When Yang Feng walked over, Yang Dashan, who had arrived early, didn't say much. He drove an ox cart all day and had heard some of the policies from above. He knew that the situation was changing.
Besides, the commune secretary did not stop Mo Zhiqing from moving into the Yan family yesterday. Yang Dashan believed that he was not the only one in the village who understood such an obvious signal.
Otherwise, we would not have gotten any benefit from the bowl of meat yesterday, not to mention that Li Laosan's family would have been sent to the study class in the commune.
I heard that the study class lasts for a full twenty days, so it will be at least in the middle of next month, which is just in time for the autumn harvest. I'm afraid Li Laosan's family will be furious.
Yan Mingli had no idea what Yang Dashan was thinking. He just lowered his eyes and silently looked at the decorative buckle of his belt, which seemed to still have the gentle scent of a little girl.
Yan Mingli can be quiet, but Yang Feng can't. He can't stop talking. If he can't talk, he has to smoke. He has to do something.
"Here..." Yang Feng took out a green cigarette box from his trouser pocket, shook it on the ramie stalks, shook out a half-smoked cigarette and handed it to Yan Mingli.
"I can't." Yan Mingli looked at the brightly colored word "battle" on the cigarette box curiously and shook his head slightly.
"How can a man not know how to smoke? Take this!" Nowadays, except for students, seven and a half out of ten men smoke. If you can't smoke, you are not a real man!
"It smells strong and unpleasant." Yan Mingli was just a teenager at the time, but he was also very curious about new things. He even wanted to impulsively reach out and pick one up and put it in his mouth to try.
But for some reason, he suddenly thought of the little girl. Such a clean and soft person should not like the smell of cigarettes!
"It's Mo Zhiqing who doesn't like it!" Yang Feng lit a cigarette and took a deep puff. He squinted his eyes in satisfaction, then puffed out a cloud of smoke towards Yan Mingli.
"..." Looking at the smoke that was deliberately spitted towards him, Yan Mingli retreated behind him helplessly.
Yang Feng ignored him and just enjoyed the wonderful taste of the cigarette, letting the rich smoke diffuse in his lungs and then slowly emerge from his nasal cavity.
Seeing this, the people standing in the threshing ground took out the monthly ration of cigarettes in their pockets and started puffing away.
It was not a "battle" where you had to pay 1.9 cents and need a ticket, but rather a "economic" one where the production team would compile a list of members who smoked, report it to the household registration management department for review, and then buy all the cigarettes from the supply department at 9 cents a pack.
Of course, these did not require cigarette tickets, and because there was a state-owned cigarette factory in Chongqing, the members had a quota of a whole pack of cigarettes every month, which was far more comfortable than the five cigarettes a quarter in some places.
However, cigarettes are not a welfare benefit of the commune. After the autumn harvest, they will be deducted from the members' dividends.
With the help of cigarettes, the members took advantage of the time while waiting for others to start chatting. The focus of the topic was obviously not Yang Goudan, but the quiet Yan Mingli.
Some members were glad that the people who came were all strong laborers in the team, otherwise they would have had no way of finding this person.
Just imagine, if all the people who came were young girls and grown-ups, they would all be staring at the boy from the Yan family. Who would have the energy to go into the mountains in the dark?
Although some members were envious and some were jealous and said sarcastic words, they were able to keep their emotions stable because they knew their own limitations.
But Nie Xiaofeng, who was standing on the side and was also in the search team, glared at Yan Mingli with resentment, his face almost distorted with jealousy.
That brand new sailor shirt, overalls, and blue mesh shoes should have belonged to him, but it was Yan Jia, a member of the fifth category who should have died in the struggle long ago, who seduced his wife away.
How could he, an educated youth from Beijing, dare to covet such things? How could he dare to accept good things that he did not deserve?
He should wear patched tattered clothes, work barefoot in the fields, do the hardest and most tiring work, receive the lowest work points, and live a humble and barely able life.
Instead of standing in front of everyone in a glamorous manner and taking away the envious glances that should belong to him, those praises should belong to him, Nie Xiaofeng.
That year in the threshing ground, when that stone hit him on the forehead, why didn't he pick a bigger one? Why didn't he crush him to death?
Deep resentment is like a raging torrent, rolling up the most violent waves, and like boundless darkness, swallowing up the abyss full of curses.
Nie Xiaofeng held the flashlight tightly, squeezing the body tightly. His eyes no longer had the usual gentle warmth, but instead had a bit of gloom and coldness.
Yan Mingli turned his head and looked in the direction of Nie Xiaofeng. Because the members were saving ramie stalks and did not light them, he could not see Nie Xiaofeng's expression, but he could feel his hatred.
But he didn't care, since the moment Nie Xiaofeng viciously raised a stone and threw it at him a few years ago.
He knew how much his classmate hated him because of the praise from his teachers and classmates.
At that time, because he always ranked first in every exam, he became the child of other families in the entire commune.
They have also become role models for parents to educate their children, and therefore are imaginary enemies in the minds of some children.
Most of them hated him, and always felt that if it weren't for him, they might not have been beaten so much by adults.
Yan Mingli withdrew his gaze and stopped looking at him, but looked towards the only source of light in the entire threshing ground.
That was the portable lantern held by Nie Hongshan, with a dim light shining through the glass cover.
More members arrived one after another, and Nie Hongshan's expression gradually relaxed a lot.
Temporary gatherings like this reflect his appeal and cohesion as the production team leader, and are also one of the criteria for him to continue to serve as the production team leader.
Soon, more than 50 young and middle-aged men from the third production team gathered in the threshing ground.
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