Chapter 32: Fifteen Days of Hard Struggle to Remove the Illiteracy Label!

Chen Shi asked, “Mom, is Grandma’s family from the Northeast?”

Tian Xiulan replied, “No, they’re from Shandong. They migrated to the Northeast back then!”

The Chen household bustled with activity, and before long, night fell. Wispy smoke rose from the courtyard’s chimneys as dinner preparations began.

Tian Xiulan kept the dishes warm by steaming them in Chen Laohan’s lunchbox, muting the smell of meat. Only the western courtyard could catch a faint whiff—no one else noticed.

For dinner, Li Xiulian had prepared stir-fried chicken, scrambled eggs, and braised pork with preserved vegetables. Chen Shi set aside portions for his grandparents.

At the table, Chen Laohan drank and ate heartily, while Tian Xiulan pulled Shen Youchu aside to ask about her return visit to her family.

“It was my oversight. I didn’t expect your mother to prepare so much—full sets of shoes and all these gifts. Xiao Laoshi, did you leave the 50,000 yuan with your mother-in-law?”

“I did.”

Tian Xiulan nodded in approval. “Good. When New Year comes, we’ll increase her gifts by another twenty percent.”

Shen Youchu held Tian Xiulan’s hand. “Mom, if it weren’t for you and Dad, my mother wouldn’t have been able to afford her asthma medicine. She asked around—this medicine is hard to get even with money. My family is the one benefiting here.”

Tian Xiulan felt even more satisfied with her daughter-in-law upon hearing this.

When marrying off a son, the worst fear was ending up with a daughter-in-law like Qin Huairu—calculating, vain, and always scheming.

But Shen Youchu was the kind of girl who brought stability to a household.

After dinner, Chen Shi squatted in the outhouse for a long session. Today had been a rare occasion where he’d eaten well—Tian Xiulan usually practiced thrift, and the family was lucky to eat even half their fill.

More food meant more business to take care of. Clutching his stomach, Chen Shi rushed inside and searched frantically before realizing—”Mom, we’re out of toilet paper!”

Tian Xiulan called back, “Oh, right. Use the bamboo scrapers in the corner for now. I’ll buy some when the peddler comes by.”

Chen Shi was stunned. Bamboo scrapers?

“Mom, isn’t there anything else? Even tearing a page from Chen Maihua’s notebook would work!”

Chen Maihua immediately clutched her notebook protectively.

Tian Xiulan sighed. “Here’s an old newspaper. Make do for now. I’ll buy proper paper when it’s available.”

Grumbling, Chen Shi grabbed the newspaper and dashed to the communal outhouse outside the courtyard. In this era, most homes didn’t have private toilets—everyone used public ones in the alleyways.

The waste collected there would later be transported to rural areas by night soil collectors.

Before the introduction of “manure tickets,” Beijing even had “dung lords”—gangsters who monopolized public toilets and sold the waste. But like the “water lords,” they had since been labeled as exploitative landlords and crushed.

Chen Shi jogged to the outhouse, a crude structure with several rectangular pits lined up. The walls were brick, but there was no running water, so the stench was overpowering.

The cold weather had frozen urine and filth onto the bricks, making the ground slippery. Black, molted fly pupae littered the pits.

It wasn’t just dirty—it was treacherous. Even at twenty, Chen Shi found the place nightmarish. As a child, he’d once seen a playmate slip and drown in one of these pits during winter.

Carefully squatting down, he suddenly heard a voice from the alley:

“Toilet paper for sale! Who needs toilet paper? Comrade, want to buy some?”

Back in the courtyard, Yang Ruihua heard the call and shouted, “The toilet paper seller’s here! Xiulan, didn’t you say you ran out yesterday?”

Tian Xiulan hurried out with money. “Ah, my Xiao Laoshi just went to the outhouse and refused to use bamboo scrapers. I had to give him newspaper. I’d better stock up now!”

“Toilet paper” in this era—before the widespread use of proper tissue—was rough, bluish-gray paper, often made from recycled rags and scraps.

Small workshops bought waste paper from ragpickers, soaked and pulped it, then pressed and sun-dried the mixture. The result was coarse, smelly sheets cut into standard sizes and sold in stacks.

Chen Shi had once despised this kind of paper, but in this time, he had no choice. Proper toilet paper was expensive and often out of stock at cooperatives.

After 1953, under the planned economy, even outsiders needed local purchase certificates to buy toilet paper in Beijing. So for most families, this rough “toilet paper” was a necessity.

Chen Shi didn’t linger long in the freezing outhouse—a half-walled shack patched together with scrap wood, offering no shelter from the biting wind.

Braving the cold to relieve oneself in winter was already an act of courage.

After finishing, he sprinted home, his backside numb from the cold even through his padded pants.

Before he even entered the courtyard, he heard the neighborhood’s elderly women and a military administration representative promoting literacy slogans:

“Fight hard for fifteen days—remove the illiteracy label!”

“No culture, no industrialization or agricultural modernization!”

“Leaders take charge, everyone mobilizes—education for all!”

“The literacy class is starting soon! Are there any comrades here who want to join? Let’s learn together and build our new nation!”

Chen Shi spotted a young woman with twin braids, dressed in an olive-green military uniform and cap. Her striking features exuded a bold, heroic charm.

Unlike the artificial beauty of later generations, women of this era had a natural, wholesome elegance—a beauty that spoke of peace and prosperity.

Chen Shi sauntered over with a roguish grin. “If we join the literacy class, do we get any rewards?”

The woman turned to him. “Comrade, the knowledge you gain is the reward!”

Neighbors chuckled at the sight of the notorious slacker showing interest.

“Chen Shi, are you actually joining the literacy class?”

Foolish Zhu laughed. “Hah! Chen Shi, you can’t even read—you really think you can learn? Didn’t you skip first grade?”

Chen Shi shrugged. “If it were the Japs’ school, I wouldn’t bother. But if this comrade’s teaching, I’m in!”

The woman’s eyes lit up. “Comrade, I’m Liu Yuxiu, the literacy class teacher. Welcome!”

Chen Shi shook her hand with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Comrade, I’m Chen Shi—infamously ‘Honest Little Chen.’ I’ll study hard!”

“Look at Comrade Chen Shi’s high awareness! Everyone should learn from him!”

Getting people to join literacy classes was tough—many saw no point in learning to read when it didn’t put food on the table. They’d rather earn a few cents folding salt bags at the cooperative.

So Liu Yuxiu was thrilled to have a volunteer, even if it was just Chen Shi. She praised him on the spot.

The courtyard erupted in laughter and whispers:

“Chen Shi joining a literacy class? More like he’s after the teacher!”

“That rascal was always a loafer. Tian Xiulan keeps saying marriage will straighten him out—what a joke!”

“Shen Youchu married a good-for-nothing like him, and he’s still fooling around. She’s in for a hard life. Huairu, your mother-in-law might be awful, but Dongxu is decent.

A woman marries for food and clothing—you’re the lucky one! Your family’s future will be far brighter than Chen Shi’s!”