Chapter 19: Entering the County (2)

After lunch, Jiang Dahai went to the home of Captain Mo Dashuan to get the notice sent from the Revolutionary Committee and the official letter authorizing someone to retrieve the assigned personnel. He also borrowed the team’s donkey cart. Since they didn’t know how many people the committee would be sending over, a donkey cart would be more convenient.

Their brigade had only one donkey cart, and it was usually treated like a treasure seldom lent out. The cart, pulled by a gray donkey, was a simple wooden flatbed with two wheels, ringed with wooden rails to keep people or goods from falling off.

At that moment, the cart bed was padded with a thick quilt, and a small body wrapped tightly in a heavy cotton comforter sat atop it. Only half a little face was visible, with a nose and mouth nestled inside the quilt, exhaling white puffs of breath.

It was Jiang Yiliu, of course. At lunchtime, he had stubbornly insisted on going to the county town. Because traveling to the city was such a hassle, the last time he’d gone was the previous Lunar New Year. This time, he not only wanted to verify if Grandpa Jiang’s so-called “Grandpa Ruan” was really the Ruan Jingguo he remembered from his past life, but also to observe the current state of the city firsthand.

He had even acted spoiled for once to persuade Jiang Dahai. How could Jiang Dahai resist his precious son’s wheedling? He gave in easily. Just before departure, he was scolded harshly by Grandma Miao for being soft, but she still carefully instructed her daughter-in-law to lay an extra thick quilt on the cart, worried her darling grandson would catch a chill.

Besides Jiang Yiliu, the cart also carried several bags of mountain goods the brigade had distributed. This year’s foraging harvest had been quite fruitful. After turning over their quota to the county, the rest was distributed as wages. The Jiang family didn’t lack grain, so they claimed more of the other items. Grandpa Jiang had specifically told Grandma Miao to prepare some for their youngest daughter’s family.

These included mushrooms, black fungus, and chestnuts. While these items weren’t special in the village, they were popular and valued in the city. Grandpa Jiang knew they had troubled their son-in-law often over the years especially with things like buying coal briquettes so bringing gifts was the least they could do. Favors should be returned. Though Grandma Miao grumbled, Grandpa Jiang overruled her.

Even so, the packages looked pitifully flat. Grandma Miao didn’t dare openly defy her husband, but she still tampered in secret. For example, most of the black fungus was broken scraps, with very few whole pieces. The chestnuts were mostly shriveled and few in quantity, as if she were afraid of giving too much.

Jiang Yiliu knew his grandmother’s nature well. Only Grandpa Jiang, Jiang Dahai, and now himself could manage to get good things from her.

Grandma Miao wasn’t just stingy with others; she was harsh with herself too. She was the embodiment of patriarchal bias. In her mind, the men of the family were the pillars of the household and thus deserved better food and treatment. She allotted herself slightly better rations than her daughters-in-law and granddaughters, but still inferior to the men.

Jiang Yiliu didn’t know whether to be impressed by her “fairness” or saddened by her ignorance.

He glanced at the packages, then turned to look at his father, who was focused on steering the cart. With a thought, he discreetly used his spatial ability to transfer high-quality dried mushrooms and black fungus from the space supermarket into the bags. The originally deflated packages gradually puffed up.

He didn’t add too much, just enough to avoid arousing suspicion. After all, Grandma Miao was only a small-minded rural woman, not as perceptive as Grandpa Jiang.

Over the years, the Jiang family had relied heavily on the Meng family’s help. Even if Uncle Meng never voiced any complaints, his parents might have. These gifts weren’t just to show gratitude but to maintain a good relationship with the elder Mengs, so Aunt Jiang Dazhen wouldn’t be caught in the middle. If they had brought only the meager bundles Grandma Miao prepared, it would’ve left a bad impression and strained family ties.

Jiang Yiliu looked at the now-plump packages with satisfaction. He was used to these secret maneuvers. Every so often, he would quietly add small amounts of rice or oil to the family’s stores. It wasn’t much each time, but over time it added up enough to make their life noticeably easier. Once the family had enough to eat, Grandma Miao also became less harsh with the girls.

In his past life, his eldest sister had only grown to 1.5 meters tall. Now, at fourteen, she had already reached that height. To supplement their poor diets, he had crushed calcium and vitamin tablets into powder and secretly mixed them into their food. All four sisters were now visibly healthier than they had been before.

He was still young, and this was all he could do for now.

The donkey cart swayed steadily along the road. Jiang Yiliu was almost dozing off when they finally arrived in the county town.

The county town was awash in red. Big-character posters and red slogans plastered every gray-brick wall along the street. Chairman Mao’s quotations, painted in vivid red, were everywhere, loudly heralding the start of a sweeping political movement.

Jiang Yiliu looked silently at the scene before him. The town was nowhere near the prosperity it would achieve in later years. Most buildings were one-story brick-and-tile houses, with only a few taller ones at most three stories high.

There weren’t many pedestrians on the streets, and those who were out walked quickly, with stiff expressions. Most wore black, gray, or indigo. A few years ago, people still wore patterned clothes, but now those were banned as bourgeois. If the Red Guards saw you, you'd be publicly denounced.

The sky was overcast, just like Jiang Yiliu’s mood. Even though he knew the storm would eventually pass, witnessing it firsthand still left a heavy weight on his heart.

When Jiang Dahai drove the cart into the Revolutionary Committee's compound, they had just parked when a middle-aged man in a gray coat stopped them.

“What do you think you're doing here? You country folks think you can just walk in?” The man glanced at Jiang Dahai’s patched gray coat, his eyes full of disdain.

“Leader, I’m from Qingshan Village. Didn’t the county issue instructions for our village to receive some labor reform personnel? Our captain sent me to pick them up.” Jiang Dahai had never dealt with this kind of official before. He handed over the team’s authorization letter respectfully.

“Those counter-revolutionaries haven’t arrived yet. Come back in a few hours,” the man said gruffly, stuffing the letter into his coat and waving them off with little courtesy.

Jiang Yiliu frowned. The Revolutionary Committee had immense power now. Even the smallest official could ruin a person. As the saying went: “Better to offend a nobleman than a petty one.” These Committee types were anything but reasonable. A minor slip-up, and your whole family could be dragged into disaster.

Jiang Dahai clearly understood this too. Smiling, he agreed quickly, picked up the parcels from the cart, took his son’s hand, and set off for his sister’s house. They might as well drop off the gifts while they waited.

Judging by that man’s attitude, even if they stayed at the compound, they’d only be left waiting in the courtyard. And in this cold, Jiang Dahai could tough it out, but his son might freeze. Better to stay warm with relatives and come back later.

They left the donkey cart in the Revolutionary Committee’s yard. An old gatekeeper kept watch, and no one in their right mind would dare steal from the Committee anyway.

Jiang Dazhen’s house wasn’t far, just a short walk down an alley. This area was full of traditional siheyuan courtyard homes, many of which had been rebuilt into two-story duplexes. Compared to the simple flats near the town entrance, these were much more refined.

These homes were built years ago with pooled funds from local factories and mostly distributed to senior workers. Meng Chuoping and his father, both senior employees, had each received a unit. They combined them into one spacious two-story home.

Jiang Dahai held tightly onto his son’s hand, but before they could finish crossing the alley, they ran into a commotion.

In front of one of the courtyard homes, a large crowd had gathered. Inside came the sounds of weeping elders, angry young men, and the crash of things being broken.

Jiang Yiliu tightened his grip on his father’s hand. The scene was eerily familiar. He knew exactly what was happening up ahead.

There were too many onlookers, but this was the only direct route to his sister’s house. Turning back would mean a long detour. Jiang Dahai didn’t hesitate; he hoisted his son onto his shoulders and squeezed into the crowd.

“Such a tragedy. Teacher Lu was such a good man. How did he end up being labeled a counter-revolutionary?” someone in the crowd muttered, their face full of sympathy.

From atop Jiang Dahai’s shoulders, Jiang Yiliu could clearly see what was happening inside.

The spacious courtyard was a wreck. Torn books littered the ground. Delicate wooden furniture lay broken, piled into a heap. A group of teenagers no more than fifteen or sixteen kept carrying items from inside the house. A tall ceramic vase was tossed carelessly into the yard and shattered instantly.

“No, don’t burn it please, don’t burn it!” An elderly man with white hair and broken eyeglasses dangling from one ear tried to stop a torch-bearing youth. His clothes were in tatters, exposing dark yellow cotton stuffing beneath. His face was full of sorrow and desperation.

“Get out of the way, old man. If your own son hadn’t ratted you out, we wouldn’t have known you were hiding so many reactionary books. You’re a stinking black element, a filthy old intellectual. The organization will deal with you!” the young man shouted, kicking the elder aside and hurling the torch onto the pile of books. Flames immediately devoured the pages.

“No! Those are the treasures left by our ancestors!” The old man clutched his chest and tried to rush toward the fire, but an old woman held him back, sobbing and begging him not to go.

“Beasts! Beasts!” the man cried, tears pouring down his face, pointing a trembling finger toward a young man cowering in the corner.

“Lu Jianxun, you counter-revolutionary! From this day forward, I sever all father-son ties with you. I stand with the people and draw a clear line from your kind!” the young man declared, puffing his chest and speaking righteously as the crowd turned to look at him.

The Red Guards looked pleased, but the rest of the onlookers were appalled.

A son reporting his own father, where had his conscience gone?

Jiang Yiliu watched the scene, feeling the chill of the wind cut less than the cold in his heart. But he was powerless. This was the era they lived in and all he could do was watch.

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Chapter 19: Entering the County (2)