Taking in and shipping out goods kept her busy all morning, and things only quieted down around noon.
After lunch, she headed out with the fabric.
The tailor shop wasn’t far from the Gongxiaoshe, sitting at the end of the same road—a very small room containing a rather old-looking sewing machine.
The old tailor’s business didn’t seem to be doing well. When Ning An arrived, he was using paste and scraps of fabric to make fabric patches, which, once finished, would become the soles of thousand-layer cloth shoes.
“Comrade, I’d like to have some clothes made.”
“For yourself?”
“No, for my mother. I’ve already taken all the measurements.”
Ning An handed over the fabric and the note with the recorded measurements, and also explained her requirements for the collar—she had even drawn a diagram on the note.
The old man put on his reading glasses, examined everything carefully, and finally nodded. “I can do it. It’ll take two days. Come pick it up at noon the day after tomorrow.”
“Alright.”
Ning An paid one yuan.
That price was equivalent to two days’ earnings for a rural laborer. It wasn’t expensive, since the old tailor not only had to spend time making the clothes, but also had to provide the thread and buttons himself.
Leaving the tailor shop, Ning An took the opportunity to wander around the commune.
This was her first time in a Niandai Shijie, and all her knowledge of this world came from written materials and novel descriptions. But each world’s specific circumstances were never quite the same, so it was best to observe and experience things firsthand.
Xiao Juza was also collecting information about the world and uploading it to the Small Worlds database for Taskers to reference.
The commune had one main street, paved very smoothly—it was asphalt, a rarity in this era, laid down just last year. But it was only a short stretch, about a thousand meters from south to north. Beyond that stretch of asphalt, the road was just firmly packed dirt.
On both sides of the asphalt road were the Gongxiaoshe, the post office, the credit union, the Xinhua Bookstore, the purchasing station, the pig slaughter station, the state-run restaurant, and the agricultural machinery station. The commune management committee, however, wasn’t out in the open—you had to turn onto a side road in the middle of the street, hidden behind the credit union.
After walking the street from south to north and taking in the look of the commune, Ning An went into the Xinhua Bookstore and bought a few picture books. Comic books cost ten cents apiece these days—surely not profitable.
The bookstore also had freshly printed copies of One Hundred Thousand Whys, published just on October 1st. Xiao Juza told her that someone on the system forum had posted about this book series, saying its content was extremely hardcore. It even pulled up the contents to show Ning An—it was indeed very practical. Given the historical backdrop, the editors had clearly wanted to teach ordinary people as much as possible about how to cope with war and nuclear strikes.
But obviously, if war actually broke out, these books would be of very limited use. The print run was too small, too few people had seen them, and their reach was too narrow.
In 1970, two other hardcore books had also been published: the Militia Military Training Manual and the Barefoot Doctor’s Manual, both extremely practical. They were also on display at the Xinhua Bookstore.
These books didn’t mean much to Ning An, so she didn’t buy them—just the picture books to pass the time.
After buying the books, Ning An returned to the office. The main work was all done in the morning, so there wasn’t much to do in the afternoon. The original owner had been a conscientious, responsible worker who would spend the afternoons carefully double-checking the accounts, but Ning An couldn’t be bothered with that effort.
She asked Xiao Juza, “What’s going on in the village?”
“A few of the zhiqing didn’t go to work today, just wandered around the village, trading for some things from the craftsmen’s homes—little cabinets, bamboo baskets, stuff like that.”
“How did the village’s young people react?”
“During the midday break, some young people went strolling around near the Zhiqingyuan, wanting to see what differences there were between city folk and country folk. They’re quite curious. Hey, those zhiqing just headed out toward the commune.”
“Maybe they didn’t buy everything they needed in the village and came to the commune to stock up. Or maybe they’re sending letters home to let their families know they’re safe. Never mind them. Is my mom done with her work?”
“Done. She took advantage of the time when everyone was out working and sneakily cleaned out the latrine pit, quietly dumping the manure on an empty patch of ground. It must have been pretty smelly—she had two cotton balls stuffed up her nostrils.”
Ning An burst out laughing.
“My mom must be heartbroken. Normally she’d carry it to the team’s manure yard—one load of manure earns five work points. But she took sick leave today with a fever, so it wasn’t appropriate for her to do that job, and she didn’t want anyone to discover something so smelly, so she had to grit her teeth and throw it away.”
“Let me take a look. Hahaha, An’an, someone found that pile of manure. They left a family member to watch it and went home to get a manure basket, planning to shovel it up and haul it to the manure yard for work points. But someone else passed by and saw it, and that person claimed it was his family’s manure, temporarily piled there, just about to be hauled to the manure yard.”
“That’s fine. Just consider it helping clean up the village.”
“Actually, the village is pretty clean—people pick up everything. There’s not a single thing lying around to spare.”
“Thriftiness is carved into our genes. Of course, it’s also because of poverty. Otherwise, who would bother picking up this stuff?”
When she got home in the afternoon, the courtyard was full of drying laundry—one set of her dad’s clothes, two sets of her mom’s. Madam Zhao Fengxia had taken another bath, and her hair was still wet.
Ning An asked, already knowing the answer, “Mom, the weather’s turned cold—why are you still bathing at home? You should go wash at the bathhouse in town.”
“It’s still all right for now, not too cold yet. Washing at home is passable. I’ll go to the bathhouse in a while.”
Ning An pretended not to know about her sick leave and said, “By the way, you came home early today. From now on, just come back this early—no need to work until dark like everyone else.”
Zhao Fengxia continued making things up: “…While I was working today, I accidentally got covered in dust. I originally thought I’d just wash my hair and be done with it, but there was dust down my collar too, and it was too uncomfortable not to wash, so I came back early. I worked a bit in the afternoon and then came home. But how could I do this every day? People would point fingers at me and call me a lazy woman.”
“Forget them! They’re just jealous. They can’t rest even if they want to—if they rest, they don’t eat.”
Zhao Fengxia swatted her and scolded, “Don’t talk nonsense. Diligence is a virtue, and labor is the most glorious thing. Hurry up and put your bag down and go wash your hands.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Ning An answered and went into her room.
Teasing her a couple of times was enough—any more and her mom would get embarrassed into a rage.
Jiang Xuegong and his wife exchanged a glance in the courtyard and tacitly dropped the subject, acting as if nothing had happened.
This was a dark chapter of their lives—never to be spoken of.
Then the two of them went off to do whatever they needed to do.
That night, after everyone had fallen asleep, Ning An quietly slipped out the door.
Just to be safe, she cast a small sleeping charm on her mom and dad.
Sneaking around stealthily, Ning An posted information notices at the entrance of the Zhiqingyuan, outside the brigade headquarters, on the big tree beside the grain-drying yard, at the warehouse door, and on the big tree along the route to the fields.
“An’an, I’m keeping watch for you. Go ahead and post them without worry.”
“Mm-hmm.”
The thrill and excitement Ning An felt was all an act—in reality, there was nothing thrilling about it at all.
The militia patrol didn’t walk back and forth constantly; right now those fellows were napping inside the brigade headquarters, since it wasn’t patrol time. Even without Xiao Juza helping keep watch, she could sense everything on her own by extending her spiritual sense.
Besides, even if someone spotted her, she could turn invisible immediately. So the premise for seeking thrills and fun was that she could handle anything that came up. Without that confidence, she would definitely have to lie low as much as possible and never get carried away.