One day, on a quiet afternoon, Chen Chunhua accidentally found a pen behind a pickle jar.
There was a yellowed Band-Aid on the scratch on the pen cap, the Hero brand gold paint had long since faded, and the solidified blue ink in the pen tube looked like a frozen galaxy.
Chen Chunhua picked up the pen carefully.
This was the token that Zhao Chengshu had hidden in the cracks of the bricks, and it had escaped the raid by Chen's mother.
Chen Chunhua stroked the mark on the pen holder - that was the word "Spring" he carved with a nail, stroke by stroke on a rainy night. The last vertical stroke cut through the palm of his hand, and blood seeped into the wood grain, leaving a permanent mark.
(Time dividing line——————————)
[Brick Kiln Factory————]
On the third day of the Waking of Insects, a late spring chill, wrapped in the smell of rust, crashed into the brick kiln. Chen Chunhua huddled in the sheltered cave, munching on cold steamed buns, brick dust staining the tips of her braids gray.
There was red mud stuck between Chen Chunhua's fingernails, the mark left by the all-night rush to unload the embryos. In the distance, the stevedores' barking was crude, mixing with the coughing of the diesel engine, making one's temples swell.
An oily screw rolled to the side of his feet.
"Excuse me, can you hand me the wrench?"
Chen Chunhua looked up and met a pair of eyes reddened by the smoke of engine oil. The young man was half-stuck under the tractor chassis, and his overalls had flocculent holes at the knees, revealing scabbed scars.
When he took the wrench, the lines on his palm were filled with black oily mud, like ravines cracked in the earth.
"Zhao Chengshu." He sloppily wiped his face with his sleeve, leaving even more comical black marks. "The new maintenance man."
Chen Chunhua caught a glimpse of the half-copy of "Electrical Fundamentals" sticking out of his toolbox, the pages of which were curled up like old pickles.
"Chen Chunhua." Her voice was hoarse than a brick. "From the inverted embryo group."
A sudden downpour pounded the iron roof. When Zhao Chengshu crawled out from under the car, Chen Chunhua was worried about the leaking cave. He suddenly took off his work jacket, shook it, and held it over their heads: "Run!"
They rushed to the tool shed in the rain. Beneath his diesel-smelling coat, Chen Chunhua could smell the acid of his sweat mixed with rust. Zhao Chengshu's worn rubber shoes slipped in the mud, but he kept his coat tilted towards her.
It was not until he hid in a corner filled with tires that he discovered that the pages of the book had been soaked by the rain and turned into dried pickles.
"What a pity..." He smiled bitterly while holding the wet book, and water droplets slid down his Adam's apple into his collar.
As if possessed by a mysterious force, Chen Chunhua handed him half a steamed bun. He froze for a moment, broke it in two, and handed it back: "There's a spring at the west end of the brick factory. It's sweeter than the water in the boiler room."
When the rain stopped, Chen Chunhua found a piece of candy wrapped in newspaper at the bottom of her toolbox. The wrapper was soaked with motor oil, and a note stuck to the melted part read, "Thank you for the steamed bun—"
[Rapeseed fields]
The rape blossoms were in bloom, unbridled and reckless. Thin stems supported the heavy ears, and the small yellow flowers, each with four petals, were huddled together like scattered gold.
Chen Chunhua ducked down into the depths of the field, where the scent of humus, laced with the aroma of honey, washed over her. Zhao Chengshu had built a swing from a scrapped tractor seat. Wild chrysanthemums were wrapped around the seatbelt buckle, swaying in the spring breeze like pale yellow ripples.
"Close your eyes." He pulled out a tin box from his toolbox like a magic trick. Inside lay a Hero brand fountain pen. "The last one in the stationery store in town."
There is a Band-Aid on the scratch on the pen cap, which is a souvenir of the scratch on the wooden box when he was unloading.
Chen Chunhua stroked the mark on the pen shaft—the character for "Spring" he had carved with a nail on a rainy night, the last vertical stroke piercing the base of his palm. Blood seeped into the wood grain, leaving an indelible mark.
"Try it?" Zhao Chengshu unfolded a piece of cigarette paper, his fingertips still stained with battery acid.
Chen Chunhua wrote the first word crookedly, and the ink spread on the rough paper, looking very much like the green smoke from kiln firing.
In the distance, Chen's mother called out to her pigs. Zhao Chengshu suddenly pulled her down, tugging her to a squat position. They huddled together in the flowers, his breath brushing against her ear as he said, "When I get my electrician's license, I'll go install air conditioners in the city."
Amid the chirping of cicadas, Zhao Chengshu gestured toward a tall building. "I heard the glass walls there can reflect clouds, unlike the brick walls here..."
Chen Chunhua suddenly discovered that there was an old burn mark hidden under the patch on his collar, winding like the contour lines on a city map.
Zhao Chengshu followed her gaze and tugged at his collar. "I got it last year when I was repairing an electric motor." The scar shone like mother-of-pearl in the sunlight. "It doesn't hurt, just itchy."
Bees burrowed into Zhao Chengshu's messy hair. Chen Chunhua stood on tiptoe to brush them away, but the calloused skin on Zhao Chengshu's palms made her tremble. Suddenly, a toolbox tipped over, sending screws tumbling into the sea of flowers, sending up a cloud of golden dust.
They laughed at each other, shaking off the wild chrysanthemums on the swing. The petals floated into the tin box, covering the unfinished letter:
"Chunhua, I saw the sea today..."
At the hour of Yin, the crescent moon still hung atop Eagle's Beak Cliff, and the train had already begun to emit its first puff of white steam. Chen Chunhua climbed over the ancestral hall's low wall barefoot, her trouser legs stained dark gray by the dew.
Zhao Chengshu stood beside the railway tracks carrying a faded canvas bag. The words "Safe Production" under the patch were blurred into moss color by the morning mist.
In the tin box at his feet lay ninety-nine tinfoil stars, each wrapped in a secret smelling of diesel—they were earned by staying up late to cover for his coworkers.
"The city has its own sea." Zhao Chengshu's voice was as hoarse as a rusty bearing. "When I finish installing a thousand air conditioners..."
The words were interrupted by Chen's mother's sharp curse: "You little bitch! Running off with a wild man?"
Chen's father's bamboo broom hit Zhao Chengshu's knee, and the dull sound startled the sparrows between the sleepers.
As Chen Chunhua was dragged by her hair, she caught a glimpse of half a candy wrapper sticking out of his overalls pocket - it was the same candy he had seen in the rainstorm on the day they first met. The candy had melted, but the paper was still there.
"Next!" Zhao Chengshu suddenly threw the tin box over Chen's father's head. Tin foil stars drew silver arcs in the mist, and the last one hit Chen Chunhua's clothes, the sharp corners piercing her skin.
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