Chapter Three: Rashi'er as Collateral?

Li Ye pulled Li Dayong out of the classroom. Dayong, with practiced ease, took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, handed one to Ye, and struck a match to light it for him.

“Brother, you shouldn’t have stopped me back there. That bastard He Weiguo keeps pushing his luck. Let him off this time and next time he’ll climb all over us.”

Others feared He Weiguo because his uncle was a teacher, but Dayong was unafraid. His grandfather’s whole family worked in the electric power system—those who controlled the electricity were as formidable as those who managed the most important resources.

Even so, no matter how powerful Dayong’s grandfather was, if he really smashed He Weiguo’s head open, it would still be a huge headache. That’s why Ye had held him back.

“There’s no point getting worked up over someone like that. Cough, cough, cough...”

Ye took a single drag and was immediately choked into a fit of coughing.

What kind of thing was this?

He examined the cigarette closely and tossed it away in disgust. It lacked a filter, but worse, the tobacco inside was pitch black, uneven, and mixed with countless little sticks—a clear sign of cheap, leftover scraps.

But before the cigarette hit the ground, Dayong darted out and snatched it up ahead of the other students.

“My fault, my fault, I forgot you just recovered from a fever and your throat’s not right. But this is all I’ve got, not like you with your fancy cigarettes...”

Dayong carefully extinguished the cigarette and put it back into his battered pack, and Ye couldn’t help but smile.

He felt in his pocket and, as expected, pulled out a pack of Grand Gate cigarettes.

“Here, smoke mine.”

Ye offered Dayong one, and seeing the curious glances around them, began to hand out cigarettes to others.

A few familiar classmates hurriedly took them, lit up, and started to enjoy the clouds of smoke.

Students of this era were nothing like the “little emperors” of the later generation—each with hundreds of yuan in their pockets, eating ice cream with girls and booking hotel rooms without batting an eye.

Most had little money; a few coins a month for pocket money was normal. Anyone with a few yuan was considered a “tycoon.”

With so little cash, they had to spend carefully. Students with fewer resources rolled their own cigarettes from leaves. Eight-cent “Economy” and nine-cent “Popular” brands were already a mark of status among student smokers.

If you smoked the fifteen-cent Goldfish, you had serious clout; if you splurged on a twenty-three-cent Harvest, you’d inspire waves of envy and jealousy.

Ye was often the object of such envy.

As a child, Ye had lived a hard life. Both his father and grandfather were out of work, and his mother—whom he barely remembered—had disappeared after a divorce for some special reason.

Once his grandfather and father returned to their jobs, Ye was showered with compensatory affection: Grand Gate cigarettes in his pocket and brand-new Warrior sneakers on his feet, both coveted luxuries among his peers.

Warrior shoes, in those days, were even more prestigious than the Nikes or Adidas Ye would know in his past life. Anyone with a new pair could see their looks and aura instantly boosted.

So Ye had lived well for these past years, until a few months ago, when Lu Jingyao’s betrayal transformed a pure, kind, confident young man into a timid, self-conscious, withdrawn soul.

Ye and Lu Jingyao were high school classmates: a handsome boy and a beautiful girl, their youthful hearts sparking with romance.

But in this era, though “freedom of love” was a familiar phrase, people were still very reserved and traditional.

In 1981, if a high school student fell in love early, they were branded as “bad,” holding hands could get you scolded by teachers, hugging could result in expulsion, and if you dared to kiss, the gossip would drown you.

Ye had followed the usual rural custom—he got engaged.

Despite the national policy of family planning, local traditions were slow to change. Engagement at eighteen was perfectly normal; Ye’s class even had some twenty-year-olds who married without registration.

Last winter, Ye persuaded his family to propose, offering one hundred and twenty yuan, a Phoenix bicycle, fish, meat, and various supplies, thus binding the Ye and Lu families together.

That dowry was rare in Qing Shui County.

Ye’s grandfather was an old revolutionary, now working in the grain system after his reinstatement; his father was a workshop director at the fertilizer factory—both very respectable.

Lu Jingyao’s father was merely a substitute teacher without official status, so the marriage was clearly a step up for the Lu family.

After the engagement, Ye’s family not only paid to help Lu’s family build a house, but also used their connections to secure an official post for Lu’s father, treating Jingyao as a granddaughter-in-law.

But everything changed when Jingyao was admitted to university.

As soon as she received her acceptance letter, Ye’s family decided the two should marry.

Ye, dreaming of his wedding night, rushed to share the “good news” with the Lus.

He believed that his love for Jingyao—defying family opposition and social disparity—had finally borne fruit, and the family planning supplies he’d hidden away would soon serve their purpose.

But the Lu family’s reaction was a crushing blow.

Ye’s inherited fragments of memory vividly recalled the scene the next day.

Jingyao’s father, timid all his life, brought two big fish and half a pig, nervously entered Ye’s home, and took out a handful of clearly borrowed coins.

“My Jingyao’s going to university. She might not come back to Qing Shui after she starts working. So... let’s not hold Ye back... I’m returning the dowry... I still owe you forty-five yuan, I’ll pay it soon...”

The Ye family’s fury was predictable.

If it were just a love affair, breaking up would be nothing, but Ye and Jingyao had gone through a formal engagement, celebrated by relatives and friends.

Such humiliation—who could endure it?

Even Xiao Yan wouldn’t put up with that!

Clinging and pestering wasn’t their style. Ye’s father, Li Kaijian, ignored Ye’s pleas, took no action to salvage things, tossed the returned dowry out the door, and cursed his blindness, saying the dowry was as good as fed to dogs.

Then he took out his anger on Ye, beating him so badly with a belt that Ye couldn’t sit on a chair.

“All the kids study the same; why can’t you get into college?”

“If you hadn’t insisted on marrying their daughter, how would I have lost face like this?”

Ye was aggrieved. Even with his swollen backside, unable to ride a bicycle, he had Dayong drive him to confront Jingyao.

At the Lu family’s door, they refused to let him in, until Dayong’s loud curses drew the neighbors and forced Lu’s father to bring Jingyao out.

Lu’s father, embarrassed, said, “I actually like you, Ye. If you get into Beijing next year... I won’t stand in your way...”

While he spoke, Jingyao stood beside him, head down and silent, but her clenched fists and trembling body betrayed her resentment.

Ye, pure-hearted, believed Lu’s father, enrolled in the county’s second school’s repeat class, and prepared for exams with new resolve.

But a few days ago, a remittance slip from Beijing arrived at the school.

Jingyao had sent Ye forty-five yuan.

University students in the eighties received a “salary”—the state gave Jingyao twenty-two and a half yuan each month for living expenses. She had saved up forty-five yuan in just a few months; how strong was her desire to break free from Ye?

Even Ye, slow as he was, understood Jingyao’s resolve.

Worse still, several girls who were close to her received letters, and whatever stories they told, rumors swept the school overnight.

They painted Ye as “Huang Shiren,” forcing the Lus to repay money and threatening to take Jingyao as a “Xi’er” to settle debts.

The original Ye, pampered since childhood, had never faced such dirt. That night, he fell seriously ill, his soul scattered, making way for Ye from decades later.

Dayong’s recent anger toward He Weiguo was also because of this.

Everyone knew Ye had been sick because of Jingyao, and now Weiguo had uttered such cruel words—Dayong wanted nothing more than to smash his head in.

...

As Ye finished his cigarette, a group of girls approached, stopping before him.

He recognized one round-faced girl—Xia Yue, Jingyao’s “best friend,” who’d received her letter recently.

Xia Yue held out a book to Ye, coldly saying, “This is the law book Sister Jingyao sent you. Study it well.”

Ye glanced at the bright red title, “The New Marriage Law,” and asked in surprise, “Are you sure it’s for me?”

Xia Yue raised her eyebrows. “Of course. Someone like you needs to read more, learn the law, so you don’t...”

Ye cut her off, replying coolly, “If it’s for me, why did you open it? Don’t you know it’s illegal to tamper with someone else’s mail?”

“...”

“A lawbreaker mocking others for needing legal education—isn’t that ridiculous?”

Xia Yue was speechless, her round face flushing as she sensed the onlookers’ strange gazes.

“Hmph, no matter how you argue, you’re still Huang Shiren.”

Finally, she played her “spoiled” card, tossed the book at Ye, and turned away.

“Who are you calling Huang Shiren? Come back here! You’ve been spreading rumors, haven’t you...”

Dayong shouted after her, but Xia Yue and the other girls strutted off like proud peacocks.

Ye stopped Dayong from chasing them, opened Jingyao’s book, and saw it had been read thoroughly, with many passages and articles marked in bright red.

The New Marriage Law, issued on January 1, 1981, emphasized “freedom of marriage”—and the red markings highlighted exactly that.

Ye was speechless.

What had the original Ye done to deserve this?

A handsome young man from a solid family, kind-hearted, yet he’d chosen a girl who wielded the law as a weapon in romance.

Did he realize how dangerous that was?

It was like dating a medical student who could explain the theory of sponge expansion with every clap, and wield a scalpel with precision—one drains your wallet, the other threatens your life. What’s the point?

Dayong, seeing Ye silent, thought he was hurt by Jingyao again. “Brother, should we go to Beijing and confront her? If she dares to act like Chen Shimei, I’ll make sure the whole school knows...”

Ye smiled and shook his head. “Chen Shimei was a top scholar. Does she have that qualification?”

Dayong protested, “So we’re just going to let her bully you? That’s too much!”

Ye closed the book and said softly, “Of course not. But going to Beijing is too much trouble. Why go so far when we can deal with things nearby?”

“Brother, what do you mean?”

“Nothing. After school today, come with me to collect the debt.”

Ye had originally wanted to break off completely with Jingyao—her entanglements belonged to the original Ye. But now, it seemed she needed a reminder not to keep stirring up trouble.

Reputation meant everything in these times; being branded as Huang Shiren could affect future opportunities to join the Party or even get married.

...