PCJ – Chapter 291 Twisted Mouth from Telling Lies

“Comrade, please don’t poke a hole in the bag. I borrowed this bag from someone else. If you puncture it, I won’t be able to return it. I can untie the bag, and it will be the same,” pleaded a man in his fifties as he watched the grain station inspector ready to pierce the grain-filled woven bag with his long tool.

The inspector was holding a tool used to quickly extract rice grains from the bag. About 20 to 30 centimeters long, resembling a sharp knife with a hidden groove, the tool would collect some grains when inserted into the bag, allowing the inspector to examine the rice’s quality.

The grain station had its reasons for this practice. They wanted to avoid situations where bad quality rice was placed at the bottom of the bag while good quality rice was put on top. Simply opening the bag wouldn’t always reveal the true quality. However, piercing the bag with the tool would inevitably damage the bag. In the resource-scarce countryside, even a bag that had once held fertilizer was considered valuable. Many of the bags used to deliver grain had been reused for years, with some even patched up.

Though the grain station staff were low-level employees, they often treated farmers with condescension, never really respecting them.

The inspector, named Ye Jianhu, had inherited his father’s position at the grain station. He had little patience and, upon hearing the old man’s request, shouted, “If you’re so concerned about ruining the bag, why don’t you dump out the rice bag by bag? How else can I know you didn’t hide inferior rice at the bottom? You farmers look honest on the surface, but you’re cunning when it comes to your grain. Hurry up! I’m busy and don’t have time to argue with you.”

The old farmer, though pained, reluctantly agreed, “Fine, go ahead and check.”

Ye Jianhu impatiently stabbed the long tool into the bag. When he withdrew it, the bag had a hole about the size of a finger, and golden rice grains began to spill out. The old farmer quickly stuffed the hole with a piece of paper torn from a cigarette pack and began picking up the grains that had fallen. Only those who had toiled in the fields truly understood how hard it was to produce each grain of rice. Every grain cost more than a drop of sweat. But to city folk, a single grain of rice was worthless. Rice cost less than 0.40 yuan per pound, and during the new rice season, prices could drop to around 0.30 yuan per pound. Ye Jianhu earned over 100 yuan a month, enough to buy 400 to 500 pounds of rice, so losing a few grains meant nothing to him.

Ye Jianhu glanced dismissively at the old man before dumping the rice from the tool into his hand. The grains were golden, plump, and dry. He put one in his mouth and bit down; it made a crisp sound, showing that the rice had been well-dried. However, because the old man had dared to question him earlier, Ye Jianhu smirked and declared, “It’s of medium quality.”

The old man was stunned. “My rice is carefully selected, clean, and well-dried. How can it only be rated as medium quality? It should at least be rated top quality!”

“You think you can just declare your rice top quality? If yours is top quality, then all rice could be rated that way. Look here, the grains aren’t full. It’s obvious you harvested them before they were fully mature. If they aren’t fully matured, drying them will cause excessive moisture loss, reducing yield and quality. Your rice is medium at best. If you don’t believe me, you can ask someone else to rate it, assuming anyone is willing.”

Ye Jianhu knew he needed an excuse to justify his rating and avoid accusations of retaliation.

“But… but…” The difference between a medium and top-quality rating was significant in terms of price. If his rice was rated medium, once taxes and irrigation fees were deducted, there wouldn’t be much left. It wouldn’t even cover the cost of fertilizer. The old man frowned, but he couldn’t afford to take the rice back and pay for the transportation fees again.

Others who had come to deliver grain looked at the old man with sympathy, but no one dared to speak up, fearing they would get into trouble too.

“This person is terrible!” whispered Zhang Yuanbao to Zhang Jiaohua. “That old man’s rice is great, and there’s not a single bad grain. The rice that was rated top quality earlier was worse than his, but he gave the inspector a pack of cigarettes.”

“Yuanbao, stop talking nonsense!” Hu Xiaoqing quickly scolded him, but it was too late. Ye Jianhu had already heard.

“Why are you bringing kids to the grain station? If something happens, who will be responsible? Are these children yours?” Ye Jianhu asked, his tone threatening, as Zhang Yuanbao had exposed him.

“You did take a pack of cigarettes from that man earlier. I saw you put it in your left pocket. It was a pack of Baisha cigarettes,” Zhang Yuanbao said loudly, feeling wronged by Hu Xiaoqing’s scolding.

“You little brat, don’t make things up! I bought these cigarettes myself. I didn’t have time to go buy them, so I asked him to get them for me,” Ye Jianhu said angrily, trying to cover up his discomfort.

“You troublemaker! I told you to stop talking, and you still did!” Hu Xiaoqing scolded Zhang Yuanbao, raising her hand to hit him.

“Auntie, don’t hit my brother. He didn’t say anything wrong. Whoever lies will have a crooked mouth,” Zhang Jiaohua said.

“Jiaohua, stop talking nonsense,” Hu Xiaoqing said in a panic.

Ye Jianhu quickly issued the inspection slip for the old man and then walked over to Zhang Jiaohua’s family. “Xingjiang, go over there. I’ll handle this.”

“Alright,” the other inspector, Jin Xingjiang, said, happy to let Ye Jianhu take over the task of inspecting Zhang Manyin’s rice.

Zhang Youlian and Zhang Manyin’s faces fell. Zhang Yuanbao and Zhang Jiaohua had offended the inspector, and now it seemed their rice wouldn’t even receive a medium rating.

“Sir, please don’t take the children’s words to heart. They don’t know any better. Here, have a cigarette,” Zhang Youlian said, offering Ye Jianhu a cigarette from his pocket.

Seeing that it was a half-used pack of cheap Wild Mountain Tea cigarettes, Ye Jianhu tossed it to the ground. “What’s written on the wall? Can’t you read? No smoking! Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“No, no, of course not,” Zhang Youlian said with a forced smile, picking up the cigarette pack and putting it back in his pocket.

“Enough talk. Don’t waste my time,” Ye Jianhu said coldly as he stabbed the long tool into the bag of rice, creating a large hole. The grains spilled out like water.

Even Ye Jianhu was momentarily stunned by the sight. It was the best rice he’d seen in all his years at the grain station. It deserved a top rating, but out of spite, he planned to declare it unqualified.

Just as he was about to speak, a small hand tugged at his shirt. “Uncle, if you lie, your mouth will get crooked,” Zhang Jiaohua said.

“Let’s see if my mouth gets crooked! If it doesn’t, then I’m telling the truth,” Ye Jianhu said, pushing Zhang Jiaohua’s hand away. “This rice is unqualified. Take it back and dry it properly.”

“This rice is so dry it could break teeth! How can it not be properly dried?” Zhang Manyin asked, panicked.

“I…” Ye Jianhu suddenly realized something was wrong with his mouth. It had indeed become crooked, his lips twisted to one side, and he couldn’t close them. Saliva began to drip from his mouth.

“Ah!” Jin Xingjiang, who had been watching, was shocked. Ye Jianhu’s mouth had actually become crooked.

“Uncle, that uncle is sick. Why don’t you inspect our rice again?” Zhang Jiaohua asked Jin Xingjiang.

“Didn’t he already inspect it?” Jin Xingjiang didn’t want to get involved.

“But he didn’t give us a slip, and now he’s sick. Shouldn’t you inspect it and issue a slip?” Zhang Jiaohua pressed.

“Well, he said your rice was unqualified. I think you should take it back and dry it more,” Jin Xingjiang said, trying to avoid trouble.

“Uncle, if you lie, your mouth will get crooked too. Just like that other uncle,” Zhang Jiaohua warned, pointing at Ye Jianhu.

Jin Xingjiang wanted to protest but quickly thought better of it. “Wait here. I’ll go ask my supervisor.”

As he walked towards the door, Jin Xingjiang inexplicably tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. When he tried to get up, he found his legs twisted, making it impossible for him to walk.

Zhang Manyin and the others were both anxious and relieved. What would happen to their grain now?