Chapter 12 Only Public Housing Can Be Reclaimed

Springwater Family of the Nineties Listening to the Rain Among the Hall of Magnolia 1307 words 2026-04-10 09:02:45

“Mom, don’t get anxious just yet.”

My aunt, always decisive and quick to act, untied her apron and made up her mind immediately. “I’m going straight to Director Zhang at the neighborhood committee. I’m going to find out exactly what’s going on.”

“Wait up, Sis, I’ll come with you.” My uncle, seeing her head out the door, grabbed a flashlight from the inner room, lifted the curtain, and hurried after her.

The house grew quiet, the atmosphere heavy. We younger ones didn’t dare make any more noise. We busied ourselves clearing the dishes and then sat obediently, side by side on small stools, watching television in silence.

Director Zhang of the Donghua Street Neighborhood Committee was a warm-hearted woman, about the same age as my aunt. My aunt worked as an accountant at the county’s Zixiang Supply and Marketing Cooperative and often had dealings with the committee, so she and Director Zhang had a good relationship and got along easily.

It felt impolite to visit someone at night empty-handed. My aunt and uncle discussed it and bought two bottles of Erguotou on the way.

They didn’t make the trip in vain—Director Zhang was at home. After dinner, she was sitting at her doorway, enjoying the evening breeze and fanning herself with a large palm-leaf fan.

“You didn’t need to bring anything just to stop by,” Director Zhang said as my aunt and uncle entered, holding the liquor. She was a shrewd woman and understood their purpose without being told. Smiling, fanning herself, she welcomed them into her house.

“Director Zhang,” my aunt began, pouring out her worries as soon as she sat down. “You know our situation better than anyone. Back then, we moved to Donghua Street at the committee’s request…”

“Ah, this is a tough one,” Director Zhang sighed, her smile fading, looking troubled. “This round of demolition is strictly regulated—only public housing and private homes with property certificates will be eligible for resettlement. And it’ll take at least two years from demolition to completion. In the meantime, every family has to find their own place to live. The street simply can’t accommodate so many people at once.”

“Only public housing can be resettled? What’s going to happen to us?” My aunt’s anxiety spiked at these words. “We’ve lived on Donghua Street for over thirty years! Are they really going to kick out those of us without property, just like that, and leave us homeless?”

“Of course not…” Director Zhang, ever the skilled negotiator, spoke reassuringly. “You all out on the street? I wouldn’t stand for it. We’ve known each other so long. How could I turn a blind eye and let you end up with nowhere to go?”

Relief flickered in my aunt’s eyes. “So what should we do?”

“It all hinges on Old Mr. Huang.”

Director Zhang leaned forward, adopting a confidential, intimate tone. “The resettlement housing is allocated according to the actual living area. Old Mr. Huang’s place has many rooms, so he’ll get more than one apartment. If you want to stay, as long as he agrees, you can just keep renting from his family.”

“But there’s something you need to understand,” she went on. “There’s a difference between private homes with property certificates and public housing. Private homes get a relocation subsidy—one hundred yuan per month—public housing doesn’t…”

“And another thing—Old Mr. Huang isn’t in the best health. He’s elderly, and you never know what might happen. If, in two years, he’s no longer around, given his son’s character, it’s hard to say if you’ll be able to keep renting.”

“So, your best bet is to buy the property rights outright. Not only would you receive the relocation subsidy, but you’d solve your housing problem once and for all.”

“Buy the house?” My aunt’s face fell. “How much would that cost? We don’t have the money.”

“If you can’t buy, then you’ll have to rent.” After a moment’s thought, Director Zhang added, “But you must settle the rental agreement while Old Mr. Huang is still alive, and it’d be best to put it in writing, just in case things change in the future.”