Life after transmigrating has been rather leisurely. Ever since I became a student of Mr. Smith, the frustrating problems I had in class have been largely resolved. On the surface, I pay close attention in class and study new characters, but in reality, I have the original English version of "Hamlet" hidden under my textbook. In my previous life, I didn’t get into a good school mainly because of my poor English. My English score in the college entrance exam was a complete mess, which dragged down my total score significantly.

Mr. Smith is a top student from Renmin University, with an exceptional foundation in English. At least, teaching a little kid like me is no problem at all. This is a rare opportunity, so I have to learn as much as I can before he returns to the provincial capital. Having been reborn, it’s not absolutely necessary to go to college to have a future, but as times progress, whether you go to college or not, English is becoming more and more important.

These days, I’ve been thinking repeatedly, planning the path of my life after rebirth. Under the current political system, becoming an official is undoubtedly a pretty good way out.

Let me state clearly here: I have absolutely no lofty ambitions to worry about the country and its people, and I’m nowhere near the level of Mr. Fan Zhongyan. Think about it—my previous life was just that of a grassroots worker who toiled for over a decade and achieved nothing, busy every day just to make ends meet. Grand aspirations like “worry before the world worries, rejoice after the world rejoices” aren’t something you develop when you’re lugging around a wrench and hammer to earn your daily bread.

Great ideals and noble sentiments are things that only start to grow once your belly is full.

The reason I want to become an official is simply because, in my previous life, every official I saw was imposing and lived a comfortable life—I was just envious. If I really became an official, even if I wouldn’t go so far as to be corrupt or harm the people, to “benefit one side as an official” and be an “upright and honest” good official would still be a tall order.

However, becoming an official isn’t that easy. In my previous life, I had no experience in officialdom; all my knowledge about it came from books and TV, which probably differs greatly from reality. Officialdom has its own rules. Even with the foresight of a transmigrator, knowing the general direction of the political landscape, when it comes to specific personnel changes within a city or county, it might not help much. For example, if I know that a certain important person will become influential at a certain time, could I just go up to him and say, “Leader, please take me in, I can predict the future”? Wouldn’t that be asking for death?

To be an official in China, you not only need ability and achievements, and to be good at talking things up, but most importantly, you need connections above. My old Liu family, tracing back five generations, has always been common folk. That “it’s easier to be an official if you have someone in the court” has nothing to do with me.

The foresight of a transmigrator is best applied in the business world. They say information is the most valuable thing—knowing what will be expensive or cheap, what will rise or fall in the coming years, and making moves accordingly—wouldn’t that be a breeze?

For example, in 1980, the Year of the Monkey stamp was issued, costing eight cents each. When the time comes, I’ll buy a thousand or so and just wait to get rich. I remember a protagonist in a transmigration novel who started out this way. The eight-cent Monkey stamp actually rose to eight hundred yuan each—a ten-thousand-fold increase. Or when Shanghai Dianzhengkong issued shares, the original stock was less than one yuan per share and had no buyers. When the Shanghai Stock Exchange opened, it shot up to seventeen or eighteen hundred yuan per share. If I make good use of this, how could I not make a fortune?

It’s just that all of that is still a bit far off. The Monkey stamp won’t be issued for another three or four years, and it won’t skyrocket in price until the early 1990s. Distant water can’t quench present thirst; I’d better think about how to get by right now.

At the moment, I’m just a little kid, obediently sitting in the classroom every day, studying hard and making progress, and after school, I have to go to Mr. Smith’s place for a “torture session” with a schedule packed to the brim, unable to move an inch.

I’ve thought about sneaking out, but then I shake my head and curse myself as an “idiot.” Where could I go? Become a vagrant? Even though I have the mind of a forty-year-old, my body is only seven. This body is just too fragile. Not to mention the dangers of the world and the unpredictability of people, even a small cold or fever, if not treated in time, could take my little life. Getting rich? More like dreaming!

I’d better settle down and study hard, be a good boy, and wait for the right opportunity.

Don’t rush things!

Funny enough, what I’ve been thinking about most these days is actually how to get some meat to satisfy my cravings.

My love for eating meat from my previous life hasn’t changed just because I transmigrated. After a few days of eating vegetable rice, my mouth is so bland I could spit out birds. When I see the fat pigs in the pen and the hens in the yard, my eyes go green with envy, wishing I could just grab a knife and feast right away.

There are pigs in the pen, but those belong to the production team, and unless it’s New Year’s, those animals definitely won’t be slaughtered. My grandma has a few chickens, but they live longer than the pigs, and even at New Year’s, she might not be willing to kill one for food. The fish in the pond also belong to the production team—no poaching allowed.

Of course, on the little street at the commune headquarters, there’s a meat shop where you can buy meat. But I have no money, let alone meat coupons.

Other than a head full of dreams of getting rich, I have nothing at all. This whole transmigration thing is really frustrating.

Is there any meat that doesn’t cost money and isn’t controlled by the production team?

The answer is yes—there is!

The fish in the river don’t belong to the production team, and they don’t cost a thing.