Chapter 1675 — Roadside Chat

Yun Suji made a request: first, visit a Standard Village. On the map, numerous Standard Villages were distributed in a cross pattern along the Nandu River and Chengmai Highway. He asked the County Office to recommend a relatively progressive village. The naturalized cadre flipped through cards and said Borang Village south of Pingshen Ridge was a Model Village.

According to regulations, the County Office should send a messenger to notify the Village Head and Resident Cadre to come to the county for a meeting and introduce Senator Yun. However, Yun Suji said village cadres were busy, and a city trip took at least half a day—not worth it. Used to dealing with Tiandihui farmers in Lingao, he traveled with light luggage. He changed clothes, skipped the carriage, sat in a sedan chair, wore straw sandals, took a boat to the village edge, and walked in on his own. Four guards disguised as ordinary farmers followed far behind.

More than a li separated the ferry from the village. The road into the village was dirt but repaired neatly and compacted smooth—no pits or hollows, some small trees planted. Though thin, they were green and lush, showing careful maintenance. No wonder the County Office called this an "Advanced Village."

Yun Suji walked slowly. Not far along, he saw a big tree by the roadside. Under it rested an old man with a load beside him, smoking.

Yun Suji had a thought: rushing straight into the village meant meeting only public officials speaking polite formulas. He would hear nothing useful. The countryside was an acquaintance society; no one dared say much to a rash stranger. This old man resting by the roadside must know much about Borang Village, whether from this village or a neighboring one.

He took out a cigarette and walked up: "Old man, borrow a light."

He spoke New Speech, unsure of the old man's origin.

"Zhong." The old man was straightforward and handed over his pipe bowl. Yun Suji leaned the cigarette close to light it and took a drag.

"You look like a cadre; don't you carry an Australian lighter?"

"Left in a hurry, forgot it." Yun Suji heard his accent was Central Plains Mandarin and felt closer. "Old man, are you from Henan?"

"Right, Henan Prefecture."

Yun Suji knew this meant Luoyang. He sat down beside him: "Then we are half fellow villagers. I am from Dengfeng." He unconsciously added Henan accent to his speech.

"You are also from Henan?" The old man sounded closer. "Where are you going?"

"Over there!"

Seeing the tobacco in his pipe bowl was used up, Yun Suji took out a cigarette: "Here, smoke mine."

The old man waved repeatedly: "That stuff is precious—a pack costs a whole yuan circulation coupon. I smoke my own leaves..."

Yun Suji suddenly realized a problem with his cigarettes. What he carried was Special Supply Holy Ship brand; no naturalized citizen or native smoked this. Fortunately, the old man did not smoke paper cigarettes—otherwise, he would have noticed something wrong immediately.

"What are you polite for? Just smoke." Yun Suji stuffed it into his hand and lit it for him.

The old man took a puff: "Yi, truly not bad! Just the kick is small."

Yun Suji smiled, seeing the guard drop significantly. He asked: "Old man, are you from this village?"

"I am from this village." The old man smoked. "Went to the fair today, sold goods for oil and salt. Looking at you, you are a cadre?"

"I am from the county, going to Boli Village to handle business." He deliberately named a neighboring village.

"So you are from the county..." The old man flusteredly wanted to get up.

"Don't be polite, we don't do that. Fellow villagers meeting fellow villagers, speaking intimate words. Don't fuss with false etiquette."

"Zhong." The old man nodded, looking Yun Suji up and down. "Did you also come from Shandong with the Chiefs the year before last?"

"Me," Yun Suji equivocated, "long time ago. I came when the Chiefs first arrived in Lingao."

"Then you are an Old Person..."

"What Old Person, New Person," Yun Suji laughed. "How is life for you here?"

"That goes without saying—heaven and earth compared to the past. Back home, let alone oil and salt, getting bean dregs to stick on cakes was a good meal."

"How many mu of land does your family have?"

"When registering residence, they allocated thirty mu. I did not want a single mu; just asked for one mu of private plot to grow vegetables. I am not a crops man." The old man laughed. "Cannot do farm work. Back home I ground tofu, wanted to open a tofu shop with my wife, but village cadres forbid it—said opening a shop in the village is not allowed; have to go to the county for approval. I am a small commoner; how dare I enter the county yamen to speak? I cannot speak New Speech fluently; one mistake, forty strokes first, and these old legs would be gone..."

"Look at you, the Senate's County Office is not the Great Ming's County Yamen. If you want to go, just go—what is there to fear?"

"Common people dare not breathe loudly seeing a cadre, let alone dealing with officials in the county. Not opening is fine; anyway, I still have skills, will not starve doing anything."

Yun Suji could not figure out why opening a tofu shop was forbidden, thinking the food factory needed tofu. Looking at the stacks wrapped in Chinese iris leaves and tied with straw on his load, and two oil paper baskets, he got curious: "What are you selling?"

The old man chuckled: "Pancakes. Construction sites are everywhere in the county, and laborers are everywhere. My pancakes smell good and are filling. The oil paper baskets hold watermelon sauce my wife made this year. Took them to sell together. More than a hundred catties of pancakes, two baskets of sauce—sold out in half an hour."

"You know how to make pancakes too?" Yun Suji was surprised. Henan people love wheat food, especially steamed buns, but he had not heard of them making pancakes themselves.

"I did not know how. But this village is full of Shandong people; I learned by watching—what is rare about that? Pushing millstones and mixing batter are things I am used to; what I make is only better than theirs." The old man smoked. "The weather here is warm, things to eat are all over the ground. Even gardening is easier than in Henan! Grind everything together; tasty and saves grain. Laborers get full bellies, I make money—my son has not taken a wife yet."

Yun Suji smiled: "You have a son? Why does not he do small business with you?"

The old man smoked the cigarette butt until it almost burned his hand before reluctantly throwing it away: "Raised four sons, three daughters. Arrived here with only the youngest son left, just sixteen—his sister died only after reaching Hainan, ruined. Otherwise, marrying her out could have swapped a daughter-in-law back. If I knew earlier, I would have picked up a little girl on the road while fleeing... The bride price here is too expensive."

Yun Suji saw he spoke lightly, but the knife-carved skin and dark face told the hardships of the journey. He heard him continue: "Son is an apprentice in the brick factory, getting wages. Becoming a worker made his heart wild; let alone coming home, does not even send a message. His mother is worried—heard accidents happen in the factory killing people..."

"You are not worried?"

"What is the use of worrying." The old man picked up his pipe bowl. Yun Suji handed him another cigarette; this time he did not decline, lighting it directly. "Life and death are fated. Fleeing from home, who could have thought to come here and live peaceful days?" He sighed. "How many people kicked their legs on the road and fed wild dogs? Being alive to live peaceful days is earning profit, do not you say?"

"Yes, yes." Yun Suji nodded. It was no wonder they were satisfied with small wealth: people who have circled before the gates of hell and seen too many separations of life and death easily adopt an attitude of enjoying wine today while drunk. He asked about village matters—how the land was farmed, whether grain was sufficient.

"I do not understand farming matters. Looks like it is farmed well, better than back home. Grain is enough to eat. Families with many children and weak labor lack grain, but eating more pumpkin gets them through. Have not heard of anyone unable to open the pot. Just too much corvée labor; cannot catch a breath..."

Just as they talked, a young man came running from the village side. He was in his early twenties, with thick eyebrows and big eyes, not tall but fierce and energetic. Wearing a blue cloth double-breasted cadre suit. Seeing him running over, the old man flusteredly got up and threw the cigarette butt aside, trying to dodge, but was caught.

"Good you Old Man Meng—don't think I dare not manage you because you rely on your old age! Called you to go to the construction site to prepare the advance station, you dodged and did not go, saying you were going to the county to see your son! Turned out going for small business." Saying so, he raised his hand and punched, knocking Old Meng four feet to the sky, then kicked him again, knocking the load over. The pancakes wrapped in iris leaves rolled all over the ground; the two baskets overturned.

Yun Suji, seeing he wanted to kick the baskets again, quickly stopped him: "Speak properly if you have something to say—why hit people? These are all food; cannot stimulate waste casually!"

Seeing an unexpected interrupter burst out, looking like a cadre too, the young man's voice softened slightly: "Who are you?"

"I am from the county, coming to do business nearby."

"Since you are from the county, you should know the county just issued a notice to strengthen winter water conservancy construction support, mobilizing strong labor from over a dozen villages to the site. Latecomers get no good fruit! He is an old man; I don't expect him to work hard—just go cook at the advance station. But he lies and shirks!"

Yun Suji understood. Just as he was about to mediate, the young man shouted at Old Meng again: "You better carry your load back to the village to prepare early. Go to the construction site to prepare the advance station today, or tomorrow I will ask the militia to tie you to the labor reform team to dig sand!"

Old Meng dared not speak, packed up his load, and went towards the village. The young cadre followed behind. Yun Suji thought Qiongshan did not have a prison; where did a "labor reform team" come from? Fei Si said some cadres beat and arrested people at will; it seemed true.

(End of Chapter)