Chapter 30: Yet Another Little Sister

"Then I must thank you, Uncle Zhang and Aunt Fang. I’ll use tea instead of wine to toast you both. I’m sure I’ll be seeking your help in the future!" Yang Tian raised his cup cheerfully, genuinely pleased. In truth, he had observed the Zhangs for some time. Though they were among the more prosperous families in Luohe Town, they were openhanded and straightforward, making any dealings with them refreshingly easy.

"Look at this child—just like a little grown-up," Zhang Qiang laughed as he raised his own cup.

"I have an idea, Qiang. Why don’t we make Yang Tian our godson? I’ve always liked this boy. What do you think?" Fang Li arched her slender brow and smiled.

"Yes, yes! I’ll have an older brother! Brother!" Before Zhang Qiang could respond, Zhang Xinyu called out joyfully, her sweet voice filling the room with laughter.

"Alright, then. Once we finish this cup, we’ll be family!" Zhang Qiang hesitated for a moment, but seeing Fang Li’s insistence, he downed his drink with a hearty laugh.

"Hooray! Brother! Brother!" No one was happier than Zhang Xinyu. She grabbed Yang Tian’s hand and laughed non-stop.

"Sister!" Yang Tian replied with a sincere smile, feeling deeply moved. He had gained another younger sister, and the sense of fulfillment in this new life of his only grew deeper.

Yang Tian did not immediately start calling the Zhangs his godfather and godmother; he wanted to go home and discuss it with his own parents first.

When Yang Bao and his wife learned everything, they were gratified. Yang Tian was still so young yet already considered things so thoroughly. Their hearts were touched. When he was younger, Yang Tian had worried them constantly; they thought they’d spend a lifetime fretting over him. But now, barely in his teens, he was already so thoughtful—what a comfort it was.

A month later, the greenhouse vegetables at the Yang home finally matured. It was their first attempt, and their cultivation skills were still lacking; moreover, the plot was too small, so the harvest wasn’t much—just a few hundred yuan in earnings.

But it gave Yang Bao and his wife hope. They began expanding their greenhouse operation. After all, Zhang Qiang’s textile factory was substantial and needed fresh vegetables every day.

Though the work was exhausting, they were happy—they had finally found a promising path to prosperity!

As summer approached, Binhai City’s annual Middle School Calligraphy Competition began, designed to enhance students’ appreciation and love for national culture. Both junior high and senior high students could participate.

Victory Middle School, the top school in Luohe Town, naturally set out to participate enthusiastically. In previous years, a ninth-grade girl won first prize in the Dongshi Division in 1991, and in 1993, a ninth-grade boy placed fifth in the city finals. For a rural school, these were points of pride.

With Binhai’s four urban districts, there were eleven county and township units competing, divided into east, south, west, and north divisions. The top three from each division advanced to the finals, where the city’s top six would be selected, awarded certificates of honor, and cash prizes.

Of course, each division’s top three also received certificates and prizes, albeit smaller ones.

Luohe Town fell under the Eastern Division, so Victory Middle School’s students had to compete there first.

"Though we’re only in seventh grade, and Victory Middle isn’t much compared to the city schools, I hope everyone will sign up enthusiastically! Participation is simple: just create an original calligraphy work, submit it to me, and I’ll forward it to the school. The school will select the best works for the division competition!" The homeroom teacher, Bao Yuehong, began her pitch to the class. With her stylish black skirt accentuating her charming figure, she was a striking presence.

"Wow, a calligraphy competition! Who in our class could possibly write well with a brush? Besides, we’re only in seventh grade. Maybe we should skip it," someone said.

"Why not give it a try? Treat it as fun. Anyway, it’s nearly impossible for a seventh grader to win anything—no seventh grader from our school ever has!"

The class buzzed with chatter.

"One thing I must stress," Bao Yuehong added with a smile, "is that all works must be original. No ghostwriting! If anyone is caught, you could be held back a grade. At both the division and city award ceremonies, judges will ask contestants to rewrite their entries on the spot. Some variation is allowed, but too much, and there will be trouble!"

"That strict? Maybe we shouldn't enter after all."

"Of course it’s strict! I heard the city champion gets two thousand yuan and a certificate of honor. Even third place in the division gets a hundred yuan!"

"All the entries are exhibited at the city’s cultural center—of course it’s strict!"

The class erupted into excited conversations. Only Yang Tian sat quietly, pondering whether he should enter.

Before his rebirth, his academic performance had been nothing special, but his calligraphy had developed a personal style. Now, with his younger body, he wasn’t sure if he still had the strength to write as he once did. If he wanted to compete, he’d need time to train.

He had a month to prepare, enough to regain his former skill, but he was busy: physical training, studying, tutoring Zhang Xinyu, and helping his parents with the greenhouse on weekends.

Yet, a particular sentiment tugged at him—his grandfather, Yang Qingtang. A folk calligraphy enthusiast, his grandfather wrote in a robust, square style reminiscent of Yan Zhenqing—strong and dense, yet round and powerful. Unfortunately, he never gained recognition, writing Spring Festival couplets for neighbors each year.

Yang Qingtang tried to pass this cultural treasure to his descendants, so all the Yang men learned from him: Yang Bao, Yang Tian, Yang Bao’s brother Yang Ming, and Yang Ming’s son Yang Yang.

Back when times were tough, Yang Bao and Yang Ming had been sent to work in the production team as children, leaving little time to learn calligraphy well.

But Yang Tian and Yang Yang received his genuine instruction. Still, Yang Tian was timid as a child. Though he studied quietly with his grandfather for years and wrote well, his reserved nature meant he never gained his grandfather’s favor. After a few years, his grandfather stopped teaching him, focusing on Yang Yang instead.

Yang Yang was five years older and now in his second year of high school, with considerable skill in calligraphy, having truly inherited their grandfather’s art. The classmate’s earlier mention of a ninth-grade boy from Victory Middle placing fifth in the city finals referred to Yang Yang.

He would surely enter again this year—this was their grandfather’s wish. It was also why the old man continued living with Yang Yang’s family rather than with Yang Tian’s—he found no joy or hope at Yang Tian’s home.

At New Year’s, when Yang Bao and his wife brought Yang Tian and Yang Xueling to visit, telling the old man about Yang Tian’s scholarship, he was happy but still refused to visit their home. Yang Tian’s calligraphy did not meet his standards; perhaps, in his eyes, Yang Yang was his only true heir.

Whenever this happened, Yang Tian saw the disappointment in his parents’ eyes, which pained him deeply.