VHBF – Chapter 100 The Village Bully Daddy (Part 11)

The three cadres who had come down from the county returned with heavy hearts. Who would have thought that no sooner had they left than the very pit they had praised would go on to kill a several-hundred-jin fat pig?

The commune members quickly forgot all about the leaders’ inspection visit. In the past, something this novel would have been talked about for two or three days without getting old. But now there was a huge fat pig waiting to be slaughtered—instantly it became everyone’s darling. Smiles spread across faces, sleeves were rolled up, and everyone rubbed their hands together, waiting to watch the pig be killed and to finally eat pork!

If the previous wild boar had felt like a rushed, unexpected stroke of luck, then this one gave the members a brand-new sense of motivation and hope.

Everyone knew that before long the communal canteen would probably run out of food. Many people had already been mentally prepared—prepared for what? Prepared for the day the canteen couldn’t keep the pot going, when they’d have to go into the mountains to scrape by: digging wild vegetables, wild grasses, even tree roots if need be. In the dead of winter there wasn’t much to eat in the mountains; all they could do was hope to endure until spring, when there would at least be something to pick.

As for hunting, that was never even considered. Years ago, Dahuai Village had suffered an accident—someone went into the mountains to hunt and was taken by a ferocious beast. When the village organized a search party, all they found was a pool of blood on the ground and scattered scraps of clothing. Everyone guessed he’d been caught and torn to pieces by a wild animal.

The elders often brought up this story as a warning to the young people and children: cutting grass or picking wild vegetables outside was fine, but never go deep into the mountains. If something happened, no one could save you.

Because of this, no one ever thought about hunting. The elders would rather starve than let the younger generation take such a risk.

So when everyone had already steeled themselves to face days of hunger and gnawing on grass—and suddenly several hundred jin of meat dropped into their laps—how could they not be overjoyed?

The members rallied their spirits, ready to slaughter the pig and eat meat.

When the team leader announced that half would be butchered and shared out for everyone to eat, and the other half cured into bacon—each household getting a bit to take home and hold onto, so if a family got desperately hungry they could eat some to replenish their strength—some members couldn’t help wiping away tears. They said the team leader was a good man, thoughtful and thorough: not only letting everyone eat meat now, but also distributing meat to keep.

Even after slaughtering the pig and removing the bones, offal, and scraps, there were still about 280 jin of meat left. This pig was even heavier than the last one!

After setting aside over a hundred jin to cook fresh, there were still around 140–150 jin left to cure into bacon. Distributed by headcount—adults, children, and elders alike—each person would get over an ounce of meat.

In those days, families were large. If a household had ten people, wouldn’t that be over a jin?

Cut into tiny cubes or thin slices each time, that jin of bacon could last a long while.

“See, the team leader really knows how to calculate. Otherwise, how would he be the leader? If it were us, we’d have eaten it all in one go—who would think this far ahead?”

This really came down to the big-pot-meal system. If food were allocated to individuals to manage themselves, no matter who it was—even the most wasteful woman—she’d be careful and think about stretching it out. But with communal meals, people didn’t think that way; they just wanted to eat it all at once. Eat a bit more and you felt like you’d gained something.

For days on end, Old Qin’s house was surrounded by members. Whenever they had nothing to do, they loved dropping by to chat and listen to Chen Qiuhua talk about how she’d run into that pig that day, what the situation had been like.

Even the wild boar she’d encountered earlier—the one that had already been eaten by everyone—was brought up again.

Chen Qiuhua was glowing with health, walking with a spring in her step. Once she’d convinced herself that all this pork had been brought by her precious granddaughter, she was brimming with confidence.

She bragged every day without repeating herself—even if it was the same story, she could tell it in a different way each time.

What she said most often was that her little girl was blessed: “You all get to eat meat thanks entirely to my good granddaughter.” She said it so often that people started taking it to heart—and couldn’t help thinking: it really does seem that way!

The first time the team ate meat, according to Chen Qiuhua, she’d been helpless against the attacking wild boar, on the verge of dying under its tusks, when her granddaughter descended from the heavens and saved her.

The second time—this time again—that three-year-old lucky doll was present, and right after that, there was pork!

With coincidences like this, the members truly believed they were benefiting from that little granddaughter’s good fortune. Her luck was good, she was blessed—so she could stumble upon meat to eat, and everyone else got to share in it!

Believing this, when it came time to divide the meat, everyone laughed and said: “This time Old Qin’s third son really deserves the credit. If he hadn’t diligently dug that pit, how would the wild boar have died? So we propose that Old Qin’s family gets their meat first—let them choose first and give them an extra two jin of good meat. As for the bones and such, let Auntie Zhu set aside a couple just for Old Qin’s family to make soup. We’re not ungrateful—we know how to repay kindness, right?”

Everyone nodded in agreement. So when the meat was divided up, Old Qin’s family got the biggest share. As for the two bones, Chen Qiuhua quietly took them home. Those were hard to stew in an iron pot—using a clay jar at home, simmering slowly overnight, was just right!

Auntie Zhu and the other members turned a blind eye. No one said anything about not being allowed to cook at home; they even helped cover it up and didn’t spread the word.

They say when luck runs out, even drinking cold water can get stuck between your teeth. But when fortune turns, things you never dared to imagine may come one after another.

There’s truth to the saying that good things come in pairs. Just after everyone had enjoyed a big meat feast, new developments came down from above.

First, the commune secretary was reported by someone and removed from his post, transferred away from Huxia Commune. The county sent over a new secretary—and she was a formidable woman!

Second, after the new secretary arrived, she quickly convened a meeting of all the production team leaders, to discuss this year’s autumn grain collection.

Worth mentioning was that when Qin Guoshu went to this meeting, he unexpectedly saw two team leaders who had been smug and triumphant at the previous meeting—this time they showed up with black eyes and swollen faces.

A neighboring team leader, who was on fairly close terms with Qin Guoshu, leaned over and whispered gossip:
“I heard their own members beat them up—dozens of people ganged up on them. They really got beaten bad! They’ve been recuperating for days and still haven’t recovered. Look at that pig’s head of a face—doesn’t it look ridiculous?”

Qin Guoshu couldn’t help taking a few more looks at those pig-headed faces and asked, “What happened?”

“What else? They did something immoral. Huanghu Production Team already has little land and lots of people, but he overestimated himself and tried to compete with others. He handed in the entire team’s grain—didn’t leave a single bit!”

“Well, not exactly nothing—there were still a hundred-odd jin left. How many meals do you think that makes?”

“Doing something that heartless—did he really think hungry members with no hope wouldn’t come after him to vent their anger?”

“And as for the Pingguan Production Team, that one’s even worse. Not only did he follow the trend and hand in a huge batch of grain, he secretly skimmed off three hundred jin and hid it in his own cellar. Using the team’s grain to curry favor with the higher-ups is one thing—but secretly hoarding grain yourself? That’s crossing the line, don’t you think?”

“When the time comes that everyone has nothing to eat, your family will be the only one that’s both currying favor with the leaders—looking all nice and presentable on the surface—and still has grain to fill your bellies, never lacking food or drink. Won’t that make people hate you?”

Qin Guoshu kept nodding as he listened, a ball of anger pent up in his chest. How could people be this malicious?

So heartless!

“Comrades over there—one from Dahuai Production Team, right? And you, from Baiyang Production Team. What are you two whispering about? Do you have any valuable opinions to share? I’m all ears.”

The two immediately fell silent. Sure enough, you really shouldn’t badmouth people behind their backs—this time they’d been caught red-handed by the newly appointed leader.

This new secretary was in her late forties. Though she was a woman, her presence was no weaker than any male comrade’s. She wore a sharp short haircut, black trousers and a white shirt, her expression habitually stern. The captains of the various production teams felt intimidated just looking at her a few extra times.

Most of the meeting was led by this female secretary. She didn’t waste words, laying out several key work points—issues that higher authorities had explicitly instructed her to resolve within a short time frame.

Chen Qiuhua and the others heard all this later from Qin Guoshu after he returned from the meeting.

Several team leaders who had seriously indulged in exaggeration and empty show were removed from their posts. Qin Guoshu, who had previously been criticized by the former secretary, was now publicly named and praised.

“Daring to seek truth from facts, daring to speak for the people—this is what a good grassroots cadre looks like!”

That was how the female secretary praised him.

It made Qin Guoshu so proud he could hardly contain himself. He’d repeated that line over and over again—he could practically recite it backward.

Besides dealing with those cadres tainted by empty showmanship, the new secretary also mentioned that during this inspection visit to the countryside, the leaders had discovered that after turning in public grain, most production teams were left with very little food. Nearly all of them were facing the danger of running out of grain.

The situation was quite serious. The entire Huxia Commune had more than a dozen large and small production teams. With so many ordinary people, they couldn’t just be left to starve, could they?

The female secretary said that higher-level leaders were still studying countermeasures. Since the public grain had already been handed in, there was no question of going back on it or withdrawing it. They could only think of ways to help the people reclaim more grain through other means, so they could survive until next year.

Qin Guoshu’s eyes lit up on the spot. Relief grain! It had to be relief grain. Although the new secretary didn’t say it outright, Qin Guoshu was almost certain. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have told everyone about it. But officials always waited for formal documents—without an official notice from above, she couldn’t say it clearly, only hint at it, giving everyone a shot in the arm.

If this issue weren’t going to be resolved, the county wouldn’t have sent down a new secretary so quickly. After all, who would want to take over such a huge mess if the higher-ups weren’t going to deal with it?

Farmers were usually honest and easygoing, sure—but when people were truly starving, there was nothing they wouldn’t do. If they were pushed to the brink, wouldn’t the newly arrived leader who took over the mess end up bearing the blame?

No one knew where the previous secretary had gone, but the news Qin Guoshu brought back was good news!

There really was relief grain. They wouldn’t have to starve!

Within the Qin family, they only talked about it among themselves. Without confirmed news, they didn’t dare spread it outside—afraid that the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment. If there was nothing, fine; but if people were told there was something and then it vanished, that would be true despair.

And then—barely a day or two after that meeting—the real big news finally came crashing down.

It was truly good news upon good news!

The county issued an official document regarding guidance work in the communes. The very first item stated that emergency applications had already been submitted for relief grain for all major grain-deficient production teams. Distribution would be based on headcount and age: strong laborers would get more, younger children less. Roughly calculated, as long as people didn’t waste food and ate to about seventy percent fullness each meal, they could make it to next year’s autumn harvest.

If the news of relief grain made the entire Dahuai Village happier than celebrating the New Year, then the second piece of news left people shocked and delighted all at once.

Higher authorities approved another document, stating that because the harvest year was poor, the communal canteen system would be abolished. Each household would collect its own grain and cook at home.

As for cooking utensils—that would be up to each family to figure out. Steelmaking had been in full swing these past two years, and the iron pots and tools that households had turned in couldn’t be retrieved. The best option was to use clay jars to cook. It took more time, but the food would still cook through.

Even so, it was enough to make everyone overjoyed and satisfied. People sighed with gratitude, saying the leaders were good, the leaders cared about them—issuing relief grain and making such decisions.

As long as they held grain in their own hands and ate frugally, saving up a bit more, they wouldn’t panic so much if something happened again in the future.

Yinyin didn’t understand why the adults were so happy. She lay sprawled on the small table, listening to her older brothers and sisters tell little stories from their textbooks.

Chen Qiuhua wiped her tears, grinned, and went back into the room. Seeing her well-behaved, adorable little granddaughter made her heart melt—such a blessed little darling.

She’d said there would be meat, and meat had come. She’d said they’d eat their fill, and now the grain problem was solved. Even the question of where to eat was resolved. Once the relief grain arrived in the next couple of days, their family’s rice jars—left empty for so long—would finally be useful again!

Qin Yuli felt that these past couple of days, his mother’s gaze toward his daughter had been a bit strange. She’d always loved and spoiled her the same way, but now there seemed to be something extra mixed in.

Almost like… gratitude?

Chen Qiuhua swatted her son aside. “Go on, go on, out of my way. Work hard and earn work points. Now that grain’s being distributed for households to cook themselves, you can’t be lazy anymore. Be diligent, earn more grain, and bring it back for our girl to eat.”

Qin Yuli: “……”

These two matters had the entire Dahuai Village cheering for quite a while. The morale of the whole production team returned. Some elderly folks were even afraid to close their eyes at night, terrified that they’d wake up and find it was all just a dream.

How could there be such good things? The public grain had already been collected, yet the leaders were still willing to apply for subsidies and relief grain for them. Normally, this kind of relief grain would go first to areas in severe hardship, or to cities.

Places like theirs—hardship, yes, but not as desperate as others, and not cities with no land either—fell into neither category. It was extremely difficult for them to qualify for relief grain.

Yet the leaders still resolved it!

In their dreams, the commune members praised the county leaders, praised socialism, praised the country.

Two days later, an illustrated news article written by the county’s propaganda department was submitted to major newspapers and also published in internal Party publications.

The article featured three protagonists—a family. An ordinary poor peasant household. The elderly woman was in her fifties or sixties, wearing tattered old work clothes in the photo. She was tall but very thin, sallow-faced and emaciated, smiling so broadly that her gap-toothed grin was fully exposed, bright and radiant.

In the photo, she was holding a beautiful three-year-old toddler, standing in front of a group of men seen from behind in Zhongshan suits, gesturing animatedly as she spoke to them, eyes shining.

The toddler was well-fed and very well cared for—fair, chubby, delicate, and adorable—clapping her little hands in the old woman’s arms.

The accompanying text was exactly as Propaganda Officer Xiao Wu had envisioned: it told the story of how a rural elderly woman strove self-reliantly, full of passion and hope for the motherland.

She was eager to contribute to national construction at every moment, and even said that as long as she could eat and still had breath left, she was willing to fight on the front lines for the country.

Look at that level of ideological awareness! Even a rural elderly woman in her fifties or sixties had such advanced thinking—how could young people be shameless enough to crave comfort and enjoyment?

The article didn’t put it so bluntly, but that was clearly the message. Anyone who read it felt more or less shaken, and when they reflected on their own behavior and daily lives, they couldn’t help but feel ashamed.

That three-year-old child was even more remarkable. She had been personally praised by Secretary Chen, who also said that the county’s decision this time to abolish communal dining and let households cook for themselves had been inspired by this very child.

Another protagonist lucky enough to appear in the propaganda spread was the child’s father.

The writer in charge, Xiao Wu, didn’t know that Comrade Qin Yuli was in fact nothing like his gentle-sounding name suggested. From the bottom of his heart, he believed Qin Yuli to be a polite, motivated, steady, and hardworking young man.

Using him as an example, the article encouraged young people to strive actively—no matter what position they were in. Even if it was farming, raising pigs, or raising ducks, they should aim to be outstanding!

Because it was a submission from a government unit, the review process was very fast. In just two days, the article appeared simultaneously in several newspapers—the most prominent being the province’s number one paper.

At first, the commune members were simply happy and grateful to the leaders. But once the newspaper was delivered to the production team office and casually flipped through by a young cadre, everyone finally realized—

The person they should thank most wasn’t the leaders.

It was that three-year-old little daughter of the Qin family.