Chapter 18: Entering the County (1)

Jiang Dahai and his wife returned from the fields, their rubber boots caked with mud. They stomped their feet at the threshold before stepping into the main room.

“Dad, Mom.” From the kitchen, Dani, who had been busy, heard the sound and came out holding two steaming bowls of tea. Small flecks of tea leaves floated on the surface.

The Jiang family loved tea. Most of the tea leaves they drank were harvested from ancient tea trees on the mountain. They picked them themselves, pan-roasted them, and stored them in a large iron tin. They only harvested twice a year, but it was enough to supply the whole household.

During the cold winter, they simply put tea leaves into a thermos filled with boiling water and could pour a cup anytime. On Jiang Yiliu’s suggestion, Jiang Dahai had even fitted a filter to the mouth of the thermos so tea leaves wouldn't spill out. After finishing a pot, they could even brew a second round from the same leaves.

No one really knew who had planted the tea trees up on Great Green Mountain. They'd already been there before the people of Qingshan Village ever settled. The tea from those old trees wasn’t particularly tasty bitter and astringent but with few drink choices in this era, even bitter tea with a hint of fragrance was better than nothing.

During harvest season, nearly every woman and child in the village went up the mountain to pick leaves. Most people in the surrounding villages had grown up drinking this tea and were used to the taste. Even Jiang Yiliu, who had lived away from his hometown for years and tasted all kinds of modern drinks, still longed for that familiar flavor.

In recent years, enforcement had become stricter hunting and tea-picking were officially banned. Everything on Great Green Mountain was now considered communal property. Going up the mountain for personal harvests was labeled as stealing from the collective and could get you publicly denounced. Fortunately, Qingshan Village was secluded, shielded by a mountain road. Outsiders rarely came, and if villagers quietly picked a bit of tea for home use, no one would raise a fuss. After all, every household needed tea.

“Xiaobao, why are you out here dressed so lightly? Dani, warm a bottle for your brother so he can warm his hands.”

Jiang Dahai drank his tea in a few gulps, exhaled a breath of warm air, and looked lovingly at his obedient son sitting quietly on the chair. He wanted to hug the boy, but one glance at his muddy clothes and hands made him pause and lower his arms with regret.

Dani replied and fetched two small glass bottles from the kitchen, both wrapped in cloth sleeves to keep them warm and protect little hands from burning.

She gave one bottle to her brother and the other to her sister.

Just then, Grandma Miao returned from the backyard vegetable patch holding a freshly pulled radish and bumped into Grandpa Jiang, who was coming back from chatting outside. His expression was grim, his face dark and tense.

“Grandpa.”
“Dad.”
Everyone greeted in unison.

Grandpa Jiang glanced at his little grandson and finally softened a bit. A faint smile appeared on his face but it quickly faded. Something troubled him. He sighed, his lips drooping, his brows furrowed deep enough to catch flies.

“What’s wrong, old man? Who did you argue with this time?” Grandma Miao brought the radish into the kitchen and casually asked. She figured he’d gotten into another squabble with someone his temper had always been short.

Gu Dongmei, never idle, had already washed her hands and brought a basin of hot water for Jiang Dahai to wash up. She then went to the kitchen to help their eldest daughter with the cooking.

“What’s this world coming to?” Grandpa Jiang sighed again, heavily slapping the table. Clearly, it wasn’t just about a petty argument.

Sitting nearby, Jiang Yiliu’s eyes flickered. Something had clearly happened in the village.

“Dad, what happened? Tell us.” Jiang Dahai wiped his hands and scooped up his youngest son, affectionately patting his little daughter’s head.

Jiang Yiliu squirmed uncomfortably. Even though five years had passed since his rebirth, and he’d adapted to this younger body, he still wasn’t used to such physical affection from his father.

But at the moment, his focus was on Grandpa Jiang, so he didn’t resist.

Holding his unusually docile son, Jiang Dahai beamed with joy. His son was smart, sensible, and handsome, but he had always been distant with his parents, preferring the company of his sisters. Hugging him was usually near impossible. Now, he figured maybe the boy was just shy and not very expressive. He made a silent decision: from now on, he’d take the initiative to bond more and climb his way to the top of his son’s heart.

Jiang Yiliu had no idea that his rare moment of cooperation had sparked such an elaborate fantasy in his father’s mind. But even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have cared because Grandpa Jiang’s next words shocked him to the core.

“The old commander sent a telegram.” Grandpa Jiang sighed.

Grandma Miao, who had been in the kitchen, ran out excitedly, corn flour still clinging to her hands. “The old commander sent word? Is he raising your benefits again?”

The “old commander” referred to the leader Grandpa Jiang had once saved on the battlefield. That man now held a high position in the capital and had never forgotten the debt. Over the years, he had helped Grandpa Jiang secure a veteran’s pension equivalent to a regimental commander, and every year sent care packages to the family.

This was why Grandma Miao was always delighted to hear anything about him.

During these five years, Jiang Yiliu had heard his family mention the old commander countless times. Yet in his previous life, as far as he could remember, that commander never seemed to exist. Could it be that something had happened to him during the political turmoil of the next decade?

“Don’t even ask. The old commander is struggling himself now.” Grandpa Jiang shook his head and turned to his son. “I’ve already spoken with Captain Mo. This afternoon, go to the Revolutionary Committee and bring back the counter-revolutionary they’ve assigned to our village.”

“Counter-revolutionary?” Jiang Dahai and Jiang Yiliu exclaimed at the same time.

Jiang Dahai assumed his son didn’t understand the term and didn’t think much of it. He turned to his father, puzzled. “Didn’t those Revolutionary Committee folks refuse to send anyone here before? Said it was too much hassle to organize struggle sessions in our remote area. Why the sudden change of heart?”

It was 1968. The nationwide movement that would sweep through China for ten years had already begun. Even remote Qingshan Village had begun to feel its effects. Every household had a portrait of the Chairman hanging in the main hall. Quotations from the Chairman were mandatory reading. Even illiterate farmers could recite half the book thanks to the guidance of educated youths. In the county seat, if you couldn’t quote from the Chairman, you couldn’t buy anything.

What shocked Jiang Yiliu was that, in his previous life, no counter-revolutionaries were ever sent to their village at this time. It wasn’t until 1974 that a few university professors from Haicheng were exiled there. A few years later, they were rehabilitated and returned home.

The villagers had been kind to those elderly scholars, never making them do hard labor. The Revolutionary Committee and Red Guards found it too troublesome to monitor such a remote village, so they just had the locals submit monthly repentance letters on behalf of the accused. And so, for two or three years, they got by in peace.

Now, however, things were already diverging from his past life. Was this the butterfly effect of his rebirth? Would the future he once knew still unfold the same way?

“They’re my old comrades. We fought and bled together; they're like your uncles. You better treat them with respect. Don’t you dare look down on them just because they've fallen on hard times. If I catch you acting like those lunatics outside, I’ll tan your hide myself,” Grandpa Jiang growled.

People outside had gone mad, endlessly turning on their own kind while ignoring real issues. He couldn’t stand what the world had become.

“They're your war buddies? So the commander’s telegram was about this?” Grandma Miao finally understood, but concern clouded her expression. “Will this get us in trouble?”

She wasn’t against helping a few old comrades, but not if it meant risking her husband’s and son’s futures.

“Trouble? Nonsense. The commander has it all arranged. My brother was just unlucky. His family used to have a bit of property, and now just based on a few empty accusations they’re calling him a capitalist and a counter-revolutionary. His own family turned on him, stabbed him in the back, and made up nonsense to frame him. It’s ridiculous. When he and I were fighting the Japanese, those brats weren’t even born yet!”

Furious, Grandpa Jiang slammed the table, startling Sini nearby.

Grandma Miao sighed, reminded of their own ungrateful second son’s family. Compared to what this friend had suffered, their situation suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

“Grandpa, what should I call him?” Jiang Yiliu asked cautiously. In his past life, there had never been a single war comrade who appeared in their home. What had happened to them all?

“My brother was amazing. He even studied abroad in Russia. Spoke fluent foreign languages. Back then, everyone admired him. Now, apparently, being educated overseas is a crime,” Grandpa Jiang said proudly at first, then his mood dimmed. “His surname is Ruan. You can call him Grandpa Ruan.”

TR Note: During the Cultural Revolution, people with foreign education were often labeled as “capitalist sympathizers” or “counter-revolutionaries” despite their previous contributions to the nation.

Ruan? Studied in Russia?

Jiang Yiliu’s heart skipped a beat. He quickly asked, “Where is Grandpa Ruan from?”

Grandpa Jiang patted his grandson’s head. “He’s from Haicheng. Ancestral roots in Sucheng. He’s one of the gentlest men I’ve ever known. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can always ask him.”

Grandpa Jiang harbored a private hope he didn’t believe China would remain in chaos forever. The great Chairman wouldn’t allow this madness to continue unchecked. When the tides turned, it would be people like Grandpa Ruan those with real knowledge and integrity who would be needed to rebuild the country.

Jiang Yiliu was overwhelmed.

The surname Ruan was uncommon. The age, background, and education all matched. Could it be? Could this be Ruan Jingguo, the future economic giant of China?

And he was about to meet him face to face.

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Chapter 18: Entering the County (1)