Chapter 12 — The Day My Father Remarried

Uncle led me to the head of the administration department, a woman named Zhao, to guide me through the onboarding procedures and sign the employment contract. My position was designated as an order-tracking clerk, with a monthly salary of forty-eight hundred yuan, complete with all standard insurance benefits. Zhao was in her early forties, brisk and efficient in her movements. After showing me to my desk, she deposited a heavy stack of documents in front of me, instructing me to familiarize myself with the product codes and customer directories as a first priority. I opened the file folder and began reading line by line, though my mind remained preoccupied with the words my uncle had spoken on my graduation day. Suddenly, my phone vibrated gently against the desk, signaling a text message from my father.

Wanwan, have you found a job yet? Where are you working now?

I stared at the screen, hesitating for three seconds before recalling my uncle's strict advice. I typed back my reply.

I am doing office work at a small company. Just started today.

My father followed up immediately.

How much is the salary?

Over four thousand yuan. It is enough to live on.

There was a silence on the other end for a long moment before a final message came through.

That is good then. Work hard.

I put the phone away and forced myself back to the documents. By lunchtime, while I was eating in the cafeteria, my eldest uncle walked over with a tray of food and sat down directly across from me. Glancing around to ensure no one was paying attention, he lowered his voice.

Wanwan.

These next few days.

Your father might ask you about your job.

You must insist.

That you are doing office work at a small company.

Do not let anything slip.

I understand, Uncle.

He nodded, took a mouthful of vegetables with his chopsticks, and suddenly asked.

Your stepmother.

Has she been in touch recently?

No, she has not.

That is good.

He took a sip of soup.

I have already had someone look into it.

Your father's loan.

The bank has not yet initiated formal foreclosure proceedings.

But...

Before the end of the year.

The overdue payments must be settled in full.

Otherwise...

The property will be seized for public auction.

We still have some time.

I thought about it for a moment.

Uncle.

What if...

My salary.

You keep a portion of it.

And use it to help pay off my father's debt.

Uncle Wei Guo froze in place. Then he slowly set down his chopsticks and looked at me with profound seriousness.

Wanwan.

Your salary.

Is earned entirely through your own labor.

Spend it as you wish.

As for the house.

Leave that to me.

But...

There are no buts.

His tone brooked no argument.

You have just graduated.

You cannot afford to be entirely without money in your hands.

Rent.

Food.

Transportation.

Every single thing requires expenditure.

Seeing you live well.

To me.

Matters more than anything else.

I looked across the table at him, my throat tightening until it felt completely constricted. In the end, I could only manage a faint response.

Yes, Uncle.

During my first month at work, I felt like a sponge, desperately absorbing everything within reach. Product codes, shipping logistics, client communication protocols—all of it began from absolute zero. Most of the workers in the factory had followed my eldest uncle for many years, and out of respect for the boss's niece, they treated me with immense courtesy. Whenever I encountered something I did not understand, I would ask, and they were always more than willing to teach me. Once, during a rush order, I ended up working overtime past nine o'clock at night. As I stepped out of the workshop with a sore back and aching shoulders, I happened to notice that the light in my uncle's office was still on. Passing by the door, I glanced inadvertently through the glass pane and saw him wearing his reading glasses, staring intently at the computer screen. On his desk sat a bowl of instant noodles; the noodles had expanded and gone completely soft, yet he had not even touched them. I tapped softly on the door.

Uncle.

Why haven't you gone home yet?

He looked up, recognized me, and took off his reading glasses, gently massaging the bridge of his nose.

I am leaving soon.

You should head back as well.

Do not stay up too late.

I looked down at the bowl of noodles.

Is that all you are eating?

It is convenient.

Fast.

Saves trouble.

He shut down his computer, stood up, and stretched his arms.

Let us go.

I can drop you home on my way.

In the car, I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the dimly lit streets, and suddenly asked.

Uncle.

The money you used to help my father pay the bank...

Did it come from your own pocket?

Or was it drawn from the company accounts?

He kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, not turning toward me.

It was my own money.

I was silent for a brief moment.

It must be quite a substantial amount...

Do not worry about it.

I know what I am doing.

I drew in a deep breath.

Uncle.

Once I have worked here for three full years—