Chapter 107: Letter of Thanks

“Dazhong, was this another donation from Yimin?”

Zhou Zhigao was impressed. Zhou Yimin cared more about the school than even he did as the principal.

Zhou Dazhong shook his head. “No, but it’s still related to Uncle Sixteen. He received a reward from the factory for inventing the solar stove, and while he was at it, he mentioned the difficulties our village school is facing to the factory leadership.”

“At first, Uncle Sixteen just wanted to ask the factory for a solar stove. But our Factory Director is generous. In the name of the steel factory, he donated all these items to our village school.”

The onlookers all clicked their tongues in admiration.

That’s just like Yimin!

A few words from him, and the factory leadership donated so much to the school. It showed that Yimin had real standing at the steel factory—even the higher-ups respected him.

As soon as Zhou Zhigao heard that the items were donations, he was overjoyed.

“Excellent, excellent. Dazhong, you’re not heading back tonight, right?” he asked.

Zhou Dazhong nodded. “I’ll go back tomorrow. Uncle Sixteen won’t let me travel at night.”

He himself didn’t mind, but since Uncle Sixteen said so, he had to listen.

“Alright! I’ll write a letter of thanks later. Tomorrow, take it back to the steel factory and hand it over to your leaders,” said Zhou Zhigao.

“No problem!” Zhou Dazhong nodded.

It was a simple matter.

And besides, it was the right thing to do. To the steel factory, those donated items might be insignificant, but since their village school had received them, it was only proper to say thank you—regardless of the value.

That was just basic courtesy.

Everyone helped unload the solar stove and placed it in the northeast corner of the schoolyard, where it could catch the morning sun.

There was also an aluminum kettle for boiling water, three insulated thermoses, a box of chalk, a box of pencils, and three stacks of exercise books.

The steel factory truly lived up to its name—what a generous donation.

These supplies were enough to last the school an entire semester.

After returning home, Zhou Zhigao got to work writing the letter of thanks. He wrote a full three to four thousand characters across several pages. After finishing, he read through it multiple times to make sure there were no issues.

It wasn’t until around ten at night that he brought it to Zhou Dazhong.

“Dazhong, remember to take this with you tomorrow,” he reminded.

Zhou Dazhong nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry! I’ll definitely deliver it to our steel factory leadership.”

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, Zhou Dazhong set off.

Meanwhile, with the help of the electric fan and ice blocks, Zhou Yimin had the most comfortable night since arriving in this era. He slept like a baby.

In today’s 1-yuan flash sale, he scored 100 catties of Wuchang rice and 100 catties of bulk popsicles.

Wuchang rice!

He’d bought it online in his previous life, but anyone with a discerning eye knew that wasn’t real Wuchang rice. It was said that even locals in Northeast China struggled to get the genuine article.

True Wuchang rice is influenced by the unique geography and climate of its growing region. It accumulates more dry matter, has moderate levels of amylose, and a high content of amylopectin.

Because of the large temperature differences between day and night during the rice’s maturation period, the grains accumulate more readily soluble double-chain sugars, which are very beneficial to human health.

As a result, Wuchang rice is plump, firm in texture, crystal-clear in color, glossy when cooked, and rich in fragrance.

The funny thing is, the annual production of Wuchang rice is only a few hundred thousand tons, yet annual sales exceed ten million tons.

Clearly, the market is flooded with counterfeits.

And that only underscores how precious real Wuchang rice is. Unscrupulous sellers slap the Wuchang label on any old rice.

But anything sold by the system store in his mind couldn’t possibly be fake, right?

This good stuff—he had to take it home for Grandpa and Grandma to enjoy.

Zhou Yimin looked at the bulk popsicles. They came in all kinds of flavors, but none had individual packaging—just like the old-school ice pops sold on the street.

After brushing his teeth and washing up, he ate breakfast, then took out a sunflower seed-coated ice cream bar—one of his favorites from his past life. So satisfying!

Back at the steel factory, Zhou Dazhong returned and immediately handed the thank-you letter to Team Lead Wang, who then passed it on to Section Chief Zheng. Section Chief Zheng gave it to Director Ding, who then delivered it to Factory Director Hu.

Factory Director Hu opened the letter and read it thoroughly.

For the first time, he felt like he’d done something truly meaningful.

Originally, they had only made the donation because of Zhou Yimin’s connection. They hadn’t expected anything in return.

To the steel factory, the donated items were hardly worth mentioning—a drop in the bucket. But unexpectedly, the school had written back with a several-thousand-character letter of thanks.

Factory Director Hu read every word. The heartfelt emotion moved him deeply.

He called over Liu, the Section Chief of the Publicity Department, and handed him the letter. He asked Liu to post it on the factory’s bulletin board to share the story.

“Oh, and have the broadcast room read it aloud for the workers during lunch,” he added.

“Understood! I’ll get on it right away,” Liu said as he took the letter.

This was a textbook example of worker-peasant unity—definitely worth promoting. What a pity the factory didn’t have its own newspaper. Otherwise, it would’ve deserved at least half a page.

It would be great for boosting the workers’ sense of collective honor.

Just think about it—the factory helped a struggling school, gave kids a chance to study. Wouldn’t any worker feel proud?

In this era, people valued honor deeply.

After returning to his office, Section Chief Liu first had someone in the broadcast room copy the letter. The original was to be preserved in the factory’s archives—this letter carried real significance.

The version posted publicly would be a copy.

At noon, as the workers got off shift and rushed to the cafeteria—because if you weren’t eager to eat, there was something wrong with you—people were starving after a morning of hard labor at the steel factory.

They chatted about what might be for lunch.

But really, that depended entirely on what the cafeteria had made.

Food supplies were limited, with little variety. Even the vegetables rotated among the same few kinds. Cabbage, with its high yield, was the most common.

“Cabbage again! When are we gonna eat meat again?” someone groaned, their stomach turning at the sight.

“Be glad there’s anything to eat. Plenty of our fellow farmers can’t even afford wild greens.”

…

Just as they were talking, the speaker system came to life with the broadcast announcer’s voice.

The steel factory’s two announcers were known not only for their looks but also for their lovely voices—they were practically factory celebrities with plenty of admirers.

“Good afternoon, comrades. We’re about to read a letter of thanks from a school in Zhoujiazhuang. Yesterday, our factory’s leadership…”

The announcer gently narrated the story from beginning to end, then read the letter itself.

Only then did everyone learn that their factory had donated supplies to a struggling rural school, giving the children of farmers a chance to study.

Now, the school had sent a letter of thanks—not only to the leadership, but to the workers too.

In that moment, everyone was filled with a powerful sense of pride.

(End of Chapter)