The October wind carried a hint of chill, yet it couldn't dispel the warmth emanating from the workshop of the Red Flag Production Brigade. A small, clean room of about ten square meters had been partitioned off from the brick-built workshop. The whitewashed walls gleamed, reflecting light like shadows. Two brand-new kerosene lamps hung from the ceiling, their glass shades spotless, casting warm yellow light onto the gleaming ceramic basins and bamboo sieves. Even the air was filled with the faint aroma of rice and the sweet scent of fruits and vegetables. Lin Wanqiu, wearing a faded blue cloth blouse with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms, revealing her smooth wrists, stood beside the stone mill, patiently teaching the new female worker, Li Guizhi, how to grind rice flour.
"The force must be even, and the millstone must turn slowly for a finer grind. Look at this rice flour; it should be like sifted white flour, without a single grain." Lin Wanqiu held Li Guizhi's hand, pushing the millstone to turn slowly. The rice paste seeping from the gaps in the millstone was as fine as milk, flowing down the groove of the millstone into the earthenware basin below, gleaming with a lustrous sheen. Li Guizhi was a widow from the next brigade, with a three-year-old child at home. A few days ago, she heard that Lin Wanqiu's workshop was hiring female workers, so she came with two cornbread buns. Now she listened very attentively, not even bothering to wipe the fine sweat from her forehead, nodding repeatedly: "Manager Lin, I'll remember. It must be ground very finely so that the child won't choke."
In the courtyard outside the clean room, Shen Tingzhou was directing two burly men to load wooden crates onto the carriage. The crates were newly made, with iron-plated corners and the words "Shen Family Infant Supplementary Food" painted in red on them, with a line of smaller print below: "Net weight one jin, production date October 6th." Each crate was lined with oil paper, and the neatly stacked oil paper bags emitted the sweet aroma of pumpkin and carrots. The bags were tied with thin hemp rope and attached to a small red paper with simple feeding instructions printed on them—drawn by Lin Wanqiu the night before, who sketched the pumpkin and carrots with charcoal pencil, and even wrote "twice a day, mixed with warm water" in neat handwriting.
"Place it gently, don't let it bump into anything." Shen Tingzhou reached out to steady the box that was about to slip down, his fingertips touching the cool metal of the wooden box, recalling the scene from his trip to the county town yesterday. Hospital director Zhang held his hand, his eyes crinkling with laughter, saying that the crying in the pediatric ward had decreased these past few days; the previously sallow-faced, thin child had even developed a rosy complexion after three days of eating pumpkin rice cereal puree. And Director Wang from the supply and marketing cooperative was chasing after him at the counter, asking if he could supply more goods, saying that an old lady had come all the way from the countryside yesterday, unable to buy any baby food, and stood at the cooperative's entrance wiping away tears, saying her grandson was constantly asking for "Shen's sweet porridge" at home.
"Tingzhou, is everything packed?" Lin Wanqiu came out of the clean room, casually removing her white cloth hat. Her long, black hair cascaded over her shoulders, the ends still dusted with white rice flour. She walked to the carriage, lifted the lid of a wooden box, picked up a bag of carrot and rice flour puree, and examined it against the light. The powder in the oil paper bag was fine and even, without a single clump. "This batch of goods needs to be delivered to the hospital before noon. Dean Zhang said that several doctors from out of town are coming to inspect today, so it's a good opportunity for them to try our baby food."
Shen Tingzhou reached out to brush the rice powder from her hair, his fingertips brushing against her slightly cool earlobe. He said softly, "Don't worry, Old Zhou, who drives the cart, is from our brigade. He knows the way very well, so things won't be delayed." He paused, his gaze falling on her slightly tired face, his eyes full of heartache. "You haven't slept well these past few days. After this batch of goods is delivered, you can rest at home for half a day. I'll take care of things at the workshop."
Lin Wanqiu smiled and shook her head, patting his arm: "What are you resting for? Now is the busiest time. Didn't you hear what Director Wang said? The supply and marketing cooperative has been out of stock for three days. Yesterday, someone even came to our house through connections to pre-order next month's baby food. We have to take advantage of this momentum and build our reputation." As soon as she finished speaking, a series of crisp footsteps came from the courtyard gate. Shen Nian'an, carrying his little schoolbag, skipped and hopped in, his little leather shoes making a "tap-tap" sound on the bluestone slabs.
"Mom! Dad!" Shen Nian'an ran to Lin Wanqiu's side, looking up at her with bright eyes like two black grapes. "Today, Teacher Li from school asked me if I could send more of the baby food you make to the school. She said that some students in the class are always hungry, but after eating my baby food, they don't doze off in class anymore." As he spoke, he took out a crumpled oil paper bag from his schoolbag, which still contained half a bag of spinach and egg custard. "Look, this is what I saved for Xiaohua. She said she liked it yesterday, so I brought extra today."
Lin Wanqiu squatted down and stroked her son's head, her fingertips brushing against the soft wisps of hair on his forehead—his hair was much darker and shinier than last year, no longer the dry, sparse, and yellowish hair it once was. She remembered when she was first reborn, Nian'an was as thin as a reed, unable to even swallow half a bowl of corn porridge, but now he could skip and hop to school and even share his supplementary food with his classmates. Her heart felt as if it had been warmed by water, melting completely. "Okay, Mom will make some new supplementary food this weekend, and you can take it to school and share it with your classmates." She paused, then added, "But Nian'an, you're going to elementary school soon, so you can't let helping Mom interfere with your studies."
Shen Nian'an nodded vigorously, puffing out his little chest: "Mom, don't worry, I got all my math problems right yesterday, and Teacher Li even praised me! When I go to elementary school, I'll definitely get first place and make you and Dad happy." As he spoke, he turned around to help Shen Tingzhou move the wooden box, standing on tiptoe like a little adult, pushing the box with all his might, his face full of seriousness.
Lin Wanqiu watched her son's busy figure, her heart filled with satisfaction. She stood up and looked towards the workshop. The female workers in the clean room were busy in an orderly manner—Sister Liu sat by the bamboo sieve, carefully sifting the ground rice flour, the sifted powder falling into the earthenware basin like snow; Brother Zhou's wife was mashing steamed pumpkin into a puree, the wooden mallet tapping in the earthenware bowl, making a "thump-thump" sound; even Zhang Lan, who used to always slack off, was now sitting at the table, carefully tying hemp rope to the oil paper bag, her fingers flying, tying the hemp rope into neat and strong knots.
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