Chen Mianmian grabbed his ear: “Your beloved Captain Xu is already in jail for abusing rightists.”
The two militia men were late to hear the news and were scared: “What about us? We won’t get into trouble, right?”
One said, “And the Red Guards keep beating people. What do we do?”
Chen Mianmian said, “That’s none of your concern; I have my own ways. If you dare hit anyone with a whip again…”
The two militia men responded: “We’re damn useless.”
Chen Mianmian raised her foot: “The weeds in the field are grown like that. Why aren’t you hoeing?”
The two militia men complained: “We’re militia; hoeing is the rightists’ job.”
Chen Mianmian kicked: “Damn your father’s kidneys! Those are old men older than your fathers. If you don’t help, they’ll be exhausted. Aren’t you afraid your father will get punished, get kicked by a donkey when he goes out?”
The corn field was waist-high, dense with wild vegetables, purslane, and foxtail grass.
The two militia men took off like a shot; the old men scattered like birds.
Chen Mianmian put her hands on her hips, needing a break.
Not far away, sitting on the same hoe handle, Lin Yan watched Zhao Lingcheng with worried eyes.
Zhao Lingcheng stared into space, looking like he had been struck by lightning.
After a long silence, Lin Yan said, “Let Zhao Hui retire and come help you raise the child.”
He pointed toward Chen Mianmian: “I’m grateful she’s feeding me, but Lingcheng, we can’t let her educate the next generation. She’s like…like my…”
Zhao Lingcheng interrupted him: “Don’t compare that kind of woman to my wife.”
He had never heard Chen Mianmian curse before because she didn’t dare curse while at the base.
But Lin Yan had been labor reforming here for years and knew best: that woman had been among the male militia with even dirtier mouths and lower quality—four words: wild and uncivilized!
No child was no problem; they had recently divorced.
Now Chen Mianmian was heavily pregnant, about to give birth and become a mother.
Lin Yan had had a wife before—a socialite from the old society—but she later cheated with his superior.
She took two children, whose father was unknown, to the other side.
Lin Yan was about to mention that woman, but Zhao Lingcheng understood and interrupted.
He was angry that Lin Yan compared Chen Mianmian to some old society socialite.
Lin Yan said, “You heard her just now…”
Though Zhao Lingcheng still didn’t know all she’d been through, having lived together he understood better: “If she weren’t coarse and wild, her mother would have sold her off or worse a long time ago.”
Among the militia were many villains like Xu Dagang.
If Chen Mianmian wasn’t tough enough, she’d have been abused already.
Every abandoned water cellar in the Northwest held the remains of a woman who wasn’t wild and fierce enough.
To Lin Yan’s astonishment, Zhao Lingcheng said again: “Cursing is good.”
He grew up overseas and received higher education, yet he thought his wife being coarse and cursing was a good thing?
Lin Yan thought his nephew might be a little abnormal.
As they spoke, a voice called out nearby: “Lingcheng, Lingcheng?”
To keep it brief, Zhao Lingcheng pulled out a notebook: “American firearms are your specialty. Doing research isn’t illegal. Keep working during your breaks. If someday you’re exonerated, you still have a chance to compete with the Americans.”
He knew how to persuade people.
Lin Yan took the notebook with trembling hands: “Okay!”
Elsewhere, Chen Mianmian instructed the Ma brothers: “If anything happens, write me letters or send telegrams. We must have conscience. We can’t let those old men die, because they’re all good friends of your Zhao brother’s grandfather.”
The Ma brothers immediately perked up: “Sister, why didn’t you say this earlier?”
Chen Mianmian said again, “Work hard. After I give birth, I’ll treat you to mutton. If you work well, you’ll have mutton every meal.”
Ma Jiye even joked: “Then we’ll be your brothers, Chen Jinhui?”
Though Chen Jinhui was born poor, he almost always had mutton growing up—a gentleman’s life.
That life was the hard work of Chen Mianmian and Chen Huandi helping him.
Lin Yan didn’t meet with Chen Mianmian or say goodbye.
His association with her being coarse or not didn’t matter; his identity implicated Zhao Lingcheng enough; he didn’t want to implicate anyone else.
The old men’s excitement was in vain because Chen Mianmian never spoke to them.
After her barrage of curses and kicks, the militia actually picked up hoes and went to the fields to weed.
The old men looked at each other, then at Qi Jiali: “Old Qi, what’s going on?”
Qi Jiali’s nephew, the Qi Political Commissar at the military base, used to work in united front affairs and was everyone’s backbone here.
He stared outside for a long time, then suddenly shouted, “Mouse!”
The old men all looked outside; a small, fluffy, arrogant mouse darted past.
Mice were a real delicacy, better than mutton, but young people couldn’t catch them, much less the old men.
Qi Jiali looked at the brick-walled bread storage and said only: “Eat the bread slowly.”
He added, “If the Red Guards come again, you hide, I’ll block for you. And don’t hit Lin Yan anymore. We are Eight Route Army; our discipline forbids mistreating prisoners.”
It was laughable that with death at the door, they still talked about discipline.
On Zhao Lingcheng’s wedding day, he had asked Chen Mianmian where she wanted to go for their honeymoon.
With the wedding holiday, he wanted to travel and see the world.
Chen Mianmian held his clothes and said, “My mother said if I can get my brother a set of clothes like yours, she’ll be the most glorious and respected woman in the whole commune. Comrade Zhao, can you give your clothes to my brother?”
Zhao Lingcheng couldn’t explain her logic and sent her to school to understand social order.
He never understood why she was so loyal to her mother, but today, he kind of got it.
At 1 p.m., Chen Mianmian pointed him toward her maternal home.
The courtyard gate was locked, but she found the key in the wall crack and entered.
She headed straight for the main room, took down calligraphy, postcards from the walls, and grabbed the radio.
She also took the Russian Matryoshka Doll and a bottle of Mao-tai Liquor, all placed on the Eight Immortals Table, and packed them into a woven bag.
Zhao Lingcheng was baffled: “Is that necessary?”
His father’s calligraphy was a rare treasure.
It was good to take it back, but the radio, he didn’t want.
He could buy a new one; used ones were dirty.
But Chen Mianmian had already gone to the west room, Xu Xiaomei’s room, where she was rolling thick woolen felts.
The woolen felts were also bought by Zhao Lingcheng; she brought them back for Xu Xiaomei.
It was pure wool, repeatedly beaten and pressed solid, no longer produced since 1961 for Soviet debt repayment when wool collection was centralized. It had to be taken away.
Chen Mianmian searched in vain for a women’s woolen coat and gave up for now.
Zhao Lingcheng was anxious because Wang Ximei was no pushover.
He didn’t dare say anything or ask.
Chen Mianmian swept through like a soldier invading a village.
He busied himself tying things onto the vehicle.
They didn’t greet each other and rode off on the motorcycle straight to Hongqi Commune.
The commune’s team leader, also surnamed Chen, was napping in the office.
Chen Mianmian quietly grabbed a cup of hot water and took down her Letter of Merit for Living Lei Feng from the wall.
As she reached the door, the snoring Secretary Chen woke up.
Rubbing his eyes, he smiled: “Isn’t this Hongqi Commune’s most outstanding girl, Mianmian?”
Following her out, he added, “Other daughters forget their families after marriage, but you’re different. You care for your family, working for their benefit. When your family shines, we all benefit. But what have you been doing these past six months? Why haven’t you come back?”
Chen Mianmian just nodded, saw Zhao Lingcheng finish tying the goods, elbowed him, got on the bike and said, “Let’s go!”
She was tired and in a hurry, didn’t want to quarrel with Secretary Chen, just wanted to leave.
If a woman was a “supporting her brothers” type, everyone but her husband would be happy.
Because like Hongqi Commune, the Letter of Merit was only awarded once, directly from the Central Committee, embossed in gold.
For the family’s prestige in the commune, Chen Mianmian gave it to the team.