Chapter Sixty-Seven: Wet and Dry Notes

At that moment, Zhang San began to wonder: What if one day Han Li finally wised up, and his chosen path clashed with Zhang San’s own goals? His family background couldn’t compare, nor could his current strength—so what advantage did he have over Han Li at all?

That night, while chewing on the wolf meat Han Li had hunted, Zhang San kept cursing him inwardly. Even as he lay in bed, his mind was preoccupied with ways to bring Han Li down.

But, piecing together the tidbits he’d recently gathered from the villagers, Zhang San realized Han Li seemed flawless. His family was well-off, which was why he had a house to himself; later, his family sent him a remittance slip and a huge parcel. He was always among the earliest to arrive for work, never slacked off or took leave, and earned more work points than Zhang San himself. After work, he’d head up the mountain to gather firewood and mushrooms, rarely going out once home, and seldom even visited Hao Hongmin’s courtyard.

His days were packed so full that Zhang San couldn’t even find an opening for fault. He racked his brains but came up with nothing; nevertheless, he hardly slept a wink that night.

This morning, seeing Han Li sitting in the shade, Zhang San’s temper flared and he shouted out loud. Han Li glanced at him, then turned away without so much as shifting his seat.

Zhang San’s shout attracted a crowd—after all, any chance to avoid work and watch a spectacle was everyone’s favorite pastime.

Team Three’s leader barked, “What’s the matter? Why are you shouting instead of working?”

Zhang San said, “Han Li’s been sitting in the shade for ages. Isn’t that shirking labor?”

No sooner had he spoken than Aunt Zhang, who worked in Han Li’s group, bristled. She’d had a good partnership with Han Li lately, and they’d quietly covered for each other during slow moments at work. Han Li often came by to trade for vegetables, soybean paste, and eggs. Thanks to his introductions, even Hao Hongmei and the others frequented her house, bringing in some extra income.

Now, someone accusing Comrade Han of slacking implied she herself was complicit; Aunt Zhang immediately confronted Zhang San.

“Comrade Han slacking off? You must be blind. Our group hasn’t stopped all morning—how does taking a drink of water become avoiding work?”

No sooner had she spoken than the other aunts and matrons chimed in, one after another. They were determined to stamp out such disruptive behavior—no one would be allowed to undermine Team Three’s rules. Besides, it was a good chance to defend Han Li, who was not only handsome but kind, often giving their children sweets.

“You can’t just say anything that comes to mind. Which eye of yours saw Comrade Han skiving off?”

“Exactly! If you say he’s slacking, show us your evidence.”

“I’ll tell you—when Comrade Han came for water, he passed right by me. In just a moment, you’re accusing him of avoiding work? You’ve got a nasty little heart, young man.”

“Right, there’s a limit to nonsense. Whose group are you in, anyway?”

“He’s with Liang Wu’s family.”

“No wonder. That one considers it a good day if she doesn’t slack off herself. What good example could she set?”

“Where is she now?”

“Haven’t seen her—probably sneaking off somewhere again.”

“Comrade Han may be a city boy, but his work points are never low. Before you call someone lazy, check your own score first.”

“Yes, Team Leader, why don’t we check both their workloads this morning? Then it’ll be clear.”

“We won’t stand for someone being falsely accused. Since when has Team Three tolerated this sort of thing?”

“Exactly—whoever acts like this is just working against their own people. Our team doesn’t need that.”

Zhang San stood dumbfounded, unable to get a word in edgewise. He wondered what kind of spell Han Li had cast over these old women to make them defend him so ferociously.

Team Leader Three looked at Han Li, still sitting in place, and the noisy group surrounding him, and felt a headache coming on.

“Comrade Han, we’re going to check the work you two did this morning. Let’s settle this with facts. If Zhang San’s making things up, I’ll report to the brigade leader and have him haul manure for compost. If not, then I’ll dock your work points.”

Zhang San blanched at the mention of checking their work. He knew exactly how much he’d done that morning. If Han Li fell short, he’d just lose work points; if Zhang San did, he’d be sent to haul manure for compost.

In the countryside, that was the filthiest, most exhausting job—much worse than just cleaning out a pigsty or stable. It meant collecting from the Youth Compound and villagers’ homes; but villagers would never let outsiders take their manure. Each household had to submit a quota to the collective, earning work points in exchange, and any surplus was kept for their own private plots. If they didn’t have enough, they’d quietly buy manure from neighboring villages. No one would sell to city youth, though, for fear of being reported.

So, when villagers got this punishment, they could at least buy some manure from elsewhere. For the city youth, it meant roaming around searching for excrement. But in those days, manure—whether farmyard or human—was a rare commodity. Many livestock had cloth bags tied behind them—not for hygiene, but to collect every possible bit of manure, sparing no effort or material.

To collect from the commune or county, you needed special manure tickets, of various types: urine tickets, dung tickets, semi-dry tickets, each with set quotas. Even if you managed to get the tickets through connections, you’d still have to wheel it back in a handcart, load by load.

These handcarts went by many names—locust cart, country cart, flood cart, one-wheel ox, and so on. They were ubiquitous but notoriously hard to handle, especially when loaded with two huge baskets or barrels of manure. Without strength and skill, you’d end up covered in filth, and if you tipped the cart, you’d have nowhere to cry.

With all these hurdles, just ask yourself, young city youth—do you still want to do this?

“Team Leader, this isn’t fair! Why does Han Li just lose work points while I have to haul manure for compost?”

“Why? Because if you’ve lost, you’re guilty of slander. Our Team Three can’t afford that kind of disgrace.”

The whole of Team Three went to check the two men’s output that morning, and Zhang San was left fuming with resentment. Han Li, meanwhile, stood on the sidelines, fielding the concerned questions of Hao Hongmei and the others. Without saying a word against Zhang San, he’d already won.

Zhang San was promptly led away to find the brigade leader—who knew how many baskets of manure he’d be assigned to haul.

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