Age of Famine: My Space Can Be Used for Farming

At the end of 1959, at this juncture, the word "collective" had the supreme weight and became the most convenient yoke. The produce from the fields, the iron pot at home, even the extra chicken, and the stronger vegetable seedlings in the private plot have all become objects that need to be "returned to the public" or are jealous of others. The work score book is the new bible. The scorekeeper holds the bald pencil and lightly scratches it, which may determine whether the family is good or bad for three to five days. But the right to interpret the Bible is often not in the hands of the most honest farmers. In this huge, absurd theater of survival pressure, every family is a small stage that is isolated and helpless but must struggle to survive. Protecting the faint warmth on the kang head, preventing the eyes of the sallow and skinny children from completely losing their light, and allowing parents who have worked hard for half their lives to swallow a real thing in the middle of the night instead of taking a picture of clear soup - this has become the simplest and greatest heroism. However, in the shadows of the stage, there are always malicious eyes coveting this pitiful warmth. They may be little bosses who use chicken feathers as ceremonial arrows, they may be neighbors who are jealous of the color on your baby's face, or they may be poor people who simply gain humble pleasure by bullying the weaker ones. Triggers of conflict can be seen everywhere: it may be that the ditch on your private plot is a bit straighter than others, it may be that the bottom of your bag is not clean enough when you hand over the public food, or it may just be the confident look in your eyes when you rejected his kid yesterday. Here, if kindness has no edge, it is an invitation for others to trample on; if forbearance has no bottom line, it is often rewarded with extravagant plunder.