The October wind was already chilly, rustling the leaves of the old locust tree at the village entrance. Early that morning, the threshing ground of the Hongqi Production Brigade was crowded with people, men, women, and children, carrying cloth bags and bamboo baskets, all with expectant faces—today was the day the brigade distributed grain, a major event that determined whether their families would have enough to eat in the winter.
Lin Wanqiu, holding Shen Nian'an's hand, also stood in the crowd. Nian'an, wearing a faded cotton-padded jacket, clutched the hem of her jacket tightly with his little hands, his eyes fixed curiously on the grain pile in the center of the field. "Mom, how much grain will we get?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with timidity.
Lin Wanqiu patted her son's head, feeling confident but not daring to say it outright: "According to the brigade's rules, my son and I can get twenty catties of millet and fifteen catties of dried sweet potatoes, enough for us to eat for a while." That's what she said, but when she thought of Old Mrs. Shen's character, she felt that things wouldn't go so smoothly.
Sure enough, just as Captain Zhao Laogen was calling out names with the ledger, they saw Old Lady Shen, leaning on her cane, following behind the grain keeper, talking animatedly. Lin Wanqiu's heart skipped a beat, and she pulled Nian'an closer.
“Don’t worry, sister-in-law,” said the storekeeper, a man in his forties surnamed Wang, who was close to the Shen family. “Comrade Shen Tingzhou has sacrificed his life. Logically speaking, the widow and orphan should receive more grain rations. But you said that Wanqiu is young and strong and can earn work points, so it’s reasonable for her to receive less. I remember that.”
Grandma Shen's smile stretched from ear to ear: "You're so sensible! That little brat is hiding her money and eating well at home every day, why would she need so much grain? It's my two grandsons who are growing up, they should get more!"
Lin Wanqiu was furious and was about to step forward to argue when Zhao Laogen shouted, "Lin Wanqiu! It's your turn!"
She took a deep breath, suppressed her anger, and led Nian'an over. Lin Wanqiu stared at the wooden container in Wang's hand, her knuckles clenched white—the grain in the container was clearly only half full, not even reaching the edge of the container, and it didn't look like it weighed twenty jin.
“Wang Baoguan,” she said, her voice not loud, but with an undeniable air of authority, “if this wooden container were priced as a ‘pointed container,’ I could get away with it, but this ‘flat container’ isn’t even full, yet you dare to say it weighs ten jin? Do you think you’re treating us mother and daughter like three-year-olds?”
The villagers who had been watching the commotion immediately fell silent, their eyes all fixed on the wooden measuring container in Wang's hand. A full measuring container was the rule for distributing grain; it had to be filled to the brim and then gently leveled with a wooden scraper. But Wang's container had the grain laid flat on the bottom, not even covering the scratches on the sides. Anyone with eyes could see it was shortchanged.
The storekeeper's hand trembled, and the wooden container almost tipped over. He quickly steadied it and forced an embarrassed smile: "Comrade Wanqiu, this...this grain has just been dried and is a little light. Ten jin is definitely enough. Don't be so serious."
"Seriously?" Lin Wanqiu took a step forward, shielding Shen Nian'an behind her. "Guardian Wang, this isn't about being serious. Nian'an and I work in the team all year round. I've earned over two hundred work points, and even though Nian'an is young, she helps with gleaning wheat and gathering firewood. According to the brigade's regulations, we should each receive twenty jin of millet and fifteen jin of dried sweet potatoes. What you're giving us now is less than half of what's stipulated in the regulations. Are you trying to make us starve in the winter?"
Shen Nian'an hid behind Lin Wanqiu, her little hands tightly gripping the hem of her clothes, and said softly but clearly, "Uncle Wang, my mom and I have both worked, you can't give us less food."
The child's words, like a pebble, stirred ripples in the crowd. Aunt Zhang was the first to stand up: "That's right, Manager Wang! Wanqiu and her daughter have had such a hard life, how can you bully them like this? My Xiaohu also earned work points this year, and he got more dried sweet potatoes than Wanqiu!"
The custodian paused, his eyes darting around. "That's enough, Comrade Wanqiu. How could I possibly shortchange you?" he said, adding a symbolic half-ladle of water before tying the bag shut. "Ten catties of millet and eight catties of dried sweet potatoes. Take a look."
"Ten catties? Eight catties?" Lin Wanqiu sneered and put the bag on the ground. "Wang Baoguan, how did you calculate this? The brigade clearly stipulates that a full-time worker gets thirty catties of millet and twenty catties of dried sweet potatoes per year, and a half-time worker gets fifteen catties of millet and twelve catties of dried sweet potatoes. Nian'an is four years old, so he is considered a half-time worker. Although I haven't reached the full work points, I am still a half-time worker. How come I only get ten catties of millet and eight catties of dried sweet potatoes?"
"I think someone's sabotaging us behind our backs," said Grandpa Li next door, stroking his beard as he glanced at Grandma Shen not far away. "I saw Grandma Shen whispering with Manager Wang for a while. She's probably the one who asked for less grain!"
Upon hearing this, the villagers' eyes immediately turned to Old Lady Shen. Old Lady Shen's face instantly changed. Leaning on her cane, she took two steps forward, pointing at Lin Wanqiu and cursing, "You little bitch! You can't even earn work points yourself, yet you try to extort the brigade? I think you're deliberately trying to sow discord and make everyone laugh at the Shen family!"
"I'm sowing discord?" Lin Wanqiu sneered, pulling a crumpled little notebook from her cloth bag—it was the work point book issued by the brigade, with her work points scrawled in pencil. "Look, everyone, this is my work point book. It clearly says 237 work points. Isn't that enough to get the full ration of grain? But you, Old Lady Shen, you haven't worked a single day this year. What right do you have to point fingers?"
Old Mrs. Shen was speechless when questioned, and could only throw a tantrum: "I am the matriarch of the Shen family! I have the final say in matters concerning the Shen family! She cannot receive more grain!"
Hearing the commotion, people gathered around. Aunt Zhang squeezed to the front and chimed in, "Yes, Manager Wang, Wanqiu and her daughter have had a hard life. You've given them too little! My Xiaohu is also a semi-laborer, and he got fifteen jin of dried sweet potatoes!"
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