A century of poverty

Chapter 47 Snatching the Chicken from the Eagle's Mouth

The two courtyards on the east and west sides of the alley already have four married daughters. During the first month of the lunar year, the daughters and sons-in-law always bring their children home to pay New Year's visits. The return of the daughters during the first month is very lively. The eldest aunt, the old aunt, and the mother discuss who will host them on the first day and the second day.

The banquet was very elaborate. First, eight platters of pastries and fruits were served, along with fragrant tea. After that, four large bowls were served: braised meat, stewed fish, fried meatballs, and steamed pork belly. The eight platters featured tenderloin, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, and each family's specialty dishes, all of which were excellent in color, aroma, and taste.

After a year of hard work and saving, people splurge during the New Year to make it as extravagant and luxurious as possible. This not only saves face but also demonstrates their wealth.

The sisters and their husbands, who rarely saw each other after marriage, reminisced and chatted happily. The girls took out lucky money and gave it to each other's children. Only Jinzi and her husband accepted lucky money from others, then took their children and hid away, only to reappear at the dinner table.

Every year they received New Year's money from others without spending any of it. Later, it was said that when Granny Jin was in charge, she had no money. The three sisters, eldest sister, second sister, and Huan'er, along with all the relatives, didn't mind their stinginess, and everything continued to get along harmoniously as usual.

After the Lantern Festival, Di Zhandong, the second cousin-in-law of my deceased aunt from Gaogezhuang, returned to his unit after his visit to relatives.

My second cousin brought her three children and two bags of fruit to stay at my maternal grandmother's house.

Her eldest daughter, Lingling, was about my age; her son, Minmin, was about my age; and her youngest daughter, Yanyan, was a little younger. She moved in with all three children. With four people suddenly arriving, even if Yanyan and her mother shared one quilt, they would still need three more. My mother sent my eldest brother to stay with the neighbors to the east, leaving his quilt behind. We were still short two quilts, so she took my fourth sister, gave her quilt to Minmin, and borrowed another quilt from the north garden. That was barely enough.

Mom brought out all the good food and cooked it for them, serving them at the table and around the kitchen. But as time went on, the good food became less frequent. My second cousin lay on her back on the kang (heated brick bed) and said, "Auntie, what do you think I want to eat? I want stewed tofu."

Mom: "Then let's soak the beans and make tofu."

Making tofu is an extremely time-consuming and laborious task. Soaking soybeans, grinding them, boiling the sauce, wrapping the tofu, curdling it, and finally steaming it—it takes at least half a day to complete, and my third sister has to help with that as well. The staple food is also dry rice.

The third sister whispered outside, "He does nothing but arrange all sorts of food."

Mom: "You can't say that, your grandma will fight with me again if she hears that."

The work of our whole family fell on my mother's shoulders. My father was in poor health and wouldn't even pick up a fallen oil bottle. My eldest brother was never home. All the chores, inside and outside the house, on the kang (heated brick bed) and on the floor, fell on my mother's shoulders. Only my third sister helped out. After my mother grew up, her back was covered with dust, and she didn't even have time to take it off and shake it off.

These four women, mother and daughter, stay for half a month or twenty days at a time and don't leave.

Not only that, these guests really overstepped their bounds. Lingling was always demanding, and we got to do everything she wanted, leaving us feeling wronged. Minmin was even worse; he hogging all our toys and belongings, even a small stool. If my little brother tried to touch it, he would hit him. Mom always had to keep us in check, and we didn't dare argue with them because if Grandma found out, she would take her anger out on Mom after the guests left.

The first month of the lunar calendar is over, and it's time for my second cousin to go home. She asked her grandmother, "Grandma, has the cotton I brought you been spun yet?"

Grandma said, "I'm done spinning." She got out of bed, opened her cabinet, and took out the spun thread, which my second cousin wrapped in a large cloth.

"I'll take the thread back and bring you cotton in a few days."

Grandma: "Bring it over."

My mother made all the clothes and shoes for our family of about ten people. My third sister helped a little when she was a bit older, but my grandmother never helped. She just spun cotton for her niece and dozed off under the covers.

My uncle from Mutaiying never remarried after my aunt passed away. In the spring, he wore only his cotton-padded trousers and jacket, without an overcoat, carrying a manure basket as he went around collecting manure. He would put the basket down at the gate of my house in Zhangzhuangtuo and go inside.

It's noon, time to cook. What should we make? February is the beginning of a bitter spring, there's no good grain or vegetables. My brother-in-law is a guest too! He can't just pick a small basket of sweet potatoes from the roof and eat them like we do! My mother, looking worried, went to the hallway and started grinding grain in the yard.

My younger brother and I watched, thinking to ourselves: This uncle, don't you see how worried my mother is? Why don't you leave?

Younger brother: "Let's hide the manure basket so he can't find it and thinks it's lost. He won't come back next time."

Where to hide it? The only places to hide a filthy, smelly dung basket are the outhouse and the pigsty. We always try to hide it well.

As the sun began to set, my uncle came out cheerfully, with my grandmother and mother seeing him off. When they reached the gate, the manure basket was nowhere to be seen.

Uncle: "I put it here, how could it not be there?"

Mom looked at us and said, "Stop arguing with your uncle and take it out quickly."

The children are just playing with you.

We had no choice but to go to the outhouse. I moved the straw aside, and my younger brother took out the manure basket and pitchfork and handed them to my uncle. My uncle still chuckled and said, "These kids."

He slung the manure basket and fork over his shoulder, tucked them into the basket, held them close to his arm, and walked north towards Beidaogou.

Spring has arrived, the earth is reviving, and the grass is sprouting from the ground.

The leaves on the branches unfold, growing in a different way every day.

As the ground temperature rises, the heat from the earth rises upwards, and eagles circle overhead.

At this time, eagles also come to the edge of the village to prey on domestic chickens. People living near the edge of the village often find one chicken missing when they feed them at night.

That noon, we had just picked up our rice bowls when we heard someone shout, "An eagle is catching a chicken! Help! An eagle is grabbing a chicken—!"

The third sister dropped her rice bowl and ran. When she got to the street, she saw an eagle snatching a chicken and flying towards the ditch. She took off chasing after it. She was running on the ground, followed by a group of slower children.

A group of people ran and shouted, "Run! Catch it!"

Some people even used the sound of shooing birds, "Ooh-ooh—Ooh-ooh—," to run and shout along the side...

After passing the millstone to the north—which is the fertilizer pit of the fourth team—we crossed the country road and entered the North Avenue Ditch, where the distance between us increased, with the third sister running in the lead.

The eagle soared in the sky, and my third sister chased after it on the ground; her legs raced against the eagle's wings...

The eagle pulled away from the third sister and stopped to rest on a branch. A moment later, the third sister caught up with her and came to the tree.

And so, the third sister ran at the speed of a 100-meter sprint, while the eagle, carrying the chicken, flew and stopped intermittently, but it could never shake off the third sister. Seeing that there was no hope of a complete victory, it put down the food and flew away.

The chicken fell from the tree, and Third Sister discovered it was missing its internal organs and one wing. "It's alright, I won this chase," Third Sister said happily.

At this moment, the "main force" caught up, all panting heavily. Hua Zi, who lived next door to the east, was about the same age as her third sister, but slightly taller. She said, "My belt isn't tight, it keeps falling down, otherwise I could catch up too."

"Whose chicken is this?"

"I don't recognize him."

"Who cares whose it is? Whoever picks it up owns it. Even if you chase after someone for miles, it's not like you're just picking it up for free."

Everyone chimed in with their own opinions, but in general, they all admired Third Sister for managing to chase the chicken back from under the eagle's claws.

When I got home, I handed it to my mother, who said, "This is from Zhenlong's family. Take it to them."

Fourth Sister: "We can't give it away. We chased after it and got it back. It was hers that was snatched away by an eagle and is gone now. It's better for us to eat it ourselves than to give it to her."

Mother: "Zhenlong's mother is sick and can't even get out of bed in the winter. We should send some to her so she can have some nourishing food. Everyone has a hard life. If we didn't know whose it was, we wouldn't care, but since we know, how can we feel comfortable eating it if we don't give it to her?"

His words convinced us all.