Chapter 606 Difficult Transportation
The moment he pushed the door open, cold wind blew a few snowflakes into the house, but the bamboo basket in Erzhu's arms was steaming.
A dozen live fish were flapping in the basket, their scales reflecting the dim light of the kerosene lamp. The splashing water droplets fell on the frozen ground and instantly condensed into ice crystals.
The needlework in Xiulan's hand fell onto the kang with a "click". She rushed over in two steps. The patches on her coarse cotton jacket swept across the grate on the edge of the kang, raising a cloud of dust.
"Erzhu, where did you get these fish?" She grabbed her husband's wrist, which was frozen purple, and stared at the lively silver fish in the bamboo basket.
There was not even a duck to be seen on the frozen river. It was obvious that these fish had fallen from the sky.
Erzhu chuckled, the white breath he exhaled swirling in the light: "I just went ice fishing with Uncle Sixteen, and it wasn't cold at all."
He stamped the snow on his feet and recounted in detail the process of breaking ice, setting up the tent, and fishing around the fire. When he mentioned that Zhou Yimin took out the white flour buns, Xiulan's eyes widened bigger than fish bubbles.
Before he finished speaking, Erzhu suddenly reached into his arms mysteriously and took out beef jerky wrapped in oil paper.
The dark brown dried meat was shiny with oil, and the aroma of star anise and cinnamon instantly exploded in the small adobe house.
Xiulan's breathing stagnated, the needle on the sole of the shoe still clenched between her fingers, but she could no longer look away: "Erzhu, where are you from?"
"This was given to me by my Sixteenth Uncle." Erzhu broke off a piece and stuffed it into his wife's mouth, moving as fast as a cat stealing fish.
Xiulan was caught off guard and put the dried meat in her mouth. The salty and fragrant taste exploded on the tip of her tongue. The chewy meat became more fragrant the more she chewed it. It was even firmer than the bacon during the Chinese New Year.
She was stunned at first, her cheeks flushed, and she reached out to hit her husband, but Erzhu dodged her with a smile: "Wife, is it delicious?"
"If you give it to me now, wouldn't it be a waste?" Xiulan hurriedly wiped her mouth with her sleeve, but her eyes were still glued to the beef jerky.
"It's almost Chinese New Year, we should save it for Chinese New Year!"
She carefully folded the oil paper package and stuffed it into the wooden box at the head of the kang, as if she was collecting a rare treasure.
The cold wind was howling outside the window and the fish in the bamboo basket were still flapping their wings, but inside the house, ripples were spreading because of these pieces of beef jerky, which were warmer than the fire.
Erzhu looked at Xiulan carefully collecting the beef jerky, his Adam's apple moved, and he reached out to tuck the scattered hair on his wife's temples behind her ears.
The kerosene lamp cast a swaying shadow on the earthen wall, making Xiulan's rosy cheeks look even more beautiful.
"Wife, you are meant to be loved. As long as she wants to eat, then eat!"
His voice was somewhat rough and gentle, and the white breath he exhaled, wrapped in the lingering aroma of beef jerky, fanned Xiulan's slightly red nose from the cold.
Xiulan's fingertips were still pinching the edge of the oil paper, but her movements suddenly froze when she heard that.
During these days of marriage, she had long been accustomed to hiding good things in wooden boxes and breaking up white flour buns and mixing them into steamed corn bread, but at this moment, her husband's scorching gaze made her eyes sore.
"You just talk nonsense." She lowered her eyelashes in reproach, but the corners of her mouth rose uncontrollably. She felt like there was a lively little rabbit in her heart, and even her body, which was blown by the cold wind, warmed up.
Upon seeing this, Erzhu suddenly reached out and held his wife in his arms, and gently stroked the back of her neck with his rough palm.
The fish in the bamboo basket were still flapping their wings, and the splashing water droplets fell on the frozen ground, making a crisp sound.
"Then I'll listen to you and save it for the New Year."
He said in a muffled voice to Xiulan: "But if there is anything delicious in the future, you must not always think of hiding it."
Xiulan leaned in her husband's arms, listened to the strong heartbeat in her chest, and finally nodded gently.
Outside the window, the north wind blew snowflakes against the window frame, but inside the house it was so quiet that only the overlapping breathing of the two people could be heard.
She looked at the locked wooden box at the head of the kang, and imagined the beef jerky and fresh fish bubbling in the iron pot when she opened the lid on New Year's Eve. Suddenly, she felt that this winter was not so cold.
The morning light had not yet completely pierced through the frost and fog when Erzhu left home.
He told everyone he met about his experience yesterday.
Yimin was squatting in front of the stove making a fire. He probably didn't expect that he would be "betrayed" by Erzhu.
Even the old village chief was shocked by this incident. He wanted to join in the fun, so he followed other villagers from Zhoujiazhuang to Zhou Yimin's home.
Soon there was a knock on Zhou Yimin's door.
Zhou Yimin had no choice but to go out, but when he saw so many people outside the door, he was shocked: "Old Party Secretary, what are you doing?"
The old branch secretary swept the crowd in the yard with his cloudy eyes, and his pipe made a dull sound against the sole of his shoe: "Yimin! Everyone wants to see it, so don't hide it."
The crowd erupted in agreement, and Old Man Zhao even forgot to put his pipe back in his mouth.
Zhou Yimin was a little confused. What was being hidden? He himself had a lot of things hidden, so he didn't know which one the old branch secretary was talking about specifically.
At this time, Erzhu squeezed out from the crowd and said, "Uncle Sixteen, it's the tent!"
Zhou Yimin sighed helplessly and dragged out the dusty canvas bag from the room.
The moment the cloth was unfolded, someone gasped - strange foreign logos were printed on the dark grey canvas, and the metal brackets glowed coldly, drawing sharp lines on the snow.
Zhou Yimin stood in the cold wind, the canvas bag "rustled" in his hands, and the dark gray cloth wrapped around the metal bracket slid to the ground.
He bent down and picked up a bracket with a buckle, and waved it to everyone: "This tent consists of three parts - the bracket, the windproof cloth and the ground nails. The key is the assembly order."
The red fingers from freezing nimbly aligned the buckle with the card slot, and a crisp "click" sound startled the crowd and they took a half step forward.
"Watch this!" He stretched the entire bracket to its longest length, and the metal tube was gleaming with silver frost in the cold air.
"First, build the frame, and the four corner supports should be crisscrossed."
As he was talking, the second bracket was accurately embedded in the interface, and the diamond-shaped frame gradually took shape on the snow.
The old branch secretary leaned on his cane and came closer, his pipe almost poking the stand: "Why is this thing so strong?"
Zhou Yimin wiped the snow off his face. When he unfolded the windproof cloth, the edges of the cloth flew up with tiny pieces of ice. "This cloth has three layers. The outer layer is waterproof, the middle layer is padded, and the inner layer is breathable."
He pinched the copper buckles at the four corners of the fabric and winked at Erzhu: "Help me tighten it!"
The two of them exerted force at the same time, and the cloth spread out like wings. The moment the cold wind blew in, the fine stitches completely isolated the cold air outside.
"The ground nails must be hammered in at an angle!" Zhou Yimin demonstrated while holding a rubber hammer tightly. Ice flowers splashed when the iron nails were driven into the frozen soil.
"The angle should be 45 degrees to the ground to resist the wind."
Wang Quezi, who was watching, squatted down to take a closer look, muttering, "Is it the same as building a wall and laying a foundation?"
Before he finished speaking, Zhou Yimin had already hammered the last ground nail firmly, and the canvas tent remained motionless in the wind and snow.
The most amazing thing is the smoke exhaust system.
Zhou Yimin set up a cast iron stove, and the iron flue passed through the reserved ventilation hole on the top of the tent: "See? This circle of fireproof edge can insulate heat. The damper can be adjusted up or down to control the fire and smoke exhaust."
He lit the match, and the moment the flame sprang up, an orange halo illuminated everyone's astonished faces.
Zhang's wife reached out to touch the canvas, then hastily retracted her hand: "Amazing! It's not hot even when it's so close!"
When the first scent of tea wafted out from the enamel pot, Zhou Yimin lifted the curtain of the tent and asked, "Come in and try?"
The crowd pushed and shoved their way in, with exclamations, stamping of feet and exclamations rising one after another.
The old branch secretary took off his glasses and wiped them, his cloudy eyes gleaming with light: "Yimin, this is not a tent, it's clearly a mobile greenhouse for our farmers!"
As soon as Zhou Yimin moved the extinguished cast iron stove out of the tent, the crowd gathered around him like cats smelling blood in the twelfth lunar month.
Aunt Li tiptoed and stuffed half a bag of bran steamed bread into her arms, with a flattering smile on her face: "Yimin! You see, my family is still short of a few fish for the New Year. Can you lend me this tent for half a day? I promise to take good care of it!"
Before he finished speaking, Wang Quezi's pipe was already knocking against his palm, making a rapid sound: "My little tiger wants to eat fish soup so much that he cries, so I'll lend it to you for one day. I'll return it tomorrow."
The cold wind blew snow particles across everyone's shoulders. Zhou Yimin looked at those faces chapped by frostbite and his Adam's apple moved.
The canvas tent was cold and grey in the twilight, with ice still stained on the corners from last night. He reached out and stroked the fine stitches on the fabric.
"I'm sorry, everyone." He took a half step back, his back against the cold bamboo basket.
"This thing is extremely valuable. It will fall apart if you're not careful." As soon as he finished speaking, sighs of disappointment broke out in the crowd.
Old man Zhao's pipe fell to the snow with a "clack". Zhang's wife clutched the corner of her worn cotton jacket and rubbed her hands: "Uncle Sixteen is too stingy."
The old secretary's jujube wood walking stick slammed heavily on the icy stone road, startling the sparrows foraging in the corners of the wall: "Stop wasting time!"
The old man's cloudy eyes swept over the crowd and said, "It is his duty to lend or not to lend the things that benefit the people."
The crowd then dispersed in embarrassment, and the sound of footsteps and complaints gradually disappeared into the deepening dusk.
When everyone saw this, they thought that since Zhou Yimin was unwilling to lend the money and they had seen what he had done, there was no reason for them to stay, so they all started to leave.
After experiencing the tent "incident", Zhou Yimin was quiet for a few days. At the beginning, there were still some people who did not give up and wanted to borrow tents from Zhou Yimin.
However, Zhou Yimin did not let them "successfully" and rejected them all.
Just as Zhou Yimin was lying in the living room watching TV, suddenly, he heard the familiar sound of a jujube wood cane hitting a stone slab outside the yard, over and over again, startling the old cat in the corner and making it prick up its ears.
His heart skipped a beat - this rhythm must be the old branch secretary coming.
The sound of the door being pushed open brought a chill into the room. The old branch secretary stood at the door, wrapped in a patched cotton jacket, with a thin layer of frost on his eyebrows.
Zhou Yimin jumped off the kang in a hurry, without even buttoning up his cotton-padded jacket: "Old Party Secretary, if you have anything to say, just tell me, you don't have to come in person!"
Before he finished speaking, he caught a glimpse of Erzhu carrying a hoe following the old man, and his heart immediately sank - every time these two people appeared together, it would be no easy task.
The old Party secretary knocked his pipe against the sole of his shoe, and the ashes fell on the frozen ground: "Yimin, the vegetables in the greenhouse are so ripe that you can squeeze out the juice."
He stared at Zhou Yimin with cloudy eyes: "You know, even tractors slip on this mountain road. If we don't find a big truck from the steel plant to transport the vegetables, they will all rot in the fields."
Zhou Yimin looked at the old man's lips cracked by the cold wind, then looked at Erzhu's eager eyes, and his Adam's apple moved.
"Okay, I'll contact him now!"
As soon as the words came out, the old secretary's wrinkled face instantly broke into a smile, and his pipe almost poked Zhou Yimin's chest: "I knew you were reliable!"
The cold wind blew into the room again. Zhou Yimin looked at the two people's receding backs, wrapped himself tightly in his cotton jacket and sat down next to the phone. The cold touch of the receiver made him shiver.
Outside the window, the wind and snow were getting more violent, but compared to the trouble that was about to come, the cold seemed nothing.
Zhou Yimin's palm, holding the receiver, was covered in sweat; the rubber material was stiff from the cold in the winter.
The crackling sound of electricity coming from the telephone line, mixed with the faint roar of the steel plant workshop in the distance, was particularly clear in the silent office.
When a clear answer came from the other end of the phone, he straightened his back unconsciously: "This is Zhou Yimin, go and ask Section Chief Zhou Dazhong to come over to answer the phone."
Less than half a minute after I hung up the receiver, hurried footsteps were heard in the corridor.
When Zhou Dazhong pushed open the office door, the front of his navy blue Zhongshan suit was still stained with pen ink, and he had obviously put down his work in a hurry.
The moment he picked up the phone, his voice was a little apprehensive: "Uncle Sixteen, what do you want to talk to me about?"
"The vegetables in the greenhouses in the village can be picked. You can arrange for someone to transport them back!" Zhou Yimin's eyes swept across the branches bent by the snow outside the window, and his tone left no room for doubt.
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, and Zhou Dazhong's voice was obviously embarrassed: "Uncle Sixteen, the transportation department is very short of trucks right now. I applied before, but was rejected!"
This answer made Zhou Yimin frown.
The heating pipes made clanging sounds in the corner, as if urging him to come up with a solution as soon as possible.
"Well, he took a deep breath, you go explain the situation to Director Ding, and let Director Ding make the arrangements."
"I understand, Uncle Sixteen." Zhou Dazhong responded with a sense of relief.
The moment I hung up the phone, the busy tone of the receiver echoed in the empty office.
Zhou Dazhong walked through the factory area on the snow, the corners of his Zhongshan suit rustling in the cold wind.
Director Ding's office door was ajar, and from inside came the ticking sound of an old-fashioned clock, mixed with the hissing sound of steam from the radiator. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but his knuckles went numb as soon as they touched the wooden door.
"Come in." A low voice came from inside the house.
Zhou Dazhong pushed the door open and saw Director Ding bending over his desk reviewing documents. Tiny dust particles were floating in the warm yellow light of the desk lamp.
"Director Ding," he walked quickly forward and put his red, frozen hands into his trouser pockets.
"Section Chief Zhou just called and said that the greenhouse vegetables in Zhoujiazhuang are ripe and he wants to apply for transportation."
Director Ding paused with the red pen in his hand, and his brows gradually twisted into a "川" shape as he narrated.
He took off his reading glasses and tapped the table rhythmically with the knuckles of his index fingers. The "tapping" sound was particularly clear in the quiet office.
The north wind outside the window blew snow particles against the glass, as if it was also anxiously waiting for a reply.
"Dazhong." After a moment's silence, Director Ding raised his head, his eyes behind the glasses revealing a resolute look.
"Go and inform Yimin to have Zhoujiazhuang prepare the day after tomorrow."
He paused and tapped his finger on the calendar: "Due to time constraints, the fleet has less than two hours to load and unload."
Zhou Dazhong felt a tightness in his heart. Having to complete the picking, loading and transportation within two hours would be a huge test for manpower and scheduling.
But he didn't dare to ask more questions and nodded immediately: "Yes! I'll convey it right away!"
On the way back to the office, Zhou Dazhong trotted through the frosty corridor, and the white mist he exhaled condensed into tiny ice crystals in the sunlight.
When he dialed the phone, the coldness of the receiver spread along his palm, but he didn't care about it and said anxiously: "Uncle Sixteen, Director Ding has made arrangements"
(End of this chapter)
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
