A century of poverty

Chapter 50 New Year's Eve

After settling in, my third cousin knitted a sweater for my younger brother using old yarn, which I envied greatly. I had only ever seen yarn for two cents a piece at the cooperative before, which girls bought to braid their hair; I had no idea that similar yarn could be knitted into clothes.

The older brother took out a fleece jacket from his bag. The outside looked like cloth, and the inside was fluffy like cotton. It was both beautiful and warm.

The people I've seen in the village wear single layers in summer and cotton-padded clothes in winter. In spring and autumn, they wear lined trousers and jackets, or thin cotton-padded clothes. I've never seen such good-looking and fashionable clothes before.

After hearing so many interesting things from them, I imagined the outside world was full of novelty and beauty.

A few days after arriving home, the plumpness and serenity on my mother's body disappeared, replaced by weariness and anxiety. After dinner, Mom instructed my third sister, "Take the others and roll out the dried sweet potatoes in the winnowing basket. We'll make steamed buns tomorrow morning."

My third sister called my second brother, fourth sister, my younger brother, and me. My eldest brother was now the political captain of a squad and the militia company commander of the brigade; he was rarely seen at home except for mealtimes.

It was a hazy, late autumn night. My third sister was carrying a winnowing basket of dried sweet potatoes, and I was taking the broom for sweeping the kang (a heated brick bed). We went out the gate, past the screen wall, and the millstone was on the north side of the big slope.

Third Sister spread the dried sweet potatoes evenly on the millstone, and we all climbed up together, pushing the millstone forward. Since the millstone was only long enough for one adult to hold, it couldn't accommodate many people. Second Brother took the main position, and one of us always walked empty-handed. We couldn't reach the back of the millstone frame, so Third Sister pushed the frame with her right hand and swept as she walked with a broom in her left.

After walking a few laps, my second brother came up with an idea: "Let's split the four of us into two groups. Each group will push ten laps, and my third sister will count. One group will push while the other rests, and we'll take turns pushing. That way, we can rest for a while and no one will be idle." We all agreed.

Second Brother said he'd lead Shuanglai's group and go first. That meant Fourth Sister and I would be in their group. Soon, they finished their ten laps and got off to rest. When it was Fourth Sister and me's turn, we went up and pushed—it was incredibly heavy! Before, it wasn't heavy because Second Brother had been putting in the effort, but this time, when he got off, it wasn't the same. I gritted my teeth and persevered, agreeing to split up. What else could I say? I pushed on, finally managing to finish ten laps. After a short rest, I hadn't even recovered when Second Brother and Shuanglai's ten laps were up again. We had no choice but to go back up. I don't know how many times we went, but my strength and confidence were gone.

At first, members of the four work teams would occasionally come up the big slope to keep track of their work. There were always people, so no one seemed to care. After a while, the workers would come back and walk by, and no one paid any attention. After a long time, no one came. As the night grew quiet, we all felt tired and hungry, and no one spoke. The moon was obscured by dark clouds, and the silence of the night made us tense. We thought of the wolves in the North Gully, and we'd heard that ghosts roamed at night. We all hoped to finish the work quickly and go home.

Fourth Sister: "Is this enough noodles?" she asked Third Sister, meaning she wanted to go home.

Third Sister: "Then I'll sift it and see." Third Sister swept the ground dough together, sifted it into a winnowing basket, poured the dregs back onto the millstone, and said after sifting, "It's not enough, we have to finish grinding it." (referring to grinding the dried sweet potatoes until no more flour could be produced)

This time, my fourth sister and I went first. I put my hands on my hips and pushed the millstone, step by step, round and round... I kept going.

I don't know what the third sister said to the second brother, but the second brother, with his feet braced against the cracks in the wall and his hands gripping the stones, craned his neck to look behind the wall. Then I heard the third sister ask in a low voice, "Can you see it?"

Second brother: "I saw it." Third sister: "Do you know what it is?" "No." Second brother got down.

From their conversation, I sensed something terrifying was happening outside the wall. I was terrified, wondering what it was—perhaps a ghost? If it were a wolf, my third sister and second brother wouldn't be speaking so quietly. Was it a secret, or a spy? Yes! In movies, spies always appear silently, and they do extremely dangerous things in quiet moments.

Then, the sound of people closing their gates on the slope made us feel even more threatened, as if danger was lurking everywhere and could erupt at any moment. The greatest danger was outside the north wall, at the entrance to the tunnel dug by the "four categories of elements" below the embankment of the Fourth Team's large garden. The more frightened we were, the less we dared to make a sound; we communicated only with gestures.

We came down, and Second Brother and Shuanglai came up. Fourth Sister also wanted to peek over the wall to see what was in that dark corner at the entrance of the tunnel. She climbed up carefully and laboriously, craning her neck to look out. She saw it, then came down. I secretly asked her what she saw, but she wouldn't tell me.

The more afraid I was, the more I wanted to see. I wanted to climb over the wall to see what was there. I tried to imitate them, but my feet couldn't grip the wall, and my hands couldn't hold onto the rocks. I couldn't climb up. I didn't dare make a sound, so I signaled to my fourth sister for help. With her help, I grabbed the top of the wall and looked into the dark corner. My heart pounded with fear. There were two figures in the darkness. Suddenly, a glowing ember appeared. I could see clearly that one was a bald man taking a drag on his cigarette, and there was another person opposite him, whose face I couldn't make out. They were having a secret conversation, but I couldn't hear anything. I just could tell they looked like spies. My first thought was that they were spies. In movies, spies always meet in pairs in dark corners. Assassinations and sabotages usually happen at night when everyone is quiet. Could it be spies plotting something? In this dark corner behind the millstone, at the entrance to a tunnel dug by a "four-category" element, a corner that few people go to even during the day. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed plausible. I don't know how I got down from the wall. My mind was like a movie playing out: two spies, murder, "four-category" elements, a tunnel. We kids who worked the millstone witnessed something—being captured by secret agents, or being silenced. We were completely gripped by terror.

She just wanted to finish rolling the machine as soon as possible so she could go home and escape this dangerous place, but she didn't dare to say it. First, her third sister wouldn't agree if the machine wasn't finished, and second, she was afraid that the secret agents would hear her and take action before she could finish.

Time seemed to pass incredibly slowly in the midst of the horror; life felt like it was being burned by fear, and every minute was excruciating.

My third sister was sifting flour into a winnowing basket. She said, "Just a few more turns and we're leaving." I immediately felt hopeful; I was about to escape the terror.

Suddenly, my third sister threw the basket into the winnowing tray, grabbed it, and yelled, "Something's wrong! Run!" She'd already carried the tray over the embankment and large rocks, running up the slope. My second and fourth sisters, hearing the commotion, ran faster than me, and my younger brother rushed ahead. I was left to cover their retreat. I didn't dare look back; my only thought was to run, to get home as fast as I could. Once inside the gate, I wasn't so afraid anymore. After passing the second wall, I felt no one was chasing me. I calmed myself down, because running into the house in such a panic would upset Grandma. She'd say, "What kind of behavior is this? A girl like you has no composure!" Angering Dad would be even worse; his glare would terrify us, leaving us speechless.

My eldest brother held positions in both the brigade and the production team, and frequently attended meetings at the commune. My aunt's eldest brother, Zhang Yinglu, was assigned a job directly after starting school; he was two years older than my brother and already had someone propose marriage to him.

After getting married, my uncle and aunt had four daughters in a row, and they were hoping for a son.

I don't know where I heard it from, but eating stolen New Year's Eve dumplings will ensure you have a son. The thief must be a boy, and you have to steal dumplings from a house with many boys. So, my uncle found his two eldest nephews in the east and west courtyards and persuaded them to steal dumplings from the house with many boys on New Year's Eve. The two nephews readily accepted the task.

Under the electric light, my fourth sister, my younger brother, and I sat on the kang (a heated brick bed). Dad posed a riddle for us to guess: "A rocky mountain valley, a place you can never leave in your lifetime." As soon as Dad finished speaking, we all shouted in unison, "A millstone!"

Dad: "Listen, the second rule is: a stick with a red grain of rice on top, used to hit everyday items."

We guessed and guessed. Fourth Sister said it was a fire poker, but Dad said no. Fourth Sister: "Isn't it a stick? The tip is red when it's burning." Dad said: "No, guess again."

I said, "Is it a match? The one at the end of the stick looks like a grain of red rice." Dad said, "That's right." We immediately got excited. Dad gave the third rule: "Selling without shouting." We guessed what it meant to sell without shouting. Peach sellers and apricot sellers all shout. I said, "Walnut sellers don't shout."

Once, my second sister took me to Luan County to sell walnuts. She carried a basket of walnuts and stood at the entrance of the alley. There were also several other women carrying baskets, their baskets covered with cloths. They didn't shout or call out, afraid of being caught by the inspectors who were accused of "capitalistism." When customers came over, they would lift the cloth covering the baskets, quietly negotiate the price, and then buy the walnuts.

Dad said, "No, no—it's wrong." It's so hard to guess! We each came up with several answers, but none of them were right. Seeing that we really couldn't figure it out, Mom said, "It's a threshold."

"Huh?" We were all surprised. How could it be a threshold?

Mom said, "Why wouldn't it be a threshold? You step over it every day." We suddenly realized, it was this "stepping over".

Just then, my older brother came back beaming, saying he had taken the dumplings to our aunt, and she was delighted with them. We asked, "How did you steal the dumplings? Tell us quickly!"

The eldest brother said, "That's easy. When I arrived at Dazhuang's house, they greeted me with New Year's greetings as soon as I entered. They were very happy to welcome me, made me tea, and offered me melon seeds. I said, 'I'd like to try what kind of filling your dumplings have.' They said, 'They're on a flat tray in the outer room. Go and try them yourself.'"

I put two in my pocket, pretended to smack my lips and say they were delicious, and then they came out in a bit.

I came out of my aunt's house, and the welcoming party had already gone back. I asked him whose house he had "stole" from, and he said it was "Sheng Sheng's" house.

"Well, these two families have the most boys in our village." He said the last sentence in the Tianjin accent he had learned from the young people in Tianjin.