Chapter 175: Differences in Concepts
Gu Tingxiao fell asleep holding her in his arms. Having been busy all day, Sheng Wanyan was utterly exhausted and quickly drifted off to sleep as well.
Following the successful dinner party with Gu Tingxiao’s comrades, Wanyan officially settled into the daily routine of a military wife. Her days were spent watering the vegetable garden, cleaning the house, cooking their three meals, and waiting for Tingxiao to come home from duty.
“Wanyan, let’s head to the village to trade for supplies!” Aunt Xie called out, knocking on the courtyard gate early the next morning. Today was the designated day for the military wives to barter with the local villagers. Typically, these supply runs happened once a month, usually during the first few days.
Wanyan stepped out carrying a large woven backpack. Knowing they might bring back a heavy haul, she figured it would be best to ride her bicycle.
“Hop on, Auntie, and point the way,” Wanyan said. She pushed the bike through the gate, swung her long legs effortlessly over the seat, and looked back at the older woman.
“Alright!” Aunt Xie climbed onto the rear rack, grabbing onto Wanyan’s shirt for balance before gesturing toward the dirt road leading out of the compound.
“Wanyan, this area is part of the Bing City Farmers’ Commune,” Aunt Xie explained as they rode. “The village is about five kilometers down this path. There are actually two villages out here: the First Brigade and the Second Brigade. They sit right next to each other. It’s pretty remote and sparsely populated—there are less than three hundred households between the two combined.”
Listening to the brief introduction, Wanyan observed the surroundings. The communes here felt similar to the rural areas she remembered around Chengdu, but the population was much smaller, and the living conditions were visibly harsher.
They headed toward the First Brigade. At this hour, most of the farmers were out working in the communal fields. Naturally, the women couldn’t barter openly; they had to conduct their business discreetly behind closed doors. You could never guarantee that someone wouldn’t report them for capitalist behavior, so they had to be careful, deliberately choosing a time when the fields were busy.
However, at the start of every month, the local households made sure to leave one adult behind specifically to wait for the military wives.
Aunt Xie led her to a modest courtyard and knocked. Soon, a thin, elderly woman opened the wooden gate.
“Auntie, we’re here to trade for some supplies. What do you have available today?” Aunt Xie asked quietly.
The older woman recognized Aunt Xie immediately and ushered them inside. Wanyan followed, wheeling her bicycle into the yard.
“We don’t have much right now. The harvest hasn’t been great,” the villager sighed. “Just some corn, potatoes, and seasonal vegetables. Take whatever you need.”
These coarse grains were the staples the farmers relied on to survive; trading for refined grains was out of the question. If they wanted fine grains like wheat or white rice, they would have to wait until the end of the year. At year’s end, the production brigade distributed grain based on the work points the villagers had accumulated through their hard labor. For a farmer, work points were their very lifeblood. Only those in desperate need of cash or specific goods would ever consider trading away their precious fine grain rations.
“How much corn and potatoes do you have?” Aunt Xie asked. She hadn’t come expecting fine grains anyway; she was here specifically to stock up on coarse staples. They needed to hoard a massive amount of food to survive the brutal northern winter, and no one was wealthy enough to eat refined grains every single day.
“I have about thirty kilos of corn, twenty kilos of potatoes, and a good amount of cucumbers, cabbage, and eggplants,” the villager replied.
“What would you like, Wanyan?” Aunt Xie turned to ask.
Wanyan considered it for a moment before asking for ten kilos of corn, five kilos of potatoes, and a small assortment of the vegetables. Since she had nearly emptied her pantry hosting the housewarming dinner, returning to the compound empty-handed would definitely arouse suspicion.
“Is that all?” Aunt Xie asked, surprised.
“There are only two of us at home, Auntie. If we run short, I can always ride my bike into the city in a couple of days to buy more,” Wanyan replied, giving the older woman a subtle, knowing look. They couldn’t just do all their trading at a single house; spreading their purchases around was much safer.
Aunt Xie caught her meaning immediately, though she didn’t hesitate to buy up the remaining corn and potatoes for herself. With such a large household to feed, the more food she could hoard, the better.
“That’ll be seventy cents for yours,” the elderly woman said, pointing to Wanyan’s pile. Wanyan pulled the coins from her cloth satchel and handed them over. Aunt Xie’s haul was significantly larger, costing her nearly two dollars.
After packing the goods, the two women moved on to visit a few other households. By the end of their route, Wanyan had bartered for a total of twenty kilos of corn, ten kilos of potatoes, and ten kilos of mixed vegetables.
Truthfully, she wasn’t particularly fond of potatoes. She disliked the dry, starchy texture that felt like it got stuck in her throat. Unless they were sliced into french fries, fried into chips, or whipped into creamy mashed potatoes, she generally avoided them.
Aunt Xie, on the other hand, traded for an enormous amount. Since they only made these trips sporadically, she bought whatever looked decent, fully intending to pack her root cellar to the ceiling. With a son, a daughter-in-law, and growing grandchildren under her roof, she had to prepare for every contingency. As long as there was food in the house, there was no reason to panic when winter arrived.
“Wanyan, hand me your bag. I’ll carry it for you,” Aunt Xie offered. Knowing it would be dangerously off-balance for Wanyan to pedal while wearing a heavy pack, Aunt Xie strapped her own massive bag on, took Wanyan’s pack, and settled heavily onto the rear rack of the bicycle.
Wanyan found herself pedaling a combined weight of well over two hundred pounds. She was in excellent physical shape, but navigating a load that heavy over a rutted, pothole-filled dirt road tested her limits. The ride out had taken over half an hour, meaning the grueling, bumpy journey back was going to be pure agony. But the roads were what they were, and there was nothing she could do to change them.
Gritting her teeth, Wanyan pedaled Aunt Xie and their mountain of supplies all the way back to the compound.
The moment she finally walked through her own front door, she collapsed lifelessly onto the soft living room sofa.
When Gu Tingxiao returned from duty later that evening, he was startled to find his wife lying completely motionless on the cushions, looking utterly drained. He rushed over in a panic.
“Wife, what’s wrong?”
“I’m so tired…” Wanyan mumbled, turning her head to look at him with a pitiful pout. “I never want to go to the village again. The road is completely awful.”
Her eyes were filled with a lingering dread of that bone-rattling dirt path. Honestly, she hadn’t felt this exhausted even after being kept awake by Tingxiao’s nightly ‘torture’. If the road had been paved and smooth, she easily could have hauled two hundred pounds and a second Aunt Xie without breaking a sweat, but the muddy potholes were simply brutal.
“Alright, alright. You never have to go back,” Tingxiao coaxed gently, brushing a few loose strands of sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. “I’ll handle the family’s supplies from now on. Don’t worry about it. Just rest here, I’ll fetch you some water.”
He stood up, poured warm water into an enamel mug, and brought it back. Wanyan sat up just enough to drain the entire cup in a few greedy gulps; she had been completely parched.
“Keep resting, wife. I’ll go cook dinner,” he promised.
Wanyan nodded. She wasn’t the type to force herself to play the martyr; if she was exhausted, she was going to rest. Her health came first. She refused to be like the other wives in the compound who, despite being physically worked to the bone, still forced themselves to stand over a hot stove to serve their husbands.
Women were already at a physical disadvantage in this era; why should they willingly let themselves be treated like servants? In her eyes, the prevalent mindset of men in the 1970s was deeply flawed and intensely patriarchal. Far too many men believed a wife existed solely to cater to their needs and absorb their bad moods. Some men were completely incompetent, yet still clung fiercely to their male pride.
It was a stark, jarring contrast to the modern philosophies of equality and self-respect she had been raised with in her previous life, and she was grateful that Gu Tingxiao didn’t share that archaic mindset.
