Call Me Daddy [Quick Transmigration]

When the father and son returned home covered in mud, it naturally made Jiang Lianmei anxious. But once she learned that it was just her husband accidentally riding the bicycle into a ditch, she didn’t say much—just reminded Su Aobai to be more careful next time.
Trailing obediently behind, Su Mingcheng snuck his dad a grateful glance.
Truth be told, the bike had tipped over mainly because he’d been fidgeting too much on the back seat. If Mom found out, she’d definitely scold him nonstop—maybe even throw in a bamboo shoot stir-fry spanking on the side.

But Dad had his back. He didn’t rat him out. If this were wartime, Dad would definitely be his most loyal revolutionary comrade.
“There’s stuff in the basket I bought. Those two bottles of Liangshan Daqu liquor and the two boxes of mung bean cakes are gifts—set them aside. The rest is for the family. Sort through it.”
Su Aobai only gave his body a quick wipe with well water before hurrying back to his room.

He couldn’t wait to pull out a few of the elementary school workbooks from his System Space and start flipping through them.
Just as he had guessed, each book had a different content focus. The hundred workbooks were organized by subject and grade level. While they stayed within the current educational standards, they expanded on the material slightly and raised the difficulty just a notch.
In most of his past lives, Su Aobai had lived in modern times—and had received elite, rigorous education in every single one. To someone like him, these workbooks had plenty of shortcomings. But for the current educational environment, every single book was a gem.

Thanks to the original Su Aobai’s memories, he knew that while he was already considered quite a good teacher by Wu Zhiyong, the man had never received any formal pedagogical training. His teaching skills weren’t particularly strong. But with the help of these workbooks—and his own ability—Su Aobai had full confidence that he could give those students a proper education.
He pulled out several workbooks suited for third-grade level. Su Mingcheng had started school at six, and this September, he’d officially be a third grader.
He also grabbed a few first- and second-grade books—not only to help his son review past material, but also because he wanted to experiment with a different teaching style for the first- and second-grade students he’d be instructing.

The System truly didn’t cut corners. All hundred books were handwritten, and the handwriting was based on the original Su Aobai’s, only neater—making it look like he himself had personally written them out as a dedicated teaching journal.
Even if he took all the books out in public, no one would question them. They’d just think he was a committed teacher who had painstakingly compiled his own materials over the years.
Still, Su Aobai didn’t blindly trust the System.

As he flipped through the books, he cross-referenced them with the original’s years of teaching experience. Pen in hand, he made edits and annotations in a notebook, determined to bring the content to an even more polished level.
 
****

Outside the bedroom, Jiang Lianmei used hot water from the stove to prepare a warm basin and told her son to clean himself up in the bathhouse.
“Mom, that army bag—Dad bought that for me!”
Worried she might try to put away the military-green shoulder bag, Su Mingcheng shouted through the curtain hanging in front of the bathhouse.
“It’s mine! It’s mine!”

His shouting was giving her a headache. She finally responded with an °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° impatient “Alright, alright,” just to get him to quiet down and bathe properly.
In contrast, their daughter was much more well-behaved. She sat on her little chair, slowly nibbling at a late-season slice of watermelon while watching her mom sort through the things.
Su Aobai had bought quite a bit—not just gifts for superiors, but something for every single family member.

Two jars of face cream—richer and more fragrant than the kind Jiang Lianmei usually used. She liked it, and so did their three-year-old daughter. The moment she caught a whiff of that sweet scent, she stopped eating her watermelon, wiped her mouth, and leaned in close to her mom.
“You little rascal.”
Jiang Lianmei screwed the lid back on and tapped her daughter’s forehead with a finger.

“I’ll put some on for you after you wash your face tonight.”
With that promise secured, the little girl beamed and returned to munching on her watermelon, swinging her chubby little legs from the chair, clearly delighted.
There were also several boxes of cigarettes. Since Su Aobai didn’t smoke, they were obviously meant for Jiang Dajun.

Jiang Dajun was a heavy smoker. He even grew some tobacco leaves in their private plot and usually rolled his own, which were harsh. He only ever pulled out a real box of cigarettes from his coat pocket when attending meetings at the commune—for appearances’ sake more than anything.
Jiang Lianmei kept digging. At the bottom were two lengths of fabric—one in a dark gray, which she unfolded. It was long enough to make two full outfits. The other was a deep indigo blue, the kind often used for worker uniforms. To many, that color was just as fashionable as military green. The piece wasn’t as large—probably only enough to make a single top.
Forget about the ration coupons—just these things alone must’ve cost a lot, right?

Jiang Lianmei carefully folded the fabric and stepped into the bedroom, only to see her husband scribbling away furiously at his desk. She hesitated, not quite sure how to bring it up.
“What is it?”
Su Aobai had heard her footsteps. He paused, set down his pen, and turned around.

“It’s nothing… it’s just… you bought so much stuff. Must’ve cost a lot. Do you… still have enough money? If not, I can get you some…”
She was trying to indirectly feel out how much money he had left. But the moment the words came out, she felt herself flush with embarrassment.
What really made Jiang Lianmei uneasy was what had happened after her husband returned home. Everyone around her kept saying she must’ve accumulated a mountain of good karma in her past life to meet a man who gave up a proper urban worker’s job just for her. Even her own mother had pulled her aside and whispered that she ought to treat her husband better now—he clearly had backbone and was a family man. If he treated her well, then she should do the same. As long as their hearts stayed close, their days would only grow better and more prosperous.

And truly, that was how Jiang Lianmei had felt too. When she saw Su Aobai come back, her excitement and joy had been written all over her face—even a small child could’ve seen it.
But only two days later, that joy was already laced with anxiety.
Her husband seemed to be avoiding intimate moments with her. After three months apart, wasn’t it natural for a husband and wife to reconnect physically? Yet for two nights in a row, he hadn’t touched her.

She could chalk it up to him being exhausted from all the traveling—but why had his whole body gone stiff when she tried to cuddle up to him in bed?
Jiang Lianmei didn’t know where things had gone wrong.
“I’ve got enough money.”

That tiny bit of probing was completely transparent to Su Aobai.
He paused, then got up and walked to the wardrobe. He opened it, reached between the folded clothes, and pulled out a small cloth pouch.
“I almost forgot to tell you—on this trip back, my parents gave me some money. Let’s consider it a parting gift for splitting the household. It includes your dowry reimbursement and the full-month and first-year red envelopes for both kids.”

Even with the original’s memories and emotions in his head, Su Aobai still needed time to adapt. All he could do for now was shift her focus—give her a sense of security.
“That much?!”
Inside the pouch was a thick stack of bills, most in ten-yuan denominations. Easily several hundred yuan in total. Jiang Lianmei had never seen that much money in her life.

Her father had been a brigade leader for decades, and even with years of saving—after all the wedding and family expenses—he probably only had about this much saved up.
“You should keep all of it.”
Su Aobai placed the money in his wife’s hands. “You already handle all our household expenses.”

As for the money he earned from selling the smoked fish—he kept that for himself. He needed to have some cash on hand. Even though he was planning to walk a different path now, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t seize the right moment to turn a profit with the right investment.
“All of it?”

Jiang Lianmei felt like she’d just been entrusted with a monumental responsibility.

“If I don’t give it to you, who else would I give it to? You’re my wife.”
That one simple line turned her face red. In the end, people of this era just didn’t know how to express affection directly.
“Oh, right—those two bolts of fabric. Use the gray one to make clothes for my parents. The blue one, keep it for yourself. You saw it already—I spend money like it’s water. On this trip into town, I kept seeing things I wanted to bring back for you all. If that money stays in my hands, I’ll burn through it in no time. It’s better to go back to how things used to be—every payday, you give me two yuan for pens and paper, and you handle the rest of the household budget. I’m counting on you, Comrade Meizi!”

That “Comrade Meizi” made Jiang Lianmei feel proud—like she had just been recognized by someone truly important.
“But that blue fabric is so nice. It’s thick, durable—perfect for making you a uniform top.”
Her first instinct was still to save the best for her husband.

“I’ve got enough clothes. Didn’t I bring back a few sets of my dad’s factory uniforms? They’re practically brand new.”
Those uniforms were originally issued to Su Aobai’s father by the factory—one set every few years. He had barely worn them, always patching up the older ones instead. This time, he sent nearly all the newer ones back with his son—probably feeling like he wouldn’t get many more chances to see him again. It was his way of making amends.
As far as Su Aobai was concerned, clothes from this era were all pretty much the same anyway. Fashion didn’t matter. Workwear and military-style clothing were the most stylish options. As long as they were comfortable, he didn’t care.

“I just want to see you wearing something nice.”
That single line stopped Jiang Lianmei from saying anything more. Her face turned red again, and she murmured a soft reply.
She really was beautiful. Even with two kids, that was only because she’d married young. She was only twenty-five this year—still in the prime of her youth.

That blend of honest purity, maternal gentleness, and intense, sincere emotion made her shine in Su Aobai’s eyes.
“I’ve been away too long from work, so I have to prove myself now. And this is 1975—I’m still a temp. I could get let go any time. I need to think about you and the kids. I’ve got to try and get a permanent teaching position in the next year or two.”
For a moment, something stirred in Su Aobai’s chest. He didn’t know if it was remnants of affection from the original body or something else.

He smoothed his expression, letting the warmth fade into something more serious.
“I’m working on compiling some new teaching materials. Part of it is to help the students with a new learning approach—to boost their grades. But I’m also hoping to submit them to a publisher. If I can get some textbooks published, that’ll definitely help my chances at securing a formal position.”
As he spoke, he handed the thick, handwritten notebooks from the desk to his wife.

Jiang Lianmei hadn’t studied much. In fact, none of the Jiang siblings had ever been good at school. That was why Jiang Dajun had used a rare favor to help his son-in-law land a teaching job. Still, she’d had some schooling—enough to recognize a lot of characters.
Just by looking at the stacks of thick notebooks, she could tell how much time and effort her husband had secretly poured into creating these materials.
"I’d only been thinking about it before, but after coming home this time, I turned down the offer to take over my mom’s job—and I don’t regret it one bit. But I’ve come to realize something else. I’ve been too comfortable with the status quo. Just think—how much do city workers, officially appointed teachers, and government cadres earn in a month? And how much do I earn?

Meizi, I want to give you and the kids a better life.”
At that moment, Jiang Lianmei’s eyes were brimming with tears. She finally understood what had changed in her husband over these past few days.
So many thick notebooks—how much effort must he have poured into revising all that material? He probably didn’t want her to worry, so he did it all behind her back. He was simply exhausted—working tirelessly, wholeheartedly trying to provide for their family. And here she had been, obsessing over whether he’d lost feelings for her.

Jiang Lianmei felt a wave of guilt wash over her. What right did she have to marry such a good man?
Su Aobai looked at her with sincerity and a hint of guilt in his eyes.
“For a while, I’ll probably be focused completely on my students and on writing this textbook. I’ll have to rely on you more to take care of things at home. But keeping the household running—that’s just as valuable a job.

Comrade Meizi, would you be willing to fight alongside me?”
He gently took her hand. Her hand was soft, with a slightly calloused palm, warm and cushiony in his grip—it felt good to hold.
“I’m willing!”

Even though a part of her still believed that housework was just what women were supposed to do, nothing special—Su Aobai’s seriousness, the way he treated her work as equally important, made her feel recognized. As if all the chores she did every day truly mattered.
Caught up in that overwhelming emotion, she tossed all her earlier doubts and worries straight out of her mind.