A few days later, Uncle arrived, bringing with him a large item—a television set—which utterly astonished the entire village.

A television, at that time, was an absolute rarity, a one-of-a-kind object.

Uncle proudly announced, "Mom, your brother-in-law bought this for you. He said you and Yingzi wouldn't have company at home."

With that, he immediately set about installing the set. This was an era before cable boxes, let alone fiber optics.

Uncle rigged up four aluminum wires, fashioned a brace from a wooden slat, and erected a wooden pole in the yard.

This served as a makeshift signal receiver. When they finally powered on the set, all they saw was static.

The old woman stared at the contraption and, right in front of Uncle, declared, "Wasteful thing! You haven't even moved to the city, and you're already squandering money. How will you ever live well?"

Uncle remained impassive, continuing to adjust the antenna.

Cheng Ying knew the old woman was just worried about the expense.

Inside the house, Cheng Ying kept the television on for Uncle to watch.

They fiddled with the antenna for half the day before finding an angle where the static was slightly less severe—they would just have to make do. In Cheng Ying's eyes, it was nothing compared to an LCD screen.

When Uncle finally came inside, he exclaimed that the signal was quite good, that the picture was remarkably clear.

Could Cheng Ying really tell him his frame of reference was so narrow?

The old woman, however, was fixed on the screen, reaching out to touch it. "How did the people get inside there? It must be so stuffy inside. Don't let them suffocate!"

Cheng Ying's head spun. So, there were people who genuinely perceived television this way.

Forgive the old woman; it was her first encounter with high technology. When they later watched a movie, she didn't voice her concerns, truly saving face for the family.

Just as Uncle was about to speak, Cheng Ying interjected, "Grandma, why don't you go pour them some water to drink?"

Uncle lightly tapped Cheng Ying on the back. "You little rascal, daring to tease your own mother like that!"

Then, turning to his mother, he launched into a detailed, gentle explanation.

After settling the argument with her son, the old woman turned to her granddaughter and eyed the feather duster sitting on the cabinet.

It was clear that if Uncle hadn't been present, the old woman would have already started using it on Cheng Ying.

Cheng Ying swiftly slipped out to cook for Uncle, knowing her grandmother was holding a grudge.

By the time Uncle sat down to eat, their inner room was already packed with people, all there to watch TV.

Cheng Ying mused that the villagers were certainly fond of visiting. Their home was going to be quite lively from now on.

After Uncle left, Cheng Ying couldn't even get near the east room; it was too crowded.

Everyone was there to see the "foreign spectacle."

The old woman instructed, "The villagers have deep affection for us. You must not be disdainful. Whoever comes, treat them warmly, understand?"

Cheng Ying replied, "Yes, I understand, Grandma. I'm going to the west room to rest."

The old woman nodded but asked with suspicion, "You don't want to watch? That thing is so wonderful."

Cheng Ying paused. Indeed, her own attitude had been too indifferent.

She turned back to her grandmother. "It's our own television; I can watch it whenever I want. I'll watch to my heart's content when no one else is here."

The old woman thought her granddaughter was magnanimous; that little bit of temper would make for an easy match later in life.

She nodded and returned to the east room. Usually, she would go to Third Aunt’s house to listen to the opera gramophone, but today, the old woman had invited Third Aunt over to watch television instead.

Third Aunt commented, "Niece-in-law, the television is far better than the gramophone. It not only has sound but also people!"

"Exactly," the old woman agreed. "It's the first time I've ever seen such a thing."

Third Aunt chuckled, "Haha, this is great. From now on, we'll all come over to your place to hull corn."

The old woman protested, "Oh, I wouldn't dare use that! Everyone should just watch TV. My little bit of corn isn't even enough for me to hull myself."

With that, the sole plastic-covered advertisement finished, and the television drama began.

The entire room was silent, as if governed by a disciplinary committee.

Cheng Ying listened from outside, thinking that in those days, a family with good social connections never worried about hulling corn. With so many people visiting, they could hull a whole sackful in one evening.

It used to be that her grandmother went to Third Aunt’s house to help her hull. Now, with so many family members present, once the novelty wore off in a few days, they could bring out the corn, hull it while watching TV, and they’d have their own corn shelled in less than two nights.

This, Cheng Ying realized, would save her and the old woman a lot of back-breaking work.

The room remained tightly packed until the very end of the evening.

By the time the old woman saw everyone out and locked the main door, it was already past eleven at night.

Cheng Ying had long since fallen asleep in the west room.

The old woman looked at her granddaughter. Her own granddaughter hadn't even gotten to watch their big TV. What a state of affairs.

The old woman nudged Cheng Ying awake. "Yingzi, come sleep in the east room."

"Mmm," Cheng Ying replied, immediately getting up and shuffling over, bundled in her quilt—changing clothes seemed too much trouble.

The old woman tucked her granddaughter into bed but insisted on waking her up to watch the TV.

Cheng Ying was speechless for a moment. "Grandma, I’m sleepy."

"It’s finally empty of people, and you don't want to watch? The little box has people in it, they look so good! Hurry up and watch!"

Before she finished speaking, the TV screen flickered, showing small squares, and then nothing at all.

The old woman cried out, "Oh dear, it’s broken! Why isn't it sturdy? We didn't even touch it."

Cheng Ying looked at her grandmother and remembered: at this time, there weren't that many channels, let alone entertainment shows or dramas. Furthermore, they even shut down broadcasts on Tuesdays for maintenance.

She recalled hearing from elderly people in her past life that television sets would stop broadcasting late at night.

It seemed the television station had simply gone off-duty. "Grandma, it's not broken; the TV station signed off for the night."

This explanation the old woman could grasp. Her face fell into a deep frown. "They sign off? What a waste! A huge loss! You said you’d wait until everyone left to watch, and now look, they’ve signed off!"

She stared at the dark television with an expression of profound vexation.

Cheng Ying couldn't begin to fathom how they had incurred such a "loss." She truly couldn't comprehend it.

The old woman lamented, "What kind of fairness is this? My television, and my granddaughter hasn't even seen it properly, and everyone else got to watch!"

Cheng Ying felt a lightning strike in her head. So that's how one suffers a loss.

My heavens. Cheng Ying was genuinely no longer sleepy. She clutched her grandmother and laughed until she was convulsing. "Grandma, Grandma, I adore you so much!"

The old woman retorted, "That's why people call you Cheng the Big Fool. The east room is so big; you couldn't squeeze into that gap? You just had to sleep in the west room. Look, now no one is left to watch."

Cheng Ying choked back her laughter. "Sleep, sleep. It’ll be on tomorrow, don't worry."

Then she pulled the quilt over her head. Laughing at her grandmother was wrong, but holding it in felt physically damaging.

Cheng Ying felt she might explode from holding it in.

The old woman spent half the night tossing and turning, distressed that her granddaughter hadn't gotten to see the television.

She hadn't noticed how hard Cheng Ying was trying to suppress her mirth.

Honestly, there wasn't much worth watching on television back then. The makeup in the historical dramas was laughable—you could see the clear tape holding the wigs on their heads.

Cheng Ying truly couldn't appreciate it.

However, the next morning, children started flocking to their house right after dawn to watch TV, and Cheng Ying realized her quiet days were over for good.

This was the countryside; this was the social fabric woven by human relations. If you kept your doors locked with a television inside, you probably wouldn't last long in the village. People would say you were selfish enough to tear the roof off your house.

Cheng Ying thought her stepfather was a good man in every way, except perhaps bringing the television home a bit too early.

At least, he shouldn't have been the first one to get one. It attracted more viewers than a movie screening.

After breakfast, the village elders and aunties arrived—everyone except the laborers out working; the whole village seemed to have mobilized.

The old woman, still regretting that her granddaughter missed out yesterday, enthusiastically welcomed everyone to watch TV again today.

Cheng Ying felt she hadn't cultivated that kind of social maneuvering as well as her grandmother had.

The Cheng family spent the day in a bustling, lively fashion. Cheng Ying thought the evening might be calmer, but that was beyond her expectation. In the evening, not only the elders and children came, but the working adults of the village showed up too.

Cheng Ying was thankful the village wasn't densely populated and their courtyard was large enough.

Later, the Village Chief's son brought the television out onto a large table and set it up right there in the yard.

Cheng Ying finally witnessed it: it was still cold in the first lunar month, yet the villagers watched well into the night until the screen showed the little squares again, signaling the broadcast had ended, only then did the crowd disperse.

In the middle of it all, Cheng Ying worried about everyone getting cold. She dug out two large basins of hot charcoal from the stove in the east room, carried one over to the cluster of elders and another to where the children were sitting, urging them to watch carefully so the children wouldn't get burned.

Then she retreated into the house to stay warm. Watching television while freezing in the north wind—that was a hobby Cheng Ying definitely did not possess.

Although this gesture didn't require much effort, it earned her great acclaim. The Cheng family girl might be a bit simple-minded, but she had a good heart.

However, no one still considered Cheng Ying a suitable match for a daughter-in-law. She was seen as a spendthrift, and most families would be hesitant to accept her.

Even though rural people were simple and honest, when choosing a daughter-in-law, they preferred someone who was sensible with money. Cheng Ying's way of dispensing wealth clearly didn't fit the village mold.

So, despite her popularity, the old woman worried even more. Being old friends with Third Aunt, she was well aware of what the other villagers were thinking.

The old woman sighed daily while looking at her granddaughter.

Cheng Ying was perplexed. She was only twelve. Finding a husband seemed like such a distant prospect. Is Grandma worrying too much? In my last life, I was thirty and still unmarried. This is nothing!

Fortunately, this mental pressure didn't last long, as Cheng Ying's school term began.

Once the children went back to school, the number of TV viewers dropped. Moreover, after the New Year festivities ended, everyone had work to do; which household had the energy to spend all day watching television? They were all practical families striving for a better life, so Cheng Ying finally emerged from the crowd.

Now, only a few people who were generally close with the old woman continued to visit regularly, plus one steadfast companion who came to help the old woman pass the time.

Every evening, Second Aunt also came over.

Cheng Ying wondered if Second Aunt had some premonition, as their relationship had eased up considerably right before they bought the TV. Otherwise, things would be much more inconvenient now. Second Aunt was someone who loved to take small advantages.

Luckily, Cheng Ying felt wealthy now and didn't begrudge the small amounts of food Second Aunt and Dun'er might consume. As long as the old woman was happy, it was fine.

It wasn't that Cheng Ying thought two thousand yuan was a trivial sum—it was just that two thousand yuan at that time was incredibly valuable.

Cheng Ying recalled something the Village Chief once said: their village's former team leader was a capable man who fought the Japanese in those years; now that he was old, the state provided him with a subsidy.