Chapter Seven: Resentment for Those Who Laugh, None for Those Who Don’t

Da Shenyan cigarettes, Wuliangye liquor, malted milk powder—Liu Weidong bought a cardboard box and spent several hundred yuan. Before leaving, he went upstairs to tear off a few pieces of dacron fabric, then down to the food counter on the first floor where he bought several boxes of pastries and cooked food, spending all the ration coupons Wang Jianguo had given him.

The jeep drove Liu Weidong and his wife all the way to the Second Brigade. As the jeep entered the village, many villagers trailed behind, thinking that a high-ranking official had come for an inspection. When the jeep stopped in front of Old Liu’s house, the villagers were dumbfounded—Liu Weidong and his wife got out, carrying large bundles filled with goods.

The village had been out of grain for over a month; everyone was so hungry their eyes had turned green with envy. Seeing the pastries in Lou Yanru’s hands, all their eyes lit up.

“Weidong, didn’t you go to the city to get grain? Where’s the grain? Now there’s good cigarettes, fine liquor, pastry boxes—Auntie wants to try a taste too,” sneered Liu Xiufen, wife of Li Baotian, with a mocking tone.

Liu Weidong told his wife to bring the goods inside and said to Liu Xiufen, “I promised to get ten thousand jin of grain within three days. Isn’t today only the first day? How come it’s a crime for my family to eat a little well?”

Liu Xiufen sneered, “Your family couldn’t even drink porridge before. Suddenly, the bumpkins turned over with roast chicken and pastries. No wonder everyone suspects you! Baotian said if you dare sell ginseng secretly, that’s profiteering—you’ll be locked up.”

The surrounding villagers watching the scene didn’t cheer her on, but their expressions were sour. Envy, jealousy, and hatred—such is human nature.

Liu Weidong snorted. “Is Li Baotian the king of the world? If he says someone’s profiteering, then they must be? Go home and see if there’s anything to eat tonight. Don’t delay my feast here. These pastries and roast chicken are fresh out of the oven, the aroma…”

Liu Weidong deliberately smacked his lips, angering Liu Xiufen, who spat and turned away.

His words made the onlookers drool with envy—wasn’t this deliberately teasing them?

“Weidong, you damn well come inside and don’t cause trouble,” Old Liu scolded angrily from behind. Only then did Liu Weidong enter the house with his hands behind his back.

“What are you so proud of? Don’t you know that trouble’s already brewing? You have to pretend to eat coarse food in front of outsiders; we can’t let our wealth show,” Old Liu scolded while putting the fine cigarettes and liquor back into the box.

“Dad, don’t put the pastries and roast chicken in the box—they’ll get greasy,” Liu Weidong quickly covered the box on the kang stove.

“Dad, what’s there to fear? I don’t steal or rob; I earn money with my own skills. It’s enough I can buy a whole truckload of corn and flour for the brigade. Let the wolves eat meat and the dogs eat shit, everyone’s got to fend for themselves. And yet they want to treat me like some rich landlord?” Liu Weidong said defiantly.

Old Liu kept glancing nervously out the window.

Liu Weidong didn’t care about his father’s mood. He unwrapped the greaseproof paper around the roast chicken, tore off two big drumsticks, and handed them to his father and wife.

At that moment, Old Liu snapped awake and hurriedly wrapped the chicken back up.

“Put it away quickly! Li Baotian is coming with the poverty propaganda team.”

Before Liu Weidong could get outside, the dog started barking fiercely.

“Weidong, come out here! You’re deceiving the leadership with hypocrisy. I’ll have you dragged to the commune!” Li Baotian shouted.

Liu Weidong, chewing on a chicken leg, lazily shuffled out.

“What’s all this yelling for? All you do is freeload and drink; you never work,” Liu Weidong retorted sarcastically, finishing the chicken leg and tossing the bones to the big yellow dog.

By then, Li Baotian led three men wearing red armbands into the yard.

“Director Li, did you come here just because of the smell?” Liu Weidong said, his mouth greasy as he smacked his lips.

The scent of roast chicken filled the air. Li Baotian and the others’ stomachs grumbled loudly as they watched the dog gnaw on the bones, their eyes reddening.

“Weidong, how dare you privately sell collective property! I wonder who can protect you now.”

“Director Li, don’t you remember? We made a bet—three days. Why the rush?”

“Alright, alright, Weidong. You just won’t learn until you see the coffin. Tie him up and confiscate everything he bought with public funds,” the poverty propaganda team members said, stepping forward with ropes; two even tried to rush inside.

Liu Weidong grabbed a shovel from the wall.

“Let me see who dares touch me! Jealous and greedy, trying to snatch what I have? I’d rather feed it to the dog than give it to you beasts,” he growled.

“Rebellion! Everyone saw it, right? Liu Weidong dares to use force against village cadres and the poverty propaganda team—this is open defiance of the proletarian dictatorship…”

“Stop it! Can’t you give it a rest for once?” Liu Weidong swung the shovel, just as Wang Jianguo’s voice came from the yard entrance.

“Secretary Wang, you can’t protect him anymore. Liu Weidong took public money and ration coupons to the city but bought pastries and roast chicken instead of grain. He must have secretly sold the ginseng.”

Liu Weidong pulled out a box of Ershen cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to Wang Jianguo.

“See, Secretary Wang? Am I wrong? How come Liu Weidong gets to smoke such fine cigarettes? Isn’t that profiteering?”

“Don’t talk nonsense. Li Baotian, where’s your evidence that I’m profiteering? The ginseng was dug by me on the mountain; my wife even collected hazelnuts and walnuts up there. Why don’t you say those belong to the collective?” Liu Weidong retorted sharply.

Li Baotian was about to curse, but Wang Jianguo frowned and hummed.

“If you have no proof, don’t slander. The ginseng Weidong collected is still locked in my kang cabinet. Besides, it’s not yet decided whether mountain products belong to the collective. Don’t throw around baseless accusations.”

“Besides, Weidong, you’ve been out all day. Can you really bring back grain? The whole village, old and young, is starving.”

Liu Weidong moved over a wooden stool and invited Wang Jianguo to sit.

“I’ve already paid for the grain. Tomorrow, the oil factory’s big liberation will deliver ten thousand jin of corn and flour. Just to be clear, I spent my own money to buy the grain.”

“Secretary Wang, do you really believe him? The Liu family can’t even scrape together ten yuan, how could he pay for ten thousand jin of grain for the village?”

“Li Baotian, whether you believe it or not is your business. Since there’s a bet, we should have some sportsmanship. When you lose, don’t deny it—I’m still waiting for you to kowtow to me and my father,” Liu Weidong said with confidence.

At that moment, Lou Yanru came out holding a box of walnut pastries.

“Our Liu family is poor, but we never take what’s not ours. We don’t touch the collective’s gold mountain. The pastries Weidong brought back aren’t much, just enough to satisfy the children’s cravings,” she said.

Standing at the doorway, handing out pastries to the children who had come to watch the commotion, Lou Yanru’s words silenced the villagers who had been gossiping.

Li Baotian snorted angrily and led his team away in a huff.

“Uncle Jianguo, come inside. I have something to discuss with you,” Liu Weidong said as he and Wang Jianguo entered the house.

Just as they sat down, Lou Yanru brought in the roast chicken and sliced blood sausage, along with some warmed rice wine.

“Weidong, what’s this about? Have you really been hiding ginseng? The whole village is starving, yet your family’s feasting on fish and meat. Doesn’t that seem wrong?”

“What’s wrong with it? I spent my own earned money. Not only did I make money myself, but I also helped our production team find a way out.”