“That’s right, We have to call the Party Secretary! Let him see for himself how this little bastard from the Jiang family has turned to stealing! A whole month’s worth of eggs—gone! This little brat is wasting food! He ought to be sent off for reform through labor!” Auntie Sun shrieked and hollered, her heart aching over the loss of her family’s eggs.  

Though Auntie Sun’s family was among the better-off in the village—her husband was strong and hardworking, her sons hadn’t yet split from the household, and all their work points went to her—she was also frugal and diligent, so naturally, they lived comfortably.  

But “better-off” only meant they could eat their fill. As for eating well? That was something only worker families in town could dream of. For peasants like them, digging their food out of the dirt and depending on the heavens, just having enough to eat was already considered top-tier.  

Given that, the value of a basket of eggs was beyond measure. These days, private chicken-raising wasn’t allowed, but enforcement had loosened in the past couple of years. As long as families didn’t raise too many—just two or three—the authorities usually turned a blind eye.  

After all, even the village Party Secretary and the village chief were locals. They couldn’t just stand by and watch their own starve, could they?  

Still, few families could afford to raise chickens. Auntie Sun had scrimped and saved to carefully bring home a few chicks, making sure her kids, Xiaolong and Xiaofeng, had time to gather chicken feed every day. It had taken real effort to raise those hens to egg-laying age.  

Even when the chickens laid eggs, the family couldn’t bear to eat them. They saved them up to trade for grain or meat—fifteen eggs could fetch a pound and a half of pork. Auntie Sun had planned to use that meat as a gift for the family of the girl her eldest son was courting. If the two young ones settled things quickly, she could hold a grandchild sooner.  

But now? The eggs were smashed on the ground—gone! It was like losing a piece of her life!  

How could Auntie Sun not be frantic? No one could talk her down. She insisted on calling the village chief and the Party Secretary!  

Of course, losing a whole basket of eggs was a big deal. Nobody stopped her from summoning them.  

When Xu Youcai had planned this, he’d made sure to study the villagers’ temperaments. These people had never seen anything truly valuable—a basket of eggs was enough to make them fight tooth and nail.  

Thinking of this, a flicker of disdain passed through Xu Youcai’s eyes.  

He was an educated youth sent down to the countryside, a high school graduate. In his mind, he was far above these dirt-poor peasants.  

The crowd buzzed with noise, and before long, the village chief and Party Secretary arrived, dragged over by those who loved stirring up trouble.  

Village Chief Zhao Mancang glanced at the shattered eggs on the ground, frowned, and took a deep drag of his cigarette—if you could even call it that. It was just tobacco rolled in old newspaper, a rare luxury. The village chief only indulged in one or two now and then to satisfy his cravings.  

He turned to Auntie Sun. “You’re saying Jiang Le stole your eggs?”

Auntie Sun wailed, tears and snot running down her face. “Village Chief, you have to stand up for me!”

Zhao Mancang didn’t like Jiang Le. The kid was a troublemaker—idle all day. His own son had mentioned him before, said he wasn’t a good kid. So him stealing something? Not exactly shocking.  

“Village Chief, he has to pay me back for those eggs!” Auntie Sun was still fixated on her loss.  

Zhao Mancang nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he compensates you.” 

His tone made it clear—he wasn’t even going to question Jiang Le. The verdict was already in: guilty.  

The Party Secretary, who had been silent until now, frowned. “We’re village cadres. We have to handle things with evidence.”

Zhao Mancang’s expression stiffened. Was the Party Secretary undermining him? Besides, Jiang Le was a known troublemaker—what more evidence did they need?  

The Party Secretary met Zhao Mancang’s gaze. “Brother Mancang, it’s true Jiang Le has done plenty of foolish things, but we can’t just accuse him of theft without proof. We must treat every comrade equally, without bias.”

Zhao Mancang forced a smile. “You’re right. I let Auntie Sun’s distress affect me. I was too hasty.”  

What else could he say? The Party Secretary outranked him. Not to mention, the man had a middle-school education, while Zhao Mancang had never spent a day in school—there was no comparison.  

The Party Secretary wasn’t trying to make trouble for Zhao Mancang. He was just the type to stand by his principles, arguing for what he believed was right, no matter who was involved.  

His sharp, stern eyes turned to Xu Youcai. 

“Comrade Xu, you’re saying you saw Jiang Le steal Auntie Sun’s eggs with your own eyes?”  

Xu Youcai’s guilty conscience flared. The way the secretary stared at him gave him chills. He felt a bit intimidated by this serious, no-nonsense guy.

But it was too late to back out now. He could only double down and cement Jiang Le’s guilt.  

The Party Secretary stared at him, expression unreadable. He was about to send someone to fetch Jiang Le.

But before he could, the murmurs of the crowd rose.  

“Jiang Le’s here!”  

“He dares to show up—must be here to confess out of guilt!”  

“I knew it! This kid’s always loafing around the village. Who knows what other thieving he’s been up to? Now he’s finally caught. My family even lost a steamed bun once…”

“You’ve brought up that bun a hundred times! Your own kid admitted he sneaked it!”

Xu Youcai was surprised—he hadn’t expected Jiang Le to actually show up.  

A flicker of unease stirred in his chest, but he quickly suppressed it. Jiang Le’s reputation in the village is already in the mud. As long as I stick to my story and say I saw him steal, he’ll be sent off for reform through labor!

Jiang Le had arrived with his mother, Zhao Meilian. He hadn’t explained the full situation to his family—it was too complicated to sum up in a few words. But Zhao Meilian, fearing her son would be bullied, had insisted on coming along.  

As Jiang Le stepped forward, his gaze briefly met Xu Youcai’s. The latter immediately put on a righteous front:  

“Comrade Jiang, how could you steal Auntie Sun’s eggs? We should rely on our own hands to strive for a better life, not steal the fruits of others’ labor! But judging by your presence here, I suppose you’ve realized your mistake and come to confess?”  

With just one sentence, Xu Youcai had firmly pinned the label of thief on Jiang Le.  

Jiang Le studied him coldly. This guy had a crush on the original novel’s female lead, and because the original Jiang Le had harassed her, Xu Youcai saw this as a chance to “teach him a lesson” for his goddess.  

By the standards of this era, the so-called “harassment” had been pretty mild—just following the girl around to scare her, without even exchanging a word. Still, Jiang Le had to admit, that kind of behavior was disgusting. Women, already physically vulnerable, didn’t need that extra fear. The original Jiang Le had undoubtedly terrified her.  

But—that was the original Jiang Le’s mess. While Jiang Le condemned those actions, he wasn’t about to take the fall for them.  

Besides, he hadn’t stolen those eggs. No way was he admitting to this.  

Auntie Sun, frantic with anger, lunged at Jiang Le, screeching: “You little bastard! Pay me back for my eggs!”

Zhao Meilian wasn’t about to let her son be bullied. If her boy said he didn’t do it, then he didn’t. Who did Sun Yulan think she was, clawing at him like this?  

Normally mild-tempered, Zhao Meilian turned into a lioness when it came to her son. She immediately grappled with Sun Yulan: “Sun Yulan! How dare you call my son a thief! I’ll rip your lying mouth apart!” 

Sun Yulan was no pushover either. Cursing loudly, she spat back: “Zhao Meilian, your son should be sent to reform through labor! Today it’s stealing my eggs, tomorrow he’ll be stealing state secrets! He needs serious re-education!”

Jiang Le: “…” (This auntie really knows how to exaggerate.)  

“Enough! Save that energy for plowing the fields! If you’ve got strength to spare, go shovel manure!” Zhao Mancang, still smarting from being undermined earlier, seized the chance to reassert his authority as village chief.  

His shout finally broke up the fight. Both women were disheveled, clothes and hair in disarray, faces streaked with red scratches.  

(Jiang Le could have stepped in to help his mother, but that would’ve escalated things. Village women’s brawls usually ended with minor injuries, but if a man got involved? That changed everything.  

Besides, Sun Yulan’s husband and sons had shown up too—and they were just watching from the sidelines.)  

“Jiang Le,” Zhao Mancang said, satisfied now that order was restored, “explain yourself.” He frowned slightly. “Boy, if your family’s short on food, you can borrow from the collective. Stealing? That’s what criminals do!”

Most villagers, simple and honest, missed the cunning in his words. They thought the village chief was concerned for Jiang Le. (Huh, I tried borrowing grain last week and got nothing. The chief really favors the Jiang family…)  

But Jiang Le saw right through it. With just a few words, Zhao Mancang had already framed him as guilty. (No wonder he’s the male lead’s father—dude’s full of schemes.)  

He didn’t know why Zhao Mancang was targeting him, but he sure as hell wasn’t playing along.  

Jiang Le had lost his parents at eight. To make it all the way to high school graduation, take the college entrance exam, and avoid dropping out? That took some cunning.  

He lowered his head, widened his eyes, and when he looked up again, they were red-rimmed. With a voice thick with emotion, he said:  

“Uncle Chief, you’re too kind. My family may be poor, but my father always said—poverty must not weaken ambition, a man must have backbone. I know my reputation in the village isn’t great, but I have principles. Stealing? I’d never do it. Auntie Sun and I are both proletarian comrades! Shouldn’t the proletariat stand united? How could I steal from my own comrade’s family?”  

His words were earnest, layered with just a hint of performance. He blinked hard, as if fighting back tears—projecting an image of fragile resilience.  

The villagers couldn’t describe it in fancy terms, but they felt it. Even Auntie Sun wavered. (Could we have wronged Jiang Le?)  

And the way he spoke—so articulate. “Comrade’s family”—wasn’t that the truth? The proletariat were all brothers! For the first time, they wondered if Jiang Le might not be the lazy good-for-nothing they’d assumed.  

Jiang Le wasn’t done. He turned to Xu Youcai, his gaze pointed:  

“I think Auntie Sun must’ve been misled. Someone’s trying to sow discord within the proletariat!”

Xu Youcai swallowed hard under that stare, his guilt rising.

—

Proletariat = Working Class People