Chapter 16: Accepting Misfortune

"Wait, wait, comrade, don’t be hasty. I never said I wouldn’t take it."
The man hurriedly grabbed hold of Chen Daliu.
He wasn’t joking—there hadn’t been any meat in the supply and marketing cooperative for three or four months, and even at their own mining camp, meat was a matter of luck. Normally, he wouldn’t bother, but his wife had just given birth to a big, healthy boy. He had to get some meat to help her recover; otherwise, she wouldn’t have enough milk.
After three daughters in a row, he finally had a son—he couldn’t let the boy go hungry.
"Is it really rabbit meat?" The man still found it hard to believe.
Times were so tough. Ever since Brother Su had withdrawn the experts, not only that, but now there were debts to repay. The whole country was tightening its belt to pay them off. With fewer supplies, the supply cooperatives might as well have been closed for all they had on the shelves.
(Did I just say something I shouldn’t have again? Ahem, I’ll have to be more careful—these taboos in stories set in this era always trip me up.)
"It is," Chen Daliu replied.
"Where’d you get it?"
Chen Daliu shot him a glare. "You live by the mountains? Why are you so nosy? Take it or leave it."
With that, Chen Daliu turned to go, this time dodging the man’s hand as he tried to stop him.
Seeing Chen Daliu getting annoyed, the man quickly waved his hands in surrender. "No, no, comrade, don’t be angry. I’m just bad with words, I won’t ask anymore. I’ll buy, I’ll buy. But, can’t I at least see what it looks like?"
That was no problem. Chen Daliu glanced around, led the man over to the ox cart, but instead of lifting the lid on the bamboo basket, he pulled open his own jacket to reveal a wild hare nestled inside.
Now the man understood why Chen Daliu had kept one hand pressed to his stomach—he’d been holding the rabbit in place.
"It’s still alive! Wonderful." The man’s eyes lit up at the sight of the fat hare. This rabbit must weigh over five pounds!
Chen Daliu said nothing, letting the man have a good look before wrapping the animal up again.
Reluctant to look away, the man suppressed his excitement, cleared his throat, and asked, "So, comrade, how much for the rabbit?"

"One yuan and twenty cents a pound, and a pound’s worth of grain coupons. If you don’t have grain or cloth coupons, that’s fine too."
"That expensive?" The man’s tongue clicked in disbelief.
"Mid-grade pork is only seventy cents a pound."
"Comrade, I really want to buy it—can’t you give me a better price?"
Chen Daliu gazed at the man, saying nothing. Inwardly, he thought, Do you take me for a fool? He’d already checked the going rates—city folk needed a meat coupon to buy meat, and the prices were graded. Top-quality pork with a thick fat layer went for ninety cents a pound. His great-aunt’s wild hare was at least as good as first-grade pork—why shouldn’t it fetch that price?
Besides, in these days, money alone didn’t guarantee meat. He’d already set a fair price, yet the man still tried to bargain—typical.
Under Chen Daliu’s silent stare, the man grew uncomfortable, grumbling inwardly. Weren’t country folk supposed to be honest and straightforward? Why was this so difficult?
No matter how the man cajoled or pressed, Chen Daliu remained unmoved, even growing impatient and ready to find another buyer. Left with no choice, the man paid the full price.
"I bought two rabbits, comrade, and you wouldn’t even cut me a deal!" Not a cent discounted—how stingy.
Chen Daliu pretended not to hear his muttering. He counted the money and coupons, then wrapped the rabbits up in a few vines for the man to carry away.
Indeed, the man had bought two, a total of eleven pounds and three ounces. He tried to get Chen Daliu to knock off the cost of the extra three ounces, but Chen Daliu wouldn’t budge.
What a joke—his great-aunt was waiting for money to buy food! Why should he knock anything off? Whether it was two rabbits or a hundred, not a single ounce would be discounted. Three ounces was no small matter.
So, in half an hour, Chen Daliu managed to sell the remaining four wild hares as well.
He counted again to be sure: sixty-nine yuan in cash, and twenty-eight pounds’ worth of grain coupons. Only a few cloth coupons, but those were scarce—no one carried them these days.
Originally, it should have been thirty-nine yuan and thirty-three pounds in grain coupons, but a couple of buyers didn’t have enough coupons and were willing to pay two extra yuan per pound. Chen Daliu did the math—four yuan twenty cents a pound wasn’t a loss at all.
Seeing that it was getting late, Chen Daliu packed up the bamboo basket and headed home with his ox cart.

Hurrying all the way, he made it to the grain station just before closing time—only to be dumbfounded when he asked for his purchase. He had grain coupons but no grain booklet. Urban residents who ate market grain all had grain booklets and supplementary food booklets. Right now, grain was strictly rationed, sold by headcount—no surplus at all. Coupons alone weren’t enough.
The grain station staff, eager to close up, saw Chen Daliu standing at the counter but unable to produce a grain booklet, and impatiently chased him off. "What grain are you trying to buy without a grain booklet? And you want the fine rice, too? Must be from the countryside."
"What a bumpkin—you might as well ask for dragon liver and phoenix marrow!" muttered the clerk, rolling her eyes at him. She’d already told him they were closing and not to come in, but he’d insisted, wasting her time.
Chen Daliu was already annoyed at not having asked the right questions—how would he explain this to his great-aunt? Suddenly, hearing the insult, he put his hands on his hips and shouted, furious:
"Yes, I’m from the countryside! So what? What’s wrong with that? The rice and vegetables you eat—weren’t they all grown by us country folk? You call us worker-peasant brothers, yet look down on us! If you’re so capable, stop eating, then... I’m telling you, if you don’t apologize to me today, I’ll go to your manager! What kind of attitude is this? Discriminating against peasants—this is undermining class unity!"
The saleswoman hadn’t expected her grumbling to provoke such an outburst from Chen Daliu. He was nothing like the usual country bumpkins who were easy to push around. Stunned, she hesitated.
Chen Daliu kept shouting, and with people still on the street, a crowd began to gather to watch the commotion. Alarmed, the saleswoman hurried to placate him and brought her supervisor over to handle the situation.
More than ten minutes later, when Chen Daliu left, he carried a small cloth sack containing five pounds of rice.
This was rice that had just come in and wasn’t supposed to be sold until the next day.
Rice was considered a fine grain, and unless they had a special job allowance, urban residents got just two pounds of it a month if they were unemployed, four to five if they had a job.
Chen Daliu had just taken the entire monthly fine grain quota for one person in one go.
That quota had belonged to the saleswoman herself—she was heartbroken but had no choice. Chen Daliu wouldn’t let the matter drop, and if things weren’t settled, losing her job would have been the least of her worries. She could only accept her misfortune.