Let's take a moment to look back into the distant past—twenty-nine years ago, in 1985.
Most of you reading probably have no real memory of that era. Things were totally different from today. If a young couple wanted to get married, they needed a recommendation letter from their workplace boss, approval from both sets of parents, then register at the civil affairs bureau, and finally merge their household registrations at the police station. That was it!
Owning a house or a car? Not even on the list of requirements. Even if you were living in a tiny flat assigned by your workplace, with just enough space for basic furniture, newlyweds could still walk into marriage happy as can be.
Of course, every era has its own standards. Back then, the material must-have for a groom was the "Three Big Things." And those came in different grades—low-end meant a bicycle, a sewing machine, and a wristwatch; high-end meant a fridge, a TV, and a washing machine.
On a personal level, college graduates were worth their weight in gold. People looked at them the same way they looked at a fancy Phoenix-brand bicycle—with awe.
When it came to jobs, soldiers were the most honorable, workers were solid, and teachers—well, they were considered the lowest rung, even below the old guy guarding the factory gate.
As for looks, the beauty standard was all about height first, then whether you were light or dark-skinned. Everything else? Minor details.
In that era, a simple, honest young man was working hard—his name was John Yang. And there was a beautiful girl who had her eye on this poor guy: Susan Morrow. After two years of dating, their relationship was solid, so it was time to meet the parents.
The future father-in-law took a look: the boy's got interesting credentials—college grad, teacher, a mix of good and bad, but overall, average. Since he's average, let's meet him. Check his height and looks—well, a bit goofy, but fair-skinned and delicate. Measure his height: 1.78 meters! In this era, that's tall and handsome! Ask around at his workplace: Teacher Yang isn't a player, no bad rumors with other women.
Su Huaien nodded. "Alright, his character, looks, and education all check out. The job's not amazing, but it's not just forty-two yuan fifty, not a cent less than a worker's pay. No objections from me. Well, kid's mom, you take a look."
So now, Susan Morrow's mom enters the scene. Susan may have inherited her personality from Su Huaien, but her looks are all from her mother. And here's a fun twist—John Yang's mother-in-law is also surnamed Yang: Yang Ying. No relation, but hey, same family name!
Mother-in-law's focus was totally different from the father-in-law's. First thing she asks about is his family situation. And when she hears it, Yang Ying wipes her eyes—John Yang's had it rough. Rural background, poor family, one younger brother still in school, one little sister. Parents passed away right after he graduated, so he took on all the responsibility: his brother’s tuition, his sister’s living expenses. He scrimps and saves, stretching every penny for three people.
If this were today, the mother-in-law would never agree—way too much of a burden. But back then, Yang Ying actually liked John Yang even more. She thought he was responsible, loyal, a good match.
With both parents on board, the young couple’s future was set.
After some frantic prep, John Yang scraped together the old Three Big Things. Friends chipped in, he shouldered the rest, and got the new house set up. With everyone’s blessings, the happy couple got married in 1985.
Of course, there was plenty of envy and heartbreak. Lots of guys secretly gritted their teeth—how did a goddess like Susan end up with John Yang? It was like watching the goofy Guo Jing marry the brilliant Huang Rong—painful for all the bachelors!
But no matter how many guys chewed their handkerchiefs and cried, the newlyweds were happy. Poor, but sweet as honey.
Being a teacher wasn’t all bad. Compared to soldiers and workers, teachers had one perk beyond summer and winter breaks: travel! The school would organize trips for staff and students. Not far, but still a nice benefit.
Even better, teachers’ families could come along too.
December 1987. Bitter cold. Mount Tai.
It wasn’t tourist season, but Mount Tai was still packed. A group of students scrambled up Shibapan, arms aching and legs wobbling, finally tumbling into the South Heavenly Gate. Behind these eager students, a beautiful woman strolled up gracefully. Every student who passed her shot her a look of awe and admiration, respectfully greeting, "Hello, Mrs. Yang!"
The woman would nod and smile. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t just that—her every move had a special charm. The boys didn’t dare look too long, admiring her but feeling a little out of their league. The teenage girls all tried to imitate her, but just couldn’t pull it off, leaving them frustrated.
Give it another twenty years and they’ll realize—this was what you call queen energy.
Just as she reached the South Heavenly Gate, someone called out from behind: "Morrow, Morrow, wait up!" She turned to see a chubby middle-aged guy, face red and sweating, hauling himself up. It was the dead of winter, but he was drenched. He looked about ready to collapse, so she smiled and gave him a hand, helping him up to the gate.
The chubby guy wiped his face, leaned on his waist, and gasped, "Morrow, slow down! Don’t rush! You’re pregnant and climbing Mount Tai? If anything happens, I’m toast!" He took a deep breath, then yelled down, "Hey—John, John! Forget the students, let those rascals run wild, they won’t get lost! Your job now is to look after Morrow!"
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A young man soon jogged up—it was John Yang. He nodded to Director Joe, "Alright, Director Joe, I’ll leave the students to you."
"A hundred students are easier to handle than one Morrow," Director Joe sighed, turning away and muttering, "A pregnant lady, and she’s faster than me…"
John Yang and Susan Morrow exchanged a smile and walked into the South Heavenly Gate, side by side.
John Yang held his wife's arm, shaking his head helplessly. "My dear wife, remember what you promised before we left? You swore you just wanted to get out, ride in the car, and not leave your seat. Then, when we got here, you said you’d only walk a little, stay at the foot of the mountain. But from Xiaohongmen to Zhongtianmen, from Zhongtianmen to Shibapan—you kept changing your mind! And you’re climbing faster than my little monkeys, gone in a blink. You’re carrying another person, you know—spare a thought for our feelings. Look at Director Joe, he’s so scared his hair’s falling out."
Susan Morrow grinned playfully, "Come on, you’re exaggerating. It’s only four months, no big deal. This little hill? Piece of cake." She touched her slightly rounded belly, smiling happily. "Besides, our baby must love traveling as much as I do. If he knew his mom was just sitting at the foot of Mount Tai, he’d make a fuss!"
John Yang laughed too. His wife was just that energetic and competitive—she could never sit still. "If it’s a boy and he’s like you, that’s great—full of spirit, ready for adventure. But if it’s a girl, let’s hope she’s not exactly like you, or the world’s getting another little troublemaker."
Checking the time, John suggested, "The sun’s about to set—let’s head to the hotel. The school splurged and got us a double room up here. That’s a big deal on Mount Tai! Let’s get some rest, since we’ll have to wake up before dawn to catch the sunrise at Sunrise Peak."
But Susan was still fired up, nowhere near ready to call it a day. She piped up, "No way, it’s still early! Why don’t we go check out Sunrise Peak now, get familiar with the terrain?"
"Don’t be ridiculous, Sunrise Peak is still far from here. And the sun’s about to set—what’s there to see? Coming back in the dark, what if you get hurt?"
"If we can’t catch the sunrise, we can at least watch the sunset, right? If we can’t go to Sunrise Peak, how about Moon Viewing Peak? Come on, let’s go!" With that, Susan grabbed John’s hand and pulled him along. John couldn’t resist her, and since Moon Viewing Peak wasn’t far from the South Heavenly Gate, he went along.
"So, do you think it’s better to have a boy or a girl?"
"Boy or girl, I’ll love them all the same."
"Don’t you want to keep the Yang family line going? Wouldn’t you be anxious if it’s a girl?"
"That old stuff’s ancient history. Besides, there’s still Xiao Qian." John Yang chuckled, "I’ll spoil our daughter just the same, but I’ll tell Xiao Qian: ‘Little brother, the Yang family line is all on you!’ Let him worry about it—after all, I’m the older one!"
"You really are bad, making your little brother do all the work!" Twenty years later, Susan Morrow would learn that people like this get called 'schemers.' She patted her belly and said, "Guess I’ll get another checkup when we’re back—this time we should be able to find out the baby’s gender."
"Isn’t it illegal to use an ultrasound to check the gender?"
"What’s the point of having connections if I can’t bend the rules?" No wonder Sophie Soo is always scheming in the student council—guess it runs in the family.
"You, huh—good thing you’re not a leader, or you’d be corrupt for sure. If this were the Cultural Revolution, I’d probably have to cut ties with you."
"You wouldn’t dare!"
The couple kept chatting as they walked to Moon Viewing Peak. It’s just west of the South Heavenly Gate, nothing fancy—just a little pavilion, usually empty. When John and Susan got there, they found only a scruffy Daoist priest sitting inside.
"Hmm?" The priest heard voices, glanced at the couple, then turned away, muttering, "Hmm..."
Three seconds later, the priest suddenly cranked his voice up eight notches and whipped his head around, staring hard at Susan’s belly—up, down, left, right—then slapped his thigh and burst out laughing: "Fate! Fate! That child in your belly is destined for greatness!"
Seeing this wild Daoist, John Yang squinted, clearly annoyed and ready to start roasting him.