TFRLTOP Chapter 44 Part 1

Chapter 44 – The Rustic Wife of the Educated Youth 

◎ Savings belong to the household, but a little stash of private money is a must ◎

That night, Ming Ming couldn’t even remember how she made it home. She slept like a log and didn’t wake until early the next morning.

The moment she opened her eyes, she was staring straight into a handsome face beside her. Their eyes met—and both of them jumped.

“What are you doing?”

“Why are you up so early?”

They spoke in unison.

Yan Junsheng said, “I was just about to wake you, but you opened your eyes on your own.”

Ming Ming blinked in confusion, glancing at the barely breaking dawn outside the window. “Why so early? Something going on today?”

“You forgot? We agreed yesterday we’d go into town.”

Who agreed? That was your unilateral decision!

Ming Ming had gotten used to being lazy lately. Still half-asleep, she wanted to go right back under the covers, mumbling her protests. Yan Junsheng patted her lightly over the blanket. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ll get ready first. You wake up slowly, then get up when you’re clear-headed.”

By the time he was done, Ming Ming had gone right back to snoring, sprawled every which way across the bed.

He didn’t push her. Instead, he sat quietly at the bedside, picked up a political theory book, and started reading aloud:

“‘Surplus value refers, under an exploitative system, to the new value produced by laborers that exceeds their compensation, which is appropriated by the ruling class…’”

His posture was casual yet carefully calculated—sitting at the edge of the bed, one leg crossed, book in hand, head tilted just so, his profile perfectly defined. Exactly the kind of scholarly image she’d see first thing when she opened her eyes.

The scheme was almost flawless—

—if only he hadn’t spoken.

No exaggeration, Ming Ming shot upright like she’d just come back from the dead. Fear radiated off her as she blinked around in panic, then finally focused on… the political theory book in his hands.

She didn’t even notice his deliberately straightened back or carefully angled jawline.

Yan Junsheng felt a pang of disappointment. He casually lowered his leg, ready to say something—when Ming Ming’s lips quivered and tears began rolling down her cheeks.

She didn’t make a sound, just hugged the quilt and wiped at her eyes.

This scared him half to death. He tossed the book aside, hurried forward, and wrapped his arms around her. “What’s wrong, Juan’er? Don’t cry, don’t cry.”

Ming Ming sobbed, grief pouring out. “I finally got into college… then I dreamt I had to take the college entrance exam all over again. And now I really am back at the damn exam! And memorizing politics… I haven’t studied politics since we split into tracks! Ughhh, what kind of miserable fate is this?”

She was crushed.

Her words were broken and muffled, and Yan Junsheng only caught fragments. He figured she was still groggy, maybe rattled by him, and his heart ached with guilt. “My fault, my fault. Okay, okay, don’t cry. I scared you.”

“Let’s go into town, have some fun. I’ll buy you something good to eat. What do you want?”

“Sniff… I want lotus seed paste mooncakes, ox-tongue pastries, taro tiger-skin rolls…”

The ’70s are too bitter. I want to go back to the modern day. QAQ

Yan Junsheng only recognized the ox-tongue pastry. The rest he had never heard of. Who knew if the town even sold them?

“Then let’s go see. Whatever you want, we’ll buy it all.”

Leaning against him, she hiccupped through her tears, slowly calming down from the nightmare and the morning crankiness.

…Which left her feeling rather embarrassed.

She tried to sneakily wipe her face and sit up, but Yan Junsheng held her firmly in his arms. She ended up burying her head against his chest, smearing her tears all over his shirt, then pushed him away as if nothing had happened.

“Move. I need to change.” Her voice still carried a trace of a sniffle.

She glanced up—and saw him grinning at her, eyes warm. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she shot him a glare. He leaned down, kissed her forehead, and let out a low, amused rumble. His voice dropped. “What’s there to be shy about? I’d never laugh at you.”

She glared at his broad chest instead, itching to pinch him just to vent her frustration.

Maybe sensing her evil intentions, he wisely let her go.

“Hurry and get ready. I borrowed a horse cart from the brigade. If we leave early, we’ll be back before dark.”

Ming Ming muttered an “Oh,” got dressed, and said, “I’ll grab some money.”

“No need. I’ve got it. Don’t worry, more than enough.”

She shot him a suspicious look, her expression practically spelling out: Didn’t you say you gave it all to me?

He cleared his throat, looking away. “The money with you, that’s yours. Use it whenever you want. But for daily expenses, and for buying you things—that’s still on me.”

Big savings should, of course, be handed to the wife.

But a man had to keep a little stash too.

Not that he could say it outright—he just wanted to have the chance to treat her himself.

On him, a strange mix of modern practicality and old-school machismo blended into a unique brand of male pride.

Too bad Ming Ming didn’t get it.

The system whispered in her ear: See? Men always say one thing and do another. Claims he gave you everything, but look—he still kept a secret stash.

Ming Ming: “…” Something felt off about that logic.

Oh well. She had her own secret stash too.

Fair’s fair.

The two rode into town. Today’s entire agenda was shopping for her. Most people bought fabric to sew their own clothes, patching them when worn. But Yan Junsheng insisted on buying her ready-made dresses. Ming Ming didn’t share the era’s fashion sense—but he did. He carefully picked and matched outfits for her until she felt like a spinning mannequin, numb from trying on so many clothes.

By the time they left, his hands were loaded with bags, and she was wearing a new dress.

She asked, “Is this really practical for the village? Can I even move around in this dress?”

“How’s it not practical? It’s not like you’re working the fields.”

She squinted at him. “What if I want to climb a tree?”

“…”

In all his months in Xinli Village, even since their wedding, he had never once seen Chen Chanjuan climb a tree. Still, he offered sincerely, “Maybe… you could give up that hobby for now?”

Ming Ming nodded solemnly. “I’ll think about it.”

He chuckled, shifted the bags into one hand, and laced his fingers through hers as they strolled along the street. Nodding toward the corner, he said, “There’s a big pastry shop over there—an old, established one. Come on, let’s check it out.”

Snacks of this era came in many kinds, but they were still pretty traditional, not like the endless variety in the future. Some she recognized—haw flakes, candied fruit rolls, peach crisps. Others, like pagoda candy or stove cakes, would vanish from markets decades later.

The shop was generous, letting customers taste before buying. Ming Ming felt a little embarrassed and just pointed out a few she recognized to have weighed out, then picked from the unfamiliar ones.

“Young lady, would you like to try some jelly and fruit leather?” the shopkeeper offered, handing her two pieces.

Ming Ming thanked him, then promptly popped them into Yan Junsheng’s mouth.

She stared at him. “Too sour?”

“A little.”

“Does it taste good?”

Yan Junsheng nodded. “Not bad.”

“Oh, then let’s get you some.” Ming Ming turned to tell the shopkeeper, but Yan Junsheng stopped her. “You don’t like sour foods, right? Just buy what you like. I don’t really care for this stuff.”

Ming Ming eyed him suspiciously. “Really?”

“Really.”

She hesitated, watching him for a couple of seconds, then pulled him aside and whispered, “It’s fine, I brought money too. Don’t worry about not having enough.”

Yan Junsheng couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulder and guided her back to the stall. “All you need to do is pick what you like. Doesn’t matter how much—it’s not like we’re short on money. Relax.”

Ming Ming wasn’t fully convinced. She stood quietly for a moment, frowned, then shook her head firmly. “No hawthorn.”

Yan Junsheng chuckled, silently making a note that she didn’t like sour things.

In the end, they didn’t buy much. Traditional pastries that tasted good all relied on eggs, flour, sugar, and oil—and none of those ingredients came cheap. Without them, the flavor dropped a lot. Ming Ming just picked a few for the taste, nothing more.

The town didn’t have any of the snacks she’d mentioned—not even ox-tongue pastries. Seeing that she didn’t seem to have gotten what she wanted, Yan Junsheng comforted her, “It’s fine. Let’s check the general store. They should have other treats there, maybe some good biscuits.”

Ming Ming nodded and pointed in a direction. “I remember there’s a little general store down that street.”

Yan Junsheng glanced at her. He almost asked, Did you go there with Wang Hu last time too?

But he swallowed the thought. Things were good between them now—why bring up someone who would only ruin the mood?

The general store was much smaller than the ones in the city, and the selection was limited, but the daily necessities were all there.

It was nearly noon, yet the place was still crowded.

“Hungry?” Yan Junsheng asked.

Ming Ming shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Then let’s keep browsing.”

She didn’t know how much money Yan Junsheng actually had in his pocket, but judging by how freely he spent, it had to be quite a lot.