Free Dream of Ding Village by Yan Lianke Page B

shinier and healthier, not as grizzled as before.
    In a second-grade classroom, residents pushed desks against the wall and arranged chairs in the centre of the room to form a meeting hall. One of the residents, a man who couldn’t cook very well, made a suggestion: ‘As most of us are sick and aregoing to die soon, why should we have to cook for ourselves? Wouldn’t it make more sense to eat our meals together?’
    After some quick calculations, the residents agreed that cooking separately was a waste of time and money. By eating together, they could save on firewood and conserve their food stores. The most critical matter now was the promised government food subsidy. The higher-ups had promised to provide high-quality rice and enriched flour to everyone with the fever who agreed to be quarantined in the school. The reasoning was that this way, sick villagers wouldn’t have to cook for themselves, and they could also save money on food and rent.
    Grandpa called everyone to a meeting in the converted classroom. This seemed appropriate because he was, after all, a teacher. Well, a sort-of teacher. Many of the residents were illiterate, unable to read or write more than a few characters, but those who were able to read had been taught by Grandpa in his days as a substitute teacher. They were, in a sense, his students. Now they were grown men and women, but they were living in the school, a place where Grandpa had always been in charge of things. All of them were sick, and some might die any day now. Grandpa was the only one at the school who didn’t have the fever, and he wasn’t afraid of catching it. It was only natural that they would look to him as a leader. Well, a sort-of leader.
    The residents filed into the classroom and began taking their seats. Among them were Ding Yuejin, Zhao Xiuqin, Ding Zhuangzi, Li Sanren, Zhao Dequan and a sprinkling of other villagers, a few dozen in all. The classroom was crowded. There were people everywhere, sitting or standing, some leaning on walls. Everyone seemed relaxed and smiling, just happy to be together. Like students waiting for the start of class, they waited quietly for Grandpa to begin the meeting.
    Standing at the front of the classroom on a dais made from three layers of bricks, Grandpa gazed at the villagers like a teacher surveying his class. ‘Settle down,’ he said. ‘Everyone take a seat.’ When those who had been leaning against wallsor windowsills had sat down, Grandpa addressed the group in a practised voice.
    ‘First, I’ve spent my life working in this school, and I suppose you could say I’m halfway to being a teacher. Now that you’re living in this school, you’ll listen to me and do as I say. If anyone has a problem with that, please raise your hand.’
    Grandpa eyed the assembled residents and waited. Several grown-up villagers began snickering in their seats like schoolchildren. Grandpa shot them a stern glance.
    ‘Okay, since no one raised their hand, that’s settled. Number one on the agenda: until we receive the government food subsidy, we’ll have to pool our staple food supplies. Ding Yuejin will be in charge of keeping accounts. Your contributions of flour, rice and grain will be sorted for quality and recorded in your account. If you contribute more than your monthly quota, your contribution for the following month will be reduced. Likewise, if you contribute less than your quota one month, you’ll be expected to make up for it the next.
    ‘Two: although you won’t be charged for the water you use, we’ll take up a collection for the electricity bill each month. I don’t want to see anyone leaving the lights on all night long. You should try to conserve electricity, just like you would at home.
    ‘Three: the women will handle the cooking, and the men will do maintenance and other chores around the school. The very sick will have lighter workloads, and those who are healthy will be expected to take up the slack. I’m putting Zhao