Chapter 556 - Family Conflicts

"I wonder what the asking price for that one is?" Chen Sigen asked, gesturing with his chin toward a girl jumping rope in the exercise yard. She looked to be about seventeen or eighteen; although her hair was just growing out from a buzz cut, her delicate features and tall, slender figure were undeniable. Her generous chest swayed rhythmically with every jump.

"Asking price?" Liu San grunted, feigning disinterest. He knew he was priced out of the market—not by money, but by matrimony.

"You don't know?" Chen Sigen looked surprised. "I thought this was common knowledge. The Committee has graded the merchandise: S, A, B, C, D, E. Since we're using a cash-based allocation system, they had to slap price tags on them."

"I assume C-grade is the baseline?"

"Right. C-grade costs exactly the amount of the 'Female Servant Subsidy' issued to every transmigrator. If you want better quality, you pay out of pocket. If you're cheap or broke, you can buy a D or E-grade and pocket the difference."

"Flow Vouchers are useless anyway," Liu San muttered. "Might as well blow it on a top-tier model."

"You only know half of it," Chen Sigen laughed. "You think it's just about money? Anything above C-grade is allocated by lottery based on a priority queue. If you draw a bad number, you're at the back of the line. And the S-tier? That's going to be a competitive auction."

"Damn capitalists," Liu San cursed. "Always finding ways to drain our wallets." Inwardly, however, he tasted sour grapes. I couldn't spend a cent even if I wanted to.

"If they rated everyone S-grade, that would be a sight." Chen Sigen knew the girl's name was Zhao Min. The school also housed a 'Huang Rong', a 'Li Ke', and a 'Mu Jianping'. By his assessment, Zhao Min was at least an A-grade. The problem wasn't the price; it was the competition. If the collective wasn't watching so closely, he might have tried to use his position as instructor to secure a "backdoor listing"...

Liu San rode home in a gloom, rehearsing his pitch. He had spent days preparing a dossier of arguments to present to his wife, Wuyunhua.

Unfortunately, Wuyunhua's defense was impenetrable. His application for a "domestic assistant" was summarily rejected.

"I don't mind if the single guys want one," Wuyunhua said, her tone dangerously calm. "Men have needs. If they can't solve it themselves, fine. But you? When have I ever left you unsatisfied?"

"You're absolutely right, dear," Liu San nodded frantically. "It's not about that. It's the housework... I hate seeing you so tired..."

"You have hands, don't you?" Wuyunhua laughed. "And doesn't Fu Wuben help out? In the old days, apprentices emptied the master’s chamber pots. Are we too good for that now?"

"That's the evil old society talking..."

"Please. The 'new society' you lot are building looks a hell of a lot worse than the old one," she scoffed.

"Not 'you lot'—'we'," Liu San corrected weakly. "Honey, look at the big picture. We're going to have kids. Maybe lots of them. How can we manage a household and full-time jobs without reliable help?"

"Reliable help? Or just someone 'close to your body'?"

"Absolutely not!" Liu San protested. His strategy was the wedge: get a servant in the door for cleaning, then gradually soften the boundaries. But Wuyunhua wasn't giving an inch.

Still, the primal instinct died hard. He harbored a flicker of hope that the social environment would eventually wear her down. Everyone else had maids; surely she wouldn't want to be the only one scrubbing her own floors forever?

"I heard you've been very busy with work lately?" Wuyunhua asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing.

Liu San's radar pinged wild warnings. "Yes! Very busy. Terrible workload."

"Since you're so busy," she said sweetly, "you should probably just sleep at the office."

Five minutes later, Liu San stood on the streets of Bairren City, a bedroll strapped to his back.

"Kick out again, Old Liu?" an acquaintance called out. "Off to 'contribute to the collective' on Madam's orders?"

"Busy! Meetings at the Health Department!" Liu San shouted back, fleeing the scene.

The Health Department was a terrible place to sleep. The offices were inside the General Hospital, permeating the air with disinfectant and the smell of sickness. The basement morgue full of "fresh specimens" didn't help the ambiance. The pharmaceutical factory was no better—strong chemical odors and workers who would corner him with endless questions about TCM formulations.

He decided to crash at Runshitang. Yang Shixiang was his sworn elder brother, a man who treated him with the reverence due a savior of the family business. There would be good food, good wine, and the comfort of a traditional patriarchal household.

Runshitang was in the county seat. The Executive Committee had recently upgraded Lingao County Town from a "Caution Zone" to a "Blue Zone." With the puppet magistrate fully under control, the town was essentially transmigrator territory.

Liu San registered his destination at the Bairren City gate—a security measure implemented by Zhao Manxiong to track personnel movements—and collected his apprentice, Fu Wuben. He bought a bag of fruit candies at the East Gate Market for his "nephew," then retrieved his assigned vehicle.

It wasn't a jeep or even a Red Flag carriage. It was a utilitarian "28-bar" heavy-duty bicycle. Liu San preferred it for its cargo capacity.

The road to the county seat was now pavement, smooth and hard. The five-kilometer ride was a breezy twenty-minute cruise.

Construction was exploding along the highway. The "Wenlan River Comprehensive Remediation Project," a cornerstone of the First Five-Year Plan, was in full swing. Thousands of laborers swarmed the riverbanks, digging dikes and hauling stone.

Liu San pedaled past sections where the riderbed had been exposed, the water diverted by cofferdams. Workers were dredging the channel to a depth of 1.5 meters, aiming to boost water storage and allow the passage of heavy barges.

"Make sure we have ample stocks of Bi Wenshen and Zhuge Marching Powder," Liu San muttered to himself, recalling Shi Niaoren's directive about heatstroke prevention.

"They mock TCM all day long, but the moment an epidemic looms, who do they come crying to?" Liu San felt a surge of resentment. In the Health Department, he was the odd man out. Drs. Shi and Ai, with their Western degrees, treated him like a witch doctor. The irony was that Liu San himself was skeptical of mystical Five Elements theory—his degree was in pharmacology. Yet, in the face of their arrogance, he found himself forced into the role of TCM's defender.

Still, job security was job security. As long as the modern pharmaceutical lines were bottlenecked, the colony ran on his herbal patent medicines. His influence was growing by the day.

He arrived at the county town's west gate. The ragged, shifty-eyed yamen runners of the past were gone, replaced by strapping local militia in crisp uniforms, holding standard-issue spears. A full infantry company of the Transmigrator Army was garrisoned within the walls.

The town itself had been transformed. The Civil Affairs Committee had launched a "Patriotic Health Campaign," clearing tons of accumulated garbage, dredging the sewers, and spraying disinfectant until the streets reeked of chlorine. For the first time in history, the roads in Lingao County didn't turn into cesspools when it rained.

The "Lingao Patrol Squad"—a front for the fledgling police force—had swept the streets of vagrants and beggars, shipping them off to the quarantine camps for "purification" and labor reassignment.

Liu San breathed in the relatively clean air. "Not a bad place to spend a few nights," he mused.

Yang Shixiang was surprised by the late visit—the city gates were about to close—but his welcome was warm.

"I'm imposing on you for a few days, brother," Liu San said with a pained smile.

"My home is your home," Yang Shixiang said instantly, asking no questions. He ushered Liu San into a guest courtyard attached to his outer study.

It was a marked step up from a hospital cot. The room was elegant, appointed with rosewood furniture and antiques. Two young shop boys were immediately assigned to attend to him, preparing a hot bath and laying out fresh clothes.

After bathing, Liu San exchanged the requisite courtesies with the Yang family matriarchs. Once the ritual etiquette was satisfied, Yang Shixiang ordered a banquet table set up in the study.

Surrounded by good wine, fine food, and deferential servants, Liu San finally relaxed. Here, at least, he was a master.

(End of Chapter)