Chapter 16.3: Election

Clearing his throat, Zhao Xinshan began speaking in an official tone. “Today marks the Production Team’s annual election meeting. The purpose is to review last year’s work, allow members to supervise this year’s performance, and fairly and justly elect members who will lead our Production Team toward progress.”

After a brief pause, the audience applauded enthusiastically.

Zhao Xinshan continued, “First, I will report on my work over the past year…”

As he droned on, the other members listened dutifully. Zhao Yunyun, however, started whispering mischief.

She leaned slightly toward Zhao Ke, her lips barely moving. “He hasn’t changed his script in ten years.”

Zhao Ke replied without moving her lips, “Your dad’s glaring at you from the stage.”

Zhao Yunyun glanced up nonchalantly, then continued, “Do you think next year someone might try to snatch my job as a record keeper?”

“What, for your six work points?”

Zhao Yunyun was indignant. “What, you look down on six work points?”  

“It’s not that I look down on it; it’s just that everyone else does.”  

Of course, this wasn’t entirely true. Most of the team members considered it too little and dismissed it.  

The women in the Production Team, on a regular workday, could earn eight or nine work points, and those who were particularly capable could earn ten points a day.  

Six work points…  

It had to be said that Team Leader Zhao Xinshan was smart. He arranged this job for his daughter in the Production Team and proactively lowered the record keeper’s work points to six. Because of this, no one in the team had anything to complain about.  

If there was any gossip, it was only about Zhao Yunyun being lazy or her family spoiling her, but it didn’t affect her prospects for marriage in the slightest.  

Sitting behind them, Zhao Feng lightly tapped their shoulders with two fingers and whispered, “The Team Leader has been watching you two for a while now…”  

Both Zhao Ke and Zhao Yunyun immediately looked up toward the front.  

Zhao Xinshan was glaring sternly at them.  

From his elevated position, he could see everyone’s behavior clearly. The two thought their whispered conversation was subtle, but it was glaringly obvious.  

Zhao Ke nudged Zhao Yunyun, signaling her to sit farther away and stop talking to her.  

Under her father’s intense gaze, Zhao Yunyun pouted and moved her stool a little farther away.  

Only then did Zhao Xinshan shift his gaze, resuming his reading of the report before introducing the next speaker.  

The Production Team committee was made up of Team Leader and Militia Leader Zhao Xinshan, Deputy Team Leader Xu Zhengyi, Women’s Director Yu Xiulan, and Accountant Niu Jiang.  

As for legitimate work positions in the team that earned work points: one record keeper, which was Zhao Yunyun; the warehouse keeper, He Dongsheng, who was slightly disabled from a gunshot wound during an anti-bandit campaign in the mid-1950s and was considered a hardship case in the village; and the primary school principal Gu Hongguang and teacher Wu Ying, both of whom were educated youth.  

Among these people, only Gu Hongguang and Wu Ying were educated youth, while the rest were locals.  

After listening to the committee’s report, Zhuang Lan observed the lineup of committee members standing in front and the principal and teacher seated in the first row. She seemed to realize something and whispered to Su Limei, “Why didn’t Principal Gu and Teacher Wu marry into the village and integrate into the Production Team?”  

What she really wanted to ask was, how did the two of them, as outsiders, manage to secure jobs in such a close-knit and exclusive team?  

Su Limei, who quickly got familiar with the young men in the village and had reliable sources of information, explained, “I heard that back in the early winter of 1961 or 1962, a few village kids were playing by the river behind our houses, and one of them fell into a hole in the ice. Principal Gu and Teacher Wu jumped in to save the kid.”  

Zhuang Lan knew about the man-made trench there. It wasn’t deep but could be dangerous for children.  

“Apparently, because of that incident, Teacher Wu’s health was affected, and she hasn’t been able to have children since,” Su Limei added. “With something that serious, how could the villagers not remember?”  

Zhuang Lan nodded in agreement. That made sense.  

Su Limei continued, “And the most important thing is, the earlier batches of educated youth all went back to the city, but Principal Gu and Teacher Wu didn’t. They really intend to stay in the Production Team.”  

Educated youth who intended to return to the city were considered unstable elements, so it was impossible for the village to entrust them with key positions.  

Zhuang Lan seemed lost in thought.  

Onstage, the reports concluded, and the crowd erupted into applause.  

Zhao Xinshan returned to the front and addressed the group. “Now, we’ll proceed with the election for next year’s team leaders. I’ll reiterate the rules, so listen carefully.”  

Everyone pricked up their ears.  

“First, due to certain circumstances, we’ve added a position for the Production Team primary school teacher in this year’s election.”  

The “certain circumstances” drew the crowd’s attention to Zhao Er Nai’s family.  

Zhao Er Nai rolled her eyes. “What are you looking at?”  

The crowd chuckled.  

“Quiet!”  

Zhao Xinshan waited for the noise to subside before continuing, “In a moment, everyone will receive a slip of paper…”  

As he spoke, Deputy Team Leader Xu and Accountant Niu carried a blackboard onto the stage and placed it behind him.  

At the top of the blackboard, the following positions were listed in order: Team Leader, Deputy Team Leader, Women’s Director, and Primary School Teacher.  

On the right side of the board, names and corresponding numbers were written vertically.  

At this point, Accountant Niu held up the slips of paper for everyone to see.  

Zhao Xinshan pointed to the blackboard. “On each slip of paper, write down four names. For those who can’t write, just fill in the corresponding numbers.”  

The team members below began murmuring among themselves, discussing the rules. 

In past elections, the same few individuals with the most prestige in the Production Team were always chosen, leaving little suspense.

However, this year, the addition of a teacher made the election livelier, and the team members were eager to see how it would play out.

“No collusion! Everyone votes independently,” Zhao Xinshan said sternly.

“I’ll add one more thing! Those participating in the election have no voting rights, and neither do those under eighteen. Got it?”

“Got it!” the crowd responded.

Taking advantage of the pause, Zhao Ke turned to mock her younger brother. “You don’t even have voting rights, so why are you acting all conflicted?”

Zhao Feng: “…You wouldn’t understand.”

In truth, he had completely forgotten that he didn’t have voting rights…

“What’s there to be conflicted about?” Zhao Yunyun turned around, catching wind of the conversation.

Zhao Ke shot a glance at Zhao Feng but refrained from embarrassing him publicly.

On stage, Zhao Xinshan began announcing the names of the election candidates and calling them up one by one: “Zhao Xinshan, that’s me; Xu Zhengyi… Zhao Ke…”

Zhao Ke stood up.

“Whoa—oh—oh—”

The crowd erupted in a rowdy cheer, much louder than when Hu Hezhi had been called earlier.

Hu Hezhi’s expression turned sour.

Zhao Ke, however, didn’t feel embarrassed. She stared directly at the loudest part of the crowd.

Her face carried a smile, but her eyes sent a clear message: Keep showing off, and I’ll deal with you.

The group of young men instantly showed mock expressions of fear before bursting into laughter.

The older villagers chuckled at the antics of the youth. Even the elders looked at Zhao Ke with a kind, approving gaze.

Meanwhile, Zhuang Lan, whose name had just been called, stood up and awkwardly made her way from the back to the front.

Zhao Feng clapped enthusiastically.

Zhao Ke glanced at her brother’s unseemly display, then at Zhuang Lan’s flustered face. She raised her hands and clapped as well.

The young villagers noticed Zhuang Lan making her way forward and followed Zhao Ke’s lead, clapping for her.

Zhuang Lan’s embarrassment eased, and a faint smile appeared on her face.

Though it was thanks to Zhao Ke, Zhuang Lan couldn’t help but feel moved. She had never experienced such straightforward kindness before. In the past, all she had known was her family’s favoritism toward others and constant belittlement of her.

Standing beside Zhao Ke, Zhuang Lan whispered, “Thank you.”

Zhao Ke didn’t catch it. “What?”

Zhuang Lan repeated, “I said thank you. I know I won’t be chosen, and I’m not trying to compete with you on purpose. I just don’t want to give up without trying.”

On the other side, Hu Hezhi’s eyes flashed with disdain.

This time, Zhao Ke understood her words. Smiling, she said, “A fair competition. I won’t go easy on you.”

She acknowledged her local advantage—it was a fact. Zhuang Lan’s right to compete was also a fact.

Since it was all aboveboard, there was no reason to dwell on it.

Zhao Xinshan began distributing the slips of paper, using a loudspeaker to remind everyone, “Remember the numbers! Don’t mix them up, and once you hand in your ballot, it can’t be changed!”

The crowd responded, “Understood!”

“Voting is anonymous. No whispering or peeking!”

“Yes!”

The team members had brought their own pencils. Those without one borrowed from others, waiting for them to finish writing before taking their turn.

The first and second names were written quickly. It was with the third and, especially, the fourth names that the members hesitated.

Families who had received favors from Zhao Er Nai’s household exchanged glances in that direction, pondering: It’s anonymous anyway. If we secretly write Zhao Ke’s name, no one will know.

And so, many wrote Zhao Ke’s name in the fourth slot.

Among the educated youth, those who considered Zhuang Lan a friend wrote Yu Xiulan and Zhuang Lan in the third and fourth slots.

Only Fu Hang, without hesitation, carefully wrote Yu Xiulan and Zhao Ke.

When Fu Hang finished the final stroke of Zhao Ke’s name, he felt a strange emotion and quickly folded his ballot.

As for Zhao Er Nai’s family, all of them uniformly wrote Hu Hezhi as the fourth name. For the third name, they used to write Yu Xiulan, but with the recent tension between the families, they switched to writing Team Leader Zhao’s wife, Li Hehua.

Meanwhile, Zhao Xinshan’s and Li Hehua’s family members wrote Li Hehua as the third name and Zhao Ke as the fourth.

Fifteen minutes later, Zhao Yunyun carried a bucket to collect the ballots, ensuring none were missed before returning to the stage.

Accountant Niu was in charge of reading the votes aloud, while Zhao Yunyun recorded the results on the blackboard.

“Zhao Xinshan, one vote.”

“Xu Zhengyi, one vote.”

“Yu Xiulan, one vote.”

“Li Hehua, one vote.”

“Zhao Ke, one vote.”

…

With each name read, Zhao Yunyun added a stroke to the tally under the corresponding name.

Some candidates led from the start, like Zhao Xinshan and Xu Zhengyi, whose tally marks steadily increased without any surprises.  

Meanwhile, the votes for Yu Xiulan, Li Hehua, and Zhao Ke were called out alternately, one after another.  

At first, the three were fairly evenly matched, but gradually, the tally under Zhao Ke’s name grew longer than the others.  

Zhao Ke’s victory seemed assured.  

Facing away from the crowd, Zhao Yunyun scribbled on the blackboard while making exaggerated faces at Zhao Ke on stage.  

Zhao Ke ignored her, maintaining a composed demeanor and staring straight ahead.  

Beside her, Zhuang Lan appeared unfazed by her low vote count, her expression calm and collected.  

In contrast, Hu Hezhi’s face grew darker by the minute.  

As the vote-counting progressed, the expressions of the villagers below turned increasingly awkward.  

The issue was that Hu Hezhi had shockingly few votes.  

The members of Zhao Er Nai’s family swept angry gazes over the villagers.  

Those caught in their glare looked uneasy, exchanging glances that silently seemed to accuse one another: Why did you all vote for Zhao Ke too?!  

But what could they do? They had already cast their votes.  

No one had anticipated that so many people would quietly change their minds under the cover of anonymity.  

These villagers silently resolved to return the favors they owed Zhao Er Nai’s family after the election—they couldn’t afford to offend them further.  

On stage, Accountant Niu finished reading the last ballot, meticulously rummaged through the bucket, then tipped it over to confirm it was empty. Satisfied, he announced the end of the counting.  

He then tallied the votes for each candidate and wrote the results below.  

On the blackboard:  

– Total voters: 189  

– Spoiled ballots: 32  

– Zhao Xinshan: 150 votes  

– Xu Zhengyi: 120 votes  

– Yu Xiulan: 99 votes  

– Li Hehua: 58 votes  

– Zhao Ke: 117 votes  

– Hu Hezhi: 23 votes  

– Zhuang Lan: 17 votes  

The results made it clear that many of those who had received gifts from Zhao Er Nai’s family did not vote for Hu Hezhi. Some villagers who didn’t want to spoil their ballots but had no other preference opted to vote for Zhuang Lan instead.  

Zhao Er Nai’s family glared with such intensity it was as if flames were shooting from their eyes.  

Hu Hezhi stood stiffly on stage, feeling as though everyone was mocking him. The veins on his neck bulged as he suppressed his anger.  

Down below, the villagers murmured amongst themselves, assuming the results meant the positions were settled without controversy:  

– Team Leader: Zhao Xinshan  

– Deputy Team Leader: Xu Zhengyi  

– Women’s Director: Yu Xiulan  

– Elementary School Teacher: Zhao Ke  

But when Zhao Xinshan stepped forward, his brows were furrowed.  

“According to the vote count,” he began, “I will continue as Team Leader, and Xu Zhengyi will be the Deputy Team Leader.”  

Xu Zhengyi stepped forward and nodded toward the villagers.  

The crowd clapped after each announcement, hands poised for the next. They awaited the Women’s Director result.  

With a stern expression, Zhao Xinshan announced clearly, “Women’s Director: Zhao Ke.”  

What?  

The crowd fell silent, every pair of eyes locked on Zhao Xinshan in disbelief.  

Even the candidates on stage, including Zhao Ke and Yu Xiulan, turned to him in shock.  

Who?  

Did they mishear?  

Zhao Xinshan repeated, “Women’s Director: Zhao Ke.”  

Then he added, “Elementary School Teacher: Yu Xiulan.”  

The crowd erupted like water poured into a sizzling pan.  

Zhao Ke as Women’s Director?! Yu Xiulan as the teacher?!  

Even Zhao Ke and her mother, Yu Xiulan, looked bewildered.  

Zhao Ke: Me? Women’s Director?!  

For years, Li Hehua had run as a candidate for Women’s Director but had always been sidelined. This year’s results, however, were utterly unexpected.  

Someone from the crowd raised an objection: “Team Leader, what’s going on? Wasn’t Yu Xiulan supposed to be Women’s Director and Zhao Ke the teacher?”  

Zhao Xinshan replied seriously, “According to the vote count, Zhao Ke received more votes than Yu Xiulan.”  

“That doesn’t seem right!” another person challenged. “Aren’t the positions tied to specific candidates?”  

“In the past, yes,” Zhao Xinshan confirmed, “but the principle has always been: the highest vote count determines the Team Leader, then the Deputy Leader, then the Women’s Director, and so on.”  

This logic was sound, but in previous elections, everyone had assumed candidates were running for predetermined roles. 

In the village, the positions held by influential individuals were generally well understood—such voting results were unprecedented.  

The villagers exchanged uncertain glances.  

“Former team leader Zhao Dezhi and former Women’s Director Liu Sanni did leave a message with our Production Team: there’s no rule that women can’t be team leaders, nor that the women’s director must be a woman.”  

Xu Zhengyi, now fifty-seven and nearing retirement, had seen Yu Xiulan’s votes steadily rise year by year due to her continued candidacy.  

Zhao Xinshan, mindful of these past statements, was wary of Yu Xiulan’s growing influence in the village.  

As he spoke, Deputy Team Leader Xu and Accountant Niu nodded in agreement, recalling the prior statements.  

Yu Xiulan herself remembered this as well—after all, it was her own mother who had said it. Her expression became rather peculiar.  

Zhao Ke, however, remained dazed and unresponsive.  

From below, someone asked, “Can they handle these roles?”  

Others chimed in, echoing the question.  

This “they” referred not just to Zhao Ke as the Women’s Director but also to Yu Xiulan as a teacher.  

The situation was beyond even Zhao Xinshan’s expectations. However, having a new women’s director didn’t interfere with the Team’s production management and posed no threat to him personally.  

For one, a newcomer wouldn’t undermine his authority. For another, if Yu Xiulan couldn’t handle the teaching role, her reputation in the village would surely suffer.  

The more Zhao Xinshan thought about it, the more advantageous it seemed.  

With a solemn tone, he responded, “Every participant in the team’s’s election is ideologically upright, literate, and actively progressing. We can’t dismiss them without giving them a chance.”  

“Moreover, we clearly stated before voting that once the ballots were submitted, they couldn’t be changed. Rules must be upheld, or the Production Team’s management would descend into chaos.”  

Zhao Xinshan’s authority within the Production Team was significant, and since the election was conducted fairly, doubts gradually subsided.  

With no further objections, the matter seemed nearly settled.  

Suddenly, Zhao Er Nai stood up. “Why? How is my Hezhi any less qualified than Yu Xiulan?”  

In the southeastern corner, the educated youths exchanged glances, their expressions unanimous: Surely Zhuang Lan teaching is better than this woman in that role?  

Yu Xiulan, one of the subjects of the debate, finally snapped out of her shock, only to feel a surge of fury. “What do you mean why? Are you saying I, Yu Xiulan, can’t even handle being a primary school teacher?”  

This turn of events was entirely outside Zhao Ke’s plans. Fearing her mother might impulsively cement the decision, Zhao Ke quickly interjected, “Team Leader, I’d like to…” resign from the women’s director role.  

Before she could finish, Zhao Xinshan raised his hand to stop her. “Zhao Ke, you must believe in yourself. You may be young, but you’re very capable.”  

Zhao Ke didn’t deny her abilities. Yet, caught between her mother’s fiery gaze and the thought of dealing with the village’s challenging and diverse women, she felt a massive headache coming on.  

“Team Leader, I…”  

Once again, Zhao Xinshan interrupted. “Rules are rules. However, I understand that young people may lack experience. So, I’ll make a compromise: we’ll give you a three-month trial period. If you find yourself unable or unwilling to continue, we can revisit the matter.”  

Without giving Zhao Ke any room to object, he turned to the villagers for their opinions.  

After a brief exchange among themselves, they muttered in agreement, “No objections.”  

Zhao Xinshan concluded, “Then it’s settled.”  

Zhao Ke: “…”  

What could she say? Three months it was. After three months, she was definitely stepping down.