Chapter 112 A Letter from Zhao Ailing

Jiang Jianni was stunned: "The rent is thirty? There are also a few dollars?"

Lu Xiangyang sighed: "It's obvious you've never lived outside before, and you've never paid attention to this kind of thing."

Nowadays, renting a room in a private house costs a few or ten yuan. In their neighborhood, no one would be willing to rent out a house like that.

The houses available for rent are all in older neighborhoods.

The rent is a bit more expensive than that of private houses, ranging from ten to twenty or thirty yuan.

But considering the current income level, which is just over a hundred yuan a month, this rent is actually quite reasonable.

When Jiang Jiani was interning in Beijing, she shared a small room of six or seven square meters with six or seven other people. The room had no bathroom and no balcony, and it cost 800 yuan.

That was right after she graduated.

Before she transmigrated here, the rent for such a small room was already close to two thousand.

I never imagined that rent could be in the single digits.

Seeing her looking so devastated, Lu Xiangyang comforted her, "It's okay, it's okay. At most, we just won't be landladies anymore."

"How about I give you all my money from now on?"

Jiang Jianni rolled her eyes at him: "Don't you give me all your salary now? Or do you have other sources of income?"

Lu Xiangyang is very conscientious about handing over his salary.

Every time I got paid, I would hand it over to her as soon as I got home, and I wouldn't keep a single penny for myself.

Jiang Jiani felt embarrassed and gave him another twenty yuan as pocket money.

It's impossible to have any more.

Men with money tend to go astray. Just keep a little money for socializing and entertaining; if you need more, you can ask her for more.

Lu Xiangyang smiled wryly: "No, I'm not like you, I can't write articles."

He suddenly had a brilliant idea: "Why don't you teach me how to write articles? I'll try and see if I can earn some pocket money."

Jiang Jianni immediately thought of those author couples who got together because of writing novels, and her interest was piqued.

"Come, come, I'll teach you, it's very simple."

"Let's try writing a short story first..."

After trying it for less than three hours, Jiang Jianni felt like her high blood pressure was about to flare up.

"You, you, you, don't worry about anything else, just write it as I say."

Lu Xiangyang: "I wrote it exactly as you said. Look, isn't this exactly what you said?"

Jiang Jianni was furious: "I asked you to write a story, not a report."

"Look at what you've written! Huh? What is this?"

Lu Xiangyang looked completely innocent: "You're the one who taught me."

Jiang Jianni started pinching her philtrum and whispered to herself, "Don't be angry, don't be angry, I'm not angry. It's just that I lack experience. It's just that I wrote the story like a political report."

"At least his handwriting is not bad."

"Although his sentences are disjointed and he misuses idioms, at least he has a broad knowledge base; some of the allusions he uses are ones I've never even seen before..."

After only three words of comfort, she couldn't continue.

He rushed forward, grabbed the few pages of manuscript paper that Lu Xiangyang had written and tore them all to shreds in a few swift movements.

Then she put her hands on his shoulders and said earnestly, "Brother, big brother, I was wrong, I was really wrong."

"I shouldn't have fantasized about a wife following her husband's lead; I'm just not destined for that."

The idea of ​​having a beautiful woman by your side is just a dream.

She said earnestly, "You should work hard in the fire department and strive for advancement."

"Now it's a fire brigade, later it will be a fire station."

"You're really not suited to writing lyrical things like novels."

After tutoring Lu Xiangyang once, she finally understood firsthand what it felt like for parents to have a heart attack while teaching their children to do homework.

It was too painful, too frustrating, too unbelievable.

Some people have linear thinking and are not suited for literary creation.

For example, Lu Xiangyang.

Lu Xiangyang touched his nose somewhat embarrassedly: "Is it really that exaggerated? I think I wrote it pretty well."

"The reports I wrote when I was in the army were the most standard."

Jiang Jianni said earnestly, "You said yourself that you wrote reports in the army."

"Novels and reports are like pork and mutton; they are both meat, but they are not the same thing."

Lu Xiangyang was amused by her righteous indignation: "I really don't have the talent for writing stories?"

Jiang Jianni replied firmly, "No."

"Just focus on your career and don't think about anything else."

Lu Xiangyang laughed heartily.

Jiang Jianni then realized that this guy was deliberately teasing her.

Enraged, she grabbed his hand and bit him.

Lu Xiangyang: "..."

If it's not working, it's not working. Why is it biting people?

When Jiang Jiani's manuscript fee was raised for the second time to fifty yuan per thousand words, she received a letter from the capital.

She held the letter and waved it, looking thoughtful: "Do I know anyone in Beiping?"

The original owner's classmates were everywhere, but none of them were assigned to the capital.

As soon as Jiang Jianni opened the letter, she was shocked: "Wow, this is a handwritten letter? It's not printed?"

Most people will have some degree of cursive writing when they write, and some will even write with a "flying" stroke.

Sometimes the handwriting is so messy that even the person writing it can't recognize it.

But this letter was filled with neat, printed characters just like those in the textbook, which was very pleasing to the eye.

Jiang Jianni looked at the other person's handwriting, then at her own, and a feeling of inferiority welled up within her, along with a deep-seated jealousy.

"Honestly, I only write for myself every day, why bother writing so well?"

"Writing this kind of characters is slow and a waste of time; it's not as comfortable as writing casually at all."

"I'd like to see who dares to show off their calligraphy in front of me!"

Dear Cousin Jia Ni,

I am Zhao Ailing…

Jiang Jianni exclaimed, "Ah! I didn't expect Zhao Ailing to go to Beiping."

No matter how much Jiang Jianni felt that Zhao Junshan and Yang Yuezhi had driven Zhao Ailing away, she couldn't deny that she had also contributed to the effort.

Otherwise, Zhao Ailing would never have thought of stealing money from her family and running away to Beiping.

Now that she has received her letter and knows that she is safe and sound, Jiang Jianni can finally relax.

"Wow, this girl is lucky."

Having learned from Jiang Jiani's words and deeds, Zhao Ailing did not dress up as beautifully as she did at home.

Instead, she did as Jiang Jiani suggested, dressing herself up to look ugly and even smearing her face and hands with black paint.

She's not good-looking, but speaks fluent Mandarin. Although she's encountered thieves on the street, she's very alert and always tries to find crowded places. She never stays alone and never talks to strangers.

After a series of close calls, they arrived safely in Beiping. Following Jiang Jiani's advice, they went to the city and, under the pretext of visiting relatives, found a local street office. With the help of the staff there, they rented a house before starting to think about finding a job.

But, well, that's just how coincidental it is.

Several of the people in the apartment she rented were actors, and they were even graduates of regular schools. After getting to know them, they took her to work as an extra a few times, and as a result, she caught the eye of a director.

"...Everything here is different from our home. Sister, you're right. Only when you come out do you realize how big the sky is and how vast the world is."

"...The director said I had talent and cast me in an important supporting role."

"I don't know what spiritual energy is, but it's good to be able to make money. The expenses outside are really too high, and no matter how much I have, it's not enough."

"At home, my mom never made me wash dishes. But after two months in Beiping, I've already learned how to change coal briquettes and cook..."

"By the way, I heard from those people that actors rarely use their real names, so I also gave myself a stage name, called..."