Labor Is Most Glorious

Before he knew it, dusk was drawing near.

Chen Qi checked the time, put away the manuscript paper he had filled a few pages of, and tucked it under his bed.

As the soft light of the setting sun fell across the table, the courtyard, quiet all day, finally came to life. Bicycle bells rang, children clamored, and the clatter of chopping vegetables mingled with it all as wisps of smoke drifted in every direction.

"Mom, you're back!"

"Did you buy anything good to eat?"

"It's not New Year's or a holiday. Why would I buy anything special? There's cabbage, potatoes, and pickles."

Yu Xiuli got off work on time. Without stopping for anything else, she came in, took off her coat, and got busy, giving instructions as she went. "Put the pickles on a plate. There's half a block of tofu left from this morning; get it out!"

"How should I make the tofu? Simmer it with the pickles?"

"Simmer your head! Scald it in hot water and mix it with sauce!"

There were two kinds of pickles, pickled cucumbers and dried sweet-and-spicy radish, both from Liubiju.

Liubiju used to be called the Red Flag Pickle Shop. In 1972, Japanese Prime Minister Tanaka Kakuei visited China, and his delegation asked to visit Liubiju. Only then was the old signboard put back up.

The little kitchen stood outside the house, a simple shed built of bricks and roofing felt. A stove and a cupboard filled it to bursting. Beside the kitchen was the place for storing honeycomb coal briquettes, also covered with roofing felt. The briquettes were stacked neatly; this was a household that liked to keep things clean.

The lazier households left theirs wherever, and when it rained, the briquettes leaked puddles of black water.

Chen Qi offered to help.

He had only transmigrated a few days ago. What feelings could he possibly have for his parents?

None, of course. But they treated him well, and he didn't hold back from returning the kindness. Yu Xiuli deftly prepared the meal, glancing at him from time to time and wondering to herself: a few days ago, the boy had been like a salted fish, so how had he suddenly sprung up like a carp leaping from the water?

As the sky grew dim, dinner was served, and his dad in this life, Chen Jianjun, came home too.

He was also in his forties, tall and thin, with a refined air. Though his clothes were old, they were neat and clean, and a fountain pen was clipped to his breast pocket.

Chen Jianjun was a business agent.

Xinhua Bookstore was the largest book distributor in the country. To distribute a book or magazine, one had to contact the various agents. An agent would make a preliminary judgment based on its contents and give the bookstore a figure, say, one thousand copies. The bookstore would order one thousand copies first, then see how the market responded.

Later, though, the agents' work changed to sales, because the book industry opened up and their monopoly was gone.

"Dad!"

"Did you go to the meeting?"

"I did!"

"Good. We'll talk after dinner."

Chen Jianjun smiled. Even his smile was refined; he looked like the sort who had never uttered a swear word in his life.

Dinner was simple: cabbage stewed with potatoes and vermicelli, a big block of tofu, and pickles.

It wasn't that they couldn't afford meat; they couldn't get any. City residents were supplied only three to five liang of pork per person each month. During the three years of hardship, the capital's annual supply had been just eight and a half liang per person. Other places had it even worse; they didn't get so much as a scrap of meat.

His mom and dad had both gone to school and were particular about some things at heart. They didn't discuss business at the dinner table.

Only after they finished eating did Chen Jianjun ask, and Chen Qi repeated what had been said at the meeting.

"What do you think?"

"I..."

He was just about to answer when someone suddenly called from outside, "Is Chen Qi home?"

"Oh, Auntie Wang!"

"Come in, come in! What brings you here?"

The visitor was an elderly woman with graying hair and a kindly smile-the neighborhood cadre. She sat down with an unhurried air and smiled. "We held the big meeting this morning, and this afternoon we divided up the assignments. The neighborhood office put me in charge of thirteen people, and I must find jobs for them.

"I figured everyone would be home in the evening, so I came by to see you. Yours is the first household."

"Sorry to trouble you. You can't even get a rest this late in the evening..."

Yu Xiuli poured her a cup of water. She had been wanting to ask about this very thing, and said, "Auntie Wang, I heard from my son that they're setting up a production and service cooperative. You know that's a collective unit, and those have never gotten much attention. I'm not saying collective units are bad, but doesn't our neighborhood have the No. 3 Garment Factory? Can't the factory place them?"

"Oh, that's easy to say. Do you know how many unemployed young people there are in the district?"

Auntie Wang slapped her thigh and made a gesture. "Eighty thousand! Where is the government supposed to find eighty thousand jobs? Everyone from top to bottom is worried sick. And a lot of them are already twenty-five or twenty-six and haven't had a job in years. We have to place them first.

"As for the No. 3 Garment Factory, we talked ourselves hoarse just to squeeze a hundred-odd people in there. You can stop thinking about that."

"Then what do you have in mind for them to do?"

Chen Jianjun asked.

"Here's what I'm thinking..."

Auntie Wang took a sip of water and said, "Qianmen is a treasure of a place. People from the capital love to stroll around there, and so do visitors from elsewhere. Who knows how many people come from out of town on business each year? They'd all stop by for a look while they're here, wouldn't they? But with so many shops in Qianmen, there isn't a single one selling water. When those people come, they can't even get a drink.

"You could buy an Arctic Ocean soda, but that costs fifteen fen and takes a coupon, too. Nobody can bear to spend that much. I've seen it with my own eyes: people drinking from the rubber hoses used to water the flowers.

"So we thought, if we set up a stall in Qianmen selling tea, people would surely buy it."

Selling tea???

His parents looked at each other. Th-this was beneath their dignity! They were both educated people who worked at Xinhua Bookstore, and their son was going to sell tea? In the old society, that was work for the lowest of the low!

How low?

In "Camel Xiangzi," an old man could no longer pull a rickshaw, so he could only carry a shoulder pole through the streets selling tea, barely scraping a living. It was truly miserable... Look at that: a tea seller didn't even measure up to Xiangzi. At least Xiangzi had a house (rented), a rickshaw (he'd bought three, but they were all gone), and a wife (who died in childbirth).

"Auntie Wang, are there really no other positions?"

"There are. Skilled jobs. Does your boy know carpentry?"

"No!"

"Can he do tailoring?"

"No!"

"Can he toss a wok and stir-fry?"

"No!"

"Well, there you have it!"

"..."

His parents looked at each other again, even a little ashamed. So their son was a good-for-nothing? Worse still, the good-for-nothing was actually grinning, as if they weren't talking about him at all.

"All right, talk it over among yourselves. I have to get to the next household!"

Auntie Wang got up and hurried off.

The family of three fell silent for a while before Yu Xiuli said, "Say something. What do you really think?"

"I'll follow the organization's arrangements and do whatever it tells me to!" Chen Qi said.

"You'd even go sell tea if they told you to? And in Qianmen, too. It's so close to the bookstore. My coworkers would laugh me to death!"

"No, they wouldn't, because their kids would be selling tea alongside me."

Pfft!

Yu Xiuli nearly died of anger. "Quit being smart with me! I'll apply for early retirement tomorrow, and you can take over my job!"

"I don't need you to retire. If you file for retirement, I'll go set up a stall tonight."

"Xiao Qi, don't give us that glib talk. Tell us honestly, why do you want to go?"

Chen Jianjun, who had been quiet all this time, finally spoke.

"There's no particular reason. I just think labor is glorious, and I can add bricks and tiles to the motherland wherever I am. You're the ones stuck in your old ways, looking down on tea sellers. Shi Chuanxiang emptied cesspits and still became a people's congress delegate and a national model worker. What's wrong with me selling tea? Someday I can stand in the Great Hall and shake hands with the leaders too!"

Good grief, the radiance of Chen Qi's Party spirit shone ten thousand zhang.

Shi Chuanxiang was a night-soil worker in Chongwen District. On National Day in 1966, he went up to Tiananmen Gate Tower. The Teacher shook his hand, Wu Hao toasted him, and Chief Zhu put food on his plate, saying, "Old Shi, you do heavy physical labor. You should drink more and eat more..."

At the time, a craze for voluntary night-soil collection also swept the capital. University teachers and students, writers, reporters, and actors lined up for a chance to collect night soil with him. Supposedly, there was even a female Tsinghua student who couldn't get a place in line, so she pretended to be Shi Chuanxiang's goddaughter and finally got her wish to collect night soil with her godfather.

Shi Chuanxiang's story used to be in elementary school textbooks; who knew if it still was?

That was the era when working people were the most badass!

If anyone tried preaching "labor is most glorious" now... the masses: He... Tui!

"..."

Chen Jianjun was struck speechless by those irrefutable words. He looked at Yu Xiuli. Let's have another one when we get the chance, shall we? This child's gone stupid!

The spirit of dedication was something people preached to others.

When it was their own turn, or a loved one's, those who could still dedicate themselves without looking back were called role models. Many people couldn't do that.

With the conversation going nowhere, they could only go to bed.

There was no television at home, and the power often went out. Aside from a beat-up radio, there was little entertainment.

The courtyard gradually grew quiet too. Moonlight shone on the curtains, and spring insects chirped softly. Chen Qi lay on the bed in the outer room, listening to the whispers inside. They were surely still discussing his job.

He really didn't want Yu Xiuli to retire early, because he knew he definitely wouldn't stay in the position for long. That would be a waste.

Besides, he had no interest in the job at Xinhua Bookstore. Other families had three generations in tobacco, three generations in oil, three generations in electric power, three generations in banking, and his would have three generations in a bookstore?

"..."

Chen Qi turned over and closed his eyes.

In truth, whether he sold tea or did something else didn't matter. He was ready to pick up his bucket and run at any moment.

(End of chapter)