In these times, many ration coupons were restricted by geographical location—there were provincial coupons, city coupons, and even coupons for specific areas. The most valuable were national grain coupons, which could be used anywhere. People traveling out of town often pay high prices to exchange for such coupons.

Even when purchasing grain, national grain coupons were advantageous. In the past, they allowed you to buy more grain than local coupons. However, due to the current food shortages nationwide, even these coupons only allowed buyers to select slightly better-quality grain without increasing the amount they could purchase.

Hearing Luo Cheng mention grain coupons, his mother’s eyes lit up. In rural areas, even during good harvest years, families could barely save any money. And money itself didn’t guarantee access to necessities—everything was in short supply. Grain had become especially scarce due to recent droughts, making survival even harder.

To control inflation, the government required coupons for nearly every type of purchase. So rural families relied primarily on what their land produced. Earnings from farm labor were often spent on basic necessities for the Lunar New Year.

With Luo Cheng possessing grain coupons, it meant they could secure food. This was a relief for the upcoming winter. However, his mother quickly realized he couldn’t possibly have hundreds of pounds’ worth of coupons. If their family had enough to eat, what about their relatives?

His mother, Wang Ling, still had her own family to think about. She couldn’t imagine watching her relatives starve while her family ate. Life was just too hard.

“Chengzi, how many coupons do you have?”

Luo Cheng had received 56.5 pounds’ worth of grain coupons—enough for two months’ rations, depending on the area’s distribution policies. In recent years, ration amounts had decreased. Previously, veterans received over 60 pounds of grain coupons, but even government officials now saw their quotas reduced. Many had to send people to black markets to secretly buy grain.

In addition to grain coupons, Luo Cheng received an oil coupon for one pound of oil and a fabric coupon sufficient for one set of clothing. Beyond that, he had a referral letter from the army, allowing him to report to the local street office. Typically, this ensured priority job placement, as finding work for veterans was a community obligation.

Luo Cheng shared the details of his benefits with his mother and grandmother. Initially, they were delighted, but the scarcity of resources quickly brought their worries back.

It was November, and the brigade would distribute some grain next month. Everyone knew the autumn harvest wouldn’t yield much. If Luo Cheng’s 56.5 pounds of grain were reserved exclusively for their household and stretched with thin porridge, they could survive the winter. But people couldn’t be so selfish. Who didn’t have their own difficulties? Neighbors and relatives often relied on each other in hard times.

Wang Ling suggested sharing some of the grain with relatives. Luo Cheng’s grandmother, while doting on her eldest grandson, also couldn’t ignore her son and daughter’s families. She chimed in, emphasizing the importance of mutual support and teaching Luo Cheng life’s values.

“Grandma, it’s just a few dozen pounds of grain. You and Mom decide what’s best,” Luo Cheng said.

Even before Luo Cheng could react, his mother and grandmother kept repeating how much their relatives—uncles, aunts, and even her own siblings—had helped them over the years. His mother even mentioned her brother and younger sister.

When his mother brought up her side of the family, his grandmother’s expression shifted slightly but said nothing. Luo Cheng’s uncles and aunts shared the same surname and were considered immediate family. However, his mother’s relatives were considered outsiders to the Luo family. In better times, they might have offered help, but now, a single mouthful of food could mean life or death.

To put things in perspective, 56 pounds of grain during this era was immensely valuable. Some families with daughters they couldn’t feed would send them to the city for arranged marriages. The bride price? As little as 8 to 10 pounds of grain—often coarse, not fine.

And “marriage” wasn’t far from selling daughters. Rural families rarely held wedding ceremonies anymore because most people couldn’t afford them. Urban areas, though slightly better off, still struggled. Only the poor, older, or unattractive city men married rural women.

After agreeing to buy grain at the town grain station the next day, Luo Cheng planned to rest. He wasn’t yet accustomed to the abrupt transition to this era. Walking just a few miles and carrying a small load had exhausted him.

His shared room, though modest, had two wooden bed frames separated by a partition. His two younger sisters, Luo Xiaoyu (15) and Luo Shishi (14), would sleep on the inner bed, while Luo Cheng would take the outer one. His younger brother Luo Bing lived in the woodshed across the courtyard, which Luo Cheng initially hadn’t noticed was also part of their property.

Why didn’t Luo Bing share the room? Even among siblings, some propriety had to be observed between boys and girls. Luo Cheng, as the eldest son, would naturally sleep indoors. Tradition dictated that he, as the future head of the household, deserved better accommodations.

Entering the room, Luo Cheng found it clean and tidy, though empty and barren. The lack of belongings made it easy to maintain. His two younger sisters were enthusiastic, but Luo Cheng felt awkward. Before this, he had been an only child. Though he once wondered what it’d be like to have siblings, his parents had always told him that raising even one child was challenging enough. Now, he suddenly had two sisters and a brother—an entirely new dynamic to navigate.

The sisters, curious about Luo Cheng’s military service, peppered him with questions about life in the army. Luo Cheng, having never truly been in the military, fabricated stories based on TV dramas he’d seen.

As he lay down, his eyelids grew heavier. Before falling asleep, he reached into his bag and pulled out a half-pound bag of peanuts. Handing it to Luo Xiaoyu, he mumbled,
“Here’s a snack for you two,” before finally succumbing to exhaustion.

“Big Sis, can we eat these peanuts? I… I just want to try one,” Luo Shishi asked timidly.

“They’re from Big Brother, so we probably can,” Luo Xiaoyu replied. “But you know Mom and Dad won’t let us eat them just like that. It’s been so long since we’ve had peanuts. When we were little, we’d get some during New Year’s, but now we don’t even dare to dream about them.”

Luo Shishi’s longing eyes were fixed on the peanuts in her sister’s hands. Xiaoyu felt the same, but something so precious couldn’t be consumed so casually.

Their big brother was already fast asleep. The two sisters whispered softly, afraid to wake him.

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Correction
The main character’s mother’s name is Wang Ling, not Zhang Ling.