Chapter 63: The Warmth of the Mutual Aid Fund

The dew in the deep of night carried an autumnal chill. Su Yao had just finished packing the last batch of Radix Isatidis into wooden crates when urgent footsteps echoed from outside the courtyard gate. Old Zhou’s booming voice shattered the quiet of the night, "Comrade Su! Are you at home?" The hurricane lamp in his hand swayed violently, and the flickering wick sparked before dying out completely upon hitting the ground.

"What is going on?" Su Yao draped an outer garment over her shoulders and hurried out. She saw that Old Zhou's trouser hems were caked with mud, as if he had sprinted all the way from the fields. Old Zhou collapsed onto the threshold, panting heavily. His long-stemmed pipe clattered to the ground with a sharp click. "Old Wang’s place is in trouble! His little grandson is burning up with fever and delirious. The county hospital demands the hospitalization fee upfront, and they simply can’t scrape the money together!"

Su Yao’s heart sank. Old Wang’s five-year-old grandson, Gou Dan, often played near the greenhouse alongside Xing Chen. Just yesterday, the boy had proudly shown her a green tomato, bragging that it was "sweeter than candy." She rushed back inside and fished out the kerosene lamp. The lock on the mutual-aid fund’s wooden box was firmly secured, its key shared and rotated between her and the village Party secretary.

"How much is left in the fund?" Su Yao’s fingers paused over the keyhole.

The fund had been established only last month after their very first harvest of space-bred tomatoes yielded a profit. She had proposed setting aside a portion as an emergency mutual-aid reserve for anyone facing sudden hardships. The villagers had chipped in—a dime here, five cents there—and the total currently stood at just over two hundred yuan.

"I went to check just now. Gou Dan's face is flushed red with fever, and Old Wang is holding the child and weeping at the crossroads, unable to flag down a ride," Old Zhou said, his voice trembling. "His meager savings were completely wiped out recently buying medicine for his old lady, so now he can't even afford the hospital deposit."

Without another moment of hesitation, Su Yao retrieved the key from her drawer. With a crisp click, she opened the wooden box. The bills—mostly small-denomination notes—were neatly stacked, the largest being a single ten-yuan note.

"I'll go wake people up for a meeting," Su Yao said, wrapping the cash in a cloth pouch. "This money belongs to everyone, so the collective must decide."

Old Zhou hurriedly waved his hands. "What time of night is it? Saving a life comes first! Who could possibly object?"

Su Yao shook her head, lifting the kerosene lamp as she walked out into the courtyard. "The rules cannot be broken, or this fund won't last."

When she knocked on the first courtyard gate, Widow Li was wearing a cloak over her shoulders while feeding the pigs. Hearing that it was Su Yao, she nearly dropped her bucket of swill. "What major emergency has happened?"

As soon as Su Yao explained the situation, Widow Li dashed back into the house. When she emerged, she clutched a handkerchief containing five yuan—money she had set aside for her son’s school tuition.

"Give it to Old Wang first. I'll figure something out for the tuition later," Widow Li pressed the money into Su Yao’s hand, her palms slick with sweat.

Er Zhu’s home was at the eastern end of the village. After Su Yao pounded on his door for a long time, he finally stumbled out shirtless. Upon hearing about Gou Dan’s hospitalization, he retreated to rummage beneath his bed, pulling out a clay jar from which he poured a pile of coins. "This is the cigarette and liquor money I've saved up. It's not much, take it first."

By the time they reached the village office, over a dozen people had already gathered. The dim, wavering light of the kerosene lamps illuminated anxious expressions on every face. Su Yao emptied the cloth pouch onto the table. "There are two hundred thirty-five yuan and sixty cents in the fund. Combined with what we just collected, that makes two hundred sixty-five yuan. I propose we send this to Old Wang immediately and figure out the rest later."

"Send it over directly!" someone shouted.

Su Wan sat quietly in the corner, holding a small paper packet. She stood up and placed it on the table. "I have eight yuan here—wages I saved from recording the data." Though her voice was soft, it was crystal clear. "Old Wang used to bring vegetables to our house all the time; now it's our turn to help him."

Yu Xuan hurried over from the stationery factory, his hands still stained with printing ink. "I'll add fifty more, from an advance payment we just received." He slapped five ten-yuan bills onto the table. "If it's not enough, I'll go borrow more. We'll manage."

Seeing the pile of money on the table grow larger, Su Yao felt a warmth blossom in her chest. Just as she was about to call for the meeting to conclude, the village secretary strode in, draped in a coat.

"I've heard all about it," the secretary said, seating himself on a long bench and pulling tobacco leaves from his pouch. "We need to go through the proper paperwork. Let Yu Xuan head to the commune to get a certificate so there are no misunderstandings later." As he rolled a cigarette, he continued, "Old Wang's situation meets the fund's criteria. I approve."

No one raised an objection, not even Zhang Laowu, who was usually the stingiest man in the village. Last year, when Zhang Laowu's son broke his leg, it was Old Wang who had carried him all the way to the hospital on his back.

Su Yao repacked the money and handed it to Yu Xuan. "You're young and ride fast. Go to the commune for the certificate first, then head straight to the hospital. Old Zhou and I will find a cart to take Old Wang."

On the way to Old Wang's house, the moon broke through the clouds, illuminating the path at the village entrance. In the distance, Old Wang could be seen squatting by the roadside holding the child. In his arms, little Gou Dan let out weak whimpers, sounding like an injured kitten.

"Grandpa Wang, we're taking you to the hospital!" Su Yao rushed over and pushed the money into his hands. "The medical fees are enough, don't worry."

Old Wang’s hands shook violently. When he took the money, the paper bills rustled loudly in the wind, and he hurriedly pressed them down with his palms. "I will definitely pay everyone back..." Tears fell onto Gou Dan’s face, and the boy sleepily smacked his lips.

Old Zhou had already secured a tractor, borrowed overnight by his son from a neighboring village. A cotton quilt had been laid out in the trailer to cushion the child against the bumps.

"Be careful on the road," Su Yao helped steady Old Wang as he climbed aboard. "Send word back if anything changes."

The tractor chugged away into the distance, and Old Wang waved from the trailer, his white hair gleaming in the moonlight like a layer of frost. Standing at the crossroads and watching the tail lights shrink into a tiny red dot, Su Yao finally let out a sigh of relief.

Early the next morning, as soon as Su Yao unlocked the greenhouse, she saw Er Zhu carrying a sack of sweet potatoes toward the village office. "Add this to the fund. Who knows whose family might need it next time."

Widow Li followed closely behind, carrying half a bag of cornmeal and muttering, "It's freshly ground. Save this for Old Wang's family so the boy can regain his strength once he's better."

Su Wan arrived last, cradling a pottery jar filled with pickled vegetables her mother had made. "My family doesn't have cash on hand, but this can serve as food."

Looking at these offerings, Su Yao realized that the fund was more than just money; it was a sentiment, binding the hearts of the entire village together. She found a brand-new ledger and meticulously recorded each contribution of cash and goods, her handwriting firmer and more deliberate than usual.

At noon, she called from the post office, and the county hospital reported that Gou Dan’s fever had broken, though he would need to remain under observation for a few more days. Su Yao relayed the news to the villagers waiting at the village office, and everyone visibly relaxed.

Zhang Laowu squatted in a corner smoking his pipe and suddenly spoke up, "When my two mu of land yields its corn harvest, I'll donate some too."

"You don't need to donate that much," Su Yao said with a smile. "As long as the fund has enough for rotation, it's fine. Everyone's life is tight right now."

Old Zhou chimed in from the side, "This isn't about whether people are well-off or tight; it's about heart answering heart. If Comrade Su hadn't proposed this fund in the first place, Old Wang truly wouldn't have known what to do."

His words reminded Su Yao of when she had first introduced the space-bred seeds, and the villagers had looked on with doubt and hesitation. Back then, who could have imagined that within just a few months, everyone would be so united? Looking at the figures in the ledger, she felt more secure than she had upon receiving the order from the military hospital—this money contained something far more precious than gold.

By evening, Yu Xuan returned from the county town, bringing a message from Old Wang that once the child recovered, he would come to kowtow in gratitude to everyone.

"Old Wang said he has never received such profound kindness in his life," Yu Xuan said while drinking water. "The hospital says the fees are covered, and I've kept the remainder to settle accounts when they are discharged."

Su Wan suddenly remarked, "When Gou Dan comes back, I'll teach him to recognize Radix Isatidis and help tend the seedlings as a way of repaying everyone."

Her suggestion brought laughter from everyone present. Widow Li slapped her thigh in approval. "What a wonderful idea! Let all the children learn what mutual support truly means."

That night, as Su Yao placed the newly received funds into the wooden box, she heard footsteps outside. Peering through a crack in the door, she saw Old Wang's neighbor placing a cloth pouch on the windowsill before slipping away anonymously. Inside were a dozen eggs. A wave of warmth washed over Su Yao, reminding her of what her mother used to say: villagers were like crops in a field; they only flourished when they grew close together.

On the third day, word arrived that Gou Dan's fever had completely subsided, and the entire village rejoiced as if it were their own good news. When Su Yao went to the greenhouse, she found Xing Chen holding a watering can and humming a new nursery rhyme composed by Shi Han: *"You help me, I help you, the mutual aid fund warms ten thousand homes..."*

Standing at the doorway, she watched the sunlight slice diagonally through a crack in the greenhouse roof, casting the shadows of the seedlings onto the broken earthen ridges in crooked lines, like pathways drawn by a child with a tree branch. At that moment, she suddenly felt that the mutual-aid fund was truly like a seed, quietly pushing its tender green shoots out of the yellow soil of Lu Family Village.

Four days later, after half a month away, Old Wang returned to the village carrying Gou Dan. Though the boy’s face was still slightly pale, he was able to run about on his own feet.

His very first stop was the village office, where he tried to leave his savings on the table, offering to chop firewood to make up any remaining deficit. Su Yao gently pushed the money back. "Grandpa Wang, keep this money to help the child regain his strength. That is precisely what the fund is for."

Old Wang did not press the matter further, but from then on, he arrived at the village office before dawn every day to sweep the floors and keep the fund ledger meticulously clean. Gazing at his stooped figure, Su Yao finally understood the true purpose of the fund.

It was not merely an emergency reserve fund; it was a strong tether binding the hearts of an entire village together.

That evening, Su Yao brought the ledger home, and Lu Zhanye leaned over to look. "These numbers are growing quickly."

Su Yao flipped to the final page, which recorded: *"Widow Li: Half a bag of cornmeal," "Er Zhu: Thirty catties of sweet potatoes," "Su Wan: A jar of pickled vegetables."* She suddenly smiled. "Is this even a ledger? It's our village's record of human warmth."

The moonlight outside the window shone upon the ledger, illuminating the clumsy handwriting with utter clarity. Su Yao thought back to when she had first crossed over and found life in the seventies so bitter. Only now did she realize that the bonds forged through hard times were the most precious treasures of all.

Though the money in the mutual-aid fund seemed modest, when real hardship struck, it could carry immense weight.

Early the next morning, Su Yao inscribed a single line across the title page of the fund ledger: *"When people's hearts are united, they can move mountains."*