Manuscript fees

The freshly produced mathematics workbook, with its exercises organized by category, caused quite a stir at Xibao Middle School.

The novel classification method that Principal Zhao Dannian had noticed caught everyone else's attention too.

Not only the students in the repeaters' class, but also the first- and second-year students, and even the school's teachers, found ways to get hold of the mimeographed sheets and carefully copied them out.

By the second week, students from several nearby Township Middle Schools were traveling long distances just to copy out a workbook to take home.

Yang Rui knew that students or teachers who had gone home for the weekend had spread the news.

Communication equipment might have been scarce, but certain kinds of news traveled anything but slowly. Something that could improve the chances of passing entrance exams probably looked like a miracle elixir to many people. Even if they had no use for it themselves, they would hurry to tell their relatives' and friends' children.

Other people's excitement, however, did not affect Yang Rui. He continued carrying out his plans at an unhurried pace, running every morning to exercise, reading English aloud afterward, copying things during class to mail out or give to Wang Guohua and the others to mimeograph, and gathering everyone in the evenings for lessons and questions.

Of these activities, he placed the most importance on physical exercise, followed by studying English on his own and teaching problem-solving. Copying articles for money came last.

Having gained a rare healthy body in this life, Yang Rui did not want to waste it. Before high-calorie foods invaded the cafeteria, he wanted to develop the six-pack abs he had never even dared dream of before.

As for making money, although Yang Rui had some ideas, he lacked the foundation to put them into practice and could only build up resources first.

Fortunately, money was not yet all-powerful, and the pressure to earn it was nowhere near as great as it had been when he was a graduate student in his previous life.

Moreover, state-owned shops were cramped and narrow, and their dreadful service made shopping tedious, even painful.

Private real estate transactions were still prohibited, and there were no stocks or securities to invest in. Although policies on opening shops and factories had relaxed, doing so remained quite risky in the interior. A misstep could land someone in prison.

Yang Rui's only goal in earning money was to improve his living conditions, or at most, the teaching conditions at Township Middle School.

To accomplish the former, publishing a single article would actually suffice.

Yang Rui's first manuscript payment came from Middle School Mathematics, a popular-science publication newly launched in 1981. Its primary readers were secondary-school students and mathematics teachers, and its submission standards were relatively accessible, yet it had a substantial circulation. As a national periodical directly administered by the China Association for Science and Technology and published by Beijing Normal University, it paid twenty-five yuan per thousand characters, placing it in the middle range among popular-science magazines.

Yang Rui's published article, "A Brief Discussion of Common Maximum and Minimum Problems in Analytic Geometry," ran to just over eight hundred characters. With the accompanying diagrams, it earned him a total of twenty-two yuan.

At the time, an ordinary worker's monthly income was only thirty or forty yuan. Yang Rui's weekly allowance of two yuan plus grain coupons for seven jin already made him one of the wealthy elite among students. Twenty-two yuan equaled three months of his food expenses, so it was naturally a considerable sum.

From that day onward, Yang Rui unhesitatingly moved his lunches to a small restaurant in Xibao Town.

People in 1982 were not yet particularly familiar with cooking with gutter oil. Genetically modified products, clenbuterol, and other products that struck fear into modern people did not exist either. In small restaurants, even vegetable oil, fatty meat, and seasonings were used sparingly.

To Wang Guohua, who tagged along for free meals, this was unmistakable stinginess. To Yang Rui, however, it was a very healthy way to eat.

To train his body, he needed to consume plenty of protein, yet the school cafeteria offered nothing beyond steamed buns and vegetable soup. As for the taste, there was simply no comparison.

Yang Rui had only been there for two days, but the owner already remembered this handsome young man who ordered a meat dish with every meal but wanted only lean meat, never fat.

On the third day, when Yang Rui came alone again, the owner cooked his food and brought it out himself. After setting it on the table, he smilingly offered him a cigarette and tried to strike up a connection. "Are you here in town for work, young comrade? You're from a big city, aren't you?"

Yang Rui shook his head and pushed the cigarette back, smiling. "I'm a student up at the school. I haven't started working yet, and I don't smoke."

"Not smoking is good, very good." The owner put the cigarette away with a smile, then asked, "So did you just transfer here?"

"What makes you say that?"

"There are only a handful of students at Township Middle School who can afford to eat here, and they don't carry themselves like you. Since we've only just met, I guessed you were from somewhere else." The owner had a slight belly, which he habitually patted. He was around thirty, and his eyes narrowed to mere slits.

Yang Rui picked up his bowl and unabashedly shoveled in two mouthfuls of rice before saying, "I made some money recently, so I came to eat a little better."

"Then you must have made quite a bit." The owner's eyes lit up. He poured Yang Rui a cup of tea, pushed it toward him, and smiled. "My surname is Shi, given name Gui. You can call me Old Shi or Guizi."

Yang Rui set down his bowl with a frown, thinking, You run a restaurant, your surname is Shi, your name is Shi Gui, and you want me to call you Old Shi...

That just sounds wrong whichever way I look at it...

Seeing his expression, the owner gave a helpless, wry smile. "My parents gave me the name. There's nothing I can do about it. Lately, I've been thinking about finding some other way to make money. Young fellow, if you know of any opportunities, give me a pointer or two. I certainly won't shortchange you."

He can turn even that into a connection... Yang Rui smiled in admiration and told him the truth. "I published an article in a magazine, and they paid me for it."

The owner looked at the food on the table: one meat dish, one vegetable dish, and rice, costing almost three yuan. That was a week's food money for an ordinary household.

Some families in town made good money hauling goods, but even when they ordered food at a restaurant, they would not dare order meat every time.

The owner could not help asking in surprise, "Writing pays that well?"

"It's quite a lot." Yang Rui ate another couple of mouthfuls of rice, swallowed, and said, "Twenty-two yuan for a little over eight hundred characters. Just enough to eat for a week."

The small restaurant owner immediately stopped patting his belly and asked cautiously, "You earned twenty-two yuan, and you're planning to eat through it all in a week?"

"What else would I do?" Yang Rui looked as though it were perfectly natural. He had originally been a fat man who could not enjoy a meal without meat. Now that his body was strong, he actually burned even more energy. From a nutritional standpoint, eating poorly was even less acceptable if he wanted to maintain his muscles and physique.

His response left the owner stunned. After some thought, he said, "Wouldn't it be better to put the money in the bank?"

"Deposit it and wait for inflation?" Yang Rui shook his head dismissively, filled with sympathy for the owner's views on managing money. The year 1984 was fast approaching. When it arrived, few households would retain even half the value of their assets.

The owner repeated the word "inflation" twice, then tapped his forehead. "This inflation you're talking about is a capitalist thing. Our country has neither foreign nor domestic debt. How could we possibly have inflation?"

Yang Rui could not help laughing, but after thinking it over, he found it difficult to argue. The man was repeating the state's standard official line. Refuting it within the domestic framework would indeed be difficult, while using anything outside that framework as his basis would only invite trouble for himself.

So Yang Rui simply smiled and bent his head to his meal.

When he stopped talking, the owner, Shi Gui, stood up awkwardly. He took two steps, then turned back. "Young comrade, will you still be eating here tomorrow?"

"Yes." Yang Rui was increasing his exercise load, and his stomach simply could not hold on to any fat.

Shi Gui silently clenched his fist, but said, "I reckon it's quite a bother for you to come all the way here every day. How about this? Write down what you want to eat, and I'll deliver it to you at noon every day, for five days."

Yang Rui looked up in surprise. "You mean food delivery?"

"Mm... something like that." The owner was considering what "food delivery" meant.

Yang Rui asked with an odd expression, "Wouldn't that be a bother for you?"

"You can't be afraid of a little trouble if you want to make money." Shi Gui sucked in his belly, thrust out his chest, and raised his head.

"Did you just think of this, or have you done it before?"

"I never had any regular customers before." A little embarrassed, Shi Gui rubbed his forehead. "People in town like eating at the People's Restaurant. Their food isn't even as good as mine. They're just state-owned, with a nicer storefront, so people feel it gives them status..."

Yang Rui looked around. The little restaurant had only five tables, and even its door curtain was greasy. It certainly had nothing to do with looking nice. Of course, in his eyes, the town's People's Restaurant was not much better.

When Yang Rui did not answer, Shi Gui asked quietly, "Well, young comrade, why do you like eating at my place?"

"You don't take grain coupons," Yang Rui said as though it were obvious. Small restaurants in town could buy farm produce that required no coupons at the farmers' market. Paying a little more cash saved customers their grain coupons, which was another advantage these places had over state-owned restaurants.

Shi Gui slapped his thigh. "Exactly! I still won't take grain coupons when I deliver your food, and I won't charge extra either. Just order five days here... four days, and I'll deliver your food on time every day. I'll cover it with a quilt on the way over. I guarantee it'll be piping hot."

He thought Yang Rui was worried about being charged extra.

Yang Rui stopped eating and said, "Then you have to promise to put more care into the cooking than you do now."

"Of course."

"Can you get beef?" Beef was a prime example of high-protein, low-fat food, and it tasted good too. Both martial artists in ancient times and people building muscle in modern times liked it.

"Beef... I can get it, but it's expensive." Shi Gui muttered a few words, somewhat hesitant.

"Give me the same portions as today, with beef delivered once a day, and I'll order a month's worth." Yang Rui pulled the remaining fourteen yuan from his pocket, kept a little over one yuan in change, and slapped the other thirteen yuan on the table. "Here's the deposit."

Shi Gui quickly collected it. "With beef, each meal will cost three yuan fifty."

A five-hundred-gram can of beef cost only two yuan eighty. Paying three to five yuan for one meat dish and one vegetable dish could certainly be called extravagant.

Still, thinking of the steady stream of manuscript fees he would receive, Yang Rui nodded his agreement.

Having secured his first food-delivery contract, Shi Gui excitedly went to fetch paper and a pen so Yang Rui could write out a menu.

Watching him go, Yang Rui felt deeply struck. This man with the unpleasant-sounding name nevertheless had the mindset of someone who could ride the tide of the times.