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Chapter 3: Taking Over the Pottery Kiln
Chapter 3: Taking Over the Pottery Kiln
"Big Sister, can you add a bit more oil?"
"I wish I could, but look at the oil can. We need this oil to last until the end of the year. If we don't use it sparingly, how will it last?"
When Deng Shirong returned home, he saw his eldest daughter, Deng Yunzhen, frying pickled radish in the kitchen. His second son, Deng Yunheng, was helping by stoking the fire, his eyes fixed on the oil can on the stove.
Deng Shirong immediately understood. It was Sunday, and his second son, who was in high school, would soon have to head back to Songshan Commune, a three-hour walk away. He needed to leave right after lunch.
Right now, his eldest daughter was preparing some pickled vegetables for him. A bottle of fried pickled radish would be his side dish for the entire week at school.
Deng Shirong took a closer look and saw that the pickled radish in the pan was almost done, but because his daughter had been too frugal with the oil, it looked dry and unappetizing.
"Father!"
Seeing Deng Shirong approach, both his daughter and son greeted him.
Deng Shirong nodded and then picked up the spoon from the oil can. He scooped out a lump of lard about the size of an egg and tossed it into the pan.
The lard sizzled as it hit the hot pan, quickly melting and releasing a rich aroma that filled the kitchen, leaving both his children in awe.
Deng Shirong took the spatula from his daughter and quickly stirred the contents before transferring the well-oiled pickled radish into a glass jar that was already prepared.
Looking at the jar, Deng Yunheng couldn't believe his eyes. "Father, this pickled radish is really for me to take to school?"
Deng Shirong nodded again and then pulled out two yuan from his pocket, handing it to his son. "Eating pickled radish every day isn't good. Take this money and buy some other dishes at the school canteen to change things up."
Deng Yunheng was completely stunned. He had been in high school for almost a year, and this was the first time he had received such special treatment.
Deng Yunzhen's eyes were wide with shock. The sudden addition of so much oil by their father was already surprising, but what truly amazed her was that he had also given her brother two yuan for living expenses. This was beyond her wildest imagination.
Had their father struck it rich?
Seeing the shock on his children's faces, Deng Shirong patted his second son's shoulder and spoke earnestly, "Yunheng, you must focus on your studies at school. Education is highly valued by the state now, and it's the only way out for us rural folks.
You have a little over a year before you graduate high school. If you don't get into university, you'll have to come back and do manual labor. But if you do get in, you'll have endless possibilities ahead of you.
I don't know how much of this you'll take to heart, but I'll do my best to ensure you have enough to eat and are well-fed at school, so you have no worries.
Whether you get into university or not is entirely up to you. No one else can help you with that; it all depends on your own efforts."
In his past life, apart from his eldest son who had passed away young, the one who pained Deng Shirong the most was his second son's development.
After graduating from high school, Deng Yunheng, unable to get into university, had to return to their family's pottery kiln to learn the craft of making large pots from his father.
Due to his intelligence and natural talent, what took most people at least two to three years to master, Deng Yunheng learned in just over a month. He quickly became a skilled large pot maker.
In the 1980s, being a large pot maker in the countryside was a highly respected profession.
In the pottery kiln, there were different roles: some were responsible for digging clay, others for kneading it, some for making fine pottery, and others for making large items.
Among these, the job of digging clay, a purely physical task, paid the least. A full day of hard labor digging clay from morning to night would earn about one and a half yuan, and even then, there were always people willing to take the job. After all, in those times, there were very few opportunities to earn money in the countryside.
Next up is the job of treading mud, which has a bit more skill involved, so you can earn about two yuan a day.
Making fine goods, such as pots, bowls, jars, and vases, requires much more skill than treading mud. If you work your hardest, you can earn around five to six yuan a day.
Producing large goods, like the big vats, is the pinnacle of skill in the pottery factory. A typical vat maker can earn seven to eight yuan a day by working hard. Deng Yunheng, however, not only does his job beautifully but also works much faster than other vat makers, earning him about eleven to twelve yuan a day.
This kind of income is impressive even in a big city, let alone in a rural area. It's a profession that commands respect and admiration.
If the pottery market hadn't changed, Deng Yunheng might have spent his entire life as a vat maker, working until he could no longer do so.
Unfortunately, the pottery factory began its decline a few years later.
With less work to do, some people started gambling at the factory. Deng Yunheng fell into this trap and eventually became a professional gambler.
Now, given a second chance at life, Deng Shirong naturally doesn't want his second son to follow the same path. That's why he spoke earnestly, urging him to study hard and, ideally, get into college. If that's not possible, he can help arrange other opportunities.
The goal is to avoid the pitfall of gambling at all costs.
Deng Yunheng, who was always quick-witted, looked at the bottle of oil-soaked pickled radish on the stove and the two yuan in his hand. He nodded solemnly and said, "Dad, I understand. I'll study hard."
...
For lunch, the Deng family had sweet potatoes.
Deng Shirong's production team, part of the Songshan Commune in Bangjie Village, Baise County, Guangxi, is in the far south of the south. Breakfast and dinner are usually just congee, while lunch consists of sweet potatoes, cassava, or taro.
Of course, everyone eats, but whether they can eat their fill depends on their family's financial situation. In poorer households, the congee is so thin it's like mung bean water, and it's gone as soon as you drink it.
As a skilled vat maker, Deng Shirong's family had a decent living standard in the past. However, after his wife passed away and he had to support his children's education, their living conditions deteriorated significantly.
Still, they managed to have enough congee and coarse grains for three meals a day.
After lunch, Deng Yunheng shouldered a small bag of rice, took the bottle of pickled radish with plenty of oil, and tucked the two yuan his father gave him into his pocket. He walked out of the house, head held high, and strode toward the school, which was several miles away, under the envious gazes of his siblings.
Deng Shirong noticed the longing in his children's eyes.
Before going to bed last night, he had counted his assets. His total savings amounted to 136 yuan.
He had already given 100 yuan as the pottery kiln's leasing fee and 2 yuan for his second son's living expenses, leaving him with 34 yuan.
Originally, this money was meant for his four sons' school fees. The second son, who was in high school, had the highest fees, costing 19.5 yuan per semester.
The third son, Deng Yunsong, would start middle school next semester, while the fourth and youngest sons were in elementary school. Although their fees were much cheaper compared to high school, they still added up to a significant amount.
In his past life, Deng Shirong would have clung tightly to those 34 yuan, not daring to spend a single cent, as earning money in the countryside was extremely difficult.
Before the pottery factory started generating income again, every expense had to be minimized.
However, with his second chance, Deng Shirong felt more confident. He instructed his eldest daughter, "Azhen, cook dinner tonight. I'll make some stir-fried eggs with green peppers for your siblings and you."
At this, even 20-year-old Deng Yuntai couldn't help but swallow hard, let alone the younger ones, Yunsong, Yunhua, and Yunheng, who jumped up in excitement.
(End of Chapter)
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