Chapter 1689 - Summing Up
Liu Yuanhu came in with his head lowered, called out "Chief," then stood at attention without another word.
Yun Suji observed him. "What, gone mute? I saw you looking quite formidable in the village earlier."
Liu Yuanhu's face flushed crimson. "Chief, I..."
"No need to explain. You were indeed a bit too formidable around the village. But to get the job done, a man can't do without some authority." Yun Suji lit himself a cigarette. "Still, your authority was mostly shown in the course of work—so I don't fault you for it. We're all laboring for the Senate's great cause..."
At these words, Liu Yuanhu's eyes instantly reddened. He lifted his head: "Chief, I dare not say I haven't a single selfish thought. But I am truly loyal to the Senate—heart and liver, guts and all. If you wanted me to rip them out for you to see, I would!"
Yun Suji waved a hand. "Don't get worked up. What's a perfectly good grown man doing getting red-eyed? As a cadre, first rule: don't be afraid of people talking. If your heart cowers after hearing a few rumors, how can you accomplish anything significant?"
"Yes! I'll remember!"
"Now then—how should we handle this business with Old Lady Cao?"
"Give her the pension!"
Yun Suji shook his head. "Returning the pension is simply what should have been done. I'm talking about her hanging herself at the village office."
Liu Yuanhu scratched his scalp. "Well... since she's fine now, perhaps we can let the matter rest..."
Yun Suji said, "You're the Militia Captain, which also makes you the Village Public Order Commissioner, correct?"
"Yes."
"How thoroughly have you studied this Public Order Commissioner Handbook?" Yun Suji shook his head. "Is there a copy here? Fetch me one."
Liu Yuanhu hurried to dig through the bookshelf. Yun Suji took the handbook and looked it over. Apart from the red "Borang Village Office" stamp on the cover, it appeared brand new—never opened. This practice of producing and distributing handbooks was "fool-proof" guidance designed to accommodate the low level of grassroots civil servants. The effect, it seemed, was minimal.
He opened the book, turned to a particular page, and pointed at the text. "You can read, yes?"
"Attended literacy class. Can read—can't write very well..."
"What does this section say?"
"'Anyone who engages in behavior that hinders the work and environment of office premises within government agencies and public institutions shall be punished under the crime of disturbing government and public institutions, with penalties corresponding to the severity of circumstances...'"
"Understand it?"
Liu Yuanhu read it through several times. His eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously. "Yes, Chief. I understand."
"Where is the Resident Police officer responsible for your village?"
"Our village is small, so we share a resident police station with Boli Village nearby," Liu Yuanhu said. "It's not far."
"Since a suicide case has occurred, it should be reported and handled through proper channels. Have him come first thing tomorrow morning to take statements."
"Yes, Chief." Liu Yuanhu was about to leave when Yun Suji stopped him again: "I hear there's a labor reform team in the area. Who runs it?"
"The county does. People caught from the various villages serve a few days of labor there. Each township has a squadron."
Yun Suji nodded. "Good. I understand."
Yun Suji spoke with the village cadres one by one, deepening his understanding of the village's situation. Because the air had been cleared, the three cadres spoke more candidly than the day before.
He also gained a rough picture of the village finances. Han Daoguo explained that in recent years, the push to "become a model" and "achieve advanced status" had driven extensive road and water conservancy construction. Since the village had no economic entities and no real income to speak of, they could only "raise funds" from villagers. But fundraising hadn't gone smoothly—coercive means were needed to collect the full amount. Even so, the village had run a deficit.
"...We still owe the Heaven and Earth Society project payments. Money has already been collected once this year; collecting again would spark widespread complaints. This little reserve is all we have to work with." Han Daoguo offered this as justification for withholding the pension money.
Yun Suji knew there was water in these words, but he wasn't an auditor and couldn't untangle the threads in a short time. So he listened in silence, mentally noting key points for his later records—reference material for the Cheka's annual audit.
Han Daoguo continued his grievances, saying the village office was given no operating expenses. The county had allocated thirty mu of "office land" to the village—tax-free land cultivated by the village cadres themselves, with the agricultural output serving as operating funds and subsidies for their "public service."
"The income from this thirty mu isn't even enough for village expenses, let alone subsidies for us." Han Daoguo rattled on. Though corvée labor could be conscripted for village work, conscripting labor meant providing meals—and every meal had to be solid food. With so many projects, just feeding the corvée laborers was a significant expense. "When work is completed, there's also a celebration feast to put on—white flour and pork. Where does the money come from? All scratched together from the soil. I won't lie to you, Chief—the deficit we incurred last year still hasn't been paid off..."
Yun Suji smiled. "So you're all serving the public on empty stomachs, then?"
Han Daoguo's face reddened. He stammered, "It hasn't come to that..."
Yun Suji stood and paced a few steps. "Let's leave aside this office land. Just speaking of your own families' land—who among you actually farms it yourselves? Isn't it all planted for free using conscripted village labor? Do you think I don't know? Otherwise, how could you be playing chess in the village office in broad daylight?"
Han Daoguo's face went from red to white. He couldn't utter a single word.
"Those little games of yours—I can figure them out with my eyes closed. Save the sloppy work." Yun Suji's voice hardened. "I'm not interested in those matters right now. First, explain the true state of the village's finances—properly."
Only then did Han Daoguo become more honest. He admitted the village accounts truly had a deficit—and a substantial one. The cause was as he'd described: capital construction expenses. But regarding village fundraising, three rounds had actually been collected this year, and villagers harbored strong resentments. Fan Twelve was afraid of pushing them so far that someone would go to the county to file complaints, so he hadn't dared launch a fourth round.
"How did you run up such a large deficit? Doesn't the county provide subsidies for these construction projects?" Yun Suji asked in surprise.
"Chief, subsidies are indeed given—but there's also a self-raised portion. We're a model village. Visitors and delegations come to learn from us in an endless stream all year round—the county, the township, the Heaven and Earth Society... and various inspection teams. Just feeding the visitors is a huge expense..." Han Daoguo lamented.
"For those coming to the village on official business, isn't it supposed to be 'arranged meals' where they pay cash directly to the farming households? Doesn't your county issue meal subsidies for official travel?"
"Chief, that's because you're a saint! Can officials from the county and township really be dismissed with a bowl of sweet potato porridge and a few flatbreads? At the very least, you have to bake proper pancakes, cook a bowl of noodles—failing that, white rice with pickles and salted vegetables." Han Daoguo said. "Assigning it to villagers to prepare—the villagers find it troublesome, and the travelers don't eat well either. So the village designated one household to specialize in cooking..."
"So the officials coming to the countryside pay the money for sweet potato porridge and flatbreads but eat pancakes rolled with eggs?"
Han Daoguo hurriedly said, "Chief sees clearly! Our village office is the smallest of small yamen. If we don't entertain properly, many things can't be secured—the model plaque might even be lost. This is all necessity, not choice..."
"Enough! No more." Yun Suji grew angrier the more he listened. He hadn't expected that in less than two or three years, the grassroots had already reached this state.
Magistrate Liu, and you call this a model county! He understood immediately—this phenomenon was definitely not isolated. Perhaps some officials weren't even paying for sweet potato porridge while eating pancakes rolled with eggs.
After finishing the questioning, Yun Suji rested in the village office. There was a kerosene lamp inside, and he wrote up his observations by its light. He went to the countryside often, but he had never completely immersed himself like this—eating, living, and working together with the farmers, truly feeling the pulse of rural life. This day had been extraordinarily beneficial.
This was still a model village. In an ordinary village, or a backward one, who knew what conditions would be like? Yun Suji reflected that grassroots work had many problems, and farmer sentiment was deeply troubled. A sense of muddling through, of comfortable stagnation, could be felt clearly among the majority of villagers. Meanwhile, the few grain-producing households couldn't develop due to various restrictions, and their enthusiasm had been crushed.
From today's observations, farmers without appropriate management and education displayed the traits of extremely short-sighted opportunists: scheming, undisciplined, with no concept of time (workdays measured only by morning and afternoon), no organizational discipline. Such farmers were useless to the Senate's cause.
Excessive corvée labor was certainly a problem, but what was obvious was that it didn't actually affect normal production. What truly affected production were those grain households with large sowing areas and extensive sideline businesses. How to balance these competing interests was a question requiring serious discussion.
Yun Suji strongly opposed proposals by some to replace the current "labor conscription" system with "labor redemption." Ming Dynasty China was a textbook negative example right before their eyes. The Single Whip Law had good intentions and temporarily produced certain results—but in the end, it became one strand in the noose that tangled late-Ming farmers to death, perfectly illustrating "Huang Zongxi's Law."
Corvée labor conscription must be scientific, quantitative, and standardized. He wrote this line in his notebook. We must develop a scientific standard to identify the limit of burden—to provide as much labor as possible without affecting production...
He thought of the women sitting in groups of three or five by the village entrance making shoes and doing needlework, the men who beat their wives at every opportunity, the elderly and children idling at home... All of this demonstrated that their free time remained excessive. The most important resource—human beings—must be fully utilized.
He further reflected that the village had too few sideline businesses. Aside from raising draft cattle and a small number of chickens and ducks, hardly anyone raised pigs. Many people reported that homestead plots were too small—the breeding area reserved in the initial design was insufficient. If a pigsty were built next to the main house using traditional methods, the county health police would object, claiming it "violated regulations."
Additionally, commerce within the village was virtually nonexistent. For a village of nearly five hundred people, having at least a small shop selling oil, salt, and daily necessities seemed only proper...
(End of Chapter)