Around February 1936, just two days before the Spring Festival—which people back then called simply "New Year"—my third uncle's family was getting ready to slaughter the New Year pig. They had let our whole family know to come over and help out and share the pork.
In our settlement, Third Uncle was truly a sharp-witted, literate, and capable man. Before the Japanese invasion, his family was quite well-off. Although his financial situation had deteriorated steadily since then, the Japanese and their puppet regime still had their eyes on him, forcing him to serve as the village head. Refusing meant being branded as having a bad political attitude, so he had no choice but to take the title in name only.
My father and mother, along with my older sister and me, arrived at my uncle's place early. The adults were busy getting tools ready—knives, basins, and the slaughtering bench—and setting a huge cauldron of water to scald the pig. We children had nothing to do, so we happily ran around playing with our cousins inside and out. Just as everyone was in high spirits, word came that some military unit would be arriving tonight. Whether they were Japanese devils or the Anti-Japanese United Army was anybody's guess.
Chapter 208