Chapter 8: Visitors on the Street (Please Continue Reading)

Having been in this era for more than half a month, Zheng Fei had finally managed to solve his immediate struggles with food and clothing.

With rice in the pantry and side dishes on the table, there was finally something to look forward to in life. In these times, fresh rice could be considered a rare luxury, and the moment he acquired such a treasure, the first person Zheng Fei thought of was his neighbor.

"Knock, knock, knock."

Zheng Fei rapped on the door next door. A curious little girl poked her head out, and seeing it was Zheng Fei, she immediately broke into a bright smile.

"Brother!"

"I was just about to come look for you. My grandma said she cooked enough for you today."

Looking at the spirited little girl, Zheng Fei couldn't help but pat her head. In this world, there were still more good people than bad, after all.

Eating fresh rice alone always felt a bit hollow, so Zheng Fei handed the newly purchased rice and side dishes to Mother Huang.

"Would you mind if I joined you for meals for a while?"

"We're already so close, why be so polite?" Mother Huang pushed the bag of rice back. "It’s just an extra pair of chopsticks; it won't cost much. Keep this rice for yourself; you don't need to give it to me."

Mother Huang’s family was not well-off, yet she had always been kind to him. Zheng Fei insisted firmly, "Mother Huang, if you don't accept it, I’ll have to go ask Uncle Sun next door. I’ve already troubled you so many times; I can’t keep imposing on you like this."

Seeing Zheng Fei’s firm stance, Mother Huang furrowed her brows and took the rice bag, surprised by its weight. When she saw the pure white rice inside, she was astonished. "Xiao Fei, this is fresh rice! Where did you get this?"

"I queued for it at the grain station."

Mother Huang was curious. "You earned money?"

Zheng Fei didn't want to lie to her, so he answered truthfully, "Today, I went to the Bund and drew portraits for tourists. I earned over a yuan and a few grain coupons."

Zheng Fei had expected Mother Huang to become stern, draw a line between them, and label him a profiteer. To his surprise, she was quite supportive.

"You’ve been a clever child since you were young; it’s no surprise you have talent. Sigh, there are so many unemployed youths now, and the authorities can't assign jobs to everyone. This can't go on forever. I think what you're doing is quite good."

This time, it was Zheng Fei’s turn to be startled.

In this day and age, the status of a private entrepreneur was lower than a stray dog—that was no exaggeration. Just a few years ago, his behavior would have invited severe persecution. Honestly, Zheng Fei didn't interact with Mother Huang that often, and he truly hadn't expected her to be so open-minded.

Nowadays, everyone played dumb to survive. The number of unemployed youths nationwide had already exceeded 20 million. In a major city like Shanghai, the total number of unemployed was a sensitive figure that newspapers dared not publish for fear of unrest.

Add to that the return of the "educated youth" over the past two years, and almost every household was in chaos. In their alleyway, there was one family where two sons had returned from the countryside, both already married. The eldest son had a family of four, the second son a family of three, and with the two elderly parents, there were nine people squeezed into a house of less than ten square meters.

In the end, the already tiny house was partitioned into two to accommodate the sons, while the two elderly parents were forced to sleep in a stairwell less than two square meters in size—it was said they couldn't even fully stretch their legs. Recently, the two sons had even been pressuring the elderly couple to retire early so they could claim their job positions.

It was a mess; the city’s bright exterior only hid a multitude of problems. Unemployed youths like Zheng Fei were not isolated cases; they were everywhere, roaming the streets with nothing to do. Yet, despite the crisis of unemployment, people still looked down on private enterprise.

Having lived two lifetimes, Zheng Fei understood clearly: it was simply that the class of people drawing fixed salaries feared that private entrepreneurs would earn more than they did, which was why they tried so hard to ostracize them. To put it bluntly, it was a conflict of group interests, much like how office workers dislike colleagues who suddenly become wealthy through land compensation.

Someone as open-minded as Mother Huang was truly a rarity in this era.

...

However, the news of Zheng Fei earning money to buy fresh rice spread through the alleyway in no time, and the neighbors began to whisper.

In these times, having money without a formal job made people suspicious. Most assumed it came from swindling or profiteering. Before long, Zheng Fei was demonized; someone even firmly declared, "In my opinion, Zheng Fei must have become a pickpocket."

A student’s parent cursed in the street, "It’s simply outrageous! Today, Zheng Fei even snatched half an eraser from my son."

But when this was said, people didn't believe it. "If he were going to steal, he'd steal money. Why steal an eraser?"

"How would I know? I’d like to ask him that myself!" The parent was equally frustrated. Actually, his child had money on him; if Zheng Fei had stolen money, he could have reported him to the police. But stealing an eraser—what was one supposed to make of that?

The news traveled fast, and before long, someone from the neighborhood committee arrived. Mother Huang’s voice drifted up from downstairs.

"Oh, Director Wang! What wind has blown you here? Would you like to come in and sit for a while?"

The visitor was a woman in her fifties, looking quite capable and professional. She was a neighborhood committee official for the Tanziwan area, responsible for the daily affairs of their district. Many unemployed youths relied on her to help find work.

Wang Chunfeng smiled. "I’m here to see Zheng Fei. Is he home?"

Hearing that she was looking for Zheng Fei, Mother Huang assumed she was there to assign him a job and quickly shouted, "Xiao Fei, Director Wang is here to see you!"

Zheng Fei, who was in the middle of his meal, was slightly stunned. He rarely had dealings with the neighborhood committee. It had been years since he had last contacted them regarding his father’s affairs, and since they couldn't find him a job, the connection had faded.

Zheng Fei finished his rice in a few quick bites. "Wait a moment, I'm coming down."

Zheng Fei’s situation was special. The committee had wanted to help, but there was truly no way to start; until his father returned to clear his name, his status remained tainted. His mother had also made mistakes and run off with the children, though her case was easier to handle—she could simply be reported as missing. Two years ago, the committee had recommended him to a textile mill, but the background check was an insurmountable hurdle.

Just a short while ago, Mother Sun from the grain station had come to the committee with two national grain coupons, claiming they were Zheng Fei's. In such cases, a committee official naturally had to investigate. Wang Chunfeng pulled out the two national coupons.

"I heard from the folks at the grain station that you provided these two national grain coupons."

Hearing the mention of national grain coupons, Mother Huang finally realized why the committee was there—it wasn't to offer him a job at all. They usually used Shanghai’s local ration coupons here; things like national grain coupons were rare, usually only held by cadres traveling on official business.

How did Zheng Fei get his hands on these?

Zheng Fei was equally surprised to hear this. He hadn't expected that simply using national grain coupons to buy rice would stir up the neighborhood committee.