Chapter 8: Rising Food Prices

With Zhang Jinlan’s words, the oppressive atmosphere suddenly lifted.

Everyone began discussing which part of the mountain had the most mushrooms last year.

They had to scout ahead to avoid having the good spots taken by other villagers.

Jiangjia Village was very poor, with eighty-eight households. Except for the village chief and a few families who ran food businesses in town and were relatively well-off, almost every family was so poor that they could barely make ends meet. At the far end of the village, it was common to see women and children bending over, searching for wild vegetables and mushrooms on the mountain.

Because of the competition for nature’s bounty, conflicts often arose.

After finishing their meal, the three siblings were once again pulled into the house by their mother to take a nap.

When they woke up, their mother had already gone up the mountain. Jiang Fubao and her brothers played in the courtyard for a long time.

As the sun began to set, family members who had gone to town for casual work returned.

“Dad, Mom, we’re back! Fubao, look what Uncle brought for you.” As soon as Jiang Dahe stepped over the threshold, he pulled a green-wrapped package from his arms.

Jiang Fubao examined it carefully. The green wrapping was a leaf, containing something that looked like a dumpling, only larger.

Seeing her uncle beckon, Jiang Fubao ran over on her short legs.

“Uncle, what’s this?” she asked, her face full of curiosity.

“Guess.” Jiang Dahe teased her.

He only had three sons and no daughters, so he treated his niece as if she were his own child. At this moment, he looked like a loving father.

Little did he know, the child he doted on had long since been replaced in her “true heart.”

As an adult, Jiang Fubao couldn’t possibly be fooled. She could smell the dumpling filling through the leaf.

“Dumpling!” Without hesitation, she looked up and smiled.

“Well, our Fubao is so smart! Here, a big, delicious meat dumpling. I kept it warm in my arms all the way here, so it hasn’t cooled. Eat it quickly.” Her cleverness delighted Jiang Dahe.

He praised her generously, then carefully helped peel back the leaf layer by layer.

The dumpling was round and large. The flour wasn’t as white as modern flour; it was a grayish-yellow but smelled especially fragrant, and the meat juices were likely dripping inside—it made her mouth water just thinking about it.

“Foolish child, why are you standing there? Take it inside and eat!”

Just then, her handsome father came in from outside the door, sweating heavily, carrying a bag of grain on his shoulder.

Behind him, her second uncle and her two older male cousins also carried things.

“Uncle, Dad, did you sell the bird eggs?”

Jiang Fubao hadn’t eaten yet; right now, she was only concerned about how much the quail eggs had sold for.

“Yes, yes. Thanks to Fubao, we sold them for a full one hundred eighty wen. Your uncle used the money to buy brown rice and salt, and also some coarse flour. Fubao doesn’t like brown rice, so we’ll make noodles from the coarse flour. Your uncle’s wife will cook them for you.”

Jiang Dahe pulled out a money pouch and shook it in front of Jiang Fubao. The copper coins jingled inside.

Jiang Fubao beamed. In her space, she had already replenished the quail eggs. Once she found the opportunity, she could sell them a few times and make a silver or two.

“What? Sold for that much? How much is left?” Zhang Jinlan, watering the backyard field, heard the commotion and came running over. She caught her eldest son saying the eggs sold for one hundred eighty wen and looked at Jiang Dahe with excitement.

“Mom, food prices have gone up. Brown rice now sells for ten wen per dou; I bought ten dou. Coarse flour, just for Fubao, is twelve wen per dou. We were almost out of salt, and with spring planting coming, how can anyone work without salt? So I bought one jin for forty wen. The meat dumpling cost five wen. Altogether, we spent one hundred fifty-seven wen. We earned forty wen today carrying grain bags, plus forty wen selling chicken eggs, leaving one hundred three wen. Count it, Mom.”

Jiang Dahe carefully counted what he had bought and handed the money pouch to their mother.

Zhang Jinlan controlled the household finances. As long as the family didn’t split, everyone had to hand over money.

“Ten wen per dou? My heavens, food prices are almost like gold! I remember it was only five wen before the New Year. Now it’s doubled! And coarse flour—it was six wen, right? Salt’s not too bad, but meat dumplings went up from two wen to five. Might as well just rob them! And wages haven’t increased, in fact, they dropped. Earning only forty wen for five people carrying grain… I thought at least sixty wen! Too little!”

A faint worry appeared on Zhang Jinlan’s face. The price of grain had doubled.

A five-wen meat dumpling could previously buy a dou of brown rice before the New Year. Scary.

“Mom, don’t worry. I’ll carry more grain with my brothers. We won’t go hungry. Pour the brown rice into the bin; the boys are exhausted from carrying it all the way here.” Jiang Eryong set down the grain bag, panting heavily.

The walk back from town took an hour and a half.

One dou of brown rice weighed about twelve jin. Ten dou equals 120 jin.

They divided it into two bags, carried by Jiang Eryong and Jiang Sinyin, occasionally relieved by Jiang Dahe so they could rest.

“Oldest brother, quickly boil some water so the kids don’t get thirsty. Dahe, pour the rice into the kitchen bin. Put the coarse flour on the stove; I’ll make noodles for Fubao. Second brother’s family, grind the salt finely and put it in the salt container.”

Under Zhang Jinlan’s direction, the Jiang household became lively.

Outside, the evening sky was as beautiful as yesterday, spreading across the heavens.

Jiang Fubao held her meat dumpling, watching everyone busily working in the courtyard.

“Child, your dumpling is getting cold. Why aren’t you eating?” Zhang Yanzi, who had just finished washing vegetables, noticed her daughter standing dazedly and was puzzled.

Usually, Fubao loved meat dumplings. What was different today?

“Mom, I want to eat with my brothers,” Jiang Fubao looked up.

She was too short; she always had to tilt her head to look up when speaking, which was tiring.

“Alright, I’ll help you take it to the kitchen and cut it into eight pieces, okay?” Zhang Yanzi was slightly surprised. She hadn’t expected her youngest daughter to suddenly act so considerate.

Jiang Fubao obediently handed the meat dumpling to her mother.

After a while, eight pieces of meat dumplings were placed on a plate and brought out.

“Children, come and eat the meat dumplings! Tongjin, you’re the eldest; hand them out to your brothers and sisters, one piece each.”

Zhang Yanzi handed the plate to her eldest nephew and returned to the kitchen.

At first, the children didn’t want to take them.

It wasn’t until Jiang Fubao put her hands on her hips, pouted, and pretended to cry that they relented.

The eight children, from oldest to youngest, each took a piece and nibbled carefully.