Chapter Thirty: Melancholy Stirred by Toilet Paper

As time went on, the three of them grew increasingly adept at working together, but Yang Xiuying began to feel restless about the job of turning the millstone. She had never played with such a contraption before, and watching Han Li spin it with apparent ease, she spoke up, “Han Li, it looks fun when you do it. How about letting me give it a try?”

Han Li glanced at her and handed over the handle. The moment Yang Xiuying took hold, she realized it was nothing like what she had imagined. Yet she felt too embarrassed to give up immediately. She put all her strength into it—enough to climb onto the kang—but the millstone didn’t turn even a single round.

“Better let you do it. I guess it’s true that watching someone carry a load is easy, but carrying it yourself bends your back.”

Hao Hongmei chimed in, “Since we’ve already stopped, let me try too.” Unsurprisingly, she fared no better than Yang Xiuying.

“Sorry for wasting everyone’s time. Without Han Li, the two of us couldn’t even grind a handful of corn,” she admitted.

“We all came together; helping each other is only right,” Han Li replied, already taking back the handle and setting the millstone in motion once more. The creaking sound resumed its steady rhythm.

Yang Xiuying sighed, “No wonder Han Li always seems so relaxed. He’s really strong.”

“If only I had such strength, I’d flaunt my results in front of those aunties,” Hao Hongmin laughed at Yang Xiuying’s remark and made a mischievous comment, “Well, you better work hard then. I’d love to see you with thick arms and legs.”

“Hao Hongmin, you’re the one with thick arms and legs! Maybe I don’t want that much strength after all—it’d look awful.”

“We’ve only been in the countryside a few days, but my hands are already calloused, and my skin is much darker than before,” Yang Xiuying lamented.

“When will these days end? Tomorrow, when I go to the county, I’ll write home and urge them again,” she said, and her words made Hao Hongmei fall silent. Only the creaking sounds of the millstone filled the air.

More than an hour later, the three finally managed, through combined effort, to turn the corn grits into corn flour. Along the way, several villagers came by with bowls to watch the commotion, occasionally pointing out a thing or two.

When they hauled their cart back to the youth center, the yard was quiet. The girls sat out in the heat, unwilling to speak, while the boys had likely gone to the river to bathe.

Han Li ate a little, then took up a flashlight and began writing a letter home. The night passed without incident, and early the next morning, Han Li and the others boarded an ox cart bound for the county town.

Upon arrival, the three went together to the post office to mail their letters, then set a time to meet and split up to run errands.

Han Li took on the arduous tasks of buying meat, oil, and flour. Hao Hongmin and her companion went to purchase star anise, spices, soy sauce, vinegar, wine, candied fruits—all essentials for hosting guests.

This time, Han Li brought a glass bottle. He had plenty of soybean oil and lard stored away, so he simply needed to fill a bottle. But he didn’t have any fresh pork; the bit of cured meat and dried rabbit felt insufficient to properly thank those who helped build their house.

Thus, he had to make a personal sacrifice and head to the state-owned food supply station to seek out the warm-hearted lady from last time. Fortunately, she wasn’t there, but there was still meat on the butchers’ block.

Han Li discreetly handed over twenty cents. The butcher, with one stroke of his knife, gave him a fairly fatty piece of pork. It weighed three and a half pounds on the scale. Tied up with a thin hemp rope, Han Li carried it out.

On the street, someone asked if he was selling the meat, offering up to a dollar thirty per pound. Sell it? What a joke—did he need those twenty cents so desperately?

It had been hard enough to get this meat, risking being interrogated by the lady, so how could he possibly sell it? There were all sorts of strange people these days; if he kept carrying it in public, someone might accuse him of profiteering.

Although he had a receipt for the meat, he didn’t want to bother with explanations. So Han Li tucked the pork into his basket, took out two half-dried rabbits as extra dishes, and headed to the supply cooperative to find Hao Hongmin and her companion.

They had bought a lot, and their assigned tasks were essentially complete. But they carried one large bag, and Han Li noticed they seemed oddly secretive about it.

This piqued his curiosity—had they bought something shameful? If so, he’d definitely keep his distance from them in the future. His dream was to be a carefree layabout, untouched by any messy business.

There were still people in the village waiting for their goods to cook dinner, so after picking up a few meat buns from the state-run restaurant, they headed back.

Perhaps it was the long absence of fresh meat—or maybe the chef’s skill—but Han Li devoured the buns, greasy mouth and all, and felt tempted to buy more.

At that moment, Hao Hongmin dug around in the hidden big bag, her face red, and handed over two sheets of toilet paper. “Your hands are all greasy, use these to wipe them.”

Han Li was stunned. Did toilet paper need to be hidden?

He quickly understood. Toilet paper was a rare commodity in some households. There were no sanitary napkins, which made things difficult for many women.

Families well-off enough used menstrual belts with toilet paper; poorer ones used cloth bags with ash. Both menstrual belts and toilet paper required ration tickets, which were mostly distributed to worker families.

Back in the capital, Han Li’s family’s bathroom was seldom used by him; only the women used it. Han Li himself relied on coarse paper, never newspaper.

If you dared use newspaper for the toilet and got caught, the consequences were self-evident.

Female educated youth received one toilet paper ticket per month, but it was never enough. At this time, toilet paper varied in quality, and it was sold by the cut, not by the roll. The number of sheets per cut depended on the local supply cooperative.

It was a time when eating, drinking, sleeping, and even basic hygiene were all exceedingly difficult.

It was a conservative era; in rural areas, many men didn't even know about toilet paper before marriage.

Hao Hongmei handed him toilet paper openly—her gesture surprised not only Han Li, but even Yang Xiuying.

Han Li pretended not to notice, took the paper, and thanked Hao Hongmin.

Yet, a strange melancholy crept over him. He was running low on coarse paper. No matter how well his family treated him, they wouldn’t mail coarse paper from home, would they?

Would he have to use leaves, grass, or clumps of earth like everyone else in the future?