Grandpa’s position after graduating high school. When Grandpa retired, his uncle inherited the official employee status, though he couldn’t immediately step into Grandpa’s exact role and had to start as an apprentice.

Hong Tao didn’t want to interfere with Grandpa’s decision. Many things had their limits in that era. Although Grandpa loved and spoiled Hong Tao, he loved his uncle more—after all, he was his youngest son. Otherwise, why would he reserve the only official employee spot for him? So no matter what Hong Tao said, if he didn’t stand with Grandpa on this issue, he’d become the enemy.

As for his uncle’s future, Hong Tao had no intention of interfering. Everyone has their own way of living. What feels comfortable to one may not to another. Besides, Hong Tao wouldn’t go hungry, and neither would his uncle. Such worries were unnecessary anyway—his aunt’s income alone could support the whole family comfortably, at least materially. As for matters of the spirit, who could say?

In May of 1982, a familiar tune gently strummed again in Hong Tao’s memory. He first saw it on television—a Japanese drama directed by Akira Kurosawa called *Sanshiro Sugata*. The story revolved around the Japanese judo world and the rivalries among different schools. Hong Tao couldn’t grasp the filming techniques or the director’s intended message; what stuck with him most was the theme song.

The theme was sung by a female vocalist with a uniquely piercing voice. Coupled with the Japanese lyrics, it was heart-wrenching and raw—Hong Tao’s father would grimace every time he heard it.

Like *The Man from Atlantis* and *The Garrison’s Death Squad* before it, this drama brought a gift to the newly awakened Chinese audience: scenes of breaking wooden boards and bricks barehanded. Inspired, the youngsters who carried *The Garrison’s Death Squad* throwing knives eagerly began practicing breaking bricks with their hands.

Tragically, very few could actually break them. The more earnest the effort, the worse the injuries. Many hospitals in the capital reported wrist and metacarpal fractures—injuries from brick breaking practice.

That early summer also saw a real war drama unfold: Britain and Argentina clashed over the Falkland Islands. Argentina’s air force sank the British destroyer Sheffield with a few Exocet missiles. Then the British reinforced and eventually won the war.

Hong Tao hated the French for selling those anti-ship missiles to Argentina because their name got him into trouble multiple times. He had always misheard “Exocet” as “Flying Donkey” missiles and argued stubbornly with classmates until middle school graduation when he finally realized his mistake.

“Xiaotao, do you want to go to Wuhan with me this summer? Visit the Yangtze River Bridge?” One day before summer vacation, his father suddenly asked about his plans. As a homeroom teacher, he often traveled for recruitment during summer.

“Wuhan? No way, it’s too hot! Dad, can we still go to Beidaihe?” Hong Tao wasn’t interested in the bridge. Going to Wuhan in midsummer was just asking for misery—one of the three furnaces of China, and no air conditioning!

“That’s true, it’s pretty hot there. Beidaihe has the sea breeze. If you want, I’ll find a teacher to go with you. The seaside’s cooler,” his father understood perfectly. Summer at the beach was clearly more comfortable than Wuhan.

“Can I bring some friends along?” Hong Tao asked.

“Bring Jin Yue with you? Sure! It’s good for you two to have company. But you have to check if Uncle Jin is okay with it first.” His father patted his head. He liked Jin Yue too—she studied well and listened to adults. In some ways, she was even more pleasing to him than Hong Tao.

“Not just Jin Yue—there are several others. I plan to take Aunt, my cousin, and some of the shop staff. We won’t be freeloading; we’ll pay for everything as long as there’s a place to stay!” Hong Tao shared his plan.

Beidaihe wasn’t a place you could just visit casually at that time. Though the government didn’t forbid it, there was no easy accommodation—no hotels or inns in abundance, and certainly no private guesthouses. The only option was company sanatoriums, like those for coal or railway workers. But these sanatoriums didn’t accept individuals, only group bookings through workplaces.

“That might be difficult. Mostly, teachers and their families go. If you bring so many outsiders, won’t people gossip?” His father hesitated. He wasn’t fond of private businesses and certainly wouldn’t help them.

“There won’t be any gossip! Kids want to have fun and are willing to pay. The families of your colleagues go every year—aren’t they freeloading? But if we pay, that’s freeloading too? You’re so old-fashioned! When will you catch up with the times?” Hong Tao’s mother chimed in. Though not keen on private businesses, her hairstyle and clothes were supplied by her son and sister, and they had a washing machine at home. These comforts had quickly changed her stance.

“Alright then, I’ll ask the administration office tomorrow to see if we can pay to join the school group. How many people exactly?” His father wasn’t afraid of his mother, but disliked quarrels over trivial matters. This wasn’t a big issue anyway.

“Me, Jin Yue, Da Jiang, Aunt, cousin, uncle, five... no, six employees! Da Jiang might not go, so about twelve people total. You can check if the school bus can fit us all. If not, we’ll buy train tickets. As long as there’s a place to stay, we’ll pay whatever it costs—no penny spared!” Hong Tao counted on his fingers all those who could make the trip. (To be continued…)