Go back to the prosperous days and become a layman

Chapter 802 801 Even Pigs Won't Eat This
After leaving the production team, Zhang Chengping said to Tang Zhitong, "Thanks to you today, no one dared to take advantage of the situation."

"How could this have anything to do with me?" On the way to the team headquarters, Zhang Chengping explained to Tang Zhitong the situation of commune members requesting sick leave. However, no commune members requested sick leave in person today, but some did ask someone else to request leave. At this moment, the two of them went to the homes of these people to check.

"Judging from your attire, you're clearly a cadre from above. The commune members are afraid of cadres, which is why those few who often feign illness didn't dare to speak." Zhang Chengping smiled, appearing completely unconcerned, as if this was simply how things should be.

Tang Zhitong felt a mix of emotions after hearing this. As the saying goes, one should respect clothes before one's character. No wonder the commune members were looking at him strangely earlier.

Among the four basic necessities of life—clothing, food, housing, and transportation—clothing comes before food. This is partly due to the Chinese people's concern for face, but it also reflects the importance they place on clothing.

The pursuit of beauty and comfort is human instinct, but Tang Zhitong noticed that the members were all dressed in tattered clothes. Patches upon patches were considered decent, and some members were even wearing clothes with missing sleeves and no patches. Through the holes in their clothes, you could even see their dark and rough skin.

The reason for dressing like this may be due to friction during production and labor, which would accelerate the wear and tear of the clothes, but the possibility of being poor cannot be ruled out as well.

The clothes were definitely from before, and perhaps they had fit them before, but now when they were worn, the clothes seemed to have grown a year older, not only covering the members but also leaving room for them.

A gentle breeze blew by, and the clothes seemed to be playing a game with the wind, sometimes clinging to the front of the commune members' chests, sometimes to their backs...

It was truly bitter, but that wasn't the worst part. What made Tang Zhitong frown was Zhang Chengping's remark that "the commune members are afraid of the cadres."

This single sentence reveals a particularly serious problem.

Solving this chronic problem is probably more difficult than submitting a proposal to improve the medical conditions of the members. Tang Zhitong knew he was not up to the task, so he sighed and did not respond. Instead, he took advantage of the time on the road to learn about the medical situation he was concerned about from his cousin.

They walked and talked, but when they entered the house, Tang Zhitong shut up and stood quietly to the side watching Zhang Chengping work.

In Tang Zhitong's view, none of the commune members who asked others for leave were lying; they were genuinely weak and had difficulty even standing up.

One of the women had severe edema; pressing on the back of her hand left a dent, and her already pale skin turned a sickly grayish-white around the dent, taking a long time to spring back and recover its color.

"Auntie, drink less water, the more you drink, the worse it will get." This kind of patient is the quickest to examine. Just press a button, and you don't need to ask anything else. Zhang Chengping didn't even sit down. He just bent over for half a minute, and the examination was over.

The woman, lying in bed, heard it, but acted as if she hadn't heard it; she opened her eyes briefly, then closed them again.

My stomach feels like it's on fire if I don't drink water, but it feels better for half an hour after I drink water.

Before leaving, Tang Zhitong took one last look. Not only were the woman's hands and feet swollen, but her face was also swollen. At first glance, her eyelids and eyelids looked as if she had been crying.

It's actually caused by edema. Who has the energy to cry when things are going through such a difficult time?

She didn't speak, probably because she was too weak from hunger...

"It looks pretty serious to me. Is the team not going to do anything about this?" Tang Zhitong asked as they went outside.

“We give her an extra half spoonful of vegetable puree at each meal. She's the one with the most severe edema in the team now. Before spring, her edema was even worse, but now, with wild vegetables from the fields mixed with some coarse grain flour, she's much better.” Speaking of this, Zhang Chengping thought of his father's edema, when he felt utterly helpless. If it weren't for his aunt's help, he might not have a father…

In the next few homes, Tang Zhitong met different patients, all of whom, without exception, were suffering from hunger, but as Zhang Chengping had said, their symptoms were much milder than those of the woman he had just met.

What impressed Tang Zhitong the most was a grandmother and her grandson. The grandson whimpered to his grandmother, "Grandma, I'm hungry."

"Go to sleep, you won't be hungry when you're asleep." Grandma couldn't conjure up any food, so she raised her hand and patted her grandson to brush the matter off.

……

The two brothers went door-to-door to conduct inspections and communicated with each other. Tang Zhitong asked about the proportion of patients, common diseases and treatment expenses, and made records, which can be considered as obtaining first-hand information.

After the inspection, Tang Zhitong had a basic understanding of the situation in the area.

After finishing all this, Zhang Chengping did not go home to rest, but chose to work in the fields instead.

Tang Zhitong didn't leave; he went with Zhang Chengping.

At the edge of the field, Tang Zhitong saw militiamen patrolling with guns on their backs.

It was only then that Tang Zhitong realized that these militiamen, besides guarding the crops in the fields from being stolen by outsiders, probably also wanted to prevent their own people from stealing them.

The commune's decision to have Zhang Chengping conduct door-to-door inspections was probably partly motivated by a desire to promptly identify deceased individuals and prevent their families from fraudulently claiming communal meals.
Looking at the commune members working on the field, their clothes were tattered, their faces were tanned dark, and their foreheads had wrinkles that did not belong to their age. Just by standing there, you could tell that they were farmers who faced the loess soil with their backs to the sky.

Fortunately, the members in front of me were in good health. Although they didn't speak or move quickly, they kept working.

Looking at the commune members who were constantly leveling the ground and preparing for the wheat harvest, Tang Zhitong was filled with emotion.

What a hardworking group of people they are!
Whether it was a commune or a contracted farm, the vast majority of them paid their grain taxes on time. In addition, there were three levies and five unified taxes.

It can be said that they supported the workers with urban household registration, and it can also be said that they were the cornerstone of the country's industrialization.

But there are a few individuals who say that grain grows on its own while farmers are sleeping, and that farmers make no contribution.

Bah! All that knowledge has gone to waste! I wonder whose swallow didn't hold its shell tightly enough and produced this pile of shit!

No wonder He said the line was wrong; the more knowledge one has, the more reactionary one becomes!
Since it wasn't the busy farming season, the production team's bell rang before sunset.

It sounded less like a bell and more like the clanging of metal plates.

Due to iron smelting last year, most of the ironware in the farmers' homes has been used up. Currently, the Zhang family uses earthenware pots to boil water and cook rice.

This year, the higher authorities called for continued steelmaking, but fewer people listened. Firstly, they lacked the strength, and secondly, there was simply no more ironware to continue smelting.

We still need the remaining shovels, hoes, and other tools for farming!
After a loud noise, the commune members picked up their tools and walked towards the team headquarters in twos and threes.

There was no laughter along the way. Even the sounds of conversation were from families discussing who would bring the tools back to the team headquarters that day, and who would go home to get household items to get food from the canteen...

Before arriving, Tang Zhitong was prepared to eat and live with the commune members.

Upon arriving at the team headquarters, Tang Zhitong's first action was to hand over three ounces of grain coupons to the team leader and explain his request to share meals with the team.

"How can I let you eat this? I'll make you a separate meal!" The production team leader looked at the grain coupons in his hand and shook his head firmly. "No need to trouble yourself, I'll eat whatever the villagers eat." This was Tang Zhitong's first time going down to the grassroots level of the countryside, and unwilling to be treated specially, he stopped the team leader who was about to go to the granary to get grain.

"This...you can't swallow this?" The production team leader was unsure of Tang Zhitong's intentions and was somewhat embarrassed. Tang Zhitong was nominally a person from the city, and he was afraid that he would go back and cause trouble for the production team.

“If the villagers can swallow this, I can swallow this too. It’s settled then.” Without further ado, Tang Zhitong took out his lunchbox and joined the villagers in queuing.

Zhang Chengping was anxious but dared not show it.

My cousin has brought me food time and time again and even found me this cushy job. How can I let him eat this kind of communal food?
However, only family members knew that they had enough grain at home, and they would secretly eat it under the guise of boiling water, never daring to let outsiders know.

After hesitating for a long time, Zhang Chengping sighed and decided to let his cousin get the food. He told him not to let his cousin eat it when he got home, but to cook him a bowl of porridge instead.

After getting their food, people carried basins or buckets home. Tang Zhitong couldn't see what was inside, but he could tell that there was a considerable amount.

When it was almost Tang Zhitong's turn, he looked at the big pot through several other team members and finally understood what the production team leader meant by "can't swallow it".

The pot contained a dark green color, and while it was clear that there were wild vegetables inside, it was impossible to identify what kind of vegetables they were.

Since the production team had limited space, the members would take their own share home for secondary distribution and consumption.

Each person received three large spoonfuls, with children receiving half the amount. When it was Tang Zhitong's turn, he discovered that his lunchbox couldn't hold that much at all.

"Put it in here." Zhang Chengping stood behind Tang Zhitong. He was in charge of serving meals today. He handed over the wooden bucket he had prepared. His cousin had used food coupons, and although the communal food wasn't great, it couldn't be wasted.

Tang Zhitong looked at the mushy food in his lunchbox and tried hard to figure out what was in it.

"Stop looking, it's just mixed grain flour with wild vegetables." Zhang Chengping said to Tang Zhitong, who was still in a daze, as he stepped out of the line carrying a wooden bucket half-filled with vegetable paste.

"After cutting and boiling it, I really couldn't tell what kind of wild vegetables it was." This was the first time Tang Zhitong had seen such food, and he couldn't tell the ingredients at all.

"Grass wormwood, shepherd's purse, dandelion, ginseng sprouts, plantain... dig up whatever you find in the fields and eat whatever you find." Zhang Chengping rattled off a string of wild vegetables and grasses to Tang Zhitong as if reciting a tongue twister.

"They really have all sorts of wild vegetables." Tang Zhitong forced a smile. This kind of mixed dish, even pigs probably wouldn't eat it after a few decades.

Tang Zhitong felt he had been a bit rash. It was good to carry forward the style, but it was not so easy to go to the grassroots level and live and eat with them.

Although she hadn't eaten yet, Tang Zhitong's stomach had already given her a clear signal that it was strongly resistant to these wild vegetables.

"We eat thin porridge when things are slow, and dry food when things are busy. There's nothing we can do about it, it's the off-season for farming now. Things will get better soon. The commune has started collecting grain, and it will be distributed to the production teams in a few days. When the wheat harvest comes, we'll arrange dry meals for everyone." Zhang Chengping was optimistic. He knew that not only would he have dry meals, but the other commune members would too. As for the few patients with edema, after three to five meals of dry food, the swelling would gradually subside, and he would feel a little better.

When the two brothers returned to the Zhang family home, Zhang Yongxiang had already prepared corn porridge for Tang Zhitong, and the taste was much more tempting than the rice cooked in the large pot in the wooden bucket.

"There's nothing good to eat at home, so I can't properly entertain you. Have a bowl of porridge." Zhang Yongxiang asked Tang Zhitong to pour the rice from the large pot in the lunchbox into the wooden bucket so he could serve him some cooked corn porridge.

"Uncle, there's really no need for that. If you can eat, I can eat too." Tang Zhitong pulled his hand holding the lunchbox back, not letting Zhang Yongxiang do that. It wouldn't be easy for him to go to the grassroots level next time. If he didn't experience it firsthand, wouldn't it be a waste of his trip?

“Why can’t you understand me, kid? This communal food isn’t good.” Zhang Yongxiang was getting anxious seeing his nephew insist. He knew his younger sister’s family’s standard of living; if they were used to that kind of food, eating this kind of food would be torture.

“Anzi, just listen to my dad. This communal cooking is really not good,” Zhang Chengping advised from the side.

"It's alright, I should at least try it since I've come all this way." Tang Zhitong smiled and declined again, but seeing the cornmeal porridge that had already been cooked, he simply picked it up and poured it directly into the wooden bucket. After stirring it, he said, "Uncle, don't refuse anymore, let's eat together."

Tang Zhitong did this intentionally. In addition to extinguishing Zhang Yongxiang and his son's hopes, it also pleased her aunt. She didn't say a word of advice from the side and just stared at the corn porridge the whole time.

In the vast northern regions, there is a saying: "A nephew is like a dog; he eats his fill and then leaves."

It wasn't exactly malicious, but it does reflect, to some extent, how the aunt views her nephew.

Zhang Chengping's wife brought out bowls, chopsticks, and a large spoon, and served the food out in small portions, thus beginning a very down-to-earth dinner.

Tang Zhitong took a bite, and a strange taste shot straight to his head. The bitterness of the wild vegetables was very obvious, and the stinging sensation in his throat was secondary. The main problem was that it was mixed with staple food, which had a musty smell.

Tang Zhitong could taste the flavor of sweet potato flour, sorghum flour, wheat bran, and a small amount of rice husks.

The various flavors mixed together made it even harder to swallow than the cornbread made from coarse grains by local post office workers in Wuhan.

The only advantage is that it contains a lot of salt, which can stimulate saliva production and make it easier to swallow.

He held it in his mouth and chewed for a while before forcing himself to swallow it, despite the discomfort.

The Zhang family had gotten used to it; although it didn't taste very good, it was very smooth to swallow.

There's no way to not eat; if you don't eat, you can only wait for edema or even death.

"Hey, it's not good, is it? I told you, but you didn't believe me." Zhang Chengping held the bowl, looking at Tang Zhitong's expression with a mocking look that suggested he would suffer if he didn't listen to advice.

"I believe it, of course I believe it. But my grandma says that there's no hardship a person can't endure, only blessings they can't enjoy. If you can eat this kind of communal meal, then the days ahead will be sweet." Tang Zhitong smiled, put the lunchbox to his mouth, and kept shoveling food into his mouth with his chopsticks.

At first glance, it looked like he was enjoying the food, but in reality, Tang Zhitong was using the lunchbox as a cover to throw the large pot of food into his spatial storage.

In Tang Zhitong's opinion, even pigs wouldn't eat this food.

Before Tang Zhitong came here, his family raised pigs every year when he was a child. At the end of the year, they would sell the pigs and that would cover his tuition, oil, and salt expenses.

Back then, my family would plant three or four acres of sweet potatoes every year. In the autumn harvest, we would slice them and dry them in the sun. Before feeding them to the pigs, we would grind and crush them, then mix them with wild vegetables, sweet potato leaves, and sweet potato vines and cook them together.

The food there was so much better than the communal meals we were eating in front of us...

Seeing that Tang Zhitong liked to eat, Zhang Yongxiang gave up the idea of ​​cooking another pot of porridge for his nephew. He just kept urging him to eat, serving him three bowls in a row, and only stopped when Tang Zhitong said that he really couldn't eat anymore.

(End of this chapter)