Chapter 21: Does the Brigade Secretary’s Son Rule with an Iron Fist?

In the 1960s, in the Guandong Mountains, the belief that having many children was a blessing was deeply rooted. If a family did not have several sons, it was considered a great shame. A married couple without two or three boys was bound to be the subject of gossip and finger-pointing.

A large population was a double-edged sword for a village. While it meant plenty of hands for farm work, it also meant that during the slack season, hundreds of idle young men gathered together—a veritable powder keg. Qiao Family Shop consisted of hundreds of households, with at least several hundred men listed in the clan genealogy. For them, whiling away the winter by rolling dice, playing tiles, and drinking while boasting was their only pleasure.

In theory, such activities had been strictly prohibited since the founding of the nation. However, Qiao Family Shop was tucked away in deep, remote mountains, where the mountains were high and the emperor was far away; enforcement relied solely on the brigade secretary. But what if the gambling den was run by the brigade secretary’s own son?

Inside an old, flat-roofed house on the outskirts of Qiao Family Shop, the air was thick with noise—roars of laughter, cries of despair, and endless complaints. Occasionally, one could see women storming in, only to run back out moments later, cursing and muttering words like "deadbeat" and "scoundrel." Yes, this was the gambling den of Qiao Family Shop.

As the sun began to set, villagers who were well-fed and unwilling to sleep early gathered there. The growing crowd made the room sweltering, even without a stove. Some gamblers, driven to desperation, even stripped off their cotton-padded coats to wager them on the table.

"Place your bets, place your bets!" Qiao Dafang stood behind the table, shaking the dice cup in front of a crowd of mesmerized villagers. This was Qiao Dafang’s talent; he won nine out of ten times, and it was this skill that made him the de facto house dealer.

However, he had met his match today. Over the past few months, the reputation of the Qiao Family Shop gambling den had grown, attracting villagers from other brigades. Very few ever left with winnings; most returned empty-handed. But there were always exceptions. Today, Qiao Dafang looked somber because he was being challenged.

Two outsiders had arrived at the crack of dawn and had been winning all day. Many of the young men personally trained by Qiao Dafang had fallen before them. Starting with a stake of just thirty cents, they had managed to sweep up fifty catties of millet, twenty catties of soybeans, thirty catties of pork, five yuan in cash, and thirty catties of flour ration coupons in a single day.

Such a haul was considered a massive victory at the time. Qiao Dafang cared little for the goods—having been pampered since childhood, he had never known hunger—but he cared deeply about his reputation. If these two were allowed to walk away victorious, his standing would be completely ruined.

The dice cup rattled up and down. The once-raucous gambling den fell deathly silent. To the addicts, the sound of the shaking dice was heavenly music. When Qiao Dafang slammed the cup onto the table, everyone held their breath.

"Big! Big! Big!"
"Small! Small! Small!"

The villagers, who loved to stir up trouble and never thought a scene was too chaotic, started shouting as they always did.

Sweating profusely, Qiao Dafang stared at the two ordinary-looking outsiders and forced a calm tone: "Well? This is the final round. All the stakes are on the table. If you win, your winnings double. If you lose... heh, don't blame us for being heartless."

The certainty in his voice made the two outsiders hesitate. For most, the thrill of this "entertainment" lay in the heart-pounding uncertainty. The psychological buildup and exhaustion had left the two outsiders with bloodshot eyes. Having gone all day without food or water, they were trembling uncontrollably. This was their last chance.

Just as they were about to speak, a young boy burst into the room.

"Brother Dafang, no, no, it's bad!"

Qiao Dafang, his focus broken, snapped, "What is it? Why are you shouting?"

"Zhang Tiejun is back! And he’s dragging a wolf with him. He’s at the ancestral hall right now." The boy added, "Everyone in the village is gathered around to see it."

Qiao Dafang said dismissively, "So what? You two, hurry up. I have other things to attend to."

"Betting on Big."

The two brothers exchanged a look and pushed all their paper notes—representing everything they owned—onto the spot marked "Big."

Qiao Dafang, full of self-satisfaction, lifted the cup in front of the crowd. The three dice were stacked perfectly on top of one another.

"Three sixes! The house wins!" Qiao Dafang laughed.

"Hey!" the two brothers groaned. Just as Qiao Dafang reached out to grab the money, they pointed at him and shouted, "You cheated!"

Qiao Dafang, who had a violent temper, was not about to take that. "Lost your minds? Trying to welch on your debts? Let me say this again: at a gambling table, there are no fathers and sons, only winners and losers. If you keep causing trouble, hmph..."

As soon as he finished speaking, a dozen of his henchmen cracked their knuckles, ready for a fight. The younger of the two brothers grabbed his older brother, signaling him not to act rashly.

"Fine, you win today. But let’s be clear: this isn't over!"

The moment the two brothers left, the room erupted in cheers. Qiao Dafang, relishing the feeling, waved his hand and said, "Come on, follow me to the brigade office to take a look."

Inside the brigade office, several elders were examining the creature Zhang Tiejun had brought back.

"Tiejun, you’re getting more capable by the day. You managed to bring back such a difficult prey?"
"Indeed, the student has surpassed the master."

Old Man Qiao, who raised sheep, was the most agitated. Seeing the culprit that had killed his sheep, he walked up and kicked the carcass a few times to vent his anger.

At that moment, Qiao Dafang strode in with a crowd of villagers. The victory at the gambling table had made him cocky. "Who says this wolf is the one that killed the sheep?"

As the son of the brigade secretary, he was practically a junior official in Qiao Family Shop, and he commanded great respect among the village youth. As soon as he spoke, the elders who had been praising Zhang Tiejun immediately fell silent and returned to their seats.

Qiao Dafang strolled over to Zhang Tiejun and kicked the carcass. "It’s so small, it’s practically a dog. Tiejun, that’s not how you claim credit. You’re trying to treat us all like three-year-olds."