Chapter 14: Full Month (2)

Today, even the girls were allowed to sit at the table. Jiang Dani and her sisters sat beside Gu Dongmei and Jiang Dazhen. In front of them were the most basic vegetarian dishes—wild greens they’d gathered themselves earlier that day. The chicken, fish, and other meats were all placed in front of the men. Dani and her sisters didn’t dare reach across with their chopsticks, silently chewing on steamed buns and wild vegetables. Though there was no meat to be had, at least the buns were enough to fill their stomachs today.

Sanni stared longingly at the stewed hen on the opposite side of the table, practically drooling. Ever since their mother had secretly let them taste meat that one time, she hadn’t been able to forget the flavor. But Grandma Miao was glaring daggers at them from across the table, keeping a sharp eye on the sisters. Sanni didn’t dare try to take a bite of chicken. All she could do was sniff the rich aroma of the soup and pretend her bun was chicken while she chewed.

Gu Dongmei glanced at her son in her arms, then at her daughters. Summoning a rare burst of courage, she quickly snatched a few slices of cured pork and placed them on Dani’s plate while Grandma Miao was distracted, head down in her own food.

Ahem, ahem—

Even though she was fast, Grandma Miao, who kept constant watch over the meat dishes, still caught her. She let out a few displeased coughs.

“Those little girls have no right to eat such good food. The men in this family work themselves to the bone to earn money, and you, as their woman, don’t even think to serve your husband a bite first…”

With Zhao Hong and Gu Xiashi around, Grandma Miao couldn’t scold her too harshly, so she mumbled under her breath. Though her voice was low, everyone in the room could hear her loud and clear.

Gu Dongmei nearly buried her head in her bowl. Years of being suppressed by Grandma Miao had made this fear bone-deep. Even giving birth to a son hadn’t changed that overnight.

Jiang Dani was just about to pass her meat to her second and third sisters when her hand froze mid-air. She didn’t know if she should put it back on her own plate.

“Ma, why are you nagging on such a good day? It’s just a few slices of meat. Why shouldn’t the girls get a taste? What, just because they’re daughters they don’t count as part of the Jiang family? If you keep talking like that, I’m not coming back anymore.”

Jiang Dazhen wasn’t afraid of her mother. With her quick temper, she fired back immediately. Grandma Miao, aware that Meng Chuoping was present and still eyeing the good gifts her daughter might have brought, could only shoot the girls a glare and sulk in silence.

“Dani, Erni, have some fish. This is sea fish, you know. We wouldn’t get this kind of thing out here if it weren’t for your Third Aunt.”

Seeing how reserved her nieces were, Jiang Dazhen just helped them serve the food herself.

“And this—come on, Sanni, have a chicken wing.”

Only the food in your mouth is real. The girls couldn’t resist the direct temptation. As for the scolding they might get from Grandma after their aunt left—that would be a problem for later.

The more the girls enjoyed their food, the more Grandma Miao’s face darkened. Her heart ached as she watched them eat, her face practically black with fury.

“Quack—quack quack—”

Jiang Yiliu, seeing his grandmother so frustrated, couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Ma, my little brother’s laugh sounds like a duck,” Meng Xiangxue exclaimed, as if he’d discovered something amazing. He pointed at Jiang Yiliu while holding a chicken leg, his oily mouth wide open and eyes round with surprise.

“You were like that too when you were little.” Jiang Dazhen took the chance to stuff a mouthful of fish into her son’s mouth to shut him up.

“My sweet baby boy,” cooed Grandma Miao. With that smile, the fire lit by her daughter and granddaughters was half-doused, leaving her quite pleased.

“Dad, Mom—this is the full-month gift from Dazhen and me for Xiaobao.”

Meng Chuoping pulled out a stack of vouchers from his pocket and handed them to Jiang Cheng.

“What’s this?” Jiang Cheng hadn’t seen this kind of certificate before. It had a cow on it and a red seal. Could it be for buying cattle? But private ownership of large livestock was no longer allowed. Qing Mountain Village only had two big oxen, which were village treasures.

“These are milk vouchers. With these, you can redeem milk at the farm. That way, you won’t have to worry about Xiaobao going hungry.”

Yuchuan County had its own farm with dozens of dairy cows. The milk they produced was mostly sent to the food processing plant. The rest went to town-dwelling families with official registration. Families with infants could claim one pound of fresh milk daily. But rural households like the Jiangs weren’t eligible.

Meng Chuoping explained with a smile, “Old Chen from my workshop also had a son recently. His family’s short on food, so he traded some of their milk vouchers with me for grain tickets.”

The Meng family had three full-time workers, plus Jiang Dazhen as a temporary worker—four people earning wages to support just two kids. Their life was far more comfortable than most. Meng Chuoping and his father were senior workers, earning higher salaries and subsidies. They couldn’t even use up all their grain tickets each month. Their coworkers who were worse off often traded luxury items like refined grains, meat, or oil for basic goods from the Mengs.

That Old Chen was also a fifth-level worker like Meng Chuoping, but his whole family had rural registration. He was the only one working in the city, sending half his salary back to support his parents and siblings. He had three sons and a daughter, and life was tough.

This was a hallmark of the era—when one person succeeded, they often carried the weight of an entire family, sacrificing their own children’s quality of life to support extended relatives.

Originally, Meng Chuoping had planned to use the milk for Xiangxue’s health, but that boy refused to drink it, claiming it had a strange smell. Every time they tried to feed him, he screamed like a pig being slaughtered. Now that his wife’s nephew had a full-month celebration, he brought the vouchers along as a gift to save face.

When Grandma Miao heard it was something so valuable, her eyes lit up. “City folks really live life—kids get all these benefits. Not like us poor peasants, we’ve got nothing.”

Unlike the famine years, villagers now had land and mountains. They could survive even on wild roots. But city folks, even with vouchers, often had nowhere to use them and constantly tried to swap with country relatives.

Nowadays, saying you had a city household registration made everyone envious. Monthly grain and subsidy allocations, a job at a factory—people like that were treated like royalty wherever they went.

“I don’t ask for much anymore,” Grandma Miao sighed, eyes squinting with a grin. “As long as Xiaobao studies hard, gets into a vocational school, finds a good job, marries a city girl, and gives me a few great-grandkids—then my life will be complete.”

No one in the room disagreed. Even Jiang Yiliu understood what Grandma meant—it was the picture of a perfect life in the hearts of most Chinese families at the time.

But times would change faster than anyone could predict. No one imagined that decades later, factory jobs—once considered the most secure “iron rice bowl”—would see mass layoffs, and that stability would shatter.

“Dad, Mom—”

Jiang Yiliu was lost in thoughts of the future when they were interrupted by uninvited guests.

“What are you doing here? Get out—now!”

Jiang Cheng slammed his chopsticks onto the table and glared at his second son’s family with fury.

“Mom, we know we were wrong. Aiguo upset you both that day, but as soon as we got home, Dachuan gave him a good beating and taught him a lesson. Look—his bottom’s still bruised.”

Fan Xiaojun wiped her tears as she pulled down her son’s pants, revealing welts in shades of red, purple, and blue—clearly the result of a severe thrashing with a cane.

“Dad, Mom, you know how we’ve always treated you. Aiguo must’ve heard nonsense from somewhere and just started blabbering. Xiaojun and I truly didn’t know anything about it.”

Jiang Dachuan, a grown man, cried like a child, wiping his tears as he peeked through his fingers at the spread of food on the table. He felt deeply wronged.

All that good food—that should’ve been theirs. It was all because of the eldest branch. Four daughters weren’t enough? Why did they have to have a son?

Fan Xiaojun felt the same. When her son had his full-month banquet, the old couple hadn’t prepared half as many dishes. Clearly, they were biased. All that affection for Aiguo and Aidang must’ve been fake. The good stuff probably got funneled to the eldest branch behind their backs.

As for Gu Dongmei, always playing the meek and bullied daughter-in-law—Xiaojun had fallen for it. Who knew how she laughed at them in secret?

Once someone gets stuck in that mindset, even eight horses couldn’t drag them out. Fan Xiaojun knew how hard the past years had been for Dongmei and the girls, but now that she saw herself as the victim, she kept painting the other side in the worst light, even inventing things that sounded perfectly reasonable in her own head.

“Aiguo, Aidang, kneel and apologize to your grandparents!” Fan Xiaojun nudged her two sons toward Jiang Cheng, urging them to beg forgiveness.

Grain distribution was about to begin. In Qingshan Village, food was divided four parts per person, six parts per work point—a system designed to support families with fewer laborers. With those “headcount rations,” no one would starve.

Jiang Dachuan and Fan Xiaojun had barely earned any work points in the last six months. What they’d get would be limited and mostly coarse grains like sweet potatoes and corn. Wheat and rice were scarce. In the past, with support from the old couple, they always traded their rough rations for refined ones. While others ate chaff, they had white buns and rice porridge—life was good.

Now that they’d been cut off, they couldn’t accept it. Jiang Dachuan had spent days stewing at home, finally convincing himself that the old couple still cared for their grandsons. Surely the whole family would be gathered today for Xiaobao’s full-month celebration. If he apologized now, maybe his father—so concerned with saving face—would forgive them.

Jiang Dachuan’s plan seemed solid. But he didn’t account for one person to spoil it—his own precious son.

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Chapter 14: Full Month (2)