Chapter 1362: Zhang Lijuan (2)

That year, I graduated from junior high school. My parents wanted me to continue to high school, and my grades were just good enough to meet the cutoff, but no matter what, I refused to go. The nine-year compulsory education was free, but high school cost money. We didn't have extra funds at home, and I didn't have time to waste—I needed to seize every second from fate to save Liang Wa.

That was the first time I argued with my parents. They were set on me attending high school, but I was as stubborn as a mule. As they said, everyone has their own destiny. If I had been born into an ordinary family with a healthy younger brother, I probably would have been willing to keep studying, but not anymore. I had my own path, and it didn't allow me to be so selfish.

I secretly tore up my high school application form and firmly decided to follow the other girls in the village by going out to work. I looked for jobs in various places in the city, but the available ones were similar to those in the town. Big companies required a high school diploma, and the ones that accepted junior high only hired people who were eighteen or older. I felt stuck in a strange gap, unable to grasp the lifelines ahead or behind.

When I was fifteen, a new factory moved into the town—it was a clock factory that made traditional grandfather clocks. They were just starting to hire, and they only required a junior high education with no age restrictions. It was the best job I could find at the time, paying four hundred yuan a month. That amount far exceeded what my parents earned from farming. Maybe that was the advantage of having a diploma.

The first two years at the clock factory were probably the happiest time of my life. The assembly line was mostly filled with boys and girls around my age, many of whom even came from the same school as me. The girls chatted during breaks, and the boys told jokes. I often laughed so hard I doubled over, and in the workshop, no one cared about discipline—I could talk as much as I wanted.

For those two years, the factory assembled the same model of grandfather clock, and we each had our own tasks. This clock was a bit different from the usual ones; instead of a typical pendulum at the bottom, it was modeled after a temple bell. At the top of every hour, the copper bell at the base would swing and ring out with a "ding-ding-ding" sound—it was quite pleasant. My job was to assemble those copper bells every day. They were more like small copper chimes that you could gently shake in your hand. Even after two years, I never got tired because the tinkling sound always made me feel energized.

It was a shame I couldn't take one home for Liang Wa to play with—I'm sure he would have been over the moon with excitement. I earned four hundred yuan a month, and the factory provided food and housing. I went home once a week, kept sixty yuan for daily necessities, and gave the remaining three hundred and forty yuan to my family. Over a year, that added up to over four thousand yuan. Although progress was slow, I was finally starting to save up for Liang Wa. At first, my parents still tried to convince me to go back to school, but once I passed the age limit, they had no choice but to let it go.

I only earned four thousand yuan a year, but my parents had their farming income too. Plus, the team leader said I might get a raise next year, so I could earn even more per month. Liang Wa was still years away from adulthood, and I figured I'd get several raises by then. By that time, my parents could borrow some money from the neighbors... and we'd be able to save his life.

Life is worth living because there's always something to look forward to! I never regretted my decision, even if I had the chance to go to high school. Liang Wa is my family, my younger brother. Even if my parents wanted to give up, I never would.

Later, I met a boy named Man Tun at the factory. He worked on the neighboring assembly line, assembling the clock hands, and he lived in the next village over. He had big eyes, thick eyebrows, and a long face—I often thought he looked as handsome as the people on TV. Man Tun frequently came over to chat with me by the line, and many of the girls in the factory liked him. I was a bit scared of that attention.

Whenever Man Tun talked to me, I could feel lots of eyes boring into my back. The other girls were staring daggers at both of us, trying to see right through me and him. So, I often deliberately kept my distance. But at seventeen, how could I know that most girls our age felt the same way? They might all like the same type of boy, and Man Tun was exactly that type—the kind who attracted people. Still, I didn't dare talk to him much.

Our family situation was already complicated enough, and I couldn't afford to think about anything else. At least not until Liang Wa had his surgery. But Man Tun was really strange... There were so many girls in the factory who liked him and fought to talk to him, yet he only seemed to linger by my side. I didn't know what might happen, but it made me uneasy.

...

"Sister, what's wrong?"

I was staring out the window in a daze when I brought my wages home, and Liang Wa's words snapped me back.

"Nothing," I said with a smile, shaking my head.

"Nothing?" Liang Wa grinned mischievously at me. "Sister, you were staring out the window and grinning like a fool—what's up?"

"Liang Wa, I met a boy at the factory. He's funny and really nice."

"What? Is he going to be my brother-in-law?" Liang Wa laughed happily. "Am I getting a brother-in-law?"

"You little rascal!" I gently smacked his shoulder. "Why is your head full of thoughts about a brother-in-law?"

Maybe Liang Wa and I both had our own hopes for the future. Mine was to save his life, and his was to see me find someone before he closed his eyes. But he didn't know there was an invisible wall between us. On one side was a seventeen-year-old girl burdened with over a hundred thousand yuan in debt, and on the other was a sunny, cheerful, likable boy. Our roles were set from the start.

A month later, the workshop director called me into his office. I'd seen him a few times from afar at meetings—he was a middle-aged man not yet fifty, plump, with glasses, always wearing a white shirt, and he had a thick southern accent. He was always smiling. Most people in the village had the surname Zhang, but his was Fang.

His desk always had a camera on it, and colleagues said he was a member of some photography association, but I knew that was something only wealthy people could afford. I stood in front of him, clueless, as he smiled and looked at a document in his hands.

"Tiantian," he said with a laugh, "I hear that's what they call you—is that your nickname?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"Do you know why I called you in?" he asked with a smile.

"I... I don't know," I shook my head.

"First of all, congratulations," the director said. "You've been here for two years, and even though you're not yet of age for permanent status, your copper bells have a pass rate over 99.5%. You can be named a quality model worker in the factory."

"Quality model worker?" I had no idea what he was talking about—I just hoped it meant a raise.