Chapter 602 Director Li is attracted
When the dusk completely swallowed up the last ray of sky light, the old locust tree in Liangjiazhuang was already filled with people.
The cold wind blew snow particles onto the villagers' patched cotton jackets, but it was no match for the glow of the lantern in Village Chief Liang's hand - the dim light flickered in the snow, dyeing everyone's frozen red faces amber.
"Be quiet!" Village chief Liang knocked on the broken plowshare hanging on a tree branch, and rust mixed with ice fell off.
The noise of the crowd stopped abruptly, leaving only sporadic barking of dogs in the distance.
He tightly grasped the enamel pot that still carried Zhou Yimin's body temperature, his Adam's apple rolling in his coarse scarf: "Today, a distinguished guest came and pointed out a way for our village to survive!"
Before he finished speaking, the crowd exploded.
Aunt Wang squeezed to the front row with her cracked hands, and the snow on her hair fell onto her patched apron: "Village Chief, don't lie to us! The grain in the warehouse is empty, there is no hope anymore."
Her words were drowned out by the constant discussions. Li Kuizi's hand, which was leaning on his cane, was trembling slightly. Old Man Zhao was puffing on his pipe, and the sparks flickered in the cold wind.
"It's true!" Liang Jingguo suddenly flashed out from behind the tree, his Zhongshan jacket shoulders covered with snow, "My old classmate Zhou Yimin is the inventor who was mentioned in the newspaper! He said that the street office processing factory needs a lot of bamboo weaving."
These words were like a fire, lighting up the dead silent cold night.
There were gasps from the crowd, and some children jumped excitedly, shaking off the snow on the branches above their heads.
Village Chief Liang raised the lantern, and the beam of light swept across the villagers' surprised and happy faces: "Those who can weave bamboo products should register at the team headquarters tomorrow morning! Those who can weave baskets should weave baskets, and those who can weave mats should weave mats. As long as you have good skills, you will have no worries about not having work!"
He deliberately shook the bamboo basket in his hand, and the fine lines glowed warmly under the light: "Show me your craftsmanship like this!"
The crowd began to disperse in a commotion, and the voices of people talking in groups drifted in the snowy night.
Zhang Er's wife grabbed her husband's arm and cried, "Dad, our lantern-making skills are now useful."
Under the old locust tree, Village Chief Liang looked at the villagers' backs as they walked away. The flame of the lantern suddenly jumped up, illuminating the tears in the corners of his eyes. This meeting held late at night in the cold winter finally brought the long-lost vitality back to the village that had been silent for too long.
As the moonlight climbed up the branches of the old locust tree, the dim kerosene lamp was still lit in the adobe house of Village Chief Liang.
A crumpled piece of kraft paper was spread out on the eight-immortals table. Liang Jingguo held a pencil in his red, frozen hands and made notes on the paper.
"The Zhao couple are good at weaving bamboo sieves, and Old Sun is good at making fish baskets." Village chief Liang filled his pipe with homemade dry tobacco while counting with his rough fingers, and cigarette ashes occasionally fell on the densely packed list.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps were heard outside the window. Aunt Wang came in wrapped in a faded blue headscarf, with ice still on her white hair. "Village chief! My husband was an apprentice in the bamboo ware club when he was young. He can weave many patterns!"
She took out a palm-sized bamboo grasshopper from her arms. The emerald green strips glowed under the light, and the patterns on the antennae and wings were lifelike.
Liang Jingguo's eyes lit up, and the tip of his pencil drew a long ink mark on the paper: "This skill must be good!"
As the night deepened, the cold wind became more violent, but it could not blow away the warm atmosphere in the house.
When the last villager left, the chickens in the chicken coop had already started crowing.
Village Chief Liang looked at the three pages filled with writing, suddenly stood up, opened the cabinet, and took out an object wrapped in layers of oil paper.
It turned out to be an exquisite bamboo food box with auspicious patterns woven on the body and polished pebbles inlaid on the handle.
“This is a skill passed down from my father.”
Village Chief Liang stroked the patterns on the lunch box, his voice full of reminiscence: "In the past, wealthy families would rush to have it for weddings. If it weren't for these years."
He didn't say anything else, and carefully put the food box into the rattan box: "Let Yimin take a look tomorrow. If this can be sold, our village's craftsmanship will definitely be well-known!"
The morning mist had not yet dissipated, but a long line had already formed in front of Village Chief Liang's house.
Women were holding half-woven bamboo baskets, old men were carrying carefully selected bamboo strips, and children were weaving in and out of the crowd, holding small birds woven from thin bamboo branches in their hands.
Liang Jingguo stood under the portrait of Chairman Mao on the earthen wall and shouted at the top of his voice: "Register in order! Those who have finished products, please stand forward!"
The sunlight penetrated the clouds and shone onto the villagers' expectant faces, making the bamboo products look even brighter.
At this time, Zhou Yimin was riding a motorcycle and speeding towards the street office.
The frost on the fuel tank fell in the wind. The lush bamboo forest on the back mountain of Liangjiazhuang and the rekindled fire of hope in the eyes of the villagers kept appearing in his mind.
The roar of motorcycles broke the silence of the early morning, carrying the future of the two villages towards a new day.
Zhou Yimin stomped on the snow on his cotton shoes, and the metal doorknob made a clear sound in the cold wind.
The security guard was wearing a Lei Feng hat and was making a fire in a tin bucket. The flames licked the frosty bottom of the pot.
"Uncle, is Director Li here yet?" He exhaled white air and took out half a pack of Daqianmen cigarettes from the inner pocket of his Zhongshan suit. The edge of the cigarette box was damp from his body temperature.
Old Chen's eyes lit up, and he held the cigarette between his lips that were purple from the cold: "I just saw her bicycle parking shed."
Zhou Yimin lit a fire for him. As the flame flickered in the wind, he caught a glimpse of traces of motor oil left on the patches of the other person's cotton-padded jacket - just like the patches of the villagers in Liangjiazhuang, they all had the texture of being worn down by life.
The glass in Director Li's office was covered with a layer of white mist. When Zhou Yimin knocked on the door, he heard the sound of a pen tip moving on the report.
When I opened the door, the aroma of ink mixed with jasmine tea hit me. Director Li, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, was circling data with a red pen. "Chief Zhou, what brings you here?"
Her smiling eyes carried the teasing look typical of elders.
Zhou Yimin touched his hot ears. The old cast iron radiator behind him was emitting a scorching heat.
"Aunt Li, aren't you busy lately?" He took the enamel cup handed to him, with a few wolfberries at the bottom of the cup.
"I want to ask you for help with something?"
Director Li leaned back in his chair, and the woolen muff slid down his forearm. "Yimin, what is it that you can't even solve?"
She turned the red and blue pencil, and the light reflected by the metal pen clip swayed on Zhou Yimin's face.
Zhou Yimin took out the bamboo bookmark woven by Village Chief Liang from his canvas bag, and the bamboo leaf patterns were clearly visible in the sunlight.
As the story of Liangjiazhuang's plight, the bamboo forest on the back hill, and the villagers' craftsmanship slowly came to light, Director Li's neatly trimmed eyebrows gradually twisted into knots.
When she talked about the children eating steamed bread mixed with wild vegetables, she suddenly stood up, and the cork of the thermos popped up: "Let's go and take a look now!"
Zhou Yimin did not expect Director Li's reaction to be so big, and he had no choice but to follow Director Li out.
Since riding a bicycle was too slow, he decided to go on Zhou Yimin's motorcycle.
The vibration of the motorcycle engine was transmitted up along the frame, and Director Li's leather gloves turned white from scratching on the cold iron frame.
Zhou Yimin deliberately slowed down the car, but when the wheels rolled over the cracks in the frozen soil, the back seat still shook violently, startling her so much that she subconsciously grabbed the back of his cotton-padded jacket - the texture of the coarse cloth was visible through her palms, with a burnt aroma from the firewood.
After a while, they left the city.
"Liangjiazhuang is three miles ahead!" Zhou Yimin's shout was torn apart by the wind. Director Li tilted his ear to listen, and the edge of his scarf brushed across the chilblains on his neck, causing a burning pain.
She shrank her neck and put her numb hands into the inner pocket of her military coat. She touched the hard steamed bun that she had not finished eating in the morning. The cold touch reminded her of the deficit data on the report.
The mountain road spiraled up and the motorcycle suddenly skidded.
Director Li instinctively put his arms around Zhou Yimin's waist, and his fingertips could still feel the other's taut muscles through three layers of cotton clothes.
Gravel flew beneath the tires, and she stared at the frost-covered dry grass on the edge of the cliff, her heartbeat almost drowning out the roar of the engine.
"This road collapsed last year." Zhou Yimin's voice was steady as usual.
“But the bamboo forest on the back mountain is located along this slope.”
"These bamboos are evergreen all year round." Zhou Yimin stopped the car, took off his goggles, and tiny ice crystals condensed on his eyelashes.
"When bamboo shoots sprout in spring, they can grow half a person's height in three days." Director Li walked closer on the snow. The white frost on the bamboo joints fell on the back of his hand, and the coolness climbed up through his cuffs.
When we got back on the road, we heard a rustling sound from the back seat of the motorcycle.
Zhou Yimin turned around and saw Director Li using his frozen fingers to tear a woolen glove in two, leaving half of his red fingers exposed as he wrote and drew on a notebook.
The sun stretched the shadows of the two people very long, winding into a track of hope on the icy dirt road. Amid the roar of the engine, a few intermittent questions floated in from time to time.
The roar of the motorcycle tore through the silence of Liangjiazhuang, and the snow on the old locust tree at the entrance of the village fell off.
Village chief Liang, wrapped in a patched black cotton jacket, had been waiting in the cold wind for half an hour. Tiny ice crystals were condensed on the tip of his red nose.
When he saw the stranger sitting behind Zhou Yimin, he immediately stepped forward and wiped his rough hands on his trouser legs repeatedly: "Director Li! You've worked hard on the road!"
Before he finished speaking, the white breath he exhaled condensed into rime in the cold air.
Walking across the stone road covered with icicles, Village Chief Liang pushed open the creaking wooden door.
In the yard, bamboo objects were neatly stacked on the straw mats, bamboo baskets were piled up into small hills, bamboo sieves were spread out like silver plates, and katydid cages woven with thin bamboo branches swayed gently in the wind.
Director Li stopped in his tracks the moment he stepped over the threshold. The hem of his dark blue tweed coat was still swaying in the wind, but his eyes were already firmly attracted by the world of bamboo art before him.
She squatted down and brushed her fingertips across the twined patterns on the bamboo lunch box. The cold bamboo strips glowed with a warm luster in the sunlight.
On the edge of the box lid, three bamboo strips as thin as hair are interwoven into a lotus pattern, and the lines are as delicate as the brushstrokes in an ink painting.
"This is." She murmured to herself, and the white mist she exhaled flashed across the delicate patterns.
Village chief Liang was rubbing his hands nervously, and the threads sticking out from the cuffs of his cotton-padded jacket trembled slightly with his movements.
Zhou Yimin and Village Chief Liang looked at each other and retreated under the eaves tacitly.
The cold wind blew across their shoulders, lifting the corner of Village Chief Liang's faded scarf.
They watched as Director Li held a bamboo cricket cage close to the sunlight; the hollowed-out Chinese character "Fu" on the cage cast mottled shadows on her face.
She was seen turning the bamboo fruit plate over again, carefully examining the auspicious cloud pattern hidden on the bottom, and quickly writing on the notebook with a metal pen. The rustling sound of the pen tip rubbing against the paper mixed with the crisp sound of the bamboo strips lightly touching each other, composing a different rhythm in the cold courtyard.
Village chief Liang couldn't help stroking the bamboo knife at his waist. The sweat from his hands over the years had made the bamboo strips on the scabbard shiny.
Zhou Yimin looked at Director Li's focused back and recalled her furrowed brows as she was looking through the report in the office this morning. At this moment, that solemn look had turned into a leaping light in her eyes.
The unmelted snow on the bamboo sieve suddenly fell down, waking up Director Li who was immersed in the world of bamboo art. When she stood up, the white mist on her lenses merged with the cold air in the courtyard.
Director Li looked at Village Chief Liang with burning eyes: "These skills are urgently needed by our Street Office!"
There was uncontrollable excitement in her voice, and the pen in her hand drew a powerful arc in the air.
"But being just a practical item is not enough, we need to develop it into a handicraft." As she said this, she picked up the bamboo cricket cage.
"Like this one, if you can weave more auspicious patterns and add a layer of varnish, it will be considered a qualified handicraft."
Because the processing plant run by the street office now has many orders for export abroad, the quality must be well controlled.
Village Chief Liang's dark face flushed, and he scratched his head awkwardly: "Director Li, as long as there is an order, the craftsmen in our village can weave anything!"
He turned to look at the villagers who were sorting bamboo strips in the yard, and raised his voice unconsciously, "Did you hear that? Our bamboo weaving is going to be brought into the city!"
"However, we still have to solve the problems of transportation and storage." Zhou Yimin squatted down and picked up a piece of bamboo strips soaked by snow water.
"Bamboo is prone to mold when it gets damp, so we need to build a ventilated warehouse." His words made Director Li nod repeatedly.
Zhou Yimin was surrounded by several young villagers, who were holding newly made bamboo helicopters and small fish lanterns, and chattering about suggestions for improvement.
The cold wind slapped the dry grass on the courtyard wall, but the house was warm. The sound of abacus beads colliding, the sound of bamboo strips weaving, and people's laughter intertwined, echoing in the sky above Liangjiazhuang for a long time.
In the distant back mountain, the bamboo forests rustled in the moonlight, as if whispering for this night that was about to change their fate.
Director Li was still admiring the bamboo weaving in the yard.
Village Chief Liang's hand holding the pipe was trembling slightly, and the sparks in the pipe flickered.
"Yimin, where do you think is the best place to build this warehouse?" He looked at the old locust tree covered with icicles at the entrance of the village. The cold wind blew snow particles onto the two of them, but it could not cover up the anxiety in his eyes.
Zhou Yimin rubbed his red, frozen hands, and his cotton shoes left two deep marks in the snow.
When he was wandering around the village with a flashlight last night, the image of the abandoned yard was engraved in his mind. Although the blue brick wall was covered with moss, it still stood upright.
The beams of the three adobe houses were intact, but the doors and windows were dilapidated by wind and rain.
At this moment, he raised his foot and pointed to the east side of the road: "Right there"
Village Chief Liang looked in the direction of his finger and his eyes suddenly widened.
The abandoned yard is only a hundred meters away from the village entrance. The dirt road in front of the door leads directly to the main road, and trucks can travel unimpeded after the spring thaw.
“But this place.”
He scratched his stiff ears and said, "It's been abandoned for many years. Mushrooms are growing at the base of the wall."
"It's precisely because it's abandoned that it saves effort to clean it up!" Zhou Yimin walked closer on the snow, wiping the mottled brick wall with his canvas gloves.
“The walls are thick and can keep out moisture; the yard is big enough to store bamboo materials and finished products.”
The village chief Liang's pipe made a crisp sound when it hit the soles of his shoes, and the haze in his eyes gradually dissipated.
He looked in the direction of the swaying bamboo forest not far away, imagining the scene of a truck loaded with bamboo weavings driving out of the village, his throat tightened: "Okay! This is it!"
(End of this chapter)
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