The official notice of personnel changes was posted. Yang Xianyong, an engineer from the road construction team, had been promoted to the new Head of the Infrastructure Department at Xiufeng Mountain Farm.
Huang Xingwu, on the other hand, was dismissed and reassigned to a remote office elsewhere.
“The Weasel’s finally fallen from his perch!”
“He strutted around, acting so high and mighty in front of us. He deserves to get fired!”
“The Weasel and Director Luo must have been in cahoots! The Infrastructure Department is a goldmine for embezzlement. I bet that thick stack of receipts in his pocket was the proof. Did you see Director Luo’s face? He looked furious!”
“Who cares? As long as the Weasel is gone, it’s a cause for celebration.”
“Yeah, we won! Nanfeng won!”
The excitement grew, and people began jumping and cheering. The girls held hands and danced in a circle around Tao Nanfeng, nearly lifting her off her feet, wanting to tell the whole world:
Tao Nanfeng knew how to build houses.
She had led them in constructing a brick-and-tile building!
Tao Nanfeng had successfully driven away the loathsome weasel.
Nanfeng pressed her lips together, a faint smile playing on her face. This was the first time she had ever turned architectural blueprints into a real structure. She had been uncertain at first, but everyone’s help had made it possible.
The sun dipped toward the horizon, signaling that dinner was soon to be served.
Because Tao Nanfeng was the greatest contributor to their success, the girls’ status in the group soared.
Wei Min let the four women rest while he led the men into the kitchen. Rolling up their sleeves, they eagerly set about lighting the fire and cooking, determined to prepare a feast.
A new home always needed a warm-up meal.
The women enjoyed the leisure. Li Huilan misted the leaves of the Spring Orchid on the windowsill, then glanced at the small window.
“Should we make some pretty curtains?” she suggested.
Xiao Aiyun, who had been writing a letter at the table, perked up. She set down her pen and turned to the window. “Oh, yes! Let’s get some fabric. I can make them.”
Ye Qin looked up from the bed where she was folding clothes. “I have two chi of fabric coupons.”
Li Huilan smiled. “I have two chi as well. Four chi of floral print should be enough. Xiao Aiyun will make them, and Tao Nanfeng will… supervise.”
They were all reluctant to let Tao Nanfeng spend any money or effort, a gesture that warmed her heart. In this world, there were those who took advantage of others, but there were also those who returned a favor with a gift.
Tao Nanfeng nodded. “Alright. I’ll go find some wooden boards and make nameplates for each of the dorms.”
With that, she stepped out of the dormitory, heading for the bamboo grove to the east. She planned to cut a thick piece of bamboo; its smooth, deep-grained surface would be perfect for ink, and the finished signs would look elegant hanging on the doors.
The setting sun cast long shadows as a gentle breeze rustled through the bamboo grove, filling the air with a soft shh-shh-shh.
Hidden by the dense bamboo, Tao Nanfeng raised her cleaver to strike, but paused mid-swing. She tilted her head, listening intently.
Two figures were walking slowly up the path outside the grove, their voices growing clearer.
Yang Xianyong’s voice was low, lacking confidence. “Xiang Bei, I don’t want to be the Head of the Infrastructure Department. I’m caught between Farm Director Jiao and Director Luo pressing down from above, and the old workers slacking off below. I’m too old for this. I just want some peace and quiet. I can’t afford to make enemies… You should take the job.”
After a long silence, Xiang Bei sighed. “Old Yang, don’t you know me? After leaving the front, all I wanted was to return home and help our people. Mount Xiufeng is so poor. We need to get the roads built and develop the farm—that’s the only way for the villagers to find a future. As for these political headaches, I have no desire to get involved.”
“Then why did you step in just now? You say you don’t want to be an official, that you just want a quiet life, but then you slam your hand on the Director’s desk and flash your war hero medal. Xiang Bei, you have to admit—you’re not content with an ordinary life.”
“I saw those twenty educated youth from Jiangcheng,” Xiang Bei replied, his voice softening.
“They’re so young, their eyes so full of innocence. They reminded me exactly of the soldiers I used to lead. My heart just gave way, and I wanted to help them.”
“Help? How can you help without power?” Yang Xianyong’s voice was earnest. “You know exactly what those officials at the farm headquarters are like.”
Xiang Bei remained silent, lost in thought.
Tao Nanfeng stood motionless behind a dense screen of bamboo, her figure completely concealed. Neither man noticed her presence.
“Xiang Bei, you’ve always had courage and vision,” Old Yang continued, his tone heavy with sincerity. “Why keep hiding it? Sometimes, we strive to rise higher not for our own gain, but to protect others.”
“Sigh… Old Yang, let me think about it.”
The sound of their footsteps faded into the distance. Only after confirming they were gone did Tao Nanfeng bring her blade down, cutting a bamboo stalk as she emerged from the grove.
She watched the direction they had taken, her gaze lingering. The farm headquarters had tacitly accepted the wager—Huang Xingwu was relieved of his duties, and Yang Xianyong was to become the section chief.
It had all been Xiang Bei quietly pulling the strings from the shadows.
Her eyes fell upon a few blades of grass trampled into the dirt path, yet they still grew stubbornly upright.
By the time she returned to the Zhiqing Settlement, dinner was steaming hot and ready.
A large wooden tub, bought from a local villager, now sat in the kitchen. The rice it steamed was plump and fragrant, infused with the clean scent of pine wood. It was a sight to make anyone’s mouth water.
Braised pork, sliced potatoes, and stir-fried sweet potato leaves—three dishes, a balanced mix of meat and vegetables.
The rich aroma of pork filled the air, stirring the long-dormant appetites of the educated youth, who hadn’t eaten meat in over a month. They immediately picked up their chopsticks and dove in.
“Delicious! This braised pork is amazing!”
“Four pieces each! No fighting!”
“Wei Min, you know how to eat and how to cook. You’re a real gem. Why don’t you take over the kitchen duties from now on?”
Four school desks had been pushed together to form a long table under the eaves of the corridor. The youth stood beside it, bowls in hand, their conversation a lively buzz.
As they reluctantly finished the last of the pork, they mixed the remaining gravy into their rice, sighing in unison.
“Ah, if only we could eat meat every day.”
“I know. The farm provides plenty of rice and vegetables, but no meat. It’s just not enough.”
“Back home, we at least had something meaty once a week. I’ve been here for nearly two months and have only eaten meat twice.”
Life in the 1970s was harsh. Meat, oil, and cloth were all rationed by coupons. Xiufeng Mountain Farm was isolated, accessible only by a single, rugged mountain path. Even if they had coupons, there was nowhere to use them.
For young people in their growing years, the lack of protein was a constant source of frustration.
As they spoke, a figure emerged from the dusk on the dirt path beside the Zhiqing Settlement.
The man was in his forties, gaunt and lean, wearing a loose, dark-colored coarse cloth tunic and straw sandals caked in mud. A half-man-high wicker basket was slung across his back, weighing him down so heavily that he leaned forward with every step, his gait labored and heavy.
As the aroma of meat wafted from the Zhiqing Settlement, a look of longing crossed his face. He stopped, hesitating as he glanced toward them.
Wei Min, always the helpful one, called out, “Hey, neighbor! What’s the matter?”
Only then did the man muster the courage to approach. As he drew closer, the educated youth saw that his basket was half-full of Camellia Oleifera seeds.
The shells were glossy but slightly cracked, their quality far from ideal.
The youth had been exploring the mountains lately and had learned from the locals that these were the seeds used to produce camellia oil. They said the oil was a clear, golden yellow with a delicate fragrance, didn’t smoke when used for cooking, and was perfect for frying tofu or pancakes.
Qiao Yadong asked politely, “Neighbor, were you out gathering camellia seeds?”
The man shrank back slightly, a self-conscious smile on his face. His accent was thick. “I’m from the North Slope Brigade. I took a whole basket of seeds down to Quping Town to sell.”
“Sell them?” the youth asked, curious. “How come you still have so many left?”
The man sighed, his dark, weathered face creasing as he squinted. “The oil mill in town is particular. They said my seeds weren’t dry enough and only took half the basket.”
Xiao Aiyun chimed in, “Why not dry them properly before trying to sell?”
The man lowered his head in shame.
After a long silence, he murmured, “We’re poor. The few acres of moonlight field we farm only provide enough to keep us fed. We rely on these camellia seeds to trade for salt and sewing supplies. Today is my daughter Manmei’s twelfth birthday, and I wanted to buy her some fabric for a schoolbag… I sold the seeds I’d dried a few days ago, but these I just picked yesterday. I was too impatient.”
In their village, there was a saying: At twelve, you lift the pot lid. It meant a child had reached the age where they could help run the household. Even if a family skipped the traditional celebrations for a baby’s first month or first year, they would always mark a twelfth birthday.
The man felt a crushing guilt that his youngest daughter, now twelve, didn’t even have a proper schoolbag. He hung his head, his sparse gray hair whipped into a mess by the mountain wind.
The educated youth fell silent, their eyes fixed on his bare feet in straw sandals, his sun-scorched skin, and his rough, cracked hands.
Suddenly, the man looked up, his voice tentative. “Could I… could I have a bowl of water? I’ve been walking since dawn, and I’m so hungry my vision is blurring.”
Li Huilan’s voice was thick with sympathy. “There’s rice in the bucket. Please, sit and eat before you go.”
The man waved his hands in a panicked refusal. “No, no, I’ve brought food. I just need a bowl of water.”
He pulled a hard, brown lump of cake from his jacket and added, “I really do have food. It’s just that this cake is too hard. I was afraid I’d choke on it without water.”
Ye Qin stared at the cake in his hand. It looked as hard as a shoe sole, completely inedible.
She swallowed hard and asked softly, “What’s that made of?”
“Corn and rice bran,” he replied gently. “A bit hard, but it makes for good traveling food.”
At the mention of “rice bran,” Tao Nanfeng felt a sharp ache in her chest.
She turned her head away, unable to keep looking. The local farmers suffered such hardships, yet they were so simple, so honest, without a single word of complaint.
Wei Min brought a bowl of spring water to the man. The man thanked him repeatedly, then gulped it down in several long swallows. He broke off pieces of the hard cake and forced them down one by one.
The educated youth exchanged glances, their eyes drifting to the three large bowls of food on the table. A wave of collective guilt washed over them for complaining about the lack of meat moments ago.
Wei Min served a bowl of rice soaked in meat broth, then scooped up some sliced potatoes and sweet potato leaves, pressing the bowl firmly into the man’s hands.
The man frantically declined. “No, no, really. Just a bowl of water is fine. I’m not hungry. You’re intellectuals from the big city, here in our poor backwater… We can’t even offer you a proper meal, we’re already ashamed. How could we ever eat your rations? The rest of the village would kill me.”
No matter how much they urged him, the man refused the bowl.
Finally, he leaned down, placed the bowl of meat-broth rice on the porch floor, hoisted his woven basket onto his back, and hurried away.
“Wait!”
Ye Qin suddenly had an idea. She reached up and tore the red ribbon from her hair.
“Take mine too!” Tao Nanfeng understood instantly. She untied the pink ribbon from her braid and handed it over.
Ye Qin sprinted after the man and pressed the ribbons into his hands, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Sir, please. It’s your daughter’s twelfth birthday. Give her these so she isn’t disappointed.”
The man froze, stunned into silence.
Ye Qin’s lips trembled. She was the child of Agriculture Bureau officials, raised in luxury. She had never heard of anyone walking six or seven hours through the mountains just to sell camellia seeds for a small piece of cloth to make a schoolbag.
Suddenly, the man collapsed to his knees. Thump.
The educated youth rushed over, pulling and tugging at him to get him back on his feet.
“Sir, please, you can’t do this!”
“Men don’t kneel, not in the New China!” the educated youth cried. “We are all equal now. Please, stand up!”
“I can’t accept this, I really can’t,” the man stammered, though his eyes were already brimming with tears.
He held the two brightly colored ribbons in his shaking hands. He wanted to refuse, but the memory of his daughter’s hopeful gaze silenced his objections.
He could starve himself. He could carry a hundred pounds of camellia seeds over a day’s journey through the mountains. But he couldn’t bring himself to refuse such beautiful ribbons.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you…”
His knees buckled again, but Wei Min, leveraging his strength, grabbed the man and pulled him back to his feet.
The villagers, unsure of any other way to express their gratitude for such generosity, fell back on the simplest gesture they knew. “Tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll bring Manmei here. She’ll kowtow to you all.”
Tao Nanfeng turned and looked out at the rolling green mountains. Xiang Bei’s words echoed in her mind: The people of Mount Xiufeng are desperate. We must repair the roads first, then develop the farm. Only then will they have a way out.
For the first time in her life, Tao Nanfeng’s heart swelled with a thousand hopes.
Hope that Xiang Bei can lead these people to a better future.
Hope that they will never go hungry again.
Hope that every student will have a new schoolbag.
Hope that every girl will wear a bright red ribbon.
Hope for a meal with meat and fish on every table.