Chapter 624 Someone is helping me soon
After everyone finished cleaning, they couldn't wait to urge Zhang Jianshe to walk faster.
Zhang Jianshe also understood why everyone was so anxious, so he walked faster, finished his work quickly, and went back earlier.
When the iron door of the warehouse was pushed open, the dust that was raised rolled into tiny gold particles in the morning light.
About twenty people crowded at the door, and the white breath they exhaled mixed with excited whispers dispelled some of the cold air.
Zhang Jianshe walked in first, the hem of his army green jacket brushing past the hay piled in the corner. He pointed at the mountain of grain covered with canvas and said, "Everyone, keep an eye on it. There's one thousand kilograms to be shared among twenty people, so that's exactly fifty kilograms per household."
Researcher Li rubbed his red, frozen hands and moved forward. As soon as his skinny fingers touched the sack, he shrank back because of the rough sackcloth. "It's so heavy! This sack must weigh 50 kilograms, right?"
Zhang Jianshe smiled, bent down and untied the top rope of the sack. The yellow corn kernels rolled out and formed a small golden beach on the ground: "Don't worry, the weight is accurate, not one or two ounces off."
Everyone immediately got busy.
Xiao Zhou was carrying a shoulder pole with a sack on each end. His shoulders were trembling slightly from the weight, but his steps were as brisk as if he was following the beat of a drum.
Researcher Li found a piece of wood to use as a shoulder pole and asked his son to push it from behind. The laughter of the father and son hit the roof of the warehouse and then fell down.
Mr. Zhao's tricycle had been parked at the door for a long time. He loaded four bags of grain into the bed and tied them tightly with ropes. He didn't care about the pain even when the ropes cut into his palms.
"Master Zhang, here's my money." Someone handed him a pair of crumpled banknotes. Zhang Jianshe took out a tin box and smoothed out the banknotes one by one and put them in. The sound of the money hitting the tin box was particularly loud in the quiet warehouse.
While he was counting the money, Professor Wang was helping to count the number of people. He didn't notice that his glasses had slipped to the tip of his nose until Xiao Zhou called him, "Professor Wang, it's your turn!"
After receiving the food, everyone left one after another, and the warehouse gradually became empty, leaving only Zhang Jianshe and Professor Wang.
Zhang Jianshe pushed the last sack toward Professor Wang and said, "Old Wang, take this back with you."
There was still some hay on the sack, and its fifty-pound weight caused the ground to sink slightly.
Professor Wang waved his hands quickly, his sleeves sweeping across the corn kernels on the sack: "No, we agreed to split it equally, so I won't let you suffer a loss."
His family was indeed short of food. His wife was bedridden and his son was in middle school, which was the age when he could still eat. The number on the food grain register had long been reached, but he knew that Zhang Jianshe's family was not having an easy time either.
"Look at you." Zhang Jianshe stuffed a cigarette into his hand, and the lighter flickered with flames. "What's my relationship with Yimin? He sends things to my house every now and then. Last time he brought ten kilograms of pork, which we couldn't finish in the whole first month of the year."
He patted Professor Wang's arm with considerable force, "I don't know the situation in your family. The child is still growing, and he can't just eat porridge every day."
Professor Wang's cigarette swung between his fingers, and the ash fell on his faded blue shirt.
He recalled the way his son stared at the neighbor's steamed buns and drooled yesterday, and his Adam's apple couldn't help but roll: "Then... I won't be polite."
He bent down to move the sack, but Zhang Jianshe held his hand - the other party was stuffing a paper bag into his hand, which contained the money he had just collected.
"This is your share."
Zhang Jianshe stuffed the paper bag into his pocket and said, "Take my share of the money, too."
Professor Wang pushed the money back violently, his knuckles turning white from the force: "I'll take the food, but the money can't be less."
He fished out a few crumpled banknotes from his pocket, stacked them together with the paper package Zhang Jianshe gave him, and forced them into the other person's hand. "Yimin is Yimin, I am me, and the rules cannot be broken."
Zhang Jianshe looked at the stubbornness in his eyes, suddenly smiled, and stuffed the money into the tin box: "Okay, I'll listen to you."
The two walked out of the warehouse together. Professor Wang's back, carrying the sack, was a little hunched, but much taller than when he came.
The sunlight passed through the window frames of the warehouse, casting long shadows on the ground. The corn kernels on the sacks were hot from the sun, as if a warm sun was hidden inside.
As Xiao Zhou pushed his tricycle into the family compound, his wife came out to greet him with her big belly.
Seeing the bulging sacks in the truck bed, she suddenly covered her mouth with her hands that were supporting her waist, tears streaming down her face: "Boss, is this...food?"
When the sack was untied, yellow corn kernels rolled out. Xiao Zhou grabbed a handful and stuffed them into her hands: "Fifty kilograms, enough for you to survive until you give birth."
The daughter-in-law buried her face in the pile of corn, her shoulders twitching. Last winter, when she was pregnant, she drank rice soup so thin that you could see your reflection in it. Now, when her fingertips touched the plump grains, she suddenly laughed out loud.
Researcher Li's old mother was leaning on the windowsill, looking out, and saw her son coming back carrying a sack, his skinny hands scratching the window frame until they turned white.
"Mom, smell it." Researcher Li put the sack on the kang and took out a handful of sorghum rice and put it to her nose. The old lady's cloudy eyes suddenly brightened up, and she trembled as she reached out to the small earthenware jar at the bedside: "Quick...quickly pour some in, you can even see a person's reflection at the bottom of the jar."
As he was talking, he heard his grandson's call from outside the courtyard gate. The little guy rushed into the house holding half a steamed bread, and jumped up when he saw the sack: "Grandpa, is there white rice to eat?"
Researcher Li smiled and stuffed a grain of sorghum into his mouth. The sweet taste melted on the tongues of the grandfather and grandson.
When Professor Wang carried the grain in, three children were circling an empty grain jar.
The eldest daughter saw the word "flour" on the sack and suddenly rushed over to hug his legs: "Dad, it's white flour! Can it be used to make steamed buns?"
The youngest son stood on tiptoe to look into the sack, tripped over the corner of the sack and stumbled, but he grinned: "Mom said that eating white flour can make you taller!"
Professor Wang's wife came out from the inner room, still holding the patched cloth coupons in her hand. When she saw the flour, her eyes suddenly became red - the day before yesterday she was secretly saving her own food rations for her children, and now she can finally let the whole family have a full meal.
As soon as Mr. Zhao put the grain on the chopping board, his wife, who was sewing shoe soles, stood up with the needle still stuck in the cloth and ran over: "Dad, this grain..."
Mr. Zhao untied the sack, and the snow-white flour flew up and landed on the ends of his wife's hair.
"Enough for three months." He stuck a chopstick into the flour bag, leaving it standing upright.
"During the Chinese New Year, we will steam two pots of white flour buns and send two to Grandma Zhang next door." The daughter-in-law suddenly bumped into his arms and laughed with tears in her eyes: "Last year during the Chinese New Year, we still ate steamed bread mixed with bran."
The dough on the chopping board gradually rose up, and in the warm house it bulged into a round shape, as if holding a full hope.
As the light of the 28th day of the twelfth lunar month had just passed over the gray tiles of the courtyard, Zhou Yimin stepped off the kang on the frosted blue bricks.
He folded the quilt a little and got up.
The alarm clock on the windowsill pointed to half past five. He took out the rag he had prepared last night, dipped it in warm water in the enamel basin, and just wiped the glass when he saw the shadow of an old man sweeping the floor next door printed on the window paper.
"Yimin, you got up early enough!" An old man's broom swept across the blue bricks, making a "swish" sound, and the spider web picked up by the tip of the broom swayed in the morning light.
"Today is the twenty-eighth, the day for 'sweeping the house'. We have to tidy up our yard and make it look bright."
He stuffed a newly tied broom into Zhou Yimin's hand. The sorghum ears were tied tightly together. "You have to sweep the dust on the beams of your house carefully."
Zhou Yimin responded and climbed up the wooden ladder, which creaked under his military boots.
He held up a bamboo pole tied with a cloth strip and poked it at the beam. A year's worth of dust fell down and landed on the fur collar of his military coat.
Just when I was getting into a good mood, I suddenly heard a clang from the yard - it was Aunt Li from the west wing who was moving coal briquettes. The coal basket knocked over the sauerkraut jar in the corner, and the ice chips on the edge of the jar splashed all over the floor.
"You old woman, you are so clumsy!" Uncle Li's voice mixed with a cough came, followed by the sound of a broom gathering up broken porcelain pieces.
Zhou Yimin looked down and saw Aunt Li wiping coal stains with a rag. There were black marks on her blue apron, but she smiled with curved eyebrows and eyes: "It will be cleaned after soaking in alkaline water later. I will make you a steamed sugar bun to make amends at noon."
Grandma Zhang in the east wing was standing on a small stool and using a bamboo pole to reach the lantern under the eaves.
Last year's red lanterns were covered in dust, but she wiped them with a cloth until they were translucent, spinning the bamboo stalks quickly in her hands: "Yimin, help grandma hang the lanterns higher! Let people at the entrance of the alley see the joy in our courtyard!" Zhou
Yimin had just come down from the ladder. Upon hearing this, he picked up the lantern and hung it on the door lintel. His fingertips touched the cold wire, but were warmed by the hand warmer handed to him by Grandma Zhang.
"Wow, Yimin's window is brighter than a mirror!" Aunt Zhao, who had just come back from shopping for groceries with a basket full of leeks, took a special look into the house when she passed by.
"Your desk is so tidy, unlike my kid, who has books scattered all over the floor." Zhou Yimin was bending over to wipe the bottom of the bed when his military boots kicked a cardboard package. When he opened it, he found that it was firecrackers that had not been set off last year, with the fuses still intact.
When the sun climbed to the center of the bamboo shadows, the courtyard had changed its appearance.
An old man piled the rubbish he swept out at the door, waiting for the waste collector to come. Aunt Li used paste to stick the newly bought "Fu" character on the door, and her hands were covered with gold powder from the red paper.
Grandma Zhang's lantern was dangling on the door lintel, making a rustling sound when the wind blew.
Zhou Yimin straightened his aching back, looked at the shiny blue bricks in the yard and the new window grilles on the windows, and felt a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction in his heart.
Seeing that the beam had not been cleaned yet, Zhou Yimin took the wooden ladder over.
I was wiping the beams on the wooden ladder, my military boots swinging on the ladder, when I suddenly heard the sound of a door being pushed open at the gate of the courtyard.
He lowered his head and looked down, and saw Zhang Yan standing on the blue brick floor holding a bamboo basket, the collar of her blue cotton-padded jacket stained with a little snow foam. Zhang Lu, who was following behind her, was standing on tiptoe to look into the yard, the red silk in her braid fluttering happily in the wind.
"Brother Yimin, are you busy?" Zhang Yan raised her face, and the frost on her eyelashes shone in the sunlight.
"I finished cleaning my house this morning. I thought it would be hard for you to clean by yourself, so I brought Lulu over to help."
She shook the bamboo basket in her hand, and the oil paper bag emerged from the edge of the basket, emitting a faint aroma of oil.
Zhang Lu suddenly came out from behind her sister, her nose red from the cold: "Brother Yimin! My sister said you have sugar-coated fire cakes at home!"
She looked into the room, saw the empty bowl on the corner of the table and shouted, "Where is it? I can help you clean the table and mop the floor, in exchange for two sugar-coated steamed buns, is that enough?"
Before she could finish her words, Zhang Yan patted her on the back. She grimaced in pain, but she still stared at the bamboo basket.
If her sister hadn't said in the morning, "There's delicious food at Brother Yimin's house," she would have followed with half a steamed bun in her mouth. At this moment, her stomach was so hungry that she was feeling anxious.
Zhou Yimin came down from the ladder, and the hem of his military coat swept across the dust on the ground. "Why are you here? It's so cold."
Zhang Yan whispered in Zhang Lu's ear: "Work hard to get sweet bread, otherwise you can only eat steamed bread."
"It's okay. We'll come over to help. Otherwise, Brother Yimin, you won't know how long you'll be busy alone."
As he said this, he put the bamboo basket on the table, unwrapped the oil paper, revealing four round sugar-coated buns with sesame seeds glistening on the surface. "My mom just baked these this morning. Let me fill my stomach with them first."
Zhou Yimin didn't hesitate. He had been busy for so long and was already hungry.
Zhang Lu chewed on a piece of candied bread and yelled incoherently: "I'll clean the windows! I can clean them like a mirror!"
Zhou Yimin smiled and said, "Lulu, the window has been cleaned."
Zhang Lu didn't expect Zhou Yimin to act so quickly, so she asked, "Brother Yimin, is there anything else that hasn't been cleaned?"
"Brother Yimin, haven't you swept under your bed yet?" Zhang Yan said.
Zhou Yimin nodded. He just cleaned the upper part in the morning and still had time to start cleaning the ground.
After Zhang Yan found out, she ordered, "Lulu, go sweep the floor."
Zhang Lu did not resist. She came over to help with the work, picked up the broom beside her and started sweeping the floor.
When Zhang Lu put the last broom into the corner, the sun had already climbed to the center of the window frame. It was already past three o'clock in the afternoon.
The three of them straightened their aching backs, looked at the house in front of them, and breathed a sigh of relief at the same time.
The beams that were originally covered with dust were rubbed to reveal their wood color. Zhang Yan stood on the ground and looked up. The white marks left by the blue cloth handkerchief sparkled in the sun, like a layer of fine silver powder.
The floor that Zhou Yimin had just mopped was sparkling clean, reflecting the shadows of the lanterns on the roof, and even the gaps between the bricks in the corners of the wall were clean.
The floor swept by Zhang Lu was spotless.
"It's so clean." Zhang Yan picked up the sugar-coated steamed bun on the table, rubbed the sesame seeds on her fingertips, and felt a sense of accomplishment.
The three hours of busy work were not in vain. The originally messy house was now filled with freshness. Even the smell of dust in the air was dissipated by the sunlight coming in through the window gaps, leaving only the faint scent of coal smoke and the sweet smell of sugar-coated firewood.
Zhou Yimin touched the firecrackers in his pocket, wondering whether he should take them out and let Zhang Lu set off two first, to celebrate this new home.
Just then, a loud "gurgle" of the stomach broke the silence in the room.
The sound was not loud, but it was particularly clear in this extremely quiet room.
Zhou Yimin and Zhang Yan turned their heads at the same time, their eyes fixed on Zhang Lu.
Zhang Lu froze when he heard that and slowly turned around.
Her face suddenly turned red, spreading from her cheeks to her ears, as if a basin of red ink had been poured on it.
He was still holding the broom in his hand, and the dust on the corner of the cloth rubbed against his nose, making him look even more embarrassed.
"I... I didn't mean it." Zhang Lu explained stutteringly, her voice as soft as a mosquito's hum, her eyes fixed on the tip of her shoes, not daring to look at Zhou Yimin and Zhang Yan.
But her stomach seemed to be against her and made another "gurgling" sound, this time even louder than before.
Zhang Yan couldn't help but burst out laughing and reached out to rub Zhang Lu's hair: "Are you hungry? It's all my fault. I was so busy working that I forgot to let you fill your stomach first."
Zhou Yimin smiled and said, "Make sure our little hero is well fed."
(End of this chapter)
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