Chapter 17 "Teacher Shu, this job is really related to you..."
Xu Junjun handed over the water bottle, which hung heavily on her waist, while Shu Ran wrapped the bandage around her throbbing hand, trying to provide some cushioning. The injury to her lower back seemed to have eased a bit.
Shu Ran returned to her dugout and pulled out the old bundle at the very bottom of the camphor wood chest. Unwrapping it, she found a neatly folded rose-red silk handkerchief inside. She had brought it from Shanghai.
She unfolded a square scarf, looked at the blurry little round mirror in the corner, and wrapped it around her head layer by layer, covering her ears and tying a knot at her chin.
Now that everything is tidied up, it's time to get to work.
"Sister Shuran, are you really going to the Third Row?" Li Xiulan couldn't help but ask in a low voice, her gaze lingering on the silk scarf. "I heard from Aunt Zhang next door that the saline-alkali land in the Third Row is so bad that even a strong man can peel off a layer of skin after a day's work..."
"I have to go. You're all participating in the labor, so I'm not special." Shu Ran's voice was flat as she continued to rummage through the crowd and found a pair of work gloves, carefully putting them on her injured hand.
"That place in the third row... sigh, take a break if you can, don't push yourself too hard." Sister Wang sighed and handed over a piece of mixed grain cake with bran, "It'll fill you up. I made it at the kitchen shed."
Zhou Qiaozhen appeared out of nowhere with a large bunch of jujube branches and was sitting at the table picking the jujubes from them. With her back to us, she said gloatingly, "Teacher Shu, you're finally just like us."
Shu Ran pretended not to hear, took the pancake and put it in her pocket, nodded to Sister Wang and said, "Thank you, Sister Wang." She turned around, lifted the tattered felt blanket, and walked into the scorching afternoon sun.
An elderly worker carrying a shovel hurried past, wiped the sweat from his brow, and muttered, "Sigh, no wonder it's so hot at midday, you have to wear a cotton-padded coat in the morning and a light gauze dress in the afternoon..."
Shu Ran stopped him: "Brother, could you please tell me where Platoon Leader Wang of the Third Platoon is? And how do I get to the drainage canal?"
The veteran worker looked her up and down, recognized her, and pointed westward towards the company with a complicated expression: "Look, follow this road west, to the end, and you'll see a patch of white salt flats, the one with the most people and the most dust! Platoon Leader Wang? The one with the loudest voice is him!"
After thanking the veteran employee, Shu Ran walked westward under the sun. The road beneath her feet became increasingly bumpy, and the smell of earth in the air grew stronger.
At the edge of the horizon, a vast expanse of white saline-alkali land stretched out, like a dirty snowfield.
Under the scorching sun, the salt crust resembles salt, with deep cracks appearing on the surface.
The sounds of roaring, crashing, and occasional shouts mingled together, growing clearer and clearer.
Dozens of men, shirtless or wearing only tattered undershirts, their backs glistening with oil under the scorching sun.
They swung their pickaxes, striking the salt flats again and again. With each strike, they pried up a clod of earth covered in salt and tossed it into a nearby basket.
The people carrying the loads hunched over, stepping on planks, to bring the earthen baskets up to the edge of the canal.
Dust filled the air, making it almost impossible to see people's faces; only the figures of people working hard to dig the ditch could be seen.
Near the end of the canal, a group of female workers, wearing headscarves and old military uniforms, were also sweating profusely, their movements not much slower than the men's.
Some female workers were wielding shovels, forcefully breaking up large chunks of saline-alkali soil that they had pried up from the bottom of the canal, then shoveling them into smaller baskets, which were then carried away by other female workers.
Several older women were busy at a makeshift stove a little further away, boiling water and preparing simple meals, their faces flushed from the heat and smoke.
"Platoon Leader Wang!" Shu Ran raised her voice and called out amidst the noise.
A burly man with a full beard turned around at the sound, wiped the sweat and mud from his eyes, and squinted at her: "Who?...Oh! Teacher Shu?"
He had clearly received a notification. "Director Zhao sent you? Okay! Get to work! See this?" He gestured with his chin towards a pile of rusty tools beside him. "Pick one that's easy to use! Follow the crowd! Do what others do! Be careful! See Sister Sun and the others? Do as much as you can, don't try to be a hero!"
Shu Ran walked over to the pile of tools. Rusty pickaxes, shovels... She thought for a moment, then bent down and picked up a pickaxe that looked relatively small. It was heavy in her hand, and the wooden handle was rough, but thankfully she had taken some protective measures on her hands.
She dragged her pickaxe to a gap at the bottom of the ditch. Several men who were prying up clods of earth nearby stopped, wiping their sweat, their eyes sweeping over her tightly wrapped face and slender figure, and the delicate pickaxe in her hand.
"Hey! Teacher Shu? You really came?" A man's voice rang out; it was Li Dazhuang. He grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow by tobacco. "Why are you all covered up? Afraid of getting too tanned and not finding a husband in Shanghai? We don't have any mirrors for you to look in here!"
Several men nearby burst into laughter.
“Teacher Shu, this job is nothing like the recitation and singing in your classroom! This pickaxe is heavy, don’t strain your back!” another man chimed in with a strange accent.
"That's right! Teacher Shu, why don't you sing us a song to cheer us up? How about a Shanghai folk song?" The laughter grew louder, tinged with mockery.
Shu Ran ignored the jarring laughter. She imitated the people around her, stood with her feet apart, gripped the pickaxe handle tightly with both hands, raised it high, and slammed it down with all her might onto the grayish-white salt flats at her feet.
"Thump!"
With a muffled thud, the recoil force slammed into her tiger's mouth and palm along the wooden handle, the excruciating pain causing her vision to go black and almost causing her to drop her hand.
"Ha!" Li Dazhuang's laughter grew louder. "Teacher Shu, is that the kind of force you use to tickle an itch in saline-alkali soil?"
Another round of snickers erupted around them.
Shu Ran gritted her teeth, raised the pickaxe again, adjusted the angle, and tried to pry open the soil layer, imitating the old worker next to her.
This time, she used the pickaxe to pry up a small clod of earth, about the size of her palm. She bent down, grabbed the hard clod of earth with her gloves, and laboriously tossed it into the soil basket next to her.
Sweat soaked through the silk headscarf on my forehead, and it stung my eyes.
Shu Ran repeated the same movements over and over again. She dared not stop, afraid that if she stopped, she would never be able to lift the pickaxe again.
The dust made her cough incessantly. She felt like a fish thrown into the Gobi Desert, being thoroughly salted and dried out by the salt and alkali.
Time seemed to stand still, with only the scorching sun moving slowly.
Just as Shu Ran's consciousness began to waver due to the high temperature, exhaustion, and pain, a shout with a different tone caught everyone's attention.
"Dazhuang! Dazhuang, what's wrong with you?!"
Shu Ran suddenly looked up and followed the sound.
Just a few meters away, Li Dazhuang's pickaxe had fallen to the ground. He lay face down, motionless.
"Dazhuang!"
"Help! Dazhuang has fainted!"
Several men nearby dropped their tools and rushed over, frantically trying to turn him over in a chaotic scene. Some pinched his philtrum, others slapped his face—it was utter confusion.
Li Dazhuang's face was purplish-red, his lips were dry and cracked, his eyes were tightly closed, his jaw was clenched, he was panting, his chest was heaving violently, and his limbs were twitching.
Heatstroke can be fatal! The first aid knowledge she had learned in her previous life immediately reminded Shu Ran of this.
Platoon Leader Wang roared as he rushed over: "Quick! Carry it to a shady spot!"
The men around hesitated and said, "Platoon leader, there isn't even a tree around here..."
Platoon Leader Wang's voice changed, "Carry him to the shade of that tractor on the edge of the canal! Hurry up!" He was so anxious that he kept stamping his feet.
The crowd became even more chaotic, and several people hurriedly carried Li Dazhuang over.
Shu Ran's heart tightened, and she threw down her pickaxe and rushed forward. She pushed aside the people blocking her way: "Make way! Let me see!"
Pushing closer, I saw that Li Dazhuang had been turned over and was still convulsing.
It's severe heatstroke! Shu Ran suddenly ripped off the silk headscarf from her head.
"Water! Does anyone have any cold water? Quickly!" she shouted urgently.
A man next to him hurriedly handed over a worn-out military water bottle, which still contained a little less than half a pot of tea, warmed by the sun.
Without even glancing at it, Shu Ran snatched the bottle, uncorked it, and poured the half-full pot of murky water onto the silk headscarf. The cloth instantly soaked up the water. She quickly tore the soaked headscarf into several pieces.
She knelt on the ground and ripped open Li Dazhuang's sweat-soaked and tattered clothes, revealing his sweaty chest and neck.
She quickly folded the soaked headscarf, pressed it firmly against Li Dazhuang's burning forehead, and then swiftly applied it to the areas where his carotid arteries were pulsating on both sides.
After doing all this, she looked up, her gaze sweeping urgently over the men watching, "Quick, give me salt! Clean salt! Do you have any?"
"Salt? What do you need salt for?" A man was bewildered.
"Hurry!" Shu Ran's eyes were red. "Save him! Give him some salt!"
Platoon Leader Wang reacted the fastest, slapping his thigh: "Old Nian! Where's that bag of coarse salt you got this morning? The kind you mix with rice! Bring it here right now!"
A thin, elderly worker hurriedly pulled an oil paper package from his pocket and handed it over.
Shu Ran grabbed the package, unfolded the oil paper, and inside were coarse, yellowish salt grains. She pinched up a small handful, pried open Li Dazhuang's clenched teeth, and stuffed the salt grains under his tongue. Then, she grabbed the water bottle hanging from her waist, which contained the salt water that Xu Junjun had prepared for her.
She pulled out the stopper, brought it close to Li Dazhuang's chapped lips, pried open the gap with the spout, and slowly poured in salt water.
The men who had been laughing and mocking her were now staring in disbelief at the petite figure kneeling on the ground. The female workers busy on the canal slope also stopped what they were doing and craned their necks to look at Shu Ran.
Time passed second by second.
"Uh...ho..." Li Dazhuang groaned, his clenched teeth finally loosened a little, and his eyelids trembled violently.
"He's awake! Dazhuang's awake!" someone exclaimed in surprise.
Li Dazhuang opened his eyes, his gaze unfocused, but the rise and fall of his chest had noticeably slowed, and the purplish-red on his face had faded a bit, revealing a weak, pale complexion.
He stared blankly at Shu Ran kneeling before him, then at the tense faces around him.
Shu Ran let out a long breath, her vision blurring, and she almost collapsed. She forced herself to stay upright and handed the saline solution to a man beside her: "Feed him slowly... wait until he recovers..."
Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats approached from afar.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
