Zhou Yan’s handwriting was vigorous and powerful, just like the man himself.

It spanned three long pages, covering everything from the persimmons at his grandmother’s house to amusing anecdotes from the restaurant. The writing was witty and humorous, yet straightforward and unpretentious. It flowed smoothly, feeling like a friend chatting warmly with her.

The last page addressed the confusion and uncertainty she had briefly mentioned in her letter. Instead of offering empty platitudes, he expanded on the topic, sharing his understanding of what it means to be a designer and some of his own ideas about the future.

His ideas were wild and imaginative—bold, yet they seemed to follow a certain logic.

He said that in the future, advertisements wouldn’t just be on signs and in newspapers. They would appear on televisions, outdoor billboards, trains, and even satellites.

Any product that wanted to sell well would need advertising, and these ads would pop up everywhere people looked.

’How fascinating! Ads on satellites? How did his mind even come up with these things?’

He also said advertising in the future wouldn’t just be about promoting products, but about shaping a brand’s image. By building a high-end brand, one could reap enormous profits.

She had heard similar ideas from Teacher Su before, but most factories currently had little to no concept of brand building.

Zhou Yan genuinely understood it all and was already applying these principles to the promotion of his Kneeling Beef. Even Teacher Su had been full of praise.

Her classmates had later chatted about it on the bus back to school. Some felt Zhou Yan was just street-smart, and while his methods were worth studying, they weren’t anything to be highly esteemed.

Xia Yao disagreed and had even argued with them for a bit.

Today’s letter was proof that Zhou Yan had more than just street smarts. He knew so much about advertising design and brand building—far more, in fact, than any of them, a group of graduating university students.

Xia Yao read every word, carefully pondering the information they held. She cross-referenced his ideas with the knowledge she’d gained over the past few years and her professor’s philosophies. The fog of uncertainty surrounding her began to dissipate, and the path forward started to become clear.

Zhou Yan’s perspective was so forward-thinking. Moreover, he had tailored his answers to her specific doubts, like a beam of light showing her the way.

’Since advertising is so important, sticking to my path in advertising design has to be the right choice.’

’Brand building is still a relatively obscure concept right now. If I can get a head start, maybe I can seize the opportunities of this era.’

Just as Zhou Yan said, televisions were expensive but quickly becoming widespread. The production capacity for brands like Changhong and Panda was constantly expanding.

The audience for a single television set was often larger than just one family, and TV commercials were already beginning to appear.

Xia Yao’s heart swelled with excitement. She felt as though a magnificent golden age was unfolding right before her eyes.

When she saw the last line of small text, a look of surprise crossed her face, and she flipped the page.

The drawing was done in charcoal on the back of a page cut from a wall calendar. It had been folded several times and jostled during mailing, so only a rough outline was visible.

A small courtyard, a little girl, a cat, and a big goose.

Xia Yao studied it carefully under her desk lamp for a long time, eventually filling in the details of the picture in her mind’s eye.

’Momo is so cute!’

She could even picture her, gripping a piece of charcoal and sketching on the paper.

For a three-and-a-half-year-old girl to create such a drawing with charcoal, she had to be quite talented.

Xia Yao took a pencil from her pen holder and, following the drawing’s outlines, completed the picture.

It depicted a lively country courtyard. From the little girl’s perspective, even the goose looked majestic, and the cat resembled a little tiger.

Xia Yao stared at it for a moment, then smiled and slipped the drawing into an art album. That way, even if all the charcoal dust flaked off, her restored version of the picture wouldn’t be lost.

She read the letter one more time, then carefully folded it and placed it back in the envelope. Opening her desk drawer, she solemnly placed it in the very back.

Two heads had been peeking over the edge of the bed for a while, and now they could no longer hold back.

"Yaoyao, is that a letter from Zhou Yan?"

"What did it say? Did he confess his love?"

Xia Yao glanced back at them and smiled. "Don’t be ridiculous. We have a pure, revolutionary friendship! We were just talking about life and our studies, nothing to do with romance."

"I don’t believe anyone can smile that happily just from talking about their studies!" Deng Hong said, laughing. "Unless you let me ’critique’ the letter!"

"I don’t believe it either!" Zhu Yuyu added with a nod. "We’ll critique it together!"

"Not a chance. That would be disrespectful to him." Xia Yao immediately locked the drawer. Looking at Deng Hong, she grinned and said, "I’ve never offered to ’critique’ the love letters Ma Xingye writes to you."

"That’s true." Deng Hong nodded, then her eyes widened. "Wait a minute! Every time I get a love letter, the first thing I do is give you all a dramatic reading!"

"That’s because you volunteer to read them," Xia Yao said with a laugh as she turned off her desk lamp and climbed into her bed.

"Next time, tell Ma Xingye not to write such cheesy stuff. It gives me goosebumps," Zhu Yuyu chimed in.

"You two just don’t understand..."

...

Zhou Yan lay on a makeshift single bed—eight long benches pushed together—covered by the new six-and-a-half-pound quilt. He was finally learning what it felt like to be loved and cared for.

His mom had insisted on giving him the new quilt, using his old one as a mattress pad instead.

Faced with the terrifying pressure of Shu Dao Mountain.

Zhou Yan could only surrender.

’A new quilt really makes a difference!’

’It felt so soft and warm. So comfortable!’

He closed his eyes and was out in a second.

Upstairs, Zhao Tieying and Zhou Miao tossed and turned, finding it hard to fall asleep.

"Can’t sleep?" Zhou Miao asked softly, wrapping his arms around Zhao Tieying from behind.

"After sleeping in our own bed for so many years, I guess I’m having trouble with this one." Zhao Tieying snuggled into his embrace and couldn’t help but laugh. "That son of ours... he really knows how to spend money. Daring to buy a nine-pound quilt! When we got married, ours was only six-and-a-half pounds."

Zhou Miao chuckled. "If I’d known a new quilt was this comfortable, I would’ve had a new one made for you long ago. Zhou Yan is right—we spend eight or nine hours a day in bed, so we ought to make sure we’re sleeping comfortably."

"Zhou Miao, I’m warning you, don’t let your son’s extravagant spending habits rub off on you! A quilt costs over twenty yuan. What family can afford to replace them often?" Zhao Tieying turned to face him, her eyes fixed on him in the dark. "We are using this quilt for at least ten years. We’ll just have it re-fluffed at the start of each winter, and that’ll be that."

"Got it." Zhou Miao nodded vigorously.

"Has anyone asked you to butcher a cow tomorrow?"

"Nope."

"Then you can sleep in a little. Go with Zhou Yan to buy the meat and vegetables at dawn. I’m not going; I’ll stay and get some good sleep with Momo," Zhao Tieying said, her voice light and cheerful.

"You just get some rest. I’ll wash the offal, and I’ll call you for breakfast," Zhou Miao agreed.

"Miao, you’re the best." Zhao Tieying reached out to caress his face, then leaned in and gave him a kiss.

"Let’s sleep," Zhou Miao said, pulling her close. He was so delighted that his wide, toothy grin seemed to glow in the darkness.

...

"Zhizheng, you’re incredible..."

Meng Anhe lay atop Lin Zhiqiang, her face flushed and her breath coming in silken wisps. Even her voice trembled slightly at the end of her words. "Looks like all that Kneeling Beef we’ve been eating paid off~"

Lin Zhiqiang stroked her smooth back and smiled confidently. "Just my usual performance. I’ve been jogging with Zhou every day, so I’ve regained some of my former glory."

"That’s great. Keep it up," Meng Anhe said with a supportive smile. "I’ll bring you back a pair of Warrior running shoes from Rongcheng. They say they’re great for jogging."

"Okay." Lin Zhiqiang lit a cigarette, blew out a ring of smoke, and asked casually, "Have you heard from Yaoyao recently?"

"I just got one yesterday. She says that with graduation so close, she’s feeling lost about her career choices." Meng Anhe rolled over, resting her head on his arm and pulling the blanket over herself. "I don’t know much about advertising design, so I plan to ask around before I reply."

"That kid is just so stubborn. She won awards for her ink wash paintings back in high school. If she’d chosen the China Academy of Art for college, her mother could have paved the way for her. Whether she wanted to stay on as a teacher or become an artist and hold exhibitions, everything would have fallen into place effortlessly."

"Even if she’d chosen architecture, she could have worked with you after graduation and started at a design institute without any hardship. With her talent, she’s bound to achieve great things."

"Instead, she went behind everyone’s back and secretly enrolled in the Arts and Crafts department at the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute, majoring in decorative design of all things." Lin Zhiqiang shook his head and chuckled. "Then again, she’s just like you. Didn’t you make your father furious when you chose to study architecture back in the day?"

"Well, a person has to have some ambition, some personal pursuit." The corner of Meng Anhe’s mouth curved up. "My father is a master of ink wash painting and calligraphy, and my sister is a genius in the art. If I had followed them and studied ink wash painting too, I’d never have been able to surmount the two mountains in my own family. How boring would that be?"

"That girl, Yaoyao, looks so quiet and gentle, but her ambition is even greater than mine was."

"It’s perfectly normal to feel a bit lost when you’re young. As long as someone gives her a little nudge in the right direction, she’ll find her path and soar."

After hearing that, Lin Zhiqiang silently took a few more drags from his cigarette, then sighed in frustration. "If you put it that way, I guess Zhou Yan and her don’t really have a chance together."

"Xia Yao has a mind of her own. Once she starts working and gets some real-world experience, she’ll know what kind of man she wants as a husband." Meng Anhe shot him a playful glare and laughed. "You’d better not be playing matchmaker. If my sister and brother-in-law found out, they’d be on the next train to Suji to put you in your place."

"I’m not afraid of that. Just as long as you don’t make me eat West Lake Vinegar Fish the next time we visit your family in Hangzhou."

...

The next day, just as dawn was breaking, Master Zhou and Old Zhou left early to buy ingredients.

With two heavy-duty bicycles, they could carry more goods.

Zhou Yan was responsible for picking the meat and paying, while Old Zhou handled carrying and loading it. They worked in perfect coordination.

Having butchered cattle for over two decades, Zhou Miao could tell good beef from bad with a single glance.

And the meat Zhou Yan was picking was all top-quality.

The cow his eldest uncle had butchered today was an old draft animal, something an amateur would have a hard time noticing after it was cut up. But Zhou Yan took one look from afar and immediately headed to his second uncle’s stall to buy sirloin, not even bothering to walk over to the first stall.

"After they left Zhou Village, Zhou Miao asked with curiosity, ’How did you know your uncle’s beef was no good?’"