Chapter 66: The Confusion of Generations

So, the next day during the family meal, Tang Xin spoke up:
“Li Kai and Li Xiyue, starting today, you both need to learn to read and write properly. Reading and practicing calligraphy will only benefit you.”

Li Xiyue, of course, refused, habitually opposing her sister-in-law, “We don’t need to take college entrance exams anymore. What’s the point of learning to read and write?”

Tang Xin shot her a glance and replied, “How can you say literacy is useless? Even if universities aren’t recruiting anymore, there are still plenty of factories in the city hiring workers. Recruitment always involves an exam. If you can’t even write your own name, how can you take the test?”

She smiled and continued, “If you manage to pass the factory recruitment exam, you can officially move to the city and eat commercial grain. You won’t have to rely on men; you can be independent and support yourself. Isn’t that wonderful?”

In reality, every official job in the city was tightly allocated, one slot for one person. Even when someone retired, their position usually went to a family member, with some retiring early just to let their children take over. Factory recruitment was rarely open to outsiders.

Of course, it wasn’t impossible, but Li Xiyue and the others weren’t necessarily aware of the city’s situation. So Tang Xin boldly spun her tale.

Li Xiyue felt unconvinced but had to admit her sister-in-law had a point, so she fell quiet. Yet in her heart, she began to long for the scenario Tang Xin had painted.

Tang Xin made a funny face at Li Xiyue and said proudly, “Well? Admit that I’m right, don’t you?”

This pushy, relentless witch nearly made Li Xiyue explode. She’d already fallen silent but couldn’t help retorting, “If it’s as good as you say, why didn’t you take the recruitment exam and stay in the city yourself?”

Hmph, and now you’re exiled to the countryside.
Of course, Li Xiyue kept that last thought to herself—she hadn’t lost her mind enough to blurt out anything.

“How can your thinking be so narrow? Have you forgotten my identity?” Tang Xin raised her voice, her tone changing.

“What identity? You’re my sister-in-law, what else is so impressive?” Without realizing it, Li Xiyue’s thoughts started to follow Tang Xin’s lead.

“I’m an educated youth sent to the countryside, voluntarily supporting rural development to improve everyone’s living standards.”

Yeah, right—I believe in your nonsense!

But what did disbelief matter? Li Xiyue knew she couldn’t argue back. Because on the surface, it was true: the reason for sending educated youth to the countryside was just that. Even if, in reality, most of them weren’t good at farm work and ended up hindering the villagers, no one could say it openly. The policy was what it was, and not even someone as formidable as her sister-in-law could change it; Li Xiyue understood this.

So, she began to daydream about the future her sister-in-law had described: using her own abilities to enter the city as a worker, not just relying on a man to get her in.

The youngest Li daughter, vain as she was, remained shrewd in the absence of male temptation or infatuation. Her mother had often warned her: if a girl lacked her own assets, life in her husband’s family would be very hard.

Take the eldest sister, for example. Everyone in the Li family knew Li Xihua’s difficult personality meant she’d inevitably suffer in her married life. Her husband and mother-in-law were both unpleasant people, but the Li family had no way to rescue her from her misery.

When it came to their youngest daughter, her parents took her marriage very seriously, hoping to avoid repeating past mistakes.

Li Xiyue began to imagine: if she merely married a city man and relied on him to bring her into the city, her life in her husband’s family would be hard, looked down upon, even bullied. But if she entered the city by her own abilities, perhaps she could even marry a cadre. Even if she couldn’t find one in the city, a county cadre would still be better, and her days would surely surpass her sister-in-law’s.

With the prickly Li Xiyue dealt with, Li Kai was easy—just tempt him with a few carrots and he’d take the bait.

Tang Xin considered the gravity of the matter and decided it best to discuss it with the whole family. So after dinner, she solemnly announced a family meeting.

It was a grand affair; everyone attended except Li Sheng, and even Gu Lao San and Gu Nan were invited. Tang Xin regarded them as family, knowing her parents-in-law and husband valued them highly. The three children were also included equally in the meeting.

Tang Xin believed this would nurture a sense of responsibility in the children from an early age, making them realize they belonged to the family and should contribute, fostering a deeper sense of belonging.

Once everyone was seated, Tang Xin, as meeting initiator and host, began, “Today’s meeting topic is simple: everyone in the family will start learning to read and write.”

The three youngest would go to school, Li Kai and Li Xiyue would study too. After some thought, Tang Xin decided not to spare her parents-in-law either. Whether it was one sheep or a whole flock, she’d just teach a few more students—no extra preparation needed.

“All of us learning to read and write together?” Gu Nan glanced mischievously at his father and asked, “Sister-in-law, does that mean my dad has to study too?”

In terms of seniority, Gu Lao San and Li Sheng were equals, meaning Tang Xin should address Gu Lao San as “Third Brother.” That would make Gu Nan call Li Sheng and Tang Xin uncle and aunt.

But Gu Nan realized that would mean addressing Li Jiang and Li Hai as uncles as well—what a loss! So Gu Nan refused to accept that, preferring to be buddies with Li Jiang and Li Hai, and call Tang Xin sister-in-law like they did.

Despite several attempts to correct him, seeing Li Father and Li Mother unbothered, Gu Lao San let it go.

The older generation cared deeply about proper forms of address, especially with children. Calling someone uncle, aunt, or grandpa inappropriately could earn a scolding, especially for children who mustn’t use adults’ names directly.

But Fang didn’t believe in such rules; names were meant to be called. The big age gap between the eldest and youngest sons had muddled the hierarchy anyway.

So as far as she was concerned, Gu Nan could address people however he liked, as long as he didn’t overstep.