Chapter Seventeen: Industrial Bonds from Shanghai

The low prices of the 1960s were a product of the planned economy and shortage economy. While they could sustain basic survival, the quality of life remained poor.

As dusk fell, Zhang Huacheng and Tie Zhu finished collecting seafood and hurried toward the county town.

Since this haul of seafood was substantial, Zhang Huacheng left half of the wild boar meat hidden in the snow in the courtyard; otherwise, carrying it all would have exhausted them both.

The pigskin was also kept at home, intending to save up enough to sell at the procurement station.

Having visited the county’s morning market several times, Zhang Huacheng was quite familiar with the place. Seeing it was not yet crowded, he greeted a few stall vendors.

“Comrades, anyone want wild boar meat? Fresh, no meat coupons needed!”

At the time, meat was rationed through coupons.

Those with extra meat coupons often bought pork to resell at the morning or black markets for a profit. Previously, Zhang Huacheng had purchased pork for one yuan per jin (about half a kilogram) from a seller connected to the food station, bringing mostly prime, fatty cuts.

Hearing that this pork didn’t require coupons, nearby vendors eagerly came to take a look.

“Wild boar? You really got it?” A young man who regularly set up early to sell illicit salt ran over, eyes gleaming at the pork.

“This is an adult wild boar. How was it hunted?”

Half a slab of pork was this large, which amazed them.

At that time, it was rare to see a pig weighing over 200 jin at the food station.

“I don’t have that skill. Our team’s mountain guard shot it. We want to trade it for money to buy grain for the elderly in the team this winter,” Zhang Huacheng answered casually.

Better to keep a low profile here to avoid envy and trouble.

“How much per jin?”

The salt seller swallowed hard.

These days, not only rural production teams but even city meat coupons were hard to come by. Though officially each person was allotted one jin of pork per month, realistically, getting that much every few months was a luxury.

Without coupons, even money couldn’t buy pork.

“One jin costs six meat coupons. You can barter with goods — salt, grain, eggs, anything you sell.”

“You can even trade for seafood!” Zhang Huacheng quickly added.

Hearing the reasonable price and barter option, the vendors were eager. They didn’t want to spend money but were happy to trade.

The bamboo basket soon filled: cabbage and radishes at the bottom, twenty eggs, a pack of salt, and a bunch of chili peppers on top.

As the market grew lively, Zhang Huacheng’s stall became surrounded, with everyone scrambling for meat.

“I want ten jin! Ten jin!”

“Comrade, how much for the pig bones? Can I have two jin?”

“Hey, that piece’s mine, what are you doing?”

“Don’t fight, there’s enough for all!”

At first, there was some semblance of lining up, but as the crowd grew and anxiety over missing out set in, people pushed forward, offering money to buy the meat.

Within just over ten minutes, all the meat was gone, with many complaining about missing out.

“I still have crabs and fish, all plump. If you only want pork, don’t worry—I still have half a slab at home. Come early tomorrow!”

Zhang Huacheng was very satisfied.

He knew the food station’s pork prices ranged from six to eight mao per jin with coupons, and the wild boar meat he brought was all lean with no fat—a type of meat generally unpopular at the time.

Yet, because no coupons were needed, it sold out quickly.

Those who missed out were placated by the promise of more the next morning.

Fish and crabs sold less well; even with bartering and selling, some remained unsold due to time constraints, so Zhang Huacheng had to leave with Tie Zhu.

In the county’s streets and alleys, Zhang Huacheng asked everyone if they wanted seafood.

He even visited two restaurants to inquire if they bought seafood but was coldly turned away, with one threatening to call the Red Guards on him.

He understood—such was the times.

Finally, all the merchandise was sold.

Zhang Huacheng was not surprised. The fish and crabs from the traps were unlikely to have repeat customers; they came from rocky reefs, plump but small, mostly for trying something new.

He decided hunting was the better way to make money.

With 110 jin of pork, bones, and offal, plus the seafood, he earned seventy-three yuan and four mao that morning.

He also had a basket full of vegetables and eggs.

After eating his fill at a noodle shop with Tie Zhu, he went to buy hunting weapons and tools.

An axe, a butcher’s knife, a woodcutting knife, and some rope.

He also bought a new bamboo basket, much larger than the one on his back, perfect for Tie Zhu to carry.

“Brother, I think that guy has been following us,” Tie Zhu scratched his head, glancing back uneasily.

Zhang Huacheng looked at him in surprise and smiled. “That’s one of the black market stall owners from the morning market. Probably jealous of our profits and wants to rob us. Don’t worry about him.”

He hadn’t expected Tie Zhu to be so observant.

Those who sold black market goods naturally included some criminals, and seeing him earn so much money understandably stirred ill intentions. Zhang Huacheng had already noticed this black market vendor while selling meat.

However, this one was clearly different from the ticket scalper who tried to rob him before; this one was likely ruthless.

Tie Zhu nodded.

On their way home, when they reached a poplar grove, Zhang Huacheng stopped. The black market vendor blocking their path was already there.

Holding a knife, only his eyes visible, the vendor stood menacingly.

Tie Zhu gripped the yoke tightly.

Just one person?

Zhang Huacheng scanned the surroundings.

A lone attacker was likely a fugitive and a dangerous criminal.

“Where did you escape from?” Zhang Huacheng set down the bamboo basket and picked up the brand-new woodcutting knife.

The black market vendor stood still but, upon hearing the question, suddenly charged at Zhang Huacheng with the knife raised.

A ruthless man! Definitely a killer!

Zhang Huacheng watched the stabbing attack coming fast, clearly intent on killing them without a word.

He swiftly swung the woodcutting knife.

“Clang!”

A harsh sound rang out. The attacker’s hand shook, almost dropping the knife, but without hesitation, he lunged again.

“Hmph!”

Just as the knife was about to strike, the attacker let out a muffled grunt and stumbled back two steps, several fingers falling into the snow, and the knife flew from his hand.

He turned to flee but went dark before his eyes as he heard a crisp snapping sound.

Tie Zhu, breathing heavily and tense, had broken his heavy yoke into two with a single strike. The attacker staggered, kneeling in the snow, blood dripping from his forehead.

Zhang Huacheng hadn’t expected Tie Zhu to intervene; now the attacker was doomed.

He stepped forward to check and found the man was already dead.

“Brother!” Tie Zhu panicked slightly.

“It’s okay, he’s just unconscious,” Zhang Huacheng reassured.

He then took the black leather briefcase hanging on the dead man.

Opening it, his mind spun—it was full of industrial coupons!

Bundles upon bundles of thick industrial coupons from Shanghai, the kind accepted at Friendship Malls or department stores to buy bicycles, sewing machines, watches, radios, and other high-end goods.

For example, a sewing machine required ten coupons plus 120 yuan; a bicycle needed fifteen coupons plus 150 yuan.

This briefcase contained three to four hundred coupons!

These industrial coupons served the same function as bicycle tickets and sewing machine tickets.

He now understood what the black market vendor was selling and why he couldn’t sell them here—these coupons were likely welfare benefits issued by a Shanghai company to employees, only valid in big cities and useless here.

In this era, bicycles and sewing machines were strictly rationed, with cumbersome procedures.

Searching the man, Zhang Huacheng found only a few yuan in loose change.

Who had this man robbed?

Zhang Huacheng couldn’t figure it out but noted the Shanghai briefcase was left untouched—taking it might bring trouble, but he pocketed the coupons anyway.

“Let’s go,” he said, picking up the broken yoke and signaling Tie Zhu.

“Should we bury him?” Tie Zhu felt uneasy, shaken by having killed a man.

“No need. Someone will take care of it.” Zhang Huacheng was unbothered. In these times, finding a dead body in an isolated spot was not unusual.

No one would report it; those passing through the poplar grove were mountain folk or peddlers—no one looking for trouble.

Even if the police came, they’d only find a frozen, unclaimed corpse and have to arrange a burial.

Sure enough, shortly after they left, two peddlers carrying goods appeared.

Seeing the dead black market vendor in the snow, they hurried over.

Within minutes, the two peddlers left, having dumped the naked corpse into a ditch, exposed to the wind and snow.

One had even cut the man’s hair down to a few strands—waste not, want not.

For peddlers, this was an unexpected windfall.