The early morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wooden shutters of Yuqin's humble cottage, casting long, slender beams across the earthen floor. Yuqin, now a middle - aged woman with a face etched by years of toil and worry, but eyes that still held a glimmer of determination, rose before dawn as she did every day. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint smell of woodsmoke from the neighboring chimneys.
In those days, a new wind of change had blown through the village. For the first time in years, families were permitted to sell their homemade goods. This news had sparked a glimmer of hope in Yuqin's heart. She had always been known for her skill in shoemaking. Her hands, rough from a lifetime of labor, were deft and precise when it came to stitching together pieces of leather and fabric to create sturdy, comfortable shoes.
As she went about her morning chores, preparing breakfast for her large family - her daughter, her stepson, and their children - Yuqin's mind was already racing with plans. After the sun set and the household finally settled into slumber, Yuqin would sit by the flickering light of an oil lamp. The dim, wavering flame cast her shadow on the wall, making it dance and flicker as if it were a silent companion in her late - night endeavors.
The first night, as she threaded the needle with trembling hands, she thought of all the things this new opportunity could mean for her family. "If I can sell enough shoes," she murmured to herself, "maybe we can buy some extra rice, or even a piece of meat for the children." The sound of her voice was almost lost in the stillness of the night, broken only by the occasional chirping of crickets outside.
Each stitch was a labor of love and hope. Her fingers would grow numb from the cold and the constant movement, but she persevered. She remembered how, as a child, her mother had taught her the art of shoemaking. "A well - made shoe can carry a person through life's hardships," her mother had said. Now, Yuqin hoped that her shoes would carry her family through their own difficult times.
As the days turned into weeks, Yuqin's efforts began to bear fruit. With the help of kind - hearted villagers who would take her shoes to the bustling market on shopping days, she started to earn some much - needed money. The first time she received the shiny coins, she held them tightly in her palm, feeling the weight of possibility. "This is for the children," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She could already envision a future where they wouldn't have to go to bed hungry, where they could have warm clothes and a proper meal.
But just as hope seemed to be taking root, dark clouds loomed on the horizon. Rumors began to spread through the village like wildfire. Word had it that the tide was turning once again, and a new era of "great collectivization" was on the way. Whispers of families being forced to give up their personal belongings and share everything filled the air with fear and uncertainty.
One evening, as Yuqin sat at the table, mending a torn shirt, her neighbor, an old woman with a wrinkled face and a worried expression, rushed in. "Yuqin," she panted, out of breath from running, "have you heard? They're saying we can't sell our things anymore. They're going to take everything we own!"
Yuqin's heart skipped a beat. Her hands, which had been so steady while sewing, now trembled violently. "No," she gasped, "it can't be true. What about the money I've earned? What about the future I've been planning for my family?"
The old woman shook her head sadly. "I don't know, Yuqin. But you'd better hide whatever you have. You don't want to be caught as an example."
That night, long after everyone else had fallen asleep, Yuqin crept out into the moonlit yard. The ground was cold and hard beneath her bare feet, but she hardly noticed. With a small shovel she had borrowed from the shed, she dug a hole in a secluded corner of the yard, near an old, gnarled tree. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she kept looking over her shoulder, half - expecting to see someone emerge from the shadows.
As she placed the precious coins into the hole, she thought of her children. "This is your lifeline," she said softly, her voice cracking with emotion. "No matter what happens, I will keep you safe." She covered the hole with dirt and carefully placed a large stone on top, then scattered some dry leaves around to conceal any signs of disturbance.
Not long after, the reality of the rumors hit the village hard. The great collectivization drive was in full swing. Officials came to each house, inspecting and taking away any items they deemed "excessive." Yuqin watched in silent horror as her neighbors' belongings were carted away. She thanked her lucky stars that she had hidden her money in time, but a sense of dread still hung over her like a heavy cloud.
Then, the famine struck. It was a slow - creeping nightmare that engulfed the entire village. Crops withered in the fields, and food became scarcer by the day. The once - lively village was now filled with the sounds of crying children and desperate parents. People were forced to eat things no one would have considered food before - dirt mixed with grass, and the tough, bitter bark of trees.
Yuqin's heart ached at the sight of her starving family. But she was not one to give up easily. Working in the fields for the production team during the day, she took great risks. Every time she bent down to tend to the crops, she would quickly scoop up a handful of grains and hide them in the pocket of her loose - fitting pants, beneath the folds of her traditional "大襟小褂." Her heart would race with fear that she would be caught, but the love for her children gave her the courage to continue.
One day, as she was making her way back home, a fellow villager, a man with sunken eyes and a gaunt face, stopped her. "Yuqin," he said, his voice weak, "I saw what you did today. You're playing with fire. If they catch you..."
Yuqin looked him straight in the eye. "I have children to feed," she said firmly. "I will do whatever it takes to keep them alive."
The man sighed and shook his head. "I understand, but be careful. The eyes of the authorities are everywhere."
That night, as Yuqin carefully cooked the stolen grains over a small, hidden fire in her kitchen, her daughter, a young girl with wide, innocent eyes, looked up at her. "Mother," she asked, "where did this food come from? I thought there was no more."
Yuqin forced a smile. "Don't worry, my dear," she said, stroking her daughter's hair. "Just eat and grow strong. Everything will be alright." But inside, she was filled with a sense of guilt and fear. She knew that what she was doing was dangerous, but she also knew that she had no other choice.
Throughout this difficult time, Yuqin's faith in Buddhism remained unshaken. She would often sit in the corner of her room, silently chanting prayers. "Buddha, please protect my family," she would plead in her heart. "Give me the strength to endure these hardships." Her belief in the power of kindness and compassion, even in the face of adversity, was what kept her going. She never complained, never uttered a word of protest. Instead, she focused all her energy on surviving and protecting her loved ones.
As the days turned into months, and the famine continued to rage, Yuqin's determination only grew stronger. She faced each new challenge with a quiet resolve, her mind set on one goal - to see her family through this darkest of times. And though the future remained uncertain, she held on to the hope that one day, the sun would shine again, and their suffering would come to an end.