Rebirth in 1980: The Farm Wife Makes a Comeback
Chapter 358: Grow Up a Little More

Chapter 358: Chapter 358: Grow Up a Little More

She doesn’t demand too much from her own appearance; in fact, being presentable is enough. At the very least, compared to her past self, she looks significantly better now—even though not as attractive as Qin Xiangmei in her previous life, she is quite satisfied.

"Brother Jian," she shouted toward the door.

"Yep, I’m here," Jian Zhiqing emerged from his room. He’d tanned quite a bit this summer, but that was a good thing; it made him seem more mature than before. Time is truly a butcher’s knife, sculpting them with its blade; everyone has changed compared to their past selves, though not obviously. It’s only after a few years that you realize you’ve really grown up—and are starting to get old.

She raised her hand to Jian Zhiqing’s face for comparison.

"Brother Jian, you’ve gotten a bit darker?"

"Yeah, seems like it." Jian Zhiqing, comparing his skin to Qin Xiangnuan’s, also noticed he’d gotten darker, but it didn’t bother him.

"What’s up?" he asked with a smile, pulling down Qin Xiangnuan’s hand from his face. "You called me out just to tell me I’ve gotten darker while you haven’t?"

"Of course not,"

Qin Xiangnuan pulled Jian Zhiqing to sit down. She had serious business to discuss, not just a brief chat. They’d have to make a plan for it—no rush, there’s still time. Yes, plenty of time, as long as everything goes smoothly.

"Brother Jian, do you know anyone at a printing factory?"

"Printing factory?" Jian Zhiqing searched his memory for relevant contacts. Indeed, he knew some; his department dealt with documents frequently and had business dealings with several printers. So asking him about this was spot on.

Qin Xiangnuan breathed a sigh of relief; she knew she could always rely on Jian Zhiqing.

"Tell me, what’s the matter?" Jian Zhiqing knew he was likely going to be running errands for the young lady again.

"I’m thinking of printing some bags." After some consideration, Qin Xiangnuan decided that printing would be better—doing it by hand would be too troublesome and likely not as high-class.

"Bags? What kind of bags?" Jian Zhiqing crossed his legs under the table. "Do you have a design?"

"Wait," Qin Xiangnuan stood up and rushed into her room, returning with the nearly finished design she had drawn the day before.

"It’s this," she laid the design before Jian Zhiqing. It was a sturdy red paper bag with a cartoon ox drawn on it—adorably naive and honest-looking—since it was going to be the Year of the Ox.

On the back, it read ’Happy Spring Festival,’ and in the bottom right corner were the words ’Produced by Qin Family.’

"Are you planning to use it for Spring Festival couplets?" Jian Zhiqing guessed, as these paper bags wouldn’t hold much else but could fit Spring Festival couplets quite nicely.

"Yes," Qin Xiangnuan took back her drawing, feeling increasingly pleased with it. By focusing on packaging, functionality aside, the Spring Festival couplets would sell better. Selling couplets was a good source of income; the family’s New Year expenses were usually covered by it. In fact, Qin Xiangnuan sold couplets not so much for the money but to practice her calligraphy—writing a few every day added up over a year, sparing her from forgetting. She might forget other things, but making money was something she’d always remember.

Jian Zhiqing closed his eyes to think for a moment, then opened them. "Tomorrow morning, come with me. I happen to know some people at the printing factories."

"Great," Qin Xiangnuan cheered, having resolved a major issue and now in a good mood.

"Brother Jian, you’re truly a Doraemon."

She tugged at Jian Zhiqing’s sleeve; the young girl’s eyes were clear and bright. The child who had grown up a bit now carried hints of a young woman’s allure—sweet, warm, and freshly sprouting.

"Doraemon?" Jian Zhiqing chuckled. "Am I really that chubby?"

"No," Qin Xiangnuan propped her face with her hands on the table, slightly squinting her eyes as if enjoying the cool breeze, which refreshingly blew even in summer at their small Siheyuan.

"Doraemon is a robot cat from the future that has everything you could want—just like Brother Jian, utterly versatile and capable."

Jian Zhiqing’s eyebrows lifted subtly, not averse to the description. She liked Doraemon, after all.

Everyone liked Doraemon, and Qin Xiangnuan always thought highly of it, never seeing any flaws, and she believed others felt the same.

"Then I’ll be your Doraemon," Jian Zhiqing conceded, unsure of the underlying meaning in what he said.

Qin Xiangnuan was momentarily stunned, then straightened up and casually brushed back her hair, "I still have homework to do. Remember to take me to the printing factory tomorrow, Brother Jian. I’ll be off," and with that, she sprinted off once again.

How could she possibly not understand Jian Zhiqing’s overt and covert hints?

Li Mingyan was still smitten with him, and there were other things only she knew—or didn’t know about. Who knew or did not, how many were there? It’s said that gentlemen prefer fair ladies, and having such an outstanding man before her, it would be disingenuous to claim indifference or lack of thought or attraction.

But having thoughts didn’t necessarily mean taking action.

She just reminded herself that she was still too young, and it wasn’t the right time yet.

As for when the time would come, that depends on the future.

She always believed that time is the clearest and smartest judge of truth.

She just hoped that their time would last until then.

Jian Zhiqing shook his head—let the youngster grow up a bit more.

That night, Qin Xiangnuan tossed and turned, unsure how much she slept or what dreams she had. Waking up groggy, she felt she hadn’t had enough sleep. The days were long in summer, but nights were surprisingly short; midday staffed the hottest time of the day—not as infernal as the 38-39 or 40-degree heat of a decade or two later, but certainly unbearable enough.

Qin Xiangnuan got up, ran her fingers through her hair and continued sleeping in the system; propping her head on the desk, she was still sleepy. If she continued to sleep, she would miss the trip to the printing factory, but right now, she desperately needed to catch up on sleep—to take advantage of the time difference between the system and the outside world to recharge.