During the hottest days of summer, the sun beat down like fire, turning the construction site into a giant steamer.
Fang Damiao was tying steel bars at the construction site under the scorching sun. The iron tools were so hot they could burn a layer of skin off, and he had to wear gloves before he dared to touch them.
At home, the sun is too strong, so you can go to the fields later. But you can't do that here; you have to be at work on time and leave on time.
Making money is really tough. Fang Damiao wiped his sweat. He really wanted to treat himself well when he got his salary. He thought of the blissful moment in that pink-lit shop.
No, I've been out here for half a year already. I need to send this month's salary home.
Shouldn't I enjoy the money I've worked so hard to earn? Fang Damiao worked while struggling with this internal conflict.
On the day he received his salary, the money still smelled of bank ink. He carried it in his close-fitting cloth bag, and even walking felt like he was floating.
This money was earned through my own hard work and sweat; I'd be doing myself a disservice if I didn't treat myself to a break.
But then I think of my lovely son and feel guilty.
I won't go out tonight. I'll wire the money tomorrow. It's no use having this idea if I don't have any money.
That night, some of the people on the communal bunk beds went out.
Fang Damiao knew what they were going to do. He clenched his fist and decided not to go. He wouldn't want to see them and stop thinking about it.
"Da Miao, you're a good man too!" A coworker nearby saw that he was still there.
"You didn't go out either, did you?" Fang Damiao retorted.
"I need to send money home. My two children are in school, my mother is sick, and there are long queues of places that need money."
That's how I got through that night.
After finishing his morning work the next day, Fang Damiao and his coworkers headed to the post office.
The post office was crowded, and the air was filled with the smells of ink and sweat.
Fang Damiao stood in line, counting the 120 yuan in his pocket over and over again.
When it was his turn, the woman behind the counter looked up at him and said, "Remittance? Fill out a form."
Fang Damiao exclaimed "Hey!" and took out a pen, but his hand was trembling slightly.
The pen hovered over the "remittance amount" column for a long time. His Adam's apple bobbed, and it felt like two little people were fighting inside him. He was thinking about his wife and son at home, but he didn't want to mistreat himself.
“Comrade,” he suddenly pulled back the hundred-yuan note he had just counted, his fingertips pinching the edge of the banknote, “How about… you transfer fifty first?”
The woman looked up at him, but didn't ask any questions. She then lowered her head and started tapping on the abacus.
Fang Damiao stuffed the fifty yuan he had taken back back into his pocket.
I feel a mix of relief at having money sent home, guilt at having to withdraw it, and anticipation at having money in my pocket to treat myself.
"Next time, send more of the same thing." Fang Damiao gave himself an out, and with that thought, he stepped out of the post office with ease.
When the money order arrived at their house, the postman's bicycle was parked in front of their door.
"Did you receive any mail?" a neighbor asked casually as they passed by.
"It's Da Miao, he's wired the money." Fang Meixiang's mother said with a smile. She always wanted to give her son-in-law more face, so that her own family could also save face.
"That's good, it's better to go outside, you can make money there," the neighbor said enviously.
The day after tomorrow is market day; there will be tractors from the village going to town.
Fang Meixiang's mother put the remittance slip away and went to tell the driver that her whole family was going to town and asked him to give them a ride.
"Your whole family has taken up half of this tractor," the driver joked.
Knowing they were going to town, Fang Meixiang changed into clean clothes and, like a child, excitedly followed her family to the tractor.
Fang Dongqiang skipped along, pulling Fang Meihao along, "Second Aunt's house, take one thing at a time."
Fang Meixiang's mother carried a basket of eggs for Fang Meili.
The tractor chugged along the dirt road, its bed packed with people, baskets and sacks piled high, the air filled with the aroma of freshly picked vegetables.
Amidst the rising dust, everyone huddled together by the edge of the truck bed, chatting about everyday things.
Fang Dongqiang and another child sat next to Fang Meihao. When the vehicle bumped, the two of them bounced up as if they were on springs. Fang Dongqiang giggled and made an "uh" sound every time the tractor bounced. The other child also made "ee-ya" sounds, and his little hands did not forget to tug at the corner of Fang Dongqiang's clothes.
I don't know who mentioned it, but everyone knows that Fang Damiao has sent money.
"Your family's life is getting better and better!" An auntie in the back row slapped her thigh, her voice so loud it drowned out the roar of the tractor. "Meili runs a department store in town. I went to buy soap the other day, and the counter was so clean you could see your reflection in it. Business is booming!"
Fang Meili's father chuckled, "What money can a kid like you make from messing around like this?" He was being modest, but the wrinkles around his eyes were quite deep.
"What do you mean by 'messing around'?" another old man chimed in. "It's much better than us digging in the ground! Besides, Mei Hao is the girl from our village who got into university; she'll be working for the government in the future!"
"And there's Da Miao, I heard he earns a lot outside. From now on, you two old folks can just wait to enjoy your retirement!"
No sooner had he said that than a chorus of agreement erupted from the truck bed. "That's right! Three kids, one runs a shop, one's in college, and one's working away from home. Meixiang, though... has two younger sisters to help out, so they're doing alright!"
Fang Meixiang's parents smiled broadly, wiping their eyes with a handkerchief. "It's all thanks to our children's success. We old folks haven't been able to help much."
After a bumpy ride to town, everyone dispersed to go to the market.
The town's post office was a low, single-story building with most of the paint peeling off the walls, and the wooden sign at the entrance was whitened by the sun.
"Comrade, please collect the remittance." Fang Meixiang's father handed over the form.
The person behind the counter took the order, checked the name on the household registration book, made a checkmark on the book, and then counted out fifty yuan from the metal box and slapped it on the counter.
"This is from Da Miao for you and Dong Qiang," Fang Meixiang's mother said to Fang Meixiang as she took the money.
When Fang Meixiang heard Fang Damiao's name, a trace of melancholy flashed in her eyes. She also missed Fang Damiao.
"Dongqiang, your dad sent money over to buy you things." We also need to tell Fang Dongqiang, the kid.
Fang Dongqiang's eyes lit up. "What do you want to buy? Let's go to my second aunt's house."
"Okay, let's go to Auntie's house."
Fang Meili was busy in the shop.
"Mom, Dad. Did my eldest sister come over today? Meihao, you should come over more often since you're on vacation!" Fang Meili handed the customers her things and headed towards the food display case.
"Dongqiang, what do you want to eat?"
Fang Dongqiang was already lingering in front of the toy counter. "My dad has money now, I'm here to buy some."
"Hehe, your dad's got money now?" Fang Meili poked her head out from behind the counter.
"Da Miao sent the money; I just went to the post office to pick it up."
"Not bad, he knows to send money to the mother and son. How much did he send?" Fang Meili leaned closer and asked softly.
"Fifty."
"Fifty? He's been working for half a year and only sent fifty? You could earn that much by farming at home! They said the monthly salary is around 100 yuan. It's been half a year and he's only sent 50 yuan? Is he keeping the money to live a carefree life? He should at least be able to make up a hundred."
“He has to eat and use the money when he’s out there, and he might not have work every day. It’s good that he can think of sending some money back to Meixiang and Dongqiang.”
"That's right, we shouldn't ignore it. At least he still has the heart to do this."
"Meili, are you tired right now?" Fang Meixiang's mother asked as she came to the side.
Fang Meili is pregnant. "It seems okay. She hasn't had much of a reaction yet at the beginning."
"Okay, don't lift heavy things. Be careful in the first few months. Here, take this egg and eat it." Fang Meixiang's mother handed over the egg.
"Mom, yes, there's nothing you can't buy in town. Don't keep bringing things; there are so many people in the family who need to eat."
"Yes, we have food."
When customers come to the store, Fang Meili is busy greeting them and chatting with them whenever she has a spare moment.
Fang Dongqiang took the tangram he had his eye on last time back with him.
Fang Meixiang's mother insisted on handing money to Fang Meili, saying, "Dongqiang always asks for things when he comes. Da Miao gave him money, so take some back with you."
"Mom, what are you doing? Da Miao gave you these to buy other things. This is for Dong Qiang. I can afford to give him a toy."
The market was about to close, and everyone gathered around the tractor to wait for everyone to arrive before heading back. Those who had already arrived checked what each other had bought in their baskets and bags.
Fang Meixiang's father lifted Fang Dongqiang onto the truck bed, placing a folded burlap sack underneath. The two children sat together, and Fang Dongqiang took out a tangram puzzle to show the children who had come with him.
"My second aunt gave it to me; it can transform into many things."
"Dongqiang, put it away first. It will fall off when the tractor starts moving."
The tractor sputtered to life, the trailer lurched violently, and someone who hadn't been seated properly cried out and grabbed a sack next to him.
The truck bed became lively as people talked about today's vegetable prices and the interesting things they had seen at the market; their voices almost drowned out the roar of the machines.
The air carried the lingering scents of the market, the aroma of fried dough sticks, and the smell of new shoes' glue.
As they passed by the paddy field, someone pointed to their own rice and shouted, "This year's harvest is sure to be good!" Everyone else echoed in agreement, their voices full of anticipation.
As the tractor turned into the village, the barking of dogs could be heard in the distance. Everyone began to pack their things, chatting and laughing as they prepared to get off the tractor.
With less stuff in the truck bed, the empty space looked exceptionally bright and spacious.
Everyone took their things and went home. When they ran into neighbors, they would always ask what good things they had bought at the market that day.
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