Chapter 5: Preparing to Go Independent (Please Continue Reading)

Page 1/3

When Zheng Fei suddenly sprang up, Zhao Dagang was startled and jumped as well, but quickly composed himself with a sullen expression.

“Admit your mistake right now, and I’ll pretend this never happened. You can still continue learning from me.”

Truly, kindness is taken advantage of. He was only a little fierce, yet Zhao Dagang actually backed down.

If you’re not ruthless, you can’t stand your ground!

Zheng Fei snapped back on the spot, “Learn? Learn what? I’ve followed you for over half a year, and all you make me do is the dirtiest, most exhausting work—not even giving me a meal. And with your half-baked skills, what do you have to teach me?”

Hearing this, the previously yielding Zhao Dagang’s face flushed red with anger. Nothing infuriated him more than being called half-baked.

Back then, he was indeed kicked out halfway through his apprenticeship by his own master.

Zhao Dagang pointed to the door, “If you don’t want to learn, then get lost.”

Zheng Fei chuckled, “You want me to get lost? Fine, but that wouldn’t save me any face. I’ve already made it clear that we’re done here. From now on, speak to me politely. Call me ‘Comrade,’ got it?”

“Actually, Comrade, please take care on your way out!”

Beside them, Gao Xiaoshuai was stunned. He really didn’t expect Zheng Fei to be so tough, but if he was stirring up trouble like this, it was his chance to step up.

“They told you to get lost, so why aren’t you gone yet? Ungrateful. Don’t you know how many people are eager to learn from the master? You’re getting a free ride and acting all clever.”

Zheng Fei glanced at this “senior apprentice” with disdain, “Do you think I’m stupid? When I’m talking to your master, why are you butting in? Do you even know manners?”

“What the hell did you say?”

Gao Xiaoshuai exploded on the spot, itching to slap Zheng Fei. But as he got closer, he realized Zheng Fei was at least a full head taller.

Seeing Zheng Fei’s fierce demeanor, he dared not make a move—he might end up thrown into the Huangpu River.

Zheng Fei looked at the coward and bit back mercilessly, “You’ve studied fine line drawing for years and haven’t even grasped the basics. If you’re this dumb, doesn’t that make your master look pretty stupid too?”

“Considering we’ve spent half a year together, take my advice: you’re really not cut out for this craft. You don’t have the talent. Switch careers early, and you’ll thank me later.”

Hearing this, Gao Xiaoshuai felt as if a knife had stabbed his heart. It truly hurt.

Just the day before, when he got home, his family had already started complaining about how long he’d been studying and still hadn’t graduated.

He always used mural painting as an excuse, claiming it was hard to learn, but deep down, he was unsure himself. He had followed the master for four years total.

Zheng Fei wasn’t wrong; he still couldn’t complete a mural alone.

Seeing Gao’s wavering resolve, Zheng Fei struck at his heart.

“You know why the old man likes you? Because he’s basically incompetent. He doesn’t dare teach someone as smart as me.”

“Teaching disciples well means they might outgrow the master.”

Page 2/3

“Ever heard that before?”

“But someone like you, no matter how much you’re taught, you’ll never learn. Your master should be pretty relieved.”

Zhao Dagang didn’t know how to respond to Zheng Fei’s sudden outburst.

Just half a month ago, the kid was obedient. How could he have changed so suddenly in just a few days?

“Go then.”

“I’m not playing with you anymore.”

Zheng Fei turned away casually, ready to leave, but couldn’t help glancing back at Zhao Dagang.

“This painting—you messed up Lord Guan’s face. Pay attention to the facial structure; it can’t be fat one moment and thin the next.”

Zhao Dagang’s hand trembled holding the brush, furious but unable to refute because Zheng Fei was right.

After leaving the Guan Di Temple, Zheng Fei felt it was too unfair to just leave like this.

He had worked for free for over half a year.

Not a single penny earned.

At the corner of the temple, Zheng Fei pocketed their midday rice, side dishes, and hot soup—consider it apprentice fees for half a year!

Not bad; today’s meal was pretty good!

They even had braised pork.

About half an hour later, Gao Xiaoshuai stared at the empty stove and cursed angrily.

“Zheng Fei, you bastard.”

…

Having vented his anger and enjoyed the meal, Zheng Fei now faced the harsh reality of life.

If he stopped being an apprentice, he’d immediately be labeled an “unemployed youth.”

Branded an “outcast.”

Then dragged onto the “judgment stand” by relatives, who would lecture him endlessly during every family gathering.

Fortunately, Zheng Fei had a skill, so starving to death was unlikely. Over the past days, he had already thought through his path.

Back home, Zheng Fei dismantled the wooden poles that supported the mosquito net on his bed.

He borrowed a wooden saw from Grandpa Sun, took apart two bed slats, and nailed them into a simple easel.

Then he pulled out several yellowed sheets of drawing paper and a few old pencils from a drawer.

These were all the inheritance left to him by his late father.

Page 3/3

But that was not enough.

Zheng Fei rummaged through the drawer several times but couldn’t find an eraser.

It was just past noon when school was dismissed.

Standing in the alley, Zheng Fei casually stopped a bouncing little boy and broke an eraser in half from the boy’s pencil case, promising:

“You give me half today, and next time, I’ll give you a brand new one.”

The boy nodded repeatedly in fright but burst into tears about thirty meters away.

…

In this era, making money was no easy feat; business ventures were even more unlikely.

The mainstream mode of transaction was still ticket-based: you needed a ticket for the bus, even to buy fried dough sticks you had to use half a liang of ration tickets…

Without tickets, life in this big city was very difficult.

Although individual businesses had begun to emerge and reforms were just starting, many things remained theoretical. If you acted rashly, you’d immediately be labeled and targeted.

On the west side of the WLMQ intersection on Huashan Road stood a small privately-run restaurant called “Delicious Pavilion.” According to an August report in the Wen Hui Daily, it had a monthly turnover of around 3,000 yuan.

But if memory served, in October, it received a visit from authorities and was soon shut down.

It just showed how cautiously the organization was approaching reforms.

But what Zheng Fei intended was different from such small businesses. He was looking to exploit loopholes.

There were no painting tickets, much like when that half-baked master painted murals for temples without charging tickets.

He didn’t resell goods; in a sense, what he did couldn’t even be called small business—just selling labor cheaply.

Zheng Fei carried his easel through the dense crowd of bicycles and arrived at the Bund of this era.

At that time, owning a Phoenix-brand bicycle and a set of state-owned enterprise work clothes automatically gave one priority in choosing a spouse.

Yet looking at the Bund before him, Zheng Fei still felt somewhat unfamiliar.

In this era, the opposite bank of the Huangpu River wasn’t much different from their own Sanwan Yilong neighborhood.

At that time, Lannidu Road (Lujiazui) had no Oriental Pearl Tower, no World Financial Center, no Jin Mao Tower or Shanghai Tower—only dense shantytowns.

If Sanwan Yilong was the bottom of the hierarchy on the west side of the river, then in this era, Pudong ranked even lower.

People in Puxi didn’t even consider Pudong part of Shanghai; they saw it as rural.