Chapter 628: Sharing the Money
Zhou Yimin looked at the wall clock and the hour hand pointed to four o'clock.
The sun outside the window began to set, and the light slanted through the window glass, casting a long narrow shadow on the ground. He thought to himself that if he didn't go back to Zhoujiazhuang now, he would have to wait until tomorrow.
Zhou Yimin hadn't been home for a while, and besides, he had already finished all the work here, so there was nothing for him to do if he stayed.
The winter nights in Beijing are not to be trifled with. The wind is like a knife that penetrates into the bones.
My grandparents are old, and there is no good way to keep warm at home, so they rely on that old coal stove for heating.
When I think of my grandfather wrapped in a thick cotton-padded jacket, sitting on the kang and rubbing his hands, and my grandmother always saying "the night is long and hard"
Zhou Yimin couldn't sit still. After all, if he wasn't at home, his grandparents would definitely not be willing to use coal for heating.
Thinking of this, he quickly walked to the corner, picked up the military coat, put it on, and zipped it up to the top with a "click".
I checked the things I brought for my grandparents again - in addition to the few meatballs left over from the day, there was also half a pound of brown sugar that I had specially reserved, tightly wrapped in oil paper.
When I pushed the motorcycle out, a thin layer of frost had formed on the handlebars.
Zhou Yimin blew some hot air into his palms, rubbed his frozen fingers, and got on the motorcycle.
The engine roared, echoing in the silent alley.
At this time, the sun had not completely set yet, and the golden-red light sprinkled on the gray walls of the alley, giving the cold bricks and stones a layer of warmth.
Zhou Yimin stepped on the accelerator, and the motorcycle rolled over the remaining snow on the roadside, splashing up fine snow foam.
He hunched his back slightly, and the hem of his military coat rustled in the wind, but he didn't care at all - he only wanted to get home quickly so that he could have a hot dinner with his grandparents.
There were fewer and fewer pedestrians on the road. Occasionally, a few passers-by wrapped tightly in cotton jackets hurried by. When they saw Zhou Yimin's motorcycle, they subconsciously hid to the side of the road.
The wind whistled past his ears, bringing with it the unique chill of winter, but Zhou Yimin felt warm in his heart.
He knew that in more than an hour, he would be able to see the familiar old locust tree at the entrance of Zhoujiazhuang village, the dim light coming through the window of his home, and the figures of his grandparents waiting eagerly at the door.
The motorcycle was bumping along the dirt road, causing the brown sugar wrappers in the bed to sway slightly.
Zhou Yimin squinted his eyes and looked at the road ahead, the corners of his mouth unconsciously raised.
As long as I can get home early, what does this cold wind matter?
As soon as the motorcycle turned around the old locust tree at the entrance of the village, Zhou Yimin was stunned.
At this time of day, Zhoujiazhuang should have been immersed in ink, with only a few windows showing a dim yellow glow. But today was different - the lights in every household were on, like a handful of stars scattered in the darkness. Even the abandoned mill at the west end of the village had a faint light shining through its window lattices.
"What's going on?" Zhou Yimin slowed down the car and lightly stepped on the brakes twice with his military boots.
As soon as the rumbling sound of the motorcycle died down, a vague human voice was heard, floating over from the direction of the threshing ground with the wind.
He looked up and saw that the light over there in the threshing ground was dazzlingly bright, brighter than any other light, as if there was a burning fire.
Curiosity was like a little claw, tickling his heart.
The brown sugar wrappers in the truck bed were still shaking slightly, but his hand holding the handlebars turned in another direction - the way home was on the left, but he stepped on the accelerator and drove straight to the threshing ground.
The wheels rolled over the gravel at the entrance of the village, making a slight "clattering" sound, which startled the old dog under the wall and made it bark, then shrink back into its den.
The closer he got to the threshing ground, the clearer the voices became. When he reached the slope at the edge of the field, Zhou Yimin could see clearly that the threshing ground, which used to be so empty that three horse-drawn carriages could run through it, was now full of people.
A sea of heads moved around, each wrapped in a thick cotton-padded jacket, with the pompoms on their cotton-padded hats swaying gently under the light. The originally spacious venue was packed to the brim, with even a few half-grown children sitting on the haystacks at the edge of the venue.
A lantern was hung on the top of a bamboo pole, illuminating the surroundings. The wick was crackling with sparks, casting a large, swaying spot of light on the ground.
Zhou Yimin parked his motorcycle at the foot of the earth slope. Just as he took off his helmet, he heard the old branch secretary's loud voice coming from the center of the field. It was amplified through the iron speaker with a "sizzling" sound with a bit of electricity: "...This year's wheat harvest is 30% more than last year, excluding seeds and fertilizers..."
The old branch secretary paused, looked up at the sky, the light of the lantern reflected on his wrinkled face. He cleared his throat and raised his voice: "It's getting late, let's not talk too much. This year, each household can get 130 yuan!"
"What?" The third uncle in the front row raised his head suddenly, and the pipe in his hand fell to the ground with a "click", and the pipe bowl made a small hole in the frozen mud.
He suspected that he had heard it wrong, rubbed his ears, and moved forward again, and the hem of his cotton jacket rubbed against the haystack in front of him.
The child in Second Aunt's arms was startled by the sudden silence and cried loudly, but Auntie had no time to comfort him. She just stared at the old Party Secretary with wide eyes and muttered, "One hundred and three... one hundred and three..."
At this time last year, each family only received 62 yuan. She told the head of the household that it was enough to buy a new piece of cloth for the child and two kilograms of sugar. She didn't expect that the amount would more than double this year.
The crowd was like being struck by a bomb and was instantly in an uproar.
"Oh my goodness! Is this true?"
“It’s almost seventy dollars more than last year!”
"I can add some thick clothes for the children at home!"
The sound of discussions was buzzing, like countless bees flying. Some people rubbed their hands excitedly, and the frost on their cotton-padded jackets was melted by their body temperature, leaving a dark mark.
Someone stood up suddenly, but was pulled back to sit by the person next to him. The two of them huddled together and quietly calculated the bill, drawing circles on their cotton-padded jackets with their fingers.
Zhou Yimin leaned on the motorcycle, also a little surprised.
He knew that the village had a good harvest this year and the income should be more than this. It seemed that the old branch secretary planned to keep the extra money as a backup.
The wind lifted up a corner of the brown sugar package in the truck bed, revealing the brown sugar cubes inside. He reached out and pressed the package down, his eyes falling on several people in the crowd with different expressions.
Accountant Zhou from the east end of the village squatted beside a haystack, counting quickly with his fingers on the ground: "One hundred households, one hundred and thirty per household, that's thirteen thousand..."
He frowned slightly. Last year, the village sold vegetables to the steel plant, and the bill alone was more than this amount, not to mention the income from feed.
He looked up at the old branch secretary and saw that he was wiping his sweat with a towel with a smile on his lips. He then had an idea in his mind - this number might have left some room for maneuver.
At this time, some smart people said: "Did you send vegetables to the steel mill in Sijiu City this year? I know of eight trips, how could it be just this..."
Before he could finish his words, the person next to him poked him on the arm, signaling him to stop talking nonsense. He had to swallow the rest of his words, but could not help laughing - no matter how much he had hidden, the one hundred and thirteen was enough to make up half of the betrothal gift for his son to get married.
The old secretary waited for the crowd to quiet down a bit, and then picked up the tin loudspeaker again: "I believe everyone knows that the village's annual income must be much more than this."
"The village plans to keep 3,000 yuan as a reserve fund, and also return 3,000 yuan to Yimin."
After hearing this, everyone thought this arrangement was good, but no one expected that the village still owed Zhou Yimin so much money.
And judging from the tone of the old branch secretary, he probably hasn't paid it back yet.
Some people began to envy. If they could have three thousand yuan, they would not have to worry about having no money in the future.
The old branch secretary saw that everyone had almost finished discussing the matter and said, "We'll start distributing the money tomorrow morning. Each family will send a person in charge to the brigade to collect it. Everyone, go home early. It's cold, go home and rest!"
After hearing what the old branch secretary said, everyone was very happy and followed his instructions.
The crowd slowly moved out of the venue, but their steps were much lighter than when they came.
Third Uncle picked up the pipe and his hands were still shaking as he stuffed tobacco into the pipe.
The second aunt held the child who had stopped crying, her steps felt like she was stepping on cotton, and she was still saying to the people next to her: "Why don't you buy the child a new pair of cotton shoes? And buy a piece of cloth to make a cotton coat..."
Zhou Yimin looked at the lively scene, touched the bag of brown sugar in the truck bed, and finally turned the handlebars and drove home.
The rumbling sound of motorcycles mixed with the laughter of the villagers spread into the night.
The crowd rushed out of the venue like a tide, and the sound of faint discussions could still be heard in the halo of the lantern.
Zhou Yimin was turning the handlebars, and just as the motorcycle engine was making a "thump thump" sound to warm up, he heard a hurried shout from behind him: "Yimin, Yimin!"
He turned around and saw the old branch secretary pushing through the crowd and running towards him. Two buttons of his cotton-padded jacket had come loose, revealing the patched blue cloth jacket underneath.
The light from the lantern flickered on his silver hair, and his red, frozen face was filled with anxiety. "Wait a minute before we go!"
The old branch secretary waved his hands as he ran, his army green armband fluttering high in the wind.
Zhou Yimin released his foot on the accelerator, and the roar of the engine gradually died down.
"Just got back?" The old branch secretary ran up to him, breathing heavily, and patted the motorcycle seat. The calluses on the palms of his hands rubbed against the leather, making a rustling sound.
"I was thinking of going to the city to look for you tomorrow, but I didn't expect you to come back first."
"I just arrived at the entrance of the village and saw the lights on, so I came over to take a look." Zhou Yimin took off his helmet, revealing his sweat-soaked hair. "I didn't expect it was to share the harvest. The village is really doing well this year."
The old branch secretary chuckled twice, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes squeezed into a ball, but he didn't respond. He just looked behind him and saw that the crowd had almost dispersed. Then he lowered his voice and said, "Come to my house and have a seat? I have something to discuss with you."
Zhou Yimin's heart skipped a beat.
The old Party secretary was always straightforward, so he was hesitant because there must be something difficult. He nodded and followed me to the west end of the village. The lights of the motorcycle dragged two thin strips of light on the dirt road, stretching the shadows of the two people.
The old branch secretary’s house was right next to the mill. The adobe walls were blackened by smoke and there were faded Spring Festival couplets on the wooden door.
When the door was pushed open, it made a creaking sound, startling the sparrows under the eaves and causing them to fly away.
There was no light in the room. The old branch secretary added a piece of coal to the stove in the dark. The flames jumped up and illuminated the portrait of Chairman Mao hanging on the wall.
"Sit down." The old secretary moved to the edge of the kang, took out an enamel pot from the corner of the table, scooped a spoonful of brown sugar into it, and poured boiling water. The sugar cubes "gurgled" in the water, and the sweet fragrance instantly filled the room. "Warm yourself up first, it's a very strange day."
The enamel pot was still steaming when it was handed to him. Zhou Yimin held it in both hands, and the warmth in his palms climbed up his arms.
He looked at the old secretary squatting in front of the stove rubbing his hands, the firelight flickering on his face, and suddenly said: "Old secretary, just tell me what you want to say."
The old Party secretary sighed and added another piece of coal to the stove: "To be honest, it's about food."
He turned around, the smile on his face completely gone, "The big canteen in the village is open every day, hundreds of people eat every day, this year's grain harvest looks good, but it can't sustain this production. I calculated that the remaining grain can only last for a month at most."
Zhou Yimin paused as he held the enamel jar.
I seem to have bought 10,000 kilograms of food from him before, but I didn't expect it to be consumed so quickly. He blew the hot air on the water surface: "How much do you need?"
"Ten thousand catties." When the old branch secretary said this, his eyes were fixed on the flames in the stove, and his voice was so soft as if he was afraid of being heard. "It doesn't matter if it's wheat or corn, as long as it can fill your stomach, it's fine."
The surface of the brown sugar water in the enamel jar shook.
Zhou Yimin was stunned. Although he was prepared, he was still shocked by the number - ten thousand kilograms of grain, in a year when food coupons were more valuable than life, could allow half of the village to survive the winter.
"It's a bit difficult to handle." He admitted, "Recently, the situation is tense and the inspections are strict. It's not easy to handle such a large amount."
The old branch secretary's shoulders slumped, and he threw a piece of firewood into the stove: "I know it's difficult. But the elderly and children in the canteen are waiting to be cooked, and we can't just watch them starve."
When he looked up, the red bloodshot in his eyes was clearly visible under the firelight, "If you are really in trouble..."
"I didn't say I wouldn't do it." Zhou Yimin interrupted him and put the enamel pot on the table, splashing water on the surface: "Give me five days."
He stood up, the hem of his military coat swept across the edge of the kang, bringing up a gust of wind, "I'll come to see you in the evening of five days later. We'll talk about it then."
Although ten thousand kilograms of grain is nothing to Zhou Yimin, he can buy more grain from the store.
If you agree to it so easily, others won't know the difficulties involved.
The old branch secretary suddenly raised his head, the light in his eyes brighter than the fire in the stove: "Can you really do it?"
"Try on." Zhou Yimin put on his helmet and pushed open the door. Cold wind blew in, making the stove fire crackle. "Don't tell anyone. Wait for my news."
The old branch secretary nodded. He knew about this kind of thing even if Zhou Yimin didn't remind him.
Now that the matter had been discussed, Zhou Yimin looked at his watch, realized it was getting late, and said goodbye.
The sound of the motorcycle engine sounded again. The old branch secretary sent her to the door and watched the light getting farther and farther away before he walked into the house.
(End of this chapter)
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
