The winds of reform and opening up finally reached this small town, and township enterprises and family workshops sprang up like mushrooms after rain, giving villagers more work to do during their off-season.

After the busy farming season, rice stubble still remained on the ridges of the fields, still warm with golden husks. The threshing ground at the village entrance had just been cleaned of rice husks, and the carts that had gone to deliver grain were returning, loaded with wooden beads brought back from the handicraft factory.

The wooden beads, heavy and polished smooth, were packed in a snakeskin bag. Some were jujube red, others were beige, and they all exuded a delicate charm.

Back home, I supported it with two long benches, placed a wooden board on top, poured in wooden beads, sharpened one end of an old umbrella rib to serve as a needle, threaded a transparent plastic rope through the hole in the other end, and strung the wooden beads together to make a cushion, following the sample.

"Make sure the weave is tight, otherwise it will loosen after sitting for a long time. You can't deliver the goods if you don't wear them properly." This was a special instruction given to new workers at the factory when they went to collect the materials.

The person who went to get the materials learned how to do it and then came home to instruct the family members on how to do it, for fear that they would not do it well and have worked for nothing.

Fewer people chatted around; the house was filled with the click-clack sound of beads being woven into a cushion and the pleasant scent of wood. Everyone was subtly competing, no one wanting to do less than the others.

The neatly stacked woven cushions were loaded onto a cart and taken to the factory to complete the work. The wages earned could then be used to buy household necessities in town.

With more factories supplying materials, the villagers started comparing and discussing which factory had easier and simpler designs to produce, which could produce more each day, and which offered cash payment upon delivery.

Watching everyone bring back loads of materials, Yu Jihong couldn't help but mutter to Fang Sandi, "If only we had gone to Wenzhou earlier to ask and brought lighters to make it, wouldn't we be the ones supplying the materials to them now?"

Yu Jihong is still regretting that she didn't do it.

“It’s not certain whether we can get the outsourcing work. Even if we do, if we don’t earn as much as we do wearing cushions, no one will want to do it. Aren’t you making colored lights yourself now, and occasionally wearing cushions too?” Fang Sandi didn’t feel like he had missed this opportunity at all.

The second half of the year was spent busy with farm work and these handicrafts.

It's almost the end of the year again.

Fang Damiao didn't come back for Chinese New Year last year, and after the Mid-Autumn Festival this year, he's been counting down the days: three more months, two more months, one more month...

That year, he was relatively stable, working on the construction site for a year. Although he was looking for a business opportunity, the construction site was so busy that he just wanted to lie down and not move after finishing his work.

By the second half of the year, he stopped thinking about anything else and only wanted to go home.

Fang Damiao queued in the cold wind all night for this train ticket home. The moment he got the ticket, his eyes welled up with tears of excitement.

Once on the train, the carriage was crowded, stuffy, and noisy, but he was happy to endure it. He carefully put his ticket and the cloth bag containing his wages close to his body and sat on the train home.

The train swayed along, and most of the passengers in the carriages were drowsy. Fang Damiao was also feeling sleepy, and just as he was drifting off, he was suddenly awakened by a commotion. He saw a group of people gathered in the aisle, and in the middle, a man wearing a baseball cap was talking animatedly about something.

"Come on, folks, we've got nothing better to do, let's play a little game!" The man in the baseball cap held up three upside-down cups, one of which had a coin underneath. "I'll swap this coin under the three cups, and you guess which cup it'll end up under. If you guess right, you bet what you want, and I'll pay you back!"

As he spoke, he pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket and waved it around. "Consider this a way to cheer everyone up. Those with money, please donate; those without, please show your support!"

At first, everyone was skeptical and just watched with curiosity.

Seeing this, the man in the baseball cap quickened his pace, muttering as he changed his cap, "Watch closely, don't blink, this is a rare opportunity!"

At this moment, a young man stepped forward, took out 10 yuan, and said, "Let me try!" He pointed to the middle cup and said, "I guess it's under here!"

The man in the baseball cap smiled and opened the cup. Sure enough, there was a coin inside. Without saying a word, he handed the money to him. "Brother, you have a good eye." This piqued the interest of others around, who took out their money to participate.

Fang Damiao was also tempted, thinking that if he could win some money, he would buy more New Year's goods for his mother-in-law when he got back.

He hesitated for a moment, took out five yuan, and then exchanged it for two yuan.

The man in the baseball cap smiled and nodded, his fingers moving the three cups around quickly. His movements looked chaotic, but it seemed he was deliberately letting Fang Damiao see the position of the coins.

When he stopped, Fang Damiao pointed confidently to the left, "That's it!"

The moment the cup was lifted, the coin was indeed lying inside!

The man in the baseball cap readily handed over the money, saying, "Brother, you have a good eye! See, I'm not cheating you, am I?"

Fang Damiao was overjoyed as he clutched the money he had won, regretting that he hadn't taken out five yuan earlier.

In the next two rounds, Fang Damiao bet five yuan and ten yuan respectively, and guessed correctly every time. Before he knew it, he had more money in his hand.

He completely let his guard down, and the man in the baseball cap seized the opportunity to urge him on, "Brother, with your luck, it's a shame not to bet more! Next time, bet fifty, it'll be so impressive to buy New Year's goods for your wife and kids when you get home!"

Fang Damiao was itching to try it, so he gritted his teeth, took out fifty yuan, put it in his pocket, and then put it back. This was almost half a month's salary, earned through so much hard work.

"You've won real money, haven't you?" The man in the baseball cap waved the money in his hand. "Bet with confidence, I can afford to pay you back."

Fang Damiao thought about the money he had already won, hesitated for a moment, and then took out fifty yuan.

He stared intently at the hand in the baseball cap, but this time, the other person moved as fast as the wind, shifting the cup around, and he was completely disoriented in the blink of an eye.

When they stopped, he hesitated for a long time before pointing to the cup in the middle, "This one!"

The baseball cap lifted the glass, revealing it to be empty. "Oh dear, so close!"

He sighed regretfully and casually took the fifty yuan.

Fang Damiao's heart tightened. He wanted to try again to win it back. How much should he bet this time? He just wanted to win back the money and break even. He was calculating how much he needed to bet to break even.

"Brother, I suggest you bet 100." Someone whispered in his ear, "If you win, stop and don't play anymore. Take your winnings home safely."

He seemed to be helping Fang Damiao, and even shouted to the guy in the baseball cap, "Slow down this round, slow down and let this guy try again."

Fang Damiao hesitated, rubbing his pockets. Suddenly, an old man in a worn-out cotton-padded coat tugged at him.

Fang Damiao was taken aback. He then looked at the people who had just won money and saw them secretly giving each other meaningful glances.

He instantly snapped out of his daze, cold sweat pouring down his back. The little money he had just won was actually bait to lure him into the game!

Just as he was about to shout, the old man pulled him back and whispered, "There are many of them."

Fang Damiao was unwilling to accept losing money like this; the money he lost could have bought so many toys for his son.

Fang Damiao felt a tightness and pain in his chest, as if something was blocking it, and even his breathing became heavier. He suddenly looked up and glared at the baseball cap, his eyes bloodshot, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he almost rushed forward.

He had only taken half a step when he remembered that he was alone on the train and that the other party had several accomplices watching him, so he froze.

Feeling wronged, angry, and regretful all mixed together, his nose stung with tears. He called the police and went to find the train police. Fang Damiao got up to find the train police.

Seeing this, the man in the baseball cap prepared to pack up his props and leave. Someone had already called the police, and the train police officer came down the aisle and grabbed him.

"Officer, they just cheated me out of my money!" Fang Damiao shouted immediately.

"You guys are just greedy for small gains and end up suffering big losses!" The police were used to this kind of trick and encounter. "Come with me! Let me make a statement."

"Hey!" Fang Damiao followed behind.

After giving a statement and admitting his mistake, Fang Damiao was given a lecture and returned home ashamed with the money he had lost.

The old man patted him on the shoulder: "When you're out and about, don't be greedy for small gains. Getting home safely is the most important thing. You're really lucky. So many people have been scammed and never got their money back."

Fang Damiao nodded and leaned against the window again. Scattered lights shone through the darkness outside the window. He dared not be distracted anymore, hoping that the train would arrive at the station soon so that he could see Dongqiang and Meixiang as soon as possible.

The air was filled with the scent of the New Year, making the branches of the old camphor tree sway and rustle. He was almost home, and Fang Damiao felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. Would his son still recognize him? What would Meixiang's reaction be when she saw him?

"Oh, Boss Miao is back? I heard you were doing business outside."

"No, no, I'm just working!" Fang Damiao quickened his pace toward Fang Meixiang's house.

As soon as I reached the door, I heard soft voices coming from inside the house.

He tiptoed and peered through the door frame. Fang Meihao was teaching Fang Dongqiang how to write characters, saying, "Horizontal strokes should be flat, and vertical strokes should be straight."

Fang Dongqiang lay on the low table, his brows furrowed, carefully drawing stroke by stroke, his nose almost touching the paper.

"Raise your head," Fang Meihao called out, and Fang Dongqiang immediately straightened his back.

Fang Meixiang sat on the bamboo chair next to him, watching Fang Dongqiang write attentively.

Fang Damiao could no longer hold back and shouted, "I'm back!"

The room fell silent instantly. Fang Dongqiang, holding the pen, froze for two seconds as if he had been frozen in place. His eyes widened, and his eyelashes trembled slightly. Then, he lowered his head shyly. This person looked like his father!

Fang Meixiang stared straight at him, as if trying to recognize or confirm him. Her lips twitched slightly, but she couldn't make a sound.

"Brother, you're back!" Fang Meihao exclaimed, nudging Fang Dongqiang's arm. "Your father is back!"

Fang Damiao came over, grabbed Fang Dongqiang's arms and pulled him up from the chair, looking at him with joyful eyes, "Dongqiang, you've grown so tall!" "Meixiang, I'm back!"

"Brother, I'm going to tell Mom you're back." Fang Meihao went to find her mother.

Fang Meixiang's eyes slowly lit up. She twisted the hem of her clothes with her hands and smiled shyly. Tears streamed down her cheeks without warning.

Fang Damiao wiped away her tears, "I'm back, don't cry."

Fang Dongqiang looked at Fang Meixiang with a puzzled expression. Fang Damiao said, "Mom is happy, so happy that she cried."

"Happy yet crying?" Fang Dongqiang scratched his nose with his finger.

"Dongqiang, you're so grown up now?" Fang Damiao squatted down and touched the back of Fang Dongqiang's head and shoulders.

"I can write now." Fang Dongqiang took the notebook.

“My son is so smart.” Fang Damiao took the notebook. “He can already read and write.”

“Da Miao,” Fang Meixiang’s mother stepped in.

"Mother, I'm back." Fang Damiao stood up.

"You're back, it's good to be back. You must be hungry after the journey. I'll make you something to eat."

"No need, Mom, no need to cook anything special, I'm not hungry." Fang Damiao took out a box of oval-shaped biscuits. "Try these, we don't have them here, they're called chicken biscuits."

Fang Dongqiang took a bite. "There really is chicken in it, and it's salty."

“Yes, these cookies are also salty,” Fang Meixiang’s mother said after taking a bite.

Fang Meixiang ate in silence; she thought everything her husband brought back was delicious.

After dinner, Fang Damiao asked, "Dongqiang, are you going home to sleep tonight?"

"I'm not going. That house is full of cobwebs and rats." Fang Meixiang's mother had taken Fang Meixiang and Fang Dongqiang there a few days ago, opened the door, and cleaned the room. Fang Dongqiang saw a rat dart past his feet.

"Oh, the little one's starting to look down on his own home. Well then, Mom and Dad are going home." Fang Damiao took Fang Meixiang home to stay.