Chapter 14: Receiving Living Expenses and Exchanging Ration Tickets

Although Liu Cuihua was rather talkative, she wasn't wrong; there was indeed another reason for coming to the commune today—collecting the monthly living allowance at the post and telecommunications office.

Gu Tingzhou sent money at a fixed time every month, and it usually arrived at the Chengguan Post Office on those specific days. After that, it would take the courier a few more days to deliver it slowly, so by the time it reached their hands, several days had passed. That was why Li Zhaodi usually picked up the money and ration tickets herself whenever she came to the commune; only in the depths of winter, when she truly couldn’t bear going out, would she wait for the courier to bring them to the village.

The Chengguan Post Office wasn’t very large, just an ordinary storefront of moderate size.

At first, Wang Nuo was genuinely delighted. Zhou Minghai had truly come through; not only did the information he found include market analysis, but it also contained some conjectures from the futures research department on open positions, and even known capital holdings.

I changed into a white shirt with an argyle knit vest, a dark gray woolen skirt that reached my knees, and black leather shoes with round heels. I topped it off with a coat and tied my hair up high. The whole look exuded an unmistakable student air; my youthful face complemented it perfectly. Anyone who didn’t know me would have thought I was a schoolgirl from a foreign academy.

Before long, the only sounds left in the air were the rustling of yellow leaves and A-Liang’s faint sobs.

Since there was no need to wait, it was perfectly fitting to use Dong Qingfang as the first to set an example.

Of the five senses, humans rely least on smell; even losing it would not prevent a normal life. It was difficult to deduce much from a perfume label, and even Vera, who had a modest collection, could only distinguish one or two scents.

Lin Cha opened her mouth but held back from saying anything discouraging; she merely patted her gently on the back.

Tongshun City was inland, located in a province of mountains and hills, and everyone knew how challenging water management was there—a problem far greater than anything faced by the education bureau. Since Hu Dongmin was “exceptionally capable,” he was naturally expected to “rise to the challenge.”

Li Qingmei, newly ascendant, pulled the inebriated Li Jingyi along. “Jingyi, you’re drunk. Let’s go back first,” he said, taking out his phone and dialing Fang Yiyi directly.

Following the instructions to empty the mind and knead with intent, all he felt was a dizzy, listless fog in his head, accompanied by nausea and a headache.

Ye Chu paused in surprise. He still remembered Senior Sister Lu Chunshuang—she seemed to possess a special fire attribute constitution. Last time, Ye Chu had wagered on a drop of Frost’s Tear, which resolved her burning body pain.

After all, Nirvana List wasn’t like Chinese Paladin 3; it didn’t have a collection of legendary soundtracks all in one drama. If you could remember the theme song, that was enough.

The mountain road had all been replaced with flat, sturdy concrete, and some sections had even been widened, making the journey up the mountain much safer than before.

Next, Wang Siqi explained to Chen Zhi, step by step, the future agent system, starting from nothing. As time went on, Chen Zhi’s eyes grew ever brighter and, by the end, seemed almost to shine with gold.

For Min Dekang, his sister was the boss at the wholesale market, and he was the second in command. Rules and regulations? Those were made to restrain others—they didn’t apply to him.

Previously, Hua Shu had already examined all the woolen fabrics in sections A, B, and C. She had picked out the best, leaving only the inferior ones, but thanks to her photographic memory, she could still recall exactly which among the leftovers were the finest.

Filming for The Pretender had officially begun. With her costume and makeup in place, Su Mu instantly became the most striking figure on set.

Li Yong smiled with narrowed eyes—a look that Princess Changle knew all too well. Just one night had changed her; she was no longer as naïve as before. That smiling look of Li Yong’s had been on display all last night, so she immediately understood what he meant.

If it were only for herself, Princess Zhenzhu truly wouldn’t care, for she felt that life was too bitter, too exhausting, too painful—perhaps death was, in fact, a kind of release. But she still had her nephew to care for, to protect and raise until he could join a campaign himself. That, at the very least, she must ensure.