Courtyard House: Drunk and tipsy, the whole courtyard exposed at the start.

Seeing that Director Wang was present, and that Yi Zhonghai and the others were all behaving themselves and acting timidly, she put her hands on her hips and started spitting as she spoke.

"Wait! I'll accept being called the boss, but on conditions!" Jia Zhangshi glared with her triangular eyes, pointing at Yi Zhonghai's nose and yelling, "Yi, don't just talk the talk! If you want to be the boss today, you have to sign a written agreement in front of Director Wang! Every month from now on, you have to rally the entire hospital to donate to our Jia family! Fifty cents per family, not a penny less! If you don't agree, our Jia family will disown you as the boss!"

The entire hospital erupted in uproar—no, how dare you say such a thing? He acts like a big shot, and we have to donate money to your Jia family?

What kind of logic is this?

Is your head filled with shit?

Yi Zhonghai's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and his hands trembled with rage. Had this old hag gone mad? Coming out to sabotage things at a time like this was practically shoving his face into a cesspool.

And listen to what you're saying?

Director Wang is right here, and you dare to force everyone to donate money to you, and even connect this to the election supervisor of my election—and you even want me to sign a written agreement?

What the hell is all this about?

Seeing that no one spoke up, Jia Zhangshi grew even bolder, opening and closing her mouth as she began to make even more outrageous demands: "And another thing! Why is there only a master in this courtyard? That's not fair! I propose that we add a 'female master,' called the 'heading auntie'! I'll be the one! If any daughter-in-law is not virtuous, or if any mother-in-law and daughter-in-law have conflicts, it'll all be under my jurisdiction!"

Even Xu Damao was stunned; he didn't even notice the sunflower seed shell falling from his mouth onto his feet.

Before Yi Zhonghai could react, Director Wang, who was sitting on a small stool, slammed her hand on the table and stood up. She strode over to Jia Zhangshi, her finger almost poking Jia Zhangshi's nasal bone.

"Jia Zhangshi! You've got some nerve, haven't you?!" Director Wang's voice immediately intimidated Jia Zhangshi, making her shrink back. "Forced levies? Forcing neighbors to donate? What kind of behavior is this? This is extortion! This is ruthless exploitation! You want to act like a lord over her? Are you trying to establish a feudal regime here?!"

Director Wang, his chest heaving with anger, shouted sternly, "I'm telling you this now! If you dare to disrupt the order of community self-governance again, if you dare to engage in this kind of unhealthy practice again, I'll issue a letter of introduction tomorrow, contact your hometown brigade, and send you straight back to the countryside to farm! You think you're so great?!"

The words "repatriated to the countryside" struck Jia Zhangshi like a bolt from the blue. Her tantrum vanished in an instant, and she was so frightened that her legs went weak, and she scurried back behind Qin Huairu, not daring to utter another word.

"I won't do it again, I won't do it again—I was just joking to lighten the mood."

Jia Zhangshi was just taking a chance, even if it seemed hopeless. She figured she might as well give it a try; if it worked, all the better.

The farce was swiftly suppressed, and it was just a minor incident. Everyone was already used to Jia Zhangshi's shameless and extortionate behavior.

Voting finally began, and the process was surprisingly quiet.

Among the older generation, there really wasn't a fourth person willing to take on this mess.

Zhang Dabiao kept his word, keeping his hands in his pockets and remaining silent, casting an abstention vote.

In the end, Yi Zhonghai and his two companions barely managed to reclaim the title of "old man" with a slim lead of just over half. Seeing that Zhang Dabiao really didn't jump out to cause trouble, the three old men standing in the cold wind all broke out in a cold sweat.

Liu Haizhong suddenly realized—why am I sweating bullets?

Why would I be nervous?

Without elections, I'm the eldest grandpa; with elections, I'm the second eldest grandpa.

I'll be fine no matter what, so why am I so nervous?

No matter how much trouble Zhang Dabiao causes, he won't undermine me, right? Why am I so nervous?

baffling.

The conference ended, and the crowd dispersed.

Director Wang chatted with a few more families to learn about the recent situation of the residents in the area. Finally, he said goodbye to Zhang Dabiao and returned to the subdistrict office.

A north wind blew down a few snowflakes. Time slipped away quietly amidst the noise and commotion, leading to the most difficult end of 1961.

This three-year-long natural disaster has finally revealed its most ferocious fangs.

Zhang Dabiao tightened his wolf-skin coat and turned to walk towards the east courtyard.

Under the connecting corridor of the central courtyard, Sha Zhu, Yi Zhonghai, Qin Huairu, and others were still whispering about something. Over in the main hall, Xiao Baiyan'er Langbanggeng, holding his younger sister Xiao Dang's hand, stared intently at the three of them.

Zhang Dabiao stopped, exhaled a puff of white air, and grinned.

An old man's restoration, an orphan and a widow, a foolish cook, and a treacherous little devil...

The scheming in this courtyard has only just begun, and right now it's all out in the open, the kind everyone knows about, yet the foolish cook still insists on walking into it...

The best is yet to come.

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At the end of the year, Beijing began issuing "industrial coupons." This was an "upgraded version" of the old rationing system—from then on, everything except for goods requiring certificates and coupons could be purchased with industrial coupons.

For employees, the voucher is distributed according to their salary, with an average of one voucher for every 20 yuan of salary.

The variety of items available for purchase is astounding: towels, blankets, yarn, handkerchiefs, batteries, iron pots, aluminum basins, enamel basins, enamel mugs, cotton gloves, metal thermos flasks, bamboo thermos bottles, sneakers, umbrellas, cotton-soled rubber shoes, sewing needles, sewing thread, leather shoes, alarm clocks, radios, belts, knives and scissors, various bags, chocolate bars, and even cigarettes, tea, and liquor beyond the ration quota…

The most typical scene on the streets of Beijing at that time was queuing. When ordinary people went out, as long as they saw a queue, they would join it without even asking what was being sold. It was common to queue for nothing, and when they were almost there, the goods would be sold out, and they would have to go home disappointed.

Isn't this just stirring up trouble for no reason? Just meddling in other people's business and making a scene!

The common people even made up a jingle:

"Proletarian... hey, number ninety! Number ninety, number ninety, number ninety! Cigarette ration coupons, liquor ration coupons, even broad beans and bean flour require coupons. Half a bar of soap a month, two boxes of matches to burn slowly. Mother keeps track, child copies, don't mix up the ration coupons."

Here, "number ninety" is a homophone for "it's good," conveying the bittersweet humor of that era.

For Zhang Dabiao, the distribution of these industrial vouchers diverted much of everyone's attention from the remittance vouchers in his hand, since he was guaranteed to receive them according to his salary.

He himself didn't care, since the remittance certificates were enough. But the emergence of industrial certificates also proved something else: the shortage of supplies continued, and was even more severe.

------------

There are also a few other important things—

The spirit of the New Overseas Chinese Conference is being disseminated and implemented in the national literary and art circles. At the meeting, Zhou, the head of the Music Performance Department where Mu Wanqing works, said: "The higher-ups have said that we should make everyone feel happy and lively. So when you are creating, be bolder and don't be afraid of making mistakes."

Zhao Weiguo muttered under his breath, "Wouldn't Mu Wanqing and Zhang Dabiao's 'The Story of Minglan' be considered 'sentimentalism'?"

Old Zhou glared at him: "Count your ass! That's art!"

"By the way, Mu Wanqing, there's a song contest in the department recently. Would you and Zhang Dabiao like to compose another piece?"

When Mu Wanqing told Zhang Dabiao what she had said after school, Zhang Dabiao was immediately stunned.

"Again?"

"What's the theme this time?"