Chinese Literature

mented on the fact that Heaven, after all, was not blind, and would not let the poor people starve. They talked about their past sufferings: flood, drought, hard work, fear and the pangs. of a hungry stomach .

but now everything was going to be all right.

The market gradually began to show changes, too, but of a less auspicious nature. Commodity prices rose over one hundred per cent within two or three days. On the other hand, the price of rice dropped alarmingly day by day. Six dollars, four dollars, three dollars ... it dropped until it was only 1.50 dollars for the best quality, late crop rice.

“How can it drop like that?”

With the drop in the price of grain, the hopes and joys of but a few days before gradually died down. People’s hearts tightened with each drop in price. Furthermore, the rise in commodity prices made life for the peasants, in this year of bumper harvest, just as har d as in ordinary years, if not more so. This grain, the fruit of their hard struggle, gained at the cost of their sweat and blood—who would be willing to sell it at such a low price?

When Uncle Yun-pu first heard the news, he was not very much alarmed. His eyes were already dazed by the golden grain, and he did not believe that such wonderful life-saving treasure would not sell for a good price. When Li-chiu told him that the price of rice was dropping fast, he remained undaunted. His eyes staring with anger, he shouted, ‘Tt’s only you bunch of ne’er-do-wells creating alarm by spreading rumours. Only a drop in the price of rice! What is there to get excited about? If nobody wants to pay a good price for rice, can’t we keep it and eat it ourselves? If they don’t want it, let them all starve.”

However, it’s one thing to give vent to one’s feelings, and quite another to stop the drop in the price of rice. Uncle Yun-pu could do nothing about the latter. The news that the late crop was priced at 1.20 dollars per picul gradually spread throughout the vast countryside.

“One dollar twenty cents! Only a fool would sell at that price.”

Even if the price of rice had dropped, even if the grain was not worth a cent, Uncle Yun-pu still urged his sons to work hard. After the crop was threshed, the straw had to be dried and the grain spread out under the sun. It then went through the winnowing-machine and

was stored in the barn. They toiled ceaselessly all day under the burning

sun, so that eventually the moist, dirty, rough grain became sturdy, clean, golden grain. He kept assuring himself that if necessary, he would keep this precious life-saving treasure as food in the house for the next three years, rather than sell it at such a low price. The grain was, after

_ all, the fruit of his sweat and labour over the past six months.

The fields after the autumn harvest resembled the devastation

following a battle. Everything was topsyturvy, nothing was in order. . The whole countryside seemed to have settled down temporarily—settled

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