VHBF – Chapter 93 The Village Bully Daddy (Part 6)

The trap he’d set last time hadn’t caught any game, so this time Qin Yuli put more thought into it.

Two guys who were close to him saw him sneaking up the mountain and followed right after.

“Bro, what are you doing? Going this deep—aren’t you afraid of running into wild boars or tigers?”

Qin Yuli headed further into the mountains this time. The trap he’d set before was on the hillside, closer to the outskirts. Old folks and kids often came around there to pick wild vegetables and fruits, so catching anything wasn’t easy. The small animals knew people were around and usually wouldn’t step out there lightly. Whether a trap caught anything depended entirely on luck.

Obviously, these few young fellows didn’t have that kind of luck.

Qin Yuli stopped to pick a spot, glanced around, and when he spotted rabbit tracks, he smiled. He chose a path that wild rabbits were bound to pass and started setting traps.

This kind of trap was simple—just sharpen a few bamboo poles. All of them were wild kids who’d grown up rolling around the countryside, so this was second nature. The two hangers-on following him could tell what he was doing from his movements and pitched in. They even dug a pit, hoping some foolish wild chicken might jump in.

After they finished, the two loafers dusted off their hands and sat down on the ground, legs sprawled without any concern for appearances. Both were curious what it felt like for Qin Yuli to suddenly become a dad. They couldn’t imagine Brother Qin taking care of a kid at all—honestly, they figured it would already be a miracle if he didn’t turn that delicate, soft little baby into a mud doll.

They hesitated for a long while before finally working up the courage to ask. They were so conflicted because earlier, some sharp-tongued guy had asked the exact same thing—what did it feel like for Brother Qin to happily become a dad?

Was it like the elders said, changing diapers and raising the kid with one handful of poop and one handful of pee? The guy even ran his mouth saying he admired Brother Qin—picking up a pretty daughter for free, such good luck, becoming a dad before even marrying. All the bros envied him.

The rest of the hooligans had immediately drawn a line with that guy. Who was envying him? Who was his bro? What nonsense.

That was entirely that guy talking to himself.

After that, Qin Yuli beat him up. When he was done, he blew on his fist and said, “This is what being a dad feels like. I feel like beating my good son, so I beat him. How does that feel to you?”

The hooligans had laughed so hard they collapsed on the ground. The guy lost a ton of face. From then on, no one in Dahuai Village dared bring up that topic again. No matter how curious they were—itching and scratching—they kept it bottled up.

They were asking now because since early morning, Qin Yuli seemed to have run into something good. He was in a great mood, his expression as warm as a spring breeze. When the two bros half helped and half messed around while he was setting traps, he didn’t even get angry.

These two were Er Zhuzi and Mu Dun. They’d grown up fighting alongside Qin Yuli—brawling with neighboring villages, clashing with other incompatible kids in their own village, or slightly older youths. Fighting over territory, fighting over wild fruits, fighting over fishing spots—everything was a fight.

It was precisely because Er Zhuzi and Mu Dun were close to Qin Yuli, and because his mood had been unusually good for days, that they finally worked up the courage to ask this deadly question.

Qin Yuli had a blade of grass in his mouth and said, “You want the truth or a lie?”

Er Zhuzi said, “The truth! Of course the truth!”

Mu Dun thought differently. “Is the lie for fooling the old lady? Bro, how do you put on an act for her? The old auntie seems to really like that little kid.”

Qin Yuli shot Mu Dun a glare. “Is ‘kid’ something you can call her?”

Mu Dun scratched the back of his head, confused after being glared at. Brother Qin himself called her that, didn’t he? Though, sure, he sounded like he disliked the kid—no, that little baby.

Qin Yuli said, “The lie is that I don’t like that kid. She’s annoying as hell. I’m planning to carry her out and dump her tomorrow.”

“The truth is, the little baby’s pretty fun. I’m starting to enjoy taking care of her. I’ll keep raising her for now, and after a while, then I’ll dump her.”

Er Zhuzi, Mu Dun: “……”

“Wait, Brother Qin, didn’t you tell us before that you hated that kid to death?”

Qin Yuli glared at him again. “Is ‘kid’ something you can call her?”

Mu Dun: “……” How did he never learn?!

Neither of them could figure out how Qin Yuli’s thinking had changed so fast. If you went by what he’d said before, those two lines should’ve been reversed.

And now he wouldn’t even let them call her “kid.”

Qin Yuli said, “My daughter has a name. It’s Qin Yinyin. She takes my surname. Qin Yinyin. Got it?”

Er Zhuzi and Mu Dun: “…Got it.”

“But, bro, are you sure you didn’t mix those two lines up?”

Er Zhuzi continued from Mu Dun, “Isn’t the first line the real one, and the second just a lie to appease the old lady?”

They all knew how much the Qin family’s old matriarch adored the little granddaughter she’d picked up. As her favorite son, Qin Yuli was great at putting on an act to make the elderly happy. As bros, they knew this better than anyone.

Qin Yuli’s face darkened. Then he stood up and walked down the mountain, saying as he went, “Do I look like someone with no credibility?”

Er Zhuzi and Mu Dun lowered their heads and said nothing.

…Actually, yeah.

After the autumn harvest, there wasn’t as much work in the fields, so things were more relaxed. If a few well-known idlers from the production team slacked off for most of the day, the other members would usually pretend not to see it, turning a blind eye.

What everyone cared about most right now was handing over the public grain.

To put it simply, even if they didn’t have to hand over a single grain to the state this year, the harvest would only barely be enough for everyone to eat to about eighty percent full and make it to next year.

If they followed the previous commune quotas and turned in public grain as required, everyone could just prepare to starve together. With the current canteen-style meals, it might barely last through the first few months. After the New Year, they’d be going hungry.

The older generation passed down a story by word of mouth. They said that in the first two years after the New China was founded, this very land had suffered a once-in-a-century great drought.

Disaster victims fled everywhere. There wasn’t even a sip of water to drink, let alone crops—all of them withered and died in the fields. Later on, it got so bad that you could plant seeds in the spring, wait two months without seeing a single sprout, dig into the dry, cracked soil again, and find that the seeds planted earlier had been reduced to empty husks, dead in the ground—without ever getting the chance to germinate.

At present, the villagers hadn’t reached that point yet, nor had they really thought that far ahead. It was only occasionally, when some of the elderly men in the village sat around puffing on their homemade tobacco and muttering to themselves, that they would reminisce about such things in passing.

Even then, they tried to put it nicely. They’d say there was still hope, that there was no need to be afraid.

“When we were little, following our parents while fleeing for our lives—that was what you call having no way out. No water, no grain. In the fields, even a single wild blade of grass was a treasure. You’d pluck it and chew it and chew it, just to get it down your stomach.”

“The fact that we survived means our lives were good. So many people died in that damned weather.”

Talking about these things wasn’t really for any practical reason—it was just recalling bitterness to savor the sweetness. Thinking of times that were even harder, then looking at the present, made the days seem like they were still worth hoping for. Somehow, they would always find a way to carry on.

What truly made the members’ eyes redden came afterward.

They had already prepared themselves mentally, telling themselves to think positively about everything. They had even thought that the higher-ups would leave the common people a way to live, would think a little more for them. They wondered whether the commune might postpone collecting public grain this year, or at least collect less—anything would do. They could make it up next year.

But no. None of that happened.

That very morning, the commune had convened a meeting of all the production team leaders, and the topic was precisely the collection of public grain after the autumn harvest.

Qin Guoshu kept his face taut as he listened to the other production team leaders report their grain output, talking eloquently, looking proud and glorious.

The commune secretary was smiling so hard his mouth practically wouldn’t close.

Qin Guoshu’s heart sank.

Everyone farmed the same land under the same sky—could Heaven really be so biased, letting crops grow better on your plots?

Yet the Dahuai Production  Team’s fields were the ones that failed?

When it was Qin Guoshu’s turn, under the gaze of the commune secretary and several cadres, he felt as though his throat had been stuffed with molten lead. No matter what, he couldn’t force the words out.

The grain yields reported by the other teams were higher than Qin Guoshu had expected—some were even higher than the targets set by the commune. Did they not know the consequences of doing this? Of course they did. But they still did it. Following the crowd was one reason; another was to save face in front of the leadership. Everyone else had a bumper harvest—were you the only one going to say your land was barren?

Qin Guoshu thought of the worried yet hopeful faces of the team members. He thought of the child growing in his wife’s belly. He thought of the tender, barely three-year-old niece who had just entered the old Qin household. The little girl was obedient and sweet-tongued—this very morning, before he left, she had even asked him to come home from work early and eat on time.

His mother had said too: the child had already been this pretty before coming to their family—there was no reason to let her grow thin after taking her in. She said she’d make rice paste for her every day.

Qin Guoshu steadied his gaze. He didn’t follow the other production teams. He reported the actual yield.

The moment he spoke, the room fell dead silent.

The other team leaders looked at him as if he were crazy. The commune secretary nearly smashed the teacup in his hand.

After the meeting, the secretary deliberately patted him on the shoulder. “Comrade Xiao Qin, things are difficult everywhere right now. You need to lead your members to overcome all hardships and contribute to our country’s development.”

“There’s been some movement in the south lately—they’re waiting for grain. We have to support them.”

“How about this—you don’t need to compare yourself to the other production teams. Just hand over public grain according to the quota we gave earlier.”

With that, he took a few cadres and returned to the office.

Only then did the other production team leaders dare to gather around him, incredulous.

“Old Qin, are you crazy?”

“Everyone’s reporting like this. You alone report such a low number—next month they’ll be evaluating advanced production teams and model team leaders. You’ll have no chance at all. You might even get criticized. And that’s not all—when the year-end assessment comes, aren’t you afraid of offending the higher-ups? Be careful, they might strip you of your team leader position.”

Qin Guoshu ignored them. He chased after them to the secretary’s office, swallowed his pride, and explained the members’ demands.

“We’re willing to put in more hard work. If next year’s harvest is better, we’ll make up the grain we owe.”

It was useless.

Qin Guoshu got a scolding and was half-persuaded, half-forced out by the secretary’s assistant.

The team leader returned to the village dejected. The members’ hearts all skipped a beat. Everyone knew he had gone to the meeting early that morning because of the public grain issue. They were all waiting to see if there would be any good news.

The result came.

There was no good news.

The grain still had to be handed over. Even if they had to tighten their belts to the last notch, it still had to be handed over. On the spot, many elderly men and women who had endured hardship covered their faces and cried. After handing over the grain, what would they have left to eat?

Yinyin was being held by her grandmother, standing in the crowd. She looked at her big uncle’s darkened face, his brows tightly knit as he stood at the very front. Many adults were crying.

She tilted her head in confusion and asked, “Grandma, why are they crying?”

Chen Qiuhua sighed and patted her granddaughter’s little head. “They’re all going to go hungry.”

“Good girl, don’t worry. Grandma will still make you rice paste to eat every day.”

Yinyin smiled and obediently didn’t ask any more questions. She could tell that Grandma wasn’t in a good mood either.

Truth be told, having a small bowl of rice paste every morning had really gotten boring for the little dumpling. No matter how hard her life had been before, she had eaten good things. The aunties and grandmas next door would always stuff food into her hands—sometimes simmered chicken soup or bone broth, sometimes home-cooked meat dishes. Ordinary vegetables weren’t good enough to fool a small child, so they gave her things that at least had a bit of oil and nourishment.

No matter how poor things were, she had grown up eating rice and white noodles. She had eaten tasty meat, too, and even those cheap snacks from the neighborhood convenience stores.

But after coming here, aside from paste, dried sweet potatoes, and wild vegetables, she hadn’t eaten anything else. Occasionally, Grandma would make her some brown sugar water to drink—nothing more.

The little dumpling couldn’t understand what the adults were worrying about, but she knew how to think for herself, to put herself in others’ shoes. She wanted to eat meat, so the other adults must want to as well. No snacks, no meat—that must be why these uncles, aunties, grandpas, and grandmas were so sad they cried.

How could a child so young know that the members did indeed want to eat meat—but that was something they didn’t even dare to think about. Being able to fill their stomachs was their most urgent need.

The next day, the commune sent people and trucks to haul the grain away. Along with the grain went the members’ hearts. It was as if a gust of cold wind rushed straight into their mouths, chilling them to the bone.

Someone rubbed their arms. “Autumn’s not even over yet—why does it feel like winter’s already here?”

If winter came, that would be good. Time would pass faster, and they could hold on a bit longer.

After mulling things over for two days, the little dumpling finally spoke to her grandmother in private, hesitantly saying her tummy was hungry and she wanted to eat meat.

“Big Uncle definitely wants to eat some too. He’s unhappy, just like Yinyin. And Daddy—Daddy hasn’t eaten paste for days. He must be hungry.”

Chen Qiuhua knew that her good granddaughter had secretly given half her paste to her father. Even though the second time around, that unreliable third son of hers had grown a conscience and refused, telling his daughter to eat it herself, Chen Qiuhua had still grabbed him and scolded him thoroughly—saying he had no shame, competing for food with his own three-year-old daughter.

Beside them, Bai Mian and Hei Mian, who were doing homework, pressed their lips together and didn’t dare speak while listening to Grandma’s loud scolding. They still remembered that when they were three or four, their Third Uncle had snatched their dried sweet potatoes and fried dough balls to eat.

Why hadn’t Grandma said anything back then?

Bai Mian secretly whispered to his younger brother Hei Mian, “It must be because little sister is too cute. We’re stinky boys—Grandma doesn’t dote on us. Grandma only likes Yinyin.”

Hei Mian nodded in agreement. They liked their fair, tender, good-looking little sister too.

Da Hua and Xiao Hua: “……”

After this incident, Chen Qiuhua cherished her granddaughter even more. She said it herself—her judgment was good. The moment she saw the little girl, she took a liking to her. Otherwise, how could she have brought her home after hearing she had nowhere to go and didn’t even know where she came from? Who was Chen Qiuhua, after all?

For ordinary people, even if someone saved her life, she wouldn’t necessarily give her whole heart like this. Repaying kindness—giving a handful of rice was repayment; raising someone for a lifetime was also repayment. It all depended on one’s mindset.

Chen Qiuhua just wanted to cradle her granddaughter in her palms and spoil her.

Hearing her ask for meat, she looked at her granddaughter several times in a row. The other children nearby all pricked up their ears and swallowed.

Goodness—little sister was really bold. Even during the New Year they wouldn’t dare bring up meat. How could they? Having paste to eat was already good enough.

Chen Qiuhua felt sour inside. It was because her family was poor—they couldn’t afford to give her precious granddaughter meat. She pondered whether she should later have her three sons go into the mountains to try their luck and hunt some meat.

No—her eldest son couldn’t go. He wouldn’t even take a needle or thread that belonged to the collective. If they caught meat, that fool would probably hand it over to the team.

Letting the second and third sons go would be fine.

That was her plan, but before she could say anything, night fell. Her third son came back in a hurry from outside, dust-covered, with a basket on his back and something in his hand.

“What’s going on here?”

Qin Yuli glanced left and right. Seeing that his eldest brother wasn’t there, and noticing his own little one sitting beside Grandma, staring at him wide-eyed and sweetly calling out “Daddy,” his heart felt wonderfully at ease.

He smiled, a bit smug, and ordered, “Hei Mian, go check if the courtyard gate is closed.”

Then he set the two baskets on the ground, lifted the straw covering them, and said, “Here. See for yourselves.”

Everyone in the old Qin household except the eldest, Qin Guoshu, was there. They all crowded over to take a look—and the moment they did, they were stunned.