Chapter 12

The man with the bushy beard walked in front, carrying a straw mat, with Shen Mo'er and Shen Shaoyuan following behind. As they were leaving the market, a man wearing a red armband stopped them: "Where are you going?"

"They wanted to buy a bamboo mat. Since I only brought straw mats today, I'm taking them home to get one," the bushy-bearded man replied, clearly having prepared his story.

The man with the red armband squinted and asked, "Do you live in the commune?"

The bushy-bearded man smiled. "Not quite. My brother-in-law lives in the commune. It's inconvenient to carry things back and forth, so I keep my stock at his place."

The man in the red armband said nothing, looking Shen Mo'er and Shen Shaoyuan up and down for a moment. Seeing that they both looked composed and showed no signs of guilt or nervousness, he waved them off. "Go on."

"Thanks," the bushy-bearded man said with a grin.

Once they had turned a corner and the red armband was out of sight, the man sighed in relief. "You two have guts. I was worried you’d give the game away."

Shen Mo'er smiled. "You didn't lie, Uncle. We really did want to buy a bamboo mat."

The man nodded, but then shook his head, eyes widening. "Wait, I’m not much older than you. Why are you calling me 'Uncle'?"

Shen Mo'er looked surprised. "Shouldn't I call you Uncle?" He looked older than her father, after all.

Shen Shaoyuan glanced at the man and also looked puzzled. "You don't look any younger than me. What’s wrong with my daughter calling you Uncle?"

The man turned to look at him, speechless. While his bushy beard certainly made him look older, he couldn't deny that the man before him had a refined face—handsome and youthful-looking, not like someone with a daughter that old. He had only been certain they were father and daughter because he had overheard a few sentences earlier; otherwise, they looked more like siblings. Still, he felt that even if he shaved his beard, he wouldn't dare claim to look younger than this man.

He subconsciously touched his beard, feeling a sudden sense of weariness.

The commune was not huge—certainly nothing compared to the county seat—but it wasn't small either. Liuqiao Commune had two commune-run factories. With the original residents and the workers recruited for the factories, the population was quite significant. Consequently, the residential and dormitory areas were packed with rows of houses that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The bushy-bearded man led Shen Mo'er and her father through a maze of paths near the textile factory dormitories before finally leading them into a small, one-story house. As soon as they stepped inside, a rich, savory aroma hit them. The house was small, with a stove on the right side of the door. A woman in her thirties was tending the fire, with several bamboo steamers stacked on a large iron pot; the fragrance was drifting from them. Seeing strangers, the woman stood up from her small stool in a hurry, looking nervously at the bushy-bearded man.

Now that he had brought them home, the man stopped hiding things. "This is my sister. The buns in the pot are scallion and meat for eight cents each, or vegetable filling for five cents. The price is a bit higher than the state-run restaurant, but you don't need coupons, so it’s a good deal."

Having only eaten half a melon that morning, Shen Mo'er was already hungry. "Are they steamed through? If so, give us three scallion-meat ones and two vegetable ones."

The woman hurried to say, "Almost ready."

The bushy-bearded man ushered them inside. "It'll be two minutes. Take a look at the cotton and the bamboo mat while you wait."

He pointed to two stools for them to sit on and stepped out the back door. Shen Mo'er wasn't surprised; for a dangerous trade like this, they certainly wouldn't leave the goods out in the open. They likely had a hidden spot nearby.

She looked around. The room contained only a table and a few stools, suggesting it was likely a private food stall for customers. On the walls hung propaganda posters, common in these times, featuring spirited figures with slogans like "Increase Vigilance, Defend the Motherland" and "Resolutely Walk the Path of Integration with Workers, Peasants, and Soldiers." The original owner of this body had seen plenty of these, but it was Shen Mo'er's first time. She found the artistic style quite different from what she had seen in Daliang and studied them with interest.

Shen Shaoyuan also stared at the posters for a long time. "These drawings are quite interesting. I’ll study them carefully another day and draw one for you just like them."

Father and daughter silently agreed that the posters were quite intriguing.

Just then, the bushy-bearded man returned, carrying a burlap sack in one hand and a rolled-up bamboo mat in the other. "I don't have two mats, but look at the quality of this one. If you like it, take this one first. I’m not just bragging, but look how smooth it is and how tightly woven!"

He unrolled the mat on the floor and opened the burlap sack. "New cotton isn't in season yet, so this is from last year. It’s high quality—see how soft it is? And it’s white, snow-white."

Shen Mo'er thought to herself that he was definitely bragging, but she had to admit the quality was good.

The bamboo mat cost three yuan and eighty cents, and the cotton was one yuan and twenty cents per catty. That was much more expensive than official channels, but again, no coupons were required, so it was worth it. The sack held eight catties of cotton, totaling nine yuan and sixty cents. Adding the thirty-four cents for the five buns, the total came to thirteen yuan and seventy-four cents.

Shen Mo'er pulled two ten-yuan notes from her pocket, then added the small change the original father and daughter had saved up, counting out four cents to give to the man. He quickly counted and returned the change.

Since the buns were already steamed and smelled strong, they decided to sit and eat them right there. Shen Mo'er ate one meat bun and one vegetable bun. Based on her usual portion, she bought two meat buns and one vegetable bun for Shen Shaoyuan. After finishing, he patted his belly and asked for another vegetable bun.

Shen Mo'er suddenly remembered that her father used to be a leisured prince who never had to work, so his appetite had been small. Things were different now; even if he was just scraping by, he was working the fields and hauling water and firewood at home, so naturally, his appetite had grown.

After finishing the buns, the two picked up the sack and the mat, ready to leave. Suddenly, there was a rhythmic knocking at the door. The woman in the kitchen answered and quickly opened it.

"Sister Qiao, three meat buns, please."

A clear, refined male voice came from outside.

Shen Mo'er felt the voice was inexplicably familiar. Before she could think, the man stepped inside. Seeing people, he stopped abruptly at the threshold between the kitchen and the main room.

They stood face to face.

When she saw who it was, Shen Mo'er blinked in surprise and instinctively glanced at him. She had noticed before that this "Educated Youth Fu" wore clothes covered in patches, and the front of his shoe had a hole with half his toe poking out—he looked incredibly poor. So why was he buying expensive meat buns here—and not even the cheaper vegetable ones?

Fu Mingze was also taken aback. He hadn't expected to run into Shen Mo'er and her father here. He hadn't paid them much mind before, only remembering them from the commotion during the grain distribution. His first reaction was the same as Shen Mo'er's: weren't they supposed to be very poor? They had almost starved when their grain was stolen, so why were they buying things at Sister Qiao's place?

He quickly realized they must have heard him. Buying meat buns at a private stall on the sly... Fu Mingze frowned slightly. If this got out, it could mean trouble.

They stood in silence. Shen Mo'er, knowing her money was earned legitimately, felt more confident and spoke first: "Educated Youth Fu, what a coincidence."

Fu Mingze nodded as he looked at her. "It is."

Shen Mo'er explained proactively: "Our roof was leaking, and our bedding and mats were soaked and ruined. Cotton is hard to come by, so we had to trade for some with this uncle."

Even if everyone knew what was going on, they couldn't call it "trading" openly. Bartering among the people was permitted by policy.

Fu Mingze hummed in understanding. Just then, Sister Qiao brought over a bowl with three buns. As he took the bowl and chopsticks, he felt a strange sense of awkwardness. After a moment, he said, "I helped someone write a letter a couple of days ago and got a few eggs. I heard the buns here were good, so I came to trade for some to satisfy my cravings."

Strictly speaking, they barely knew each other. But in this situation, both were unintentionally trying to convince the other that they were truly poor, and their presence here was purely accidental.