Unlike those youth who had directly settled in the countryside, this group was nominally part of the Production and Construction Corps' youth. Seeing that this fervent movement was already on its last legs, many farms and forest farms, after large numbers of educated youth returned to the cities, had stopped accepting newcomers. And as the last batch of youth heading to the mountains, they were left stationed at this forest farm. Though they hadn't truly been sent down to the grassroots companies, they were still led by Squad Leader Yang Tiezhu and operated under semi-military management.
One could assume Yang Tiezhu also knew in his heart that the complete end of this movement was already a foregone conclusion. As temperatures plummeted, his control over everyone had clearly loosened considerably. And when it came to food, he certainly didn't stint—steaming large mantou buns every other day, stir-fried dishes, plus wild game brought back by those who patrolled the mountain. It could honestly be called quite good.
However, work points were still calculated based on actual days worked. Male educated youth at the forest farm earned ten work points per day, female educated youth could earn eight work points per day, with ten work points equaling one yuan.
But as the weather grew colder and colder, many people simply couldn't endure it. Either they huddled inside their dormitories unwilling to earn work points, or after finishing work they squeezed into Chen Mo's dormitory, a whole group huddled around a heated kang, waiting expectantly.
Waiting for what? Waiting for Liu Dazhuang to perform Jingsong Dagu. Yu Ping and Yu An, the two little bullies from Beijing, provided accompaniment and harmonies on the side, making quite a ruckus. When there was free time, other educated youth could also show off their talents—a small comfort, spiritual nourishment for the group.
The situation on the female educated youth's side wasn't much different. Some hadn't even waited for winter to properly arrive before getting chilblains on their hands and feet, blood scabs sticking to their socks so they couldn't be peeled off, crying every day from the pain. Though the forest farm had traveling doctors, they mostly used folk remedies that had absolutely no effect.
Chen Mo's work was relatively simple. As it grew cold, he went out to patrol the mountain in the morning, then in the midday either split firewood and carried water, or helped others haul logs. While snow hadn't fallen yet, they needed to get the cut timber out. No need to load it onto vehicles—just drag the felled logs to the southwest corner of the forest farm using steel wire rope. There was a steep slope there; once the logs were released, they would roll down to the foot of the mountain where villagers would collect them.
In addition, after finishing work and while the dormitory was lively with noise, Chen Mo would find a quiet spot on his own to study the techniques from the fragmentary scroll, especially the Twelve-Tier Iron Wall Art. Whenever he had nothing else to do, he would mimic the postures shown in it.
After some time of study, he discovered that this Iron Wall Art had nothing to do with Shaolin Temple, nor did it possess the mystical internal force found