Sha Zhu's Rebirth in the Courtyard: Starting with Hitting Someone in the Head

Chapter 78 People's Commune

In April 1958, propaganda about the People's Commune was everywhere. Loudspeakers at the entrance of the alley blared from morning till night, first playing "Socialism is Good," the singing so loud that the sparrows in the old locust tree all flew away. Then, male and female voices took turns reading documents, from the superiority of the People's Commune to the benefits of the collective canteen, and then to the liberation of women's labor force.

The walls were covered with new slogans: "The People's Commune is Good!" and "Go all out and strive to build socialism in a faster, better, and more economical way!"

The neighborhood committee staff distributed leaflets door-to-door and organized study sessions. The women in the courtyard were called to the front yard, where each woman carried a small stool and lined up in two rows.

Wang Xia stood in front of the small blackboard and said, "The people's commune is a bridge that connects collective ownership with ownership by the whole people. The people's commune can combine industry, agriculture, commerce, education, and the military, making it easier to lead."

Jia Zhangshi sat in the front row, her hands on her knees, listening with more gusto than anyone else. She nodded as Wang Xia read a sentence, and when she heard "the commune canteen provides meals for free," she turned to Wang Caifeng next to her and gloated.

"Did you hear that? The commune canteen provides meals, it's free! If my family's hometown had a canteen, we could eat as much as we wanted, eat our fill!"

Wang Caifeng didn't even lift her eyelids. Jia Zhangshi nudged Yang Ruihua with her elbow again, "Don't you think that makes sense? Once the commune is established, the farmers' lives will be better. When my brother brings grain again for the New Year, I'll exchange cornmeal for meat coupons with you. My family's corn loves to eat meat, so we need to supplement our diet."

Yang Ruihua, who was pasting matchboxes in his hand, completely ignored the whole thing.

He Yuzhu leaned against the doorway and listened to the whole thing from beginning to end. He only came to his senses when the cigarette butt burned his fingers.

The loudspeaker was still blaring praises for the People's Commune; he knew what the People's Commune meant.

The policy is good, but the people below it are incompetent at managing it.

In a few months, all the grain in the countryside will belong to the collective; private plots will be gone, and surplus grain will be gone.

The commune members ate to their hearts' content, and no one wanted to suffer a loss. Steamed buns, rice, cornbread, and vegetable porridge were plentiful. In the early days, there were vegetables at every meal, and meat every few days. The commune slaughtered pigs and sheep.

He still remembered that in his past life, when he went to the countryside to host a wedding banquet, a commune secretary got drunk and boasted to him that on the first day their canteen opened, they slaughtered three pigs, fried two large iron basins full of meatballs, and steamed more than a dozen steamers of buns.

Villagers from other villages would come in to eat after they finished eating, and even steelworkers would be fed. Uneaten steamed buns would be left on the table, and once they cooled down, no one would want them and they would be poured directly into the swill bucket.

In some places, they served four or five meals a day, and even those working overtime at night were provided with food. There was so much leftover food that they couldn't even feed the pigs. For those two months, everyone ate until their mouths were greasy, and they felt that communism was just around the corner.

But not long after, the granary was empty.

Jia Zhangshi still dreams of her family sending grain. Her brothers in the Jia family are definitely the type to eat whatever they want in the village. When her own family can't even get enough to eat, then she'll have her day.

He Yuzhu laughed out loud at the thought. When Wang Xia saw him there, she suddenly stammered and shouted the slogans incorrectly.

She paused for a moment, her face flushing red, and lowered her voice to read it again. Someone chuckled softly from below. Wang Xia's voice tightened even more, and she stammered through the last paragraph before quickly stopping, saying that today's study session was over and everyone should go back and carefully understand the spirit of the document.

The women dispersed in twos and threes, carrying their small stools. Jia Zhangshi was still sitting there, counting on her fingers how much grain she would have this year. After finishing, she stood up, patted her bottom, and shouted at Wang Caifeng's back, "My family will definitely have a bumper harvest."

Wang Caifeng didn't turn around, but carried the stool to the backyard.

Madam Jia didn't care and confidently returned to the west wing.

When Lao Li came home from get off work in the evening, he sat down under the pomegranate tree in the courtyard and poured himself a cup of tea. The supply and marketing cooperative had also organized a study session that afternoon. Director Zhou read out a document saying that the procurement channels would be tightened in the future, and the unified purchase and sales system might move in a more stringent direction.

He Yuzhu stubbed out his cigarette and turned to look at Old Li. "Uncle Li, listen to me. Tomorrow, have Aunt Xinghua buy more grain. Don't take this lightly."

"Okay, I'll have her go buy two bags of cornmeal."

"Not enough." He Yuzhu picked up an enamel mug and gently slammed it on the table. "Buy everything you can—millet, sorghum, soybeans. Coarse grains keep longer, but don't store too much refined grain. Also, pickle some cured meat and salted fish, pickle a lot."

Looking at He Yuzhu's expression, Old Li slowly put down his teacup. "Yuzhu, is something going to happen?"

He Yuzhu couldn't explain what kind of year it would be, so he handed him a cigarette and told him to light it first.

Old Li took a puff and looked at him nervously.

He Yuzhu sat up straight. "Uncle Li, you have a child at home. What if food becomes scarce later? Adults can manage, but what about the child? I can't go into too much detail, just remember what I'm saying. While it's still available on the market, store as much food as you can, don't worry about the money. If you don't have enough money, I have some here. Don't regret it when you want to buy it and find you can't."

Old Li was silent for a moment, then stood up, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. "I'll have Xinghua take care of it tomorrow." He walked to the door, then turned back, a hint of worry on his face. "Zhuzi, you should save some for yourself too."

"I've saved it. Enough to last for several years."

"There's one more thing," He Yuzhu called out to him. "Uncle Li, in the kitchen of the supply and marketing cooperative, don't sell those scrap iron materials, broken spatulas, cracked iron pots, and scrapped coal stoves. Collect them and find a place to store them."

Old Li, leaning against the doorframe, turned around, his face full of confusion. "Scrap metal? What's the use of that stuff?"

He Yuzhu couldn't tell him that in a few months the whole country would need steel, and if he had iron materials, he could deliver without ruining his own business.

He could only speak vaguely. "Every household will have to hand over scrap metal. If you don't save some now, what will you use to pay when the authorities come to collect it? Smash your wok?"

Old Li paused for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Okay, I'll start keeping an eye on it tomorrow."

Old Li is gone, and the courtyard becomes quiet at night.

He Yuzhu lay on the recliner with his eyes closed. The two corpses in the space were still frozen in place, exactly the same as when they were taken in back then.

A slow smile crept onto his lips. Soon, it would be truly useful.

He recalled a scene he had witnessed in his previous life. In the autumn of 1958, newspapers reported daily on wheat yields of several thousand kilograms per mu, and the radio broadcasts were even more enthusiastic than they were now.

But in winter, the collective canteen started to change from dry rice to porridge, from porridge to vegetable porridge, and from three meals a day to two meals a day.

Since the beginning of spring, we haven't been able to guarantee two meals a day. There's no oil in the vegetables, and the porridge is so thin you can see your reflection in it.

In the first half of 1959, the famine officially began.

There's still some time before that day, and he plans to find some time to go to Inner Mongolia to expand his procurement business there.

He asked Director Zhou to approve some cloth, Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor), matches, kerosene, needles, buttons, and small hardware. He remembered that these were all things that were extremely scarce on the grassland. A bottle of liquor could be exchanged for a sheep, and half a jin of kerosene for a lamb.

Of course, there's also white flour; there's plenty in the space.

When He Yuzhu went to the grasslands, he was the most honored guest. He wanted to see the cattle and sheep grazing on the grasslands.