Chapter 48: Brother-in-law, come on, let’s study a foreign language together! (Please keep reading)

“Wife, you’re incredible!”
Cheng Xuemin gave his wife a thumbs up, his tone making it clear he’d rather die than admit defeat—a true rebel to the end.
“What do you mean, incredible?! And you were going to give her the novella too? What were you thinking? Can she afford to pay what Yanjing Literature offers?”
Feng Jiayou grabbed Cheng Xuemin, scolding him. “There’s rice cooking in the kitchen—where do you think you’re going?”
With that, she dragged him back into the kitchen.
Muttering to herself, she continued, “A novella! You said it yourself—over two hundred thousand words! Even if it’s just a difference of one yuan per thousand characters, that’s over a hundred yuan lost in payment!”
“Besides, I bet October can’t pay more than five yuan per thousand characters!”
Feng Jiayou was no fool. Even brothers kept accounts clear between them, and she’d already suffered losses publishing in her mother’s October. Her own previous piece, with similar word count to Cha Jianying’s in Yanjing Literature, earned her enough less to miss out on a whole Quanjude roast duck.
And that was just a short story—less at stake! If she handed over this novella to her mother as some form of atonement?
It would be better to grit her teeth and hold out. As long as Yanjing Literature didn’t back down, they’d be fine.
“Alright, I’ll just go buy a tape recorder then!”
Following her into the kitchen, Cheng Xuemin nodded in agreement. Giving the novella to his mother-in-law was a terrible deal.
“What do you need a tape recorder for?”
Feng Jiayou was baffled. They had just been talking about her mother, and suddenly he switched to tape recorders—it was a leap she couldn’t follow.
“Well… I noticed you’re struggling a bit with your foreign languages. I heard there’s a foreign gadget that lets you play tapes and learn languages with them. I thought I’d buy one for you!”
Cheng Xuemin spoke with all seriousness about her language studies, but in his heart, he had a different plan: he wanted to record her words and attitude, just in case.
She was adamant now about not giving anything, a rebel through and through, but if things went south and the truth got out, she might just kick him out to take the blame.
Honestly, remembering that time Feng Jiayou lied to her mother about submitting the manuscript to Yanjing Literature instead, and the murderous look on her mother’s face…
To this day, Cheng Xuemin was still shaken. There was no way he could take that fall!
He needed proof—get a tape recorder, record everything on tape, so no one could wriggle out of it later.
Besides, his wife could use one for her language studies.
“Why waste money? Xuemin, your spoken English is great. I’ll just practice with you!”
Feng Jiayou had been working hard at her English lately—it was her weak point, and the same was true for most of her classmates; they were all trying to catch up.

She’d heard of tape recorders and language tapes—they were indeed good for studying English, but those imported gadgets were incredibly expensive.
And even if they had the money, they couldn’t buy one without foreign exchange certificates.
Besides, she had a man by her side with excellent English, and his pronunciation was authentic and smooth. Why bother with the expense and trouble of a tape recorder?
“You want to learn a foreign language with me? That reminds me, I saw a little joke in a foreign magazine at the library the other day!”
Cheng Xuemin was delighted. If Feng Jiayou wanted to study with him, he’d teach her well!
“A Western joke? Xuemin, tell me, I want to hear it!” Feng Jiayou’s eyes sparkled as she urged him on.
“Sis, Brother Xuemin, what Western joke? Tell me too!”
Her younger sister, Feng Jiamo, caught a whiff of something delicious and sneaked into the kitchen. Seeing her sister and brother-in-law laughing together, she couldn’t help but be curious.
“Uh… this joke… I’ll tell you tonight.”
Cheng Xuemin had planned to tease Feng Jiayou a little in the kitchen but was left awkward and flustered by her sister’s sudden entrance.
“Brother-in-law, don’t leave! Didn’t my sister just say she wanted to learn a language with you? I want to join too—let’s all learn together!”
Seeing Cheng Xuemin retreat, Feng Jiamo called after him.
Learn together, indeed! That joke would never see the light of day now.
Near dinnertime, Mother Feng and Father Feng returned together. Rather unexpectedly, it was Father Feng who spoke first:
“Jiayou, your classmate’s ‘The Herdsman’ is excellent. It has profound meaning. I plan to recommend it for reprinting in China Literature. Arrange for your classmate to come to our office for a meeting.”
“What?! Dad, you’re interested in ‘The Herdsman’ too? Yanjing Literature hasn’t even officially published it, and you want to put it in China Literature?!”
Now it was Feng Jiayou and Cheng Xuemin’s turn to be dumbfounded.
How had her mother taken the sample issue from Yanjing Literature out, and her father now wanted to publish ‘The Herdsman’ in China Literature?
China Literature was no small matter—it was the main publication for the Foreign Languages Bureau’s external propaganda, translated into several languages and distributed abroad.
And it earned foreign exchange.
Earlier, the real reason they didn’t want to buy a tape recorder wasn’t that they couldn’t afford it—it was that they couldn’t get one without foreign exchange certificates.
But now, Father Feng wanted Cheng Xuemin’s ‘The Herdsman’ published in China Literature, earning foreign exchange royalties from foreigners. It was as if he’d brought them a pillow just as they were about to fall asleep.
“The manuscript is truly excellent—better even than ‘Scar.’ I’ll submit it for consideration, and once Yanjing Literature is published, we’ll see how readers respond.”
“But I think it’s going to be a hit!” Father Feng nodded, adding, “Your classmate is very talented. It looks like a love story, but at its core, it’s a work of ‘scar literature’—and it’s deeper and better written than ‘Scar.’”
“What’s most impressive is that within the genre, she brought the character Xu Lingjun fully to life. Family, romance, patriotism—all are vividly depicted!”

“Especially the patriotic sentiment—it’s beautiful and moving. Every line overflows with ‘I love my country, I love this land’—that’s the basic requirement for anything we publish in China Literature. Your classmate did it perfectly!”
Father Feng offered his praise without reservation, making Feng Jiayou nod enthusiastically, her face alight with pride. Anyone watching might think she’d written ‘The Herdsman’ herself.
“Xuemin, you’ve read the piece too, right? I want you and Jiayou both to write a review for me—your thoughts after reading it.”
With that, Father Feng turned to his son-in-law, specifically asking Cheng Xuemin for his impressions of ‘The Herdsman.’
“What?!”
Cheng Xuemin was stunned—write a review of his own work?
What exactly was his father-in-law up to?
“You two have been through hardships together. I hope you’ll support each other and grow together, just like Xu Lingjun and Li Xiuzhi in the novel.”
There was no hidden meaning—Father Feng simply hoped the novel would inspire his daughter and son-in-law to support each other through life.
“Of course, Dad, I’ll write it right away!” Cheng Xuemin nodded his head in agreement.
“Dad, I’ve already started, and so have many of my classmates. We’re preparing to submit reviews to Literary Gazette to promote the author!” Feng Jiayou’s brows arched with delight.
If her father ever found out that the classmate he so lavishly praised was actually his son-in-law—the country bumpkin—what would his expression be?
Getting such high praise from her father was no easy feat!
“See? Yanjing Literature hasn’t even been published yet—just one sample issue, and it’s already being chased by the Chinese department at Yanjing University. It’s a hit!”
Father Feng beamed and turned to his wife.
“So it’s a hit. Why are you so excited? Recommending it to China Literature, making your daughter and son-in-law write reviews—anyone would think the manuscript was written by your daughter!”
Mother Feng was still stewing inside. The more successful ‘The Herdsman’ became, the more it irked her.
All the way home, her husband had been singing the manuscript’s praises, and now he was dancing with excitement. It drove her nearly mad with frustration.
Little did she know how close she’d come to the truth—the piece wasn’t written by their daughter, but by their son-in-law, the country bumpkin. Wasn’t that both impressive and surprising?
…