Chapter 80: Firecrackers Herald the Passing of the Old Year

The New Year of 2001 carried many flavors that Zhang Tan could barely recall. The standard of living was not high, and only during the New Year could people eat and drink well. Life moved at a slow pace, making the New Year an exceptionally grand festival. Unlike the future, when the holiday would last only six or seven days, a meal and a gathering would suffice, and its flavor would already have faded. But now, it truly felt like the New Year—everyone gathered together, fully immersed in celebration.

Zhang Tan thoroughly enjoyed this rich atmosphere of the season. The only regret was that, a short while before the festival, he went to school to pick up his report card and found his ranking had slipped to thirty-ninth, dropping three places. Geography and Chinese remained his strengths, still topping the class, and he had finally managed not to place last in mathematics. Yet physics and chemistry still languished at the bottom, and there had been a slight decline in politics and history as well. Too many trivial matters kept him busy, leaving little time for study, so while others progressed, he regressed.

It was a minor concern; Zhang Tan did not care much. Moreover, when Tan Mingxia saw his report card, she did not scold him as he had anticipated. Instead, she sighed and told him, “Keep writing, but continue to study hard.” Zhang Tan nodded, “I will.” He breathed a deep sigh of relief.

And so, his carefree days continued.

Soon, New Year's Eve arrived. Zhang Tan, who diligently practiced calligraphy, joined the annual tradition of writing door couplets and pasting spring banners. The entire Zhang family insisted on hand-writing their couplets. Though they were not a family of scholars, Grandfather Zhang Henong had learned brush script from his schoolteacher father-in-law, and that skill had not been lost. Zhang Tan’s third uncle, fourth uncle, and eldest cousin had all inherited Zhang Henong’s brushwork, writing beautiful characters. The tradition of writing and pasting couplets was the family’s most distinguished task of the year, involving three generations of men, Zhang Tan included.

In past years, Grandfather wrote the couplet for the main entrance, while third uncle handled the smaller doors. This year, things changed: Zhang Henong decided to step aside and let his sons and grandsons take charge. Third uncle shouldered the responsibility of the main entrance, while Zhang Henong appointed Zhang Tan to write the couplet for the smaller door.

“Third uncle writes the main entrance, Yangyang writes the small door, and the rest of you assist.” In Anhui, family hierarchy and clan traditions are highly valued, and as the head of the household, Zhang Henong spoke with authority. His decision unmistakably signaled that Zhang Tan was the family’s chosen candidate for revitalizing their lineage. Judging by his potential, Zhang Tan indeed seemed destined to soar from humble origins to greatness.

Thus, the men of the Zhang family set to work. The eldest uncle leafed through the “Complete Collection of Spring Couplets” for inspiration, the eldest cousin cut paper, the second cousin held it steady, third uncle ground the ink, fourth uncle pasted the couplets, and Zhang Tan’s father, Zhang Quanshun, mixed paste. The younger generation ferried the finished couplets to each household.

The main entrance couplet, representing the family’s dignity, was written with utmost seriousness by third uncle—each stroke dipped freshly in ink. Zhang Tan, meanwhile, wrote freely and fluidly.

“Though there are no mountains or seas, there’s always the fragrance of chicken and fish.”
“A smooth sail brings lucky stars, and every wish brings fortune to the door.”
“Auspicious snow curls like a hidden serpent, spring’s blessings arrive like a steady horse.”

“Yangyang’s brushwork is becoming sharper,” the eldest cousin commented as he cut paper and watched Zhang Tan write.

“The brush dances like dragons and serpents, halfway between running script and regular script, with balanced lines forming a harmonious whole. These are fine characters,” the eldest uncle added.

Zhang Quanshun, usually mild-mannered, spoke with pride: “I think Yangyang’s writing has more character than third uncle’s.”

Third uncle, displeased, looked up. “Second brother, to be fair, Yangyang still has a distance to go before reaching my level.”

Fourth uncle, just finished pasting a couplet, joined the debate. He compared both sets of characters and smiled, “Second brother, third brother, father is here too. Let me give an impartial opinion.”

“Go ahead,” third uncle straightened up and waited.

Zhang Tan modestly said, “I still have a long way to go.”

Fourth uncle cleared his throat, “Third brother’s writing is deep and skilled, which is not something Zhang Tan can match. But your script is too rigid, lacking flexibility, while Zhang Tan’s is more lively and pleasant to the eye.”

“That’s true,” the eldest uncle nodded.

Zhang Henong subconsciously nodded as well.

Third uncle raised his voice, “Fourth brother, you’re mistaken. Different environments call for different styles. I’m writing for the main entrance, so it must be solemn and dignified to match our family tradition.”

The eldest cousin laughed, “Third uncle, what exactly is our family tradition?”

His question sparked laughter throughout the house. The Zhang family had never used the term “family tradition.” Not being a scholarly family, they had none. Rural life in past years was marked by hardship—cleaning latrines, feeding pigs, foraging, working on riverbanks, and building dams, all communal labor, so there was little room for cultivating tradition.

“Alright, enough laughing,” Zhang Henong admonished, pointing at third uncle and Zhang Tan. “Third uncle’s script is steady—I hope you conduct yourself as steadily as your writing. As for Yangyang, keep practicing. When your script loses its sharpness, you’ll have truly mastered it.”

He added, “From now on, our family tradition will be reading! All of you who are in school, study well. Hoping you’ll get into college may be a stretch, but at least you should become knowledgeable and cultured.”

With that, Zhang Henong set the Zhang family’s tradition—reading.

The room returned to lively activity. The men pasted couplets, hung the Five Blessings, affixed door gods, prepared fireworks and firecrackers, and awaited dinner. The women gathered in the eldest uncle’s kitchen, busy arranging the feast. Every New Year’s Eve, the whole family ate together.

At seven o’clock, fireworks and firecrackers were lit, doors closed, and the New Year’s dinner began.

There was so much food the table could barely hold it all.

This year, the white liquor on the table was no longer the cheap kind of years past, but Maotai, specially bought by Zhang Tan.

“Wow, this Maotai is so much more satisfying than ordinary liquor,” the eldest cousin praised as he drank.

They were savoring not just the flavor, but the status and atmosphere.

Outside, fireworks continued without pause.

Amidst this family joy, 2001 roared past.

In the blink of an eye, the warm and prosperous winter holiday slipped away unnoticed.

...

This winter holiday brought earth-shattering changes to the family thanks to Zhang Tan. The festival’s quality soared to the advanced level of Gangji Town, and his parents’ moods were bright and cheerful. Everything was moving in a positive direction, and their e-Era Internet cafe was thriving.

Throughout the holiday, not a single computer in the cafe was idle.

After a month, deducting utilities, rent, and taxes, the net profit exceeded eighty thousand. This meant Tan Mingxia no longer complained to others about being mired in debt. Now, when chatting, she spoke of “getting a bank loan to open another Internet cafe.”

This year, thanks to Zhang Tan’s encouragement, the family decided to exit the e-Era Internet cafe and open a new one in Dayang Town. The license was already secured through connections. Dayang Town lies north of Gangji, under the jurisdiction of Hefei’s Central District; though still technically a township, it was, after all, part of the city.

Before 2002, Hefei administered three counties and one suburb: Changfeng County, Feixi County, Feidong County, the Suburban District, and the East, Central, and West City Districts.

But in a few days, Hefei would undergo administrative restructuring.

The State Council had approved Hefei’s new urban plan. The three counties would remain, but the districts would be renamed: Central District would become Luyang District, East District would become Yaohai District, West District would become Shushan District, and the boundaries would be adjusted slightly.

The old Suburban District, with seventy years of history, would officially become one of Hefei’s urban districts—Baohe District.

Thus, Hefei’s three counties and one suburb would become three counties and four districts.

This improved district-county system meant Hefei was entering a period of rapid development. Dayang Town, under Luyang District, would flourish, attracting a large influx of workers. Opening an Internet cafe there would be highly profitable.

Moreover, being close to the city made travel convenient.

In the future, Zhang Tan was determined to buy a city apartment for his family. Rural people moving to the city was an unstoppable trend; urban life was indeed more convenient and comfortable than rural life. Besides, property prices had never stopped rising up to his previous life, and buying a house was a better way to preserve value than leaving money in the bank.

...

The lazy days of winter vacation passed, and the once-empty school became crowded again.

Students, still reluctant to let go of holiday joys, readied themselves to strive anew. Zhang Tan followed suit, recognizing that he had spent the month being paraded around by his mother to visit relatives, proudly shown off like a treasure. Otherwise, his days were filled with eating, drinking, and sleeping—he had written few words for his novel.

“The Four Great Constables in the Capital” had only the first part, “The Murderer,” with sixty thousand words, and the second part, “The Bloody Hand,” with seventy thousand words. “The Bloody Hand” appeared in the March issue of “Legend of Today and the Past—Wuxia Edition,” issue number five. Both were completed before the winter holiday; by March, the royalties had already arrived.

His holiday plan to write the third part, “Poison Hand,” had barely reached twenty thousand words.

“Poison Hand” was part of the “Capital Meeting” series, planned for over a hundred thousand words. Zhang Tan intended to split it into two issues and submit six or seven thousand words to the magazine. But the holiday had been too enjoyable, and now he had to work harder to finish the manuscript and avoid being urged to submit.

Zhang Tan was not a workaholic; in fact, he tended toward laziness. But with a second chance at life, he was determined to change some bad habits. At the very least, he would not habitually procrastinate on planned tasks, or else he would become ever lazier and might revert to his former loser self.

Just as he was putting in a bit of effort, Wang Conglun called with major good news.

“Zhang Tan, after several meetings, our magazine has found that Wuhand University Press is interested in your ‘Four Great Constables in the Capital.’ They want to discuss publication with you.”

――――――――――――

I originally planned to write a bit more about the New Year, but skipped over it...

Here are two group numbers: Lao Bai’s reader group 258108294, Restart High School 222978400. Both groups are open to join. Though there aren’t many perks, they’re suitable for chatting and banter. If you have thoughts about the book, feel free to join and discuss. Lao Bai is online most of the time.