Chapter 1690 - Resident Police
Not only was there no commerce in the village, but culture, education, and healthcare were also blank—though these were limited by objective conditions and couldn't be rushed. However, various commercial sideline businesses absolutely should be launched. Old Meng's tofu workshop was a model worth following. The Cooperative General Society could also establish a sales agency here to peddle daily necessities like oil, salt, soap, and matches while purchasing sideline products—enlivening the market in ways beneficial to both the state and its people.
As for village administration, he felt the current management was too detailed, obviously exceeding the actual capabilities of grassroots cadres. Even when they barely managed, the data showed significant distortion. The sheer volume of data also exceeded the Senate's present calculation and statistical capacities. It should be streamlined, focusing on a few key metrics.
He considered the practice of allocating "office land" to be deeply flawed. First, land yields were unstable. Second, village cadres abusing villagers' labor easily bred resentment. Corresponding operating expenses and subsidies should be provided directly. The problem of cadres eating and drinking on countryside visits hadn't been completely solved even in the 21st century—typically improving briefly after crackdowns, then rebounding the moment pressure relaxed. For now, he could only think of controlling the number of inspection delegations and tour groups...
Yun Suji thought and wrote this way, losing all sense of time. Eventually, a chill crept over his body. He rose and draped clothes over himself, then glanced at the window to find dawn already breaking. An entire night had passed, yet he wasn't sleepy at all. Feeling the indoor air had grown stale, he pushed open the door and stepped into the courtyard.
The moment the door opened, a gust of cool but refreshing air struck his face, and his spirits lifted. He noticed a two-story lookout tower in a corner of the courtyard—standard equipment for a standard village, with a bell hung atop to summon villagers in emergencies. Feeling adventurous, he climbed the steps to the tower.
One of his guards was standing sentry on the platform. Seeing him arrive, the guard snapped to attention: "Chief..."
"At ease—I just came up to look around." Yun Suji waved him off. He performed a few chest expansions and several deep breaths. Pulling his slipping jacket tighter, he gazed out from the tower.
The houses and courtyards of the standard village spread out neatly beneath him. Beyond the village lay vast patches of fields crisscrossed by paths, dotted with clumps of miscellaneous woodland. In the distance, the Nandu River flowed like a satin ribbon through a thousand li of fertile plain, morning mist drifting across its surface.
Suddenly, sunlight broke through the thin haze—ten thousand rays of morning glory. A half-disc of red sun rose slowly from the river, instantly dyeing the sky crimson, magnificent with rosy clouds. Yun Suji couldn't suppress his exhilaration and hummed softly: "The sun comes out shining in all directions; the revolutionary people have a roadmap..."
After eating breakfast prepared by Liu Yuanhu's wife at the village office, the Resident Police officer from Boli Village arrived. The policeman had been assigned here two years ago—also a Shandong refugee. Hearing the Chief was present, he hurried over to report.
Yun Suji observed him: a man of fully fifty years, face covered in stubble, black uniform wrinkled. Probably because he'd rushed over, he hadn't even put on his armed belt. How does Ran Yao select police? he wondered. What use is staffing resident posts with the old, weak, sick, and feeble?
After speaking with him for a few minutes, though, Yun Suji saw that he expressed himself clearly and handled matters in an orderly fashion. His impression improved. When the matter of Old Lady Cao's suicide at the village office came up, the policeman smiled bitterly: "That old lady—I truly admire her!"
"How so?"
"She's famous around these parts. I've brought her back from the county twice myself, and probably three or four times from the township. She files complaints everywhere. If Liu Yuanhu hadn't intercepted her here, she'd probably have run to Lingao to petition before the Emperor long ago." The policeman shook his head. "Really, it's just a breath of anger held too long that she could never let go. I'm afraid her mind has grown confused."
"She claims Old Meng's son—the one who makes tofu in this village—was beaten to death by Liu Yuanhu. Is there any truth to that?"
"How could there be?" The policeman shook his head. "Does Liu Yuanhu have such audacity? That would make us police nothing but freeloaders. Besides, I know Old Meng's son's situation clearly: the brick factory processed his formal employment paperwork just last week. He came to me himself to transfer his household registration. Can a brick factory transfer papers and process employment for a dead man?"
Yun Suji hadn't believed it to begin with. Hearing this confirmation, he put the matter entirely to rest.
"This time she courted death herself. She must be properly handled for the crime of disturbing government institutions!" The Resident Police seemed to have accumulated his own grievances against Old Lady Cao, rubbing his fists together with evident anticipation.
"She went to the township and county so many times without being punished?"
"If we'd wanted to deal with her seriously, she'd have been arrested long ago. At first, everyone pitied the old and destitute. She's a widow in her fifties who lost her son while her daughter-in-law ran away. Truly pitiable enough!" The Resident Police sighed. "The first time I brought her back from the township, the station officer told me: Old Lady Cao is very unfortunate—treat her politely on the way. Later, when picking her up at the county, Chief Liu even specially used the county's official carriage to send us back."
"So that was how it went."
"But eventually, it wouldn't do. After she went a few more times, everyone grew irritated. Besides, the things she complained about were either nonexistent or not illegal—yet she insisted the leaders handle them. Who could welcome that? But the old woman is cunning too: she doesn't barge into the yamen to beat the drum and cry injustice. Instead, she 'petitions on the ground' outside the gate. At most, the police can charge her with 'setting up a stall in violation of regulations.' Even arrested, she can't be sentenced. Sentencing her to caning—she's in her fifties, probably couldn't withstand it. In the end, they always call me to bring her back."
This had become a genuine headache for the Resident Police. A round trip took at least half a day, leaving no time for other work.
Yun Suji chatted with him about the local public security situation. The policeman said criminal cases were essentially nonexistent locally—the Senate was severe in punishing petty crimes. Not only would offenders be sent to labor reform if caught, but three-time repeat offenders would be exiled to hard labor camps for life. Thus, the loafers habituated to the petty thefts common in rural areas had quickly been purged. There had been many cases of telegraph wire and pole theft in the first few years, but after a special crackdown, very few remained.
"Is gambling common around here?"
"Extremely!" The Resident Police nodded. "Especially now during the slack farming season. Men have nothing to do and gather to gamble. Quarreling and fighting are very common too."
This was the result of a severe lack of cultural entertainment and pastimes, Yun Suji thought. The village had no cultural facilities; the vast majority of people were illiterate. Besides going home at night to f*ck their wives and beat them, there was scarcely any entertainment to speak of—and the problem was, not many men even had wives.
"Besides gambling, there's a good deal of extramarital affairs too," the Resident Police continued. "We have more men than women here, and plenty of bachelors driven mad like red-eyed roosters. As long as a woman loosens her waistband even slightly, she can always obtain some benefits. Widows are one thing, but quite a few married women too! Over this business, families fight and feud until things turn irreconcilable—it's nearly caused cases involving human lives. Some widows, finding that sleeping around brings such rewards, simply refuse to remarry. There's a Widow Yang in my village—plenty of matchmakers came, but she refused every offer, no matter how large the betrothal gift. Besides the land distributed by the Senate, she's cleared seventy or eighty mu of wasteland. Five or six wild men carrying on with her help farm it all, and she's amassed a huge family fortune..." He shook his head as he spoke.
Yun Suji didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He read the official publications every day, and when they spoke of rural conditions, it was all "excellent progress." He had never imagined such bizarre situations existed.
The Resident Police was still chattering: "In the old days, clans controlled the villages—or at the very least, elders from the same lineage maintained some face. Things wouldn't devolve into such disorder. Now the villages are full of unrelated outsiders. Without parents and in-laws to restrain them, many people have grown shameless, saying things like 'I'm master of my own body—I use it however I please.' Listen to that, Chief—is there any sense of propriety, righteousness, integrity, or shame left? Someone asked me to step in and manage it, but the handbook given by the Senate has no clause for catching adulterers. I don't know what to do..."
"Having affairs is still better than 'red-eyed roosters' coming out to rape young girls and housewives, wouldn't you say?" Yun Suji replied. This was far from a problem solvable by a few laws. Without addressing root causes, simply "cracking down" couldn't reduce such phenomena—it would only drive them underground. Furthermore, "having affairs" might even serve as a release valve for social pressure among the lower classes.
Yun Suji chatted with the Resident Police for quite some time, gleaning more grassroots realities. Because the police operated under vertical leadership rather than village authority, his relationship with the village was more detached, and he spoke more freely when discussing problems. His work naturally brought him into contact with many dark corners—situations impossible to learn from villagers and cadres could be obtained from him.
The policeman also mentioned that village household registration was unreliable now. Many young and able-bodied people had gone out to work in enterprises—but neither the enterprises nor the individuals came to transfer their registrations locally. Thus, many "empty-hanging" registrations remained on the books.
"Now if anyone asks me to produce resident population statistics, I'm in a bind. The numbers in the household registration book and the people actually in the village simply don't match up!" The Resident Police complained. "If an inspection comes down and accuses me of false reporting, I can't shoulder that blame!"
"Why don't they transfer? Too much trouble?"
"Factories probably find it troublesome. As for individuals—they don't want to lose the land under their names."
Yun Suji recalled that every full laborer was allocated thirty standard mu of arable land upon settlement, with half-laborers receiving fifteen. This farmland carried only "surface rights," not "bone rights"—meaning farmers had usage rights but couldn't buy or sell. Once a farmer stopped cultivating, the land would be reclaimed and redistributed.
"According to the rules, once someone's household registration leaves, the land must be taken back. But now, with registrations not transferred, they rent the land to fellow villagers to farm. Public grain and corvée labor all count against someone else. The rent they collect isn't much, but it's still extra income."
"No wonder—there really are quite a few twists and turns in all this."
The more Yun Suji listened, the more he felt that rural work carried a heavy burden with a long road ahead. Unconsciously, he began forming the idea of writing what he had seen and heard into a newsletter for publication in the official papers—to let more people recognize the importance of rural work.
(End of Chapter)