Chapter Ninety-Two: Midnight Cooking of Bean Pods

In the backyard of the Youth Academy, after much deliberation, a group of people settled on a plan and outlined their actions. Yet the greatest obstacle facing their execution was Zhang San, infamous for his penchant for reporting others.

Should they beat Zhang San again? Knock him out and deal with it afterward? But that would surely alarm the senior youths. What to do? For now, nobody had a better idea, and the matter seemed to have reached an impasse.

Nevertheless, the plan had already been revealed to everyone, and there was a sense that the arrow was drawn and must be let loose. Tonight, they had to act and offer a token of allegiance, so no one could imitate Zhang San and betray them to the village the next day.

It was unanimously decided to wait until everyone else had fallen asleep before proceeding. They even joked that if this went well, they could save several days’ worth of rations. Tempted, they returned to their dormitories, skipped washing their feet, and hurriedly blew out the lamps, announcing their intent to sleep.

This was not unusual—the same routine prevailed most nights unless someone was writing a letter or reading, so no one suspected anything amiss.

...

In the depth of night, the village occasionally echoed with the bark of a dog.

The street gate of the Youth Academy gently opened, and the conspirators slipped out one by one. Someone carried a clay pot, another a kettle, one brought firewood, and another had salt hidden in their pocket.

Their initial target was the cornfield, but the kernels were no bigger than sesame seeds now, so they set their sights on the soybean fields instead.

Not daring to use flashlights, they relied on the pale moonlight as they made their way toward the fields outside the village.

Perhaps out of guilty conscience, nerves frayed as soon as they left the village boundaries. The cold moonlight bathed the earth, the sky absolutely still, so quiet that even their own breathing sounded loud.

The silence made the night feel all the more frightening; distant trees loomed like countless spectral figures. Where the tall, endless green stalks once stretched, strange shadows now seemed to multiply. The far-off mountains appeared more menacing than ever, winding across the land, their nightmare-like silhouette pressing down upon them.

The air was thick with an oppressive scent, and almost everyone clung tightly to each other's hands.

---

They dared not fall behind, nor raise their voices, especially the female youths, who now bitterly regretted their involvement—what madness had possessed them to agree? This was terrifying beyond measure.

Yet, having worked in the fields by day, they soon found their way to the edge of the soybean field, near the hut. Someone kept watch while the girls dug a pit inside the hut and lit a fire, minimizing the risk of the flames being seen.

Then the clay pot was set to boil water, while the male youths ventured into the soybean field to pick fresh pods.

They grabbed whatever they could find, heedless of the damage—more crops were ruined than harvested in their haste to secure a few days’ food.

Their hands worked so fast they seemed to blur. Soon their bags were filled, and they returned to toss the pods into the boiling water.

After twenty minutes or so, someone tasted the beans and declared them ready. Chopsticks plunged eagerly into the pot; no one cared about the heat, each eating more voraciously than the last.

They cooked another large pot and divided it among themselves, burying the ashes and pod husks in the pit and covering it with earth.

Their lunchboxes filled with boiled pods, the group lost their fear and returned nonchalantly to the Youth Academy to sleep.

The next morning, anyone observant would notice that many youths skipped breakfast.

Zhang San, ever watchful, was among them. He even noticed those who hadn’t eaten breakfast seemed to be passing gas more often, filling the room with an acrid smell.

Yet he’d learned from past mistakes—this time, he kept quiet, planning to gather evidence before making his move.

Han Li, as usual, squatted in the fields, idly working while listening to the old women gossip.

Inspecting the fields was Captain Liang’s responsibility, both to supervise everyone’s work and to assess which fields needed watering or weeding, so the teams could be assigned tasks for the next day.

Especially as the autumn harvest approached, he had to be vigilant for signs of wild boars or bears, to protect the crops and villagers.

When Captain Liang came to the edge of the soybean field this morning, he exploded in anger.

The scene before him was clearly the result of deliberate destruction. Such incidents were not uncommon a few years ago.

---

Back then, everyone was hungry, and sneaking into the fields to scavenge was routine for this season. To prevent it, they had even formed a field patrol.

But in the past two years, life had improved, and their village hadn’t seen such trouble.

(Mainly because no one was as foolish as those youths, ruining an entire section of crops. Soybeans, unlike corn, are conspicuous; take a few here and there, and nobody notices.)

Could it be outsiders? Captain Liang first thought of the neighboring Zhonghe and Xiaohe brigades.

But he quickly dismissed the idea—if it were those villages, they wouldn’t have damaged just this little.

That left only the youths—were they from their own village or another?

Captain Liang, his face grim, found Village Chief Zhao and explained the situation.

After hearing him out, Chief Zhao said, “Only those youths could have done this, probably because of yesterday’s grain rationing. Usually, if they take an egg or a cucumber, we let it pass, but collective property must not be violated. Set a trap—catch them red-handed and punish them severely, to nip this trend in the bud.”

Captain Liang replied, “I’ll make arrangements. Dogs don’t stop eating shit, cats don’t stop stealing fish, and once this starts, it’ll happen again. When we catch them, we’ll make an example and drive them out of Shanghe Brigade.”

Chief Zhao nodded, agreeing entirely.

It hadn’t been easy to forge Shanghe Village into what it was—first, they dealt with the troublemakers to unite the villagers. They fought against neighboring villages, earning a reputation for Shanghe. Whether scavenging on the mountain or dealing with disputes in the fields, hardly anyone dared provoke their people.

They stood up to the red armband squads, ensuring the villagers’ private plots—vegetables and tobacco—were preserved, letting everyone survive the winter a bit better.

They had survived the natural disasters of the past years, and who could promise such hardship would not return? But precautions were necessary.

For the sake of their families and fellow villagers, both men were determined not to let anyone undermine their hard-won stability.

After finishing work that day, Han Li went to Old Lady Liang’s house to exchange for some pickled beans, hoping to improve his own meal.