A generation!

Zhao Dongchuan hastily explained, "No, I have never taken a single penny of ill-gotten gains! This is all my hard-earned money!"

Of course, this is all my salary, writing fees, and bonuses. All the other money is lying in my space, Zhao Dongchuan secretly muttered.

"Hehe, that's good. You are now a cadre, big or small, and you need to pay attention to your influence. Don't ruin yourself for a little bit of petty gain!" Zhao Zhengguo warned with a serious expression.

The atmosphere now was not like in later generations. The working class at that time had a strong sense of national ownership, and most of them could not stand this kind of behavior. If they were discovered and reported, the consequences would be severe.

However, Zhao Dongchuan had the system's glasses, which was equivalent to an extra layer of protection. The one speculating and causing trouble was "Han Li." What did it have to do with Zhao Dongchuan?

Then the two returned home. As soon as Zhao Zhengguo came back, he couldn't hold back and immediately told Guo Ping the good news.

Guo Ping was so happy that she started gesticulating wildly again! Then she also complained to Zhao Dongchuan.

"You child, such a big matter, and you didn't tell us. You kept it as a surprise for us!" Guo Ping glared at Zhao Dongchuan with a smile.

Zhao Dongchuan naturally stood aside with an awkward smile.

To celebrate his new cadre status, Guo Ping naturally cooked a table of delicious dishes again that evening.

Zhao Zhengguo also took out a bottle of his treasured Beijing Tequ liquor.

That evening, the family of three ate and drank, discussing Zhao Dongchuan's career development and looking forward to a bright future, a harmonious scene not to be shared with outsiders.

The next afternoon, as he was cooped up at home reading, his father, Zhao Zhengguo, came home from work, pushing his bicycle quickly through the courtyard gate. He usually chatted with Liu Haizhong in the front yard for a while, but today he only nodded and went straight into the house.

Zhao Zhengguo walked into the inner room, took out a rolled-up magazine from his bag, and excitedly said to Zhao Dongchuan, who was reading, "Did you write this poem?"

He spread open the magazine, turned to a certain page, and pointed to a poem, asking.

Zhao Dongchuan was also a little surprised and put down his "selected works of mao zedong," taking the magazine handed to him by Zhao Zhengguo.

He first looked at the poem and the author's signature, then returned to look at the cover.

This was precisely the Peoples Literature that Director Wang had mentioned.

"Uh, yes, I wrote this. I didn't expect it to actually be accepted and published so quickly!" Zhao Dongchuan also looked surprised.

"This is a submission I made two days before I came back for the New Year. I heard our Director say that 'People's Literature' had resumed publication and suggested I submit something. I just gave it a try, and I didn't expect it to actually work out!"

This poem, in fact, had a strong sense of direction and rich metaphorical meaning. It was a bit ahead of its time for the current situation. When he submitted it, he had the mentality of just trying his luck, and he didn't expect it to actually be published. It seems that the editor-in-chief of Peoples Literature had made a firm decision.

"This poem of yours is so strange, why is there only this one line?" Zhao Zhengguo was also very happy to hear Zhao Dongchuan say this, and then asked with a bit of confusion.

"How should I put it, the title and the lines of this poem need to be combined!" Zhao Dongchuan explained.

"A generation! The night... gave me... black eyes, but I use them to search for... light!" Zhao Zhengguo read it out unconsciously as he looked at it.

"It's really well written!" Although Zhao Zhengguo didn't have much education, he could recognize basic common characters and sensed the meaning.

"There's also an editor's comment below! It's praising you for writing something very profound, expressing the feelings of many people!" Zhao Zhengguo looked again and said.

At this moment, Guo Ping came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of dishes. Seeing the father and son engrossed in discussing a magazine, she also curiously walked over.

"What are you two looking at so intently?"

"Aping, you take a look too!" Saying this, he handed the magazine to Guo Ping.

Guo Ping took the magazine with a skeptical look and read it.

"This is a poem? It's quite short, just one line. Can something like this even be published?"

"Look at the signature again!" Zhao Zhengguo said with a smile.

"Oh my goodness!" Guo Ping looked down at the signature—Zhao Dongchuan, Huangyuan City Cultural Center—and after a moment ofstunned, realized it was her own son.

Guo Ping excitedly pointed to that page of the magazine, looking at the two and excitedly saying, "Dongchuan, this is...?"

Zhao Dongchuan smiled and nodded.

"He's really made something of himself! Our family truly has a literary star!" Guo Ping exclaimed excitedly.

"Our workshop director is a literature enthusiast and subscribed to this magazine. When we were eating lunch in the cafeteria, he took it out to read... I was also influenced by Dongchuan and started paying attention to these things, so I borrowed it and flipped through it. I didn't expect to find it after just a few pages..." Zhao Zhengguo picked up the teapot, poured himself a cup of tea, pulled up a chair, and sat down, drinking tea and saying with a smile.

"I didn't expect to receive a notification in Beijing either!"

At that time, Zhao Dongchuan had left the Cultural Center's address, so the acceptance notification was naturally sent to the Cultural Center. Since he was in Beijing, he naturally couldn't receive the notification.

This series of good news made the old Zhao couple beam with joy.

When parents see their son achieving success, they feel even happier than if they themselves had won an award.

That evening, Guo Ping still wanted to make a big meal to celebrate her son's new poem being published, but Zhao Dongchuan refused, citing that they were celebrating too frequently.

Zhao Zhengguo also felt it was not good to be too high-profile, so Guo Ping didn't make it so exaggerated, but she did add a braised pork dish, which left the three of them with oily mouths.

Guo Ping, who had originally wanted to urge Zhao Dongchuan to find a partner quickly, now had her thoughts somewhat quelled. Her son was so outstanding; once his career was even better, the conditions for a partner would naturally rise.

Ordinary city girls wouldn't be good enough for her son anymore; at least it had to be a... similarly excellent woman, Guo Ping thought.

Zhao Dongchuan naturally didn't expect that because of this, he inexplicably had less pressure to get married.

There was no reaction in the courtyard to Zhao Dongchuan's publication, because no one in this courtyard was a literature enthusiast who would spend money to subscribe to magazines. With that money, it would be better to buy a few more ounces of meat.

So, for Zhao Dongchuan, life hadn't changed much, at least for now.

...

On the day of the Lantern Festival, Guo Ping started preparing Zhao Dongchuan's luggage for his return trip from early morning, wishing she could pack all the good things.

"Mom, I have everything over there. Do I really need to bring this pickled vegetable jar?" Zhao Dongchuan pointed to a small canning jar wrapped in several layers of clothes in the package and said.

"This is made according to our Hometown's unique secret recipe, with a special flavor that you can't find anywhere else!" Guo Ping glared at Zhao Dongchuan and said.

Zhao Dongchuan could only smile helplessly at this. Anyway, he would just put it in his space later, so he let her be.

That evening, Guo Ping boiled some eggs and bought some flatbreads and other dry food, packing a bag for him to eat on the train tomorrow.

Because today was the Lantern Festival, the factory also closed earlier, and Zhao Zhengguo returned home quickly.