Chapter 92: The Aesthetics of an Era

Fairy? This was already the second time Chen Huajiang had heard that word from Zhang Hong’s lips, and her expression carried a hint of rejection when she spoke it.

Chen Huajiang looked over Wei Lanhua again, and suddenly a flash of insight struck him—he understood. Originally, he hadn’t found anything peculiar; with his memories and aesthetics from a later era, he felt women like her were everywhere on the streets. But now he realized that such a woman didn’t fit the current society’s standards of beauty; she belonged to the “fox spirit” type.

When the famous television drama “Journey to the West” aired, the demons and spirits were mostly portrayed just like this. There was even a joke in later years: any contemporary celebrity, no matter who, would have been no more than a background extra in those days, and not a positive one—always the villainous type. Either a man-eating demon, a seductive vixen, or a skeleton spirit.

“What you look like is what your parents gave you, whether beautiful or plain—it’s just how it is.”

“As for people, don’t simply follow others, and don’t look at yourself through the eyes of anyone else.”

“My dissatisfaction with you isn’t about your appearance, but your temperament. A waitress’s profession is about smiling, making guests feel at home, not avoiding eye contact or being silent.”

Having understood, Chen Huajiang first comforted Wei Lanhua, then pointed out her problem: she wasn’t suited for waitressing. He was considering whether she might be willing to work as a kitchen helper, assisting the chefs in the back.

Wei Lanhua listened to the man before her; his earlier words soothed her heart, warming it slightly. Her looks had caused her much suffering in the village; the women there all called her a temptress, accusing her of seducing their men as she walked. Even the elders would gossip about her, pointing fingers, while the children would throw stones her way.

That was why Wei Lanhua felt she couldn’t stay in the village anymore and pleaded with her cousin Zhang Hong to see if she could find work in the city.

Chen Huajiang’s words were just objective statements, but to Wei Lanhua, they sounded like warm, touching encouragement, filling her heart with warmth. Yet, his next words caused her heart to sink, like a stone dropping into a pond, swiftly descending.

“I can manage it,” Wei Lanhua said nervously, and to prove herself, she forced a smile. But that smile was more frightening than if she hadn’t smiled at all—a typical forced expression, stiff and awkward, making Chen Huajiang’s lips twitch involuntarily.

Zhang Hong, standing by, rolled her eyes even more dramatically; her cousin’s smile could terrify children. In her heart, she felt her cousin had no hope—how could the boss possibly let her be a waitress with that? She’d probably only be fit for kitchen work.

Wei Lanhua, struggling to smile, appeared almost foolish, which instead made Chen Huajiang pity her. Though he was young in body, his mind was over forty years old; he could easily see the panic and desperation in her, like a drowning person grasping for a lifeline.

Seventeen years old—just the age of a high schooler in days to come.

“Let’s do this: follow Zhang Hong for two days and try it out. If you’re fit for the job, you can stay as a waitress; if not, don’t force yourself.”

“My place has only just opened, and I need people. If you can’t handle waitressing, you can still help in the kitchen, though the pay will be less.”

Chen Huajiang decided to give her a chance. Waitressing wasn’t a difficult job; coming from the countryside, she was likely nimble, though her temperament might not be suited.

“Thank you, thank you, boss,” Wei Lanhua said quickly, excitement filling her heart. She vowed to work hard and strive to stay on as a waitress.

Chen Huajiang waved his hand and turned away.

In the afternoon, He Song, Wang Dali, and four other colleagues—Zhang Yu, Zhang Heng, Song Jun, and Ma Qiang—came to find Chen Huajiang. Zhang Yu and Zhang Heng were brothers, bearing a strong resemblance to each other.

“Brother Chen, we agree with your suggestion.”

“This time the factory is collecting money, and our kids are all in kindergarten. Not contributing is out of the question, but how much to give is the issue.”

“That’s right—if we give too much, we can’t afford it; too little, and we worry the teachers will pick on our kids or classmates will laugh.”

As soon as they saw Chen Huajiang, they gathered around, chattering. Everyone agreed with his idea of contributing collectively, but no one was sure how much.

“How about one yuan each? At the parents’ meeting on Friday, I’ll see how things go—is that alright?”

“As for the donation list, we’ll arrange it by stroke count, and donate to the kindergarten in the name of our group.”

Chen Huajiang got straight to the point and shared his proposal. One yuan wasn’t much, and all agreed. Thus, the six decided to make Chen Huajiang their leader, forming a group of seven to donate as a collective.

Two days passed, and Friday came. At twenty past one, Chen Huajiang set out with his wife and daughter. Carrying Huanhuan, he played with her as he walked beside his wife toward the kindergarten.

It was only half past one, half an hour before the parents’ meeting; the couple wasn’t in a hurry. Seeing many families on the basketball courts, they headed that way.

This was the last glorious era of the factories; in the future, ninety percent of residential complexes nationwide wouldn’t match the grandeur and splendor of a typical factory compound. The basketball courts here numbered four, lined up side by side, always packed in the afternoons with workers and their families playing.

Nearby, rows of ping-pong tables stood, with many children playing table tennis. The tables were far less splendid, mostly built from bricks and cement. Chen Huajiang had played there with colleagues before, but they’d often be chased away by children after a few minutes.

Yes, Hongqi Factory not only had its own kindergarten but also an elementary school, with free admission for employees’ families.

The ping-pong tables were a favorite spot for the schoolchildren; even during class hours, mischievous kids would skip lessons to play.

“Huajiang, long time no see!”

“I was just talking to He Song about you—he said you’d show up today, but I didn’t believe it. Usually it’s your wife who attends these meetings; I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Just as they reached the basketball courts, some former colleagues spotted the family and waved, calling out to him.

Chen Huajiang smiled, holding his daughter and taking his wife’s hand, walking over to them.

Hongqi Factory employed over two thousand people, covering steel wire, hardware, coils, tape measures, coal stoves, and more. The workers belonged to different workshops and sections, with varying degrees of familiarity among them.