Chapter 35 Chapter 35 I used to think Xiaolin was a good kid, but...
Finding the black fox's heart couldn't be rushed, and it couldn't be rushed. Lin Xinghuo slowly adjusted his composure, brushing off the impatience that weighed on him, but he kept this matter in mind. The first wave of salesmen at the winery carried forward the tradition of listening to old men's stories everywhere. Now, many young people in Buxian Village would inquire about local past events whenever they went out, and they unearthed many bizarre stories that were even more captivating than the storytelling box.
Wei Chunfeng took the time to organize these things and put them into a thick book. Not only did the school-age children like to borrow it, but even Lin Xinghuo and Tumang liked to read it.
The old branch secretary also encouraged her, providing her with notebooks and pens for free, telling her to just take notes: "When you have time in the winter, we'll copy a few copies and put them in the brigade library."
The brigade library was an idea the old branch secretary came up with after using Lin Xinghuo's county library card to browse the library. The old man was like a mouse in a rice jar when he entered the library; he liked it even more than Lin Xinghuo, the real owner.
The library didn't let people borrow books, so the old man squatted by the bookshelves for most of the day. When the room manager kicked people out at noon, he buried his face in his pockets and smiled, telling them to just lock him in. He just couldn't bear to let go of the books. When Lin Xinghuo finished his business that afternoon and came to pick him up, the old man stroked the spines of the books and sighed, saying that he was old and forgot most of the books once he closed them.
Lin Xinghuo noticed the book he was reading was about edible mushroom cultivation techniques. She flipped through it when she went back to the library, and memorized it in her free time after returning home—with her current memory, this thin booklet was no problem. But when the old branch secretary received it, his eyes welled up. He pulled Lin Xinghuo aside and said, "When I was a child, I attended a private school for a few years. The teacher there told us, 'Books contain a thousand bushels of grain, books contain a house of gold.' Who would have believed that back then? I just thought learning to read would be enough to give my family an explanation... But fifty years later, even this now-unacceptable saying has become true—the books there taught farming, silkworm and mushroom farming, and even how to make clothes. They even covered the principles and methods of making a music box—no, what we now call a radio!"
The old Party secretary rubbed his face, "Those are skills we peasants can't even learn, no matter how much we beg! How could they bear to lock it up in the house and leave it there for nothing?" Originally, there was no one in their village who knew how to brew wine, so they had to buy it from other brigades and communes every year. Ten years ago, he'd used his connections to send two young men to the city to learn brewing from a master. But when he visited them two months later, the young men had been worn down by the master, working tirelessly from the moment they opened their eyes to the moment they closed them. Yet, even so, the master refused to teach them the real skills, and their vigilance against them was even more extreme than against thieves.
The gifts the entire village had saved by tightening their belts were all gone. He wanted to take the two children home, but they cried and refused, saying they would be sorry to their fellow villagers. They also said that anyone who wanted to learn a trade would have to work for the master's family for years without paying. But he refused to budge and dragged them back. He could tell that the family was either trying to teach him an apprenticeship or was trying to take advantage of him. Otherwise, they wouldn't have treated the two children so harshly. He fell seriously ill the moment he got home.
But there are people like the old branch secretary who are far-sighted and tolerant, and there are also people who are short-sighted and blindly follow old ideas.
In early May, after another bout of rain and snow, the temperature rose noticeably. The young and old in Buxian Village were like welded to the ground, meticulously tilling the vast field where they would plant sweet potatoes. Sweet potatoes prefer fertilizer and are afraid of waterlogging, so the members not only plowed deeply and formed ridges, but also brought in cartloads of fertile soil from the forests north of Xishan Mountain, humming with fallen leaves. It's no exaggeration to say that the ground on that slope was completely plowed.
Just as everyone was eager to plant sweet potato seedlings, a wave of "white cotton bolls for ten miles, fragrant sugar beets for five miles" swept across the country. The slogan "Do it yourself, have enough food and clothing" was promoted, and the call was "If there is no cotton, plant it yourself, don't ask for it."
Secretary Chen was so angry that his chest hurt: "This place is not suitable for growing cotton!"
Old Man Cen slammed the table at the propagandist and said, "If we could plant cotton, we would have done so long ago. Everyone knows cotton is good, and every family needs it. There are many families that only have one pair of cotton pants! Do you think we are lazy? Are you blind? Go out and see. Even our ten-year-old children go to the fields to help after school!"
The propaganda officer was displeased and pointed at Old Man Cen's nose, cursing, "You've strayed from the capitalist path! If you keep doing this, we'll have to wield the proletarian whip and bring you back onto the right path! If we say ten miles of white cotton bolls, then we'll have to pluck out ten miles, or we'll pull out all the others!"
"I don't think you dare!" Huang Dazhuang shouted angrily.
There were many people from the propaganda team, and even more from the village. The two sides started fighting, especially the team leader Huang Dazhuang. He couldn't control his temper and hit the young man who dared to point at the village elder and yell at him with his big fists, making him scream.
"Comrade Lin, you're here." The two young women, tears welling up in their eyes, saw Lin Xinghuo coming over with his medicine box on his back. "Please don't let anything really happen!"
At the entrance to the brigade compound, the old branch secretary and Grandma Wei were sitting on a stone pier, one on each side, basking in the sun. Seeing the two girls surrounding Lin Xinghuo and about to go inside, Grandma Wei raised her arm and beckoned them, "Come here, come here."
She said to the two female educated youth, "Our comrade Xiaolin is a medical officer. What is she doing in there now? She can wait until they finish fighting, then go in to treat her injuries! There are so many scoundrels in there, they can't hurt her again!"
Did they say that Lin Xinghuo was just here to finish the job and heal his wounds? They thought that if there was anyone in the team who could break up the fight, that person would definitely be Lin Xinghuo! Isn't this like using a tiger to protect a rabbit?
Grandma Wei calmly educated the girls, "I know you're all educated and think you should be civilized. But girls, you should sing the right songs in the right places. You have to adopt the right attitude to deal with different things, and you can't just talk about being glorious and upright. Your civilization restrains yourself, but my girls, your reasoning will most likely not restrain others. In the end, you're stuck in your own box, but others don't respond and bully you. What can you do? In our country, sometimes a hard fist is more effective than reason!"
Grandma Wei glanced at the old Party Secretary, who was resting his eyes, and lowered her voice. "You're all good children. Good children shouldn't suffer for your own good! When you get married and are at home, if a man raises his fist to you, you can't reason with him, let alone beg for mercy. That way, the blow will hurt more and more. You have to tell him you're 'crazy' and treat him like a madman! Regardless of whether she's truly crazy or not, we women can't compete in strength, but who isn't afraid of a crazy woman? When you leave home, when you're out in the world, you have to be civilized and reasonable, so that others know you're a good person. That's what true wisdom means." It's not illegal for a madman to attack someone. After just one incident, 80% of men wouldn't dare beat their wives again. And if you behave well outside, people will naturally speak up for you afterwards.
The old Party Secretary's heart skipped a beat as he listened, but he dared not say anything: "In the countryside, it's not uncommon for men to beat their wives; nine out of ten have done it. But in Buxian Village, it's rare. It's all because of these old women." Other brigades say their men love their wives, and they do, but at least they're afraid and hurt, right?
But married girls shouldn’t be bullied either! The old Party secretary thought.
The two female educated youth covered their mouths and laughed, a little shy but eager to learn. Cui Xia, in particular, had just gotten married to Yang Weibo, and the brigade had allocated them a room in the alley behind the educated youth compound. They'd been dating for over two years, but only after finally sharing a kang did they realize how normal it was to have some bumps in the road.
The caracal lying on Lin Xinghuo's back had its ears pressed down like airplane ears. Lin Xinghuo had just been telling it about the fox cubs being chased by wild foxes. He said that after the three stupid foxes in the family broke through and became spiritual beasts, the aura on their bodies attracted several wild foxes. Every time they came out of the forest, the herbs in the basket of the eldest brother Lin Beiguo were so full that they could not be stuffed in.
Now, hearing Grandma Wei lecture the girls on how to handle their husbands' fists, the caracal instantly connected the dots: the wild fox clearly had bad intentions. "Why are you playing crazy? Just come back and tell me, or I'll tear them apart!" The caracal leaned forward and transmitted a message to Lin Xinghuo.
Lin Xinghuo nudged the caracal's head away with one hand. Ever since learning telepathy, the creature had become even more unrestrained, its big cat's aloofness and taciturnity fully manifested. The wild foxes weren't seeking a mate; at best, it was just "working for meat." But the three cubs all had strong personalities. The eldest, Lin Beiguo, aspired to be a good herb-collecting fox; the second, Lin Dingbao, loved hunting; and the third, Lin Zhuiyang, had only eyes for beautiful rocks. The wild foxes could just pull a few grasses and carry a few rocks in exchange for the pheasant or hare the second had caught. It wasn't their fault that the three cubs had become picky eaters, thanks to the two of them.
The two female educated youth talked to Grandma Wei for a long time. The caracal listened very seriously. When Lin Xinghuo looked at it, he felt that the expression "I have learned something" was written all over its face.
"What? Are your fellow villagers there?" Cui Xia asked Xiao Lanqin.
"What? Which propaganda team are they from?" This is Grandma Wei.
Xiao Lanqin nodded. "I saw one on the train coming here. He's also from Beijing, and he lives not too far from where I live." She then replied to Grandma Wei, "I remember he was assigned to work in the countryside in another county. He's not from our county, anyway."
Grandma Wei slapped her thigh, and the old Party Secretary immediately woke up from his nap. The two of them looked at each other and rushed into the yard, shouting as they ran: "Da Zhuang, stop, stop first."
Upon asking, I realized it wasn't just a county, it wasn't even a city! The Songwazi River to the north of Buxiantun was the boundary between this city and the neighboring city. This propaganda team was incredibly unreliable. They followed the Songwazi River, passing by a brigade and then spreading their propaganda. When they reached Buxiantun, they didn't even ask around, but simply entered the village and acted like the boss, issuing instructions with such confidence.
"Auntie! Please show them." Huang Dazhuang came over and said to Lin Xinghuo.
The bruised and battered propaganda team members saw a medical worker, also dressed in gray and black homespun, approaching, carrying a medicine box. At first glance, she was the only one who shone brightly in the crowd! An officer, who could write a few lines of poetry, chanted in his heart. It was unclear whether he was more immersed in Lin Xinghuo's increasingly outstanding appearance or simply moved by his own talent. Anyway, several people followed his lead, staring intently at him.
There were very few female members of these village-to-village propaganda teams, so a group of young men who had been out making noises all day and lacked experience interacting with girls their own age couldn't hide the look in their eyes when they suddenly saw a pretty girl. Huang Dazhuang coughed loudly, and his palm-leaf fan-sized hand clenched into a fist, and the young men didn't dare to stop.
"Auntie!" Huang Dazhuang emphasized again in front of everyone.
The militia members who participated in the fight also greeted her, calling her "Auntie" one by one.
Lin Xinghuo was very skilled, and could tell the severity of the injury by taking the pulse. Everyone was very measured in their actions. Aside from one person with a dislocated arm, the others had only superficial injuries. He pulled out a dozen black pills the size of fruit from the medicine box and distributed them to the group. He randomly chose someone to demonstrate: "Just peel off the outer layer of oil paper and rub the ointment on the wound. If you haven't used up all the ointment, wrap it back in the oil paper so you can use it later."
Did they think they were going to get beaten up again? The players were having heart attacks.
"You are of a high generation?" The team member who was chosen to demonstrate blushed and made small talk.
This time it was Lin Xinghuo's turn to have a lump in his throat.
Huang Dazhuang came over like a door god: "Auntie, let me help him wipe it!"
The caracal on Lin Xinghuo's back, with its claws already stretched out, twitched its whiskers and stared at the man for a few seconds.
The team member shuddered, suddenly feeling a chill on his back. He quickly took the ointment pill with both hands and said respectfully, "Please do your job, Auntie! I can rub it myself."
While the propaganda team was applying the ointment, the people in Buxian Village also took out their own ointment to apply, but they were obviously more particular. The ointment pills were placed in a small wooden box, and instead of applying directly with the ointment pills, they picked out a little and spread it evenly with the pads of their fingers. The propaganda team was disgusted by this. These big and strong men, who hit people so hard, were so rough, and now they were so polite? Could it be that they were afraid to be reckless in front of their eldest aunt? Well, everyone in the courtyard, young and old, called her aunt. How high must her generation be? I'm afraid she must be no different from the ancestral tablets that younger people had to kowtow to.
"Use them sparingly!" Huang Dazhuang couldn't help but sneered. These are all good medicines! The fairy girl used so many herbs to make this. Wei Chunxing said that it takes more than ten pounds of raw materials to make a jar of plaster. Not only is the plaster effective, but the herbs were also bought by the fairy girl herself! The members took the initiative to help her collect herbs, and no one thought of charging money, but the fairy girl said that one thing is one thing, and forced them to pay. Now, in addition to the herbs collected by the county hospital, everyone has another source of income: although the herbs collected by the fairy girl are more diverse and more, most of them are common in the fields. They usually regard them as weeds, but the fairy girl is willing to accept them - these are exactly what the herb company doesn't want.
Lin Xinghuo and Huang Dazhuang were thinking the same thing now. This time, she gave him a plaster pill. It wasn't because she was generous, but because Lin Xinghuo wanted to sell the finished medicine. This was to pave the way and make a name for herself.
Snow Province has six months of winter each year. When heavy snow falls, counties, cities, and villages are isolated, making medical care difficult. Hence the local custom of storing medicine for the winter. When Lin Xinghuo first came down the mountain, she didn't think she'd need money much. Later, after cultivating, she realized she needed money in so many ways that she thought she wouldn't need it. But now, she realizes she doesn't have enough money. Far from it.
What's the most challenging aspect of spiritual practice? It's not one's mind or temperament, but one's financial resources—a fact Lin Xinghuo discovered the more he learned, the faster he consumed his small yellow croaker. He often needed half a roomful of herbs to produce just one bowlful of jade paste, something even the wealthy landlord couldn't afford. Lin Xinghuo's small coffers were dwindling rapidly, and exchanging money on the black market wasn't a sustainable solution. Furthermore, hunting now felt like a form of coercion, a form of bullying. He could eat his own food, but exchanging his prey for cash felt unethical.
This ointment pill was a byproduct of her jade ointment refining process, the ointment without spiritual energy removed in the penultimate step. This portion of ointment was quite large, almost dozens of times more than the jade ointment itself. However, this ointment was highly effective for common bruises and sprains, its effects in relaxing tendons, dispersing blood stasis, and dispelling wind and activating the meridians were truly remarkable. With the country now loosening regulations on folk remedies and patent medicines, Lin Xinghuo wanted to sell the ointment pills elsewhere, and today's incident presented a perfect opportunity: the sales approach for medicine and wine was the same: the quality needed to be felt first.
This ointment, unlike wine, was incompetent for the members, so Lin Xinghuo devised a new way to collaborate with the brigade. She provided the recipe and the yellow talisman for the Buxianshan Song wine, and would retain a share regardless of sales. The ointment pills, however, had to carry the collective label, splitting the profits 70% with the brigade. Of course, this was a tacit agreement reached privately with the brigade leaders, never to be publicly discussed. The brigade accountant, along with Wei Chunfeng, created two sets of accounts: one showing the members after deducting Lin Xinghuo's share, and the other, hidden, containing the full account. The first set distributed wages and work points to the members, while Lin Xinghuo's share was paid directly.
The old branch secretary felt relieved. They were not in Xiantun anymore. Not only had a winery been built, but a medicine shop was also not far away!
"Don't be so stingy!" The old branch secretary said to the team leader: "They are from the neighboring city, and the beating they received was in vain. We have to be nice to people who were beaten in vain like this." Anyway, they will not admit it after they are driven out of the village. What does the propaganda team from other counties and cities have to do with them, Sanshi Buxian Village?
Soon, the propaganda team, who had been beaten with a stick and then given a sweet treat, were "sent" out of Buxiantun with their heads down. The militia team escorted them all the way to the Songwazi River before stopping.
The old branch secretary and the accountant were all smiling, but when they came back they rang the big bell at the entrance of the village and the village elders were calling for a meeting!
"'Ten miles of white cotton bolls!'" the old Party Secretary said gravely. "I asked the propaganda team, and they said it wasn't ten acres of cotton fields, but ten miles of cotton fields! They were talking about building a new Great Wall of Cotton here!"
"Calculate it. Even if it's just a long and narrow strip, how much land will it occupy over ten miles?"
The accountant slapped his forehead and said, "The worst thing is, this must be land for growing sweet potatoes!"
Corn and rice have already been planted, but sweet potatoes are the last to be planted, starting in mid-May. The production teams can't pull out their crops to make room for cotton, so they'll have to encroach on the sweet potato fields. But sweet potatoes are the village's staple food! Rice and most corn are essentially quota grains. How much do the members get after paying their public grain?
"As long as nothing goes wrong later, our rice and corn harvests will be plentiful, and each household should get a larger share." The old branch secretary expressed his concerns. "This situation has two negative consequences: First, if the surrounding areas run low on grain, it will become clear that our brigade is here, and to balance the situation, the higher authorities will likely increase the public grain quota." Of course, this will be compensated later. Some brigades owe public grain, while others have paid in advance. But the compensation will definitely not be fine grain. It will either directly offset part of the public grain quota for next year, or the higher authorities will simply keep it in arrears.
It's unknown what struck a chord with the captain, Huang Dazhuang, but the iron-hearted man's eyes actually turned red. "I'm just looking forward to a good harvest this year so we can get more fine grains, so my mother can have more bowls of rice, solid rice without any coarse grains mixed in!"
Hongzhong patted his shoulder and wanted to say something, but held it back.
The caracal patted Lin Xinghuo with its tail. "What's going on here?" Lin Xinghuo pressed down its stretched neck and looked at Wei Chunfeng, who was taking notes in the corner. Wei Chunfeng winked at her and indicated that she would tell her later.
The old Party secretary lowered his eyes, paused, and then continued, "The second issue is the lack of food in the surrounding areas. If the members of other communes and brigades are starving, and we have a good harvest, what do you think will happen next?" What will happen? It's more difficult than droughts and floods! There are government-to-government loans, and relatives and friends below come to ask for money. The most difficult thing is that if we lend to one family, we won't be alone. They will really treat you as a rich man, and the loans will come in waves, endlessly.
Once you start borrowing, it will definitely be difficult. If you don't lend at all, you will incur public anger, and then petty thefts and evil plots will occur, and the whole village will have no peace.
We can't hide the news of a good harvest! We have to report everything we harvest. The elders here can't do such a thing to harm the country.
"Originally, this year has been good, unlike a disaster year. If we farm according to plan, no brigade will go hungry. We can get a certificate of merit if we are capable." Being eye-catching is only temporary. When people can fill their stomachs, they may envy other brigades for getting more food and say a few sour words at most, but they will not take any action.
Besides, the orders from the village winery had already spread to other county communes. Even considering the situation of their own brigade becoming rich, fewer people dared to show up. But what was it like to be hungry? The old branch secretary tapped his pipe. He had seen too much during the three difficult years!
"This should have been a great harvest!" Old Man Cen sighed. "Why is it so difficult to farm properly?"
No one could think of a solution for a moment. After all, such things had happened before. There was a similar situation in the Hongnong Commune one year. After the harvest, the members were happily looking forward to the winter, but no one expected that when a count was taken in the spring of the following year, almost no family had enough food to survive the spring famine, and more than ten people were injured and developed chronic diseases due to various reasons.
"Let's plant cotton, too, and sugar beets," Lin Xinghuo said. "Plant a narrow strip. Show me the cotton seeds first, I'll try to figure something out." That way, other places wouldn't be able to use Buxian Village's failure to respond to the call to plant cotton as leverage. As for the cotton, whether or not she could grow it depended on her ability. Don't even think about taking a single boll from this village! We all know how to work hard and have enough food and clothing. Then, just like other places, if other places don't have cotton to hand over, we won't hand it over even if we do grow it!
"Sweet potatoes are easy to grow. Plant more sweet potatoes on the land we've reclaimed. When the time comes, we'll list the yields, calculate the kilograms we need, and also calculate the amount we can lend." Lin Xinghuo recalled a piece of news he'd read in his previous life about people getting advance wages to avoid marriage risks. Actually, the reverse approach would be very useful here. We wouldn't withdraw any, but it would still be kept in the collective: "After autumn, we'll calculate work points and share grain, but each family won't take any grain. All grain will be stored in the brigade warehouse for centralized allocation. The warehouse will be opened every five days and distributed according to the number of people. After the famine in spring next year, we'll settle the accounts. Those with more work points will be paid, and those with less will be kept as accounts and paid back next year. Keep enough for what we need, and any excess can be submitted to the superiors for transfer."
Farmers struggled to earn cash, so they focused on calculating their work points and distributing their wages after the autumn harvest, with the grain also being distributed along with it. But now the village has a distillery, and in the future, there will be a herbal medicine shop, a mushroom farm, a silkworm farm, and other collective businesses. With the back-up of a health station selling herbal medicine, there's no immediate need for cash. As long as there's food to eat and the village elders enjoy their reputation, it doesn't really matter whether they store their grain in their own warehouses or in the public warehouses. Collecting it every five days at most is a bit of a hassle, but with less to do in winter, everyone appreciates a bit of hustle and bustle.
The old Party Secretary and the others looked at Lin Xinghuo with a different look. This method was both legitimate and a bit shady. On one hand, they were pushing the blame and passing the problem on to their superiors, while on the other hand, they were trying to prevent the members from borrowing all their own food rations out of shame. The best part was, neither side could say anything. We had already exposed our true feelings, so what else could we do?
Another question is: When the higher-ups see the noble character of their own team, will they have the nerve to hand over all the fine grain?
The old Party secretary was deeply gratified: "I used to think Xiaolin was a good kid, too good, a bit straightforward and not thinking for himself. But now, isn't he quite thoughtful? Good!"
After the meeting, before Wei Chunfeng had time to look for Lin Xinghuo, the team leader Huang Dazhuang came over first. He took out a small cloth bag from his arms and handed it to Lin Xinghuo: "This is a kind of rice seed from Jizhou. It was originally a tribute to the emperor's family. The rice grown here is different from that grown elsewhere. It is green."
"Take a look, does it work?"
Lin Xinghuo was indeed searching for different high-quality rice seeds. She had learned several new techniques and was working hard to cultivate spiritual rice herself...
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The author has something to say: I’ve recently developed the symptom of not updating for the last time... I’ll work hard to correct it!
Little angels, please leave a paw print to encourage the fish!
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