Chapter 23: Production stopped in 1973
The moonlight twisted the shadow of the crooked willow tree into a knot, and sparks from Xue Han's boots were still flickering on the bluestone slabs.
Wang Ergou subconsciously grabbed his brand new leather belt, and his lower back hit the protruding knot of the old elm tree, and he bared his broken front teeth in pain: "How can Xue Han let my third sister change my belt?"
"The report of the lost food coupons of Group 3 last month is still in the militia company."
Xue Han's left hand was still hanging three inches behind Xu Yao's waist. His right hand slowly rolled up the muddy cuffs, revealing the knotty scars on his forearms. "I heard that the Revolutionary Committee is investigating speculation and profiteering recently..."
The sound of dead branches breaking came from the shadows of the trees, and Xu Yao saw Wang Ergou's Adam's apple roll twice.
The dripping hemp rope in his hand looked bluish-white in the moonlight, like a dead snake.
"Let's go." Xue Han suddenly grabbed her wrist, and the calluses on his palm rubbed against her throbbing pulse.
Xu Yao staggered half a step and heard the dull sound of a hemp rope falling to the ground behind her.
When she clenched the whistle and turned around, she saw the tense lines on Xue Han's profile - he retreated half a step to block Wang Ergou's pursuit, and the water droplets splashed when his boots rolled over the hemp rope broke into tiny silver needles in the moonlight.
It was not until they turned the corner of the threshing ground that Xu Yao discovered a fresh scratch hidden in Xue Han's rolled-up sleeves.
Blood beads condensed on the wheat-colored skin, like red wolfberries fallen on dry land.
"An owl did it."
Xue Han suddenly spoke, scaring away the sparrows that were stealing food in the haystack.
He took off his military canteen and handed it to me. The remaining jasmine scent from the canteen lid was mixed with the smell of rust. "Hold the whistle in your mouth and don't let go."
Xu Yao put the tip of her tongue against the cold copper whistle and tasted the faint smell of gunpowder.
This is the whistle that Xue Han pinned next to the battle map. The red string is still stained with pencil dust.
She suddenly remembered that it was this whistle that pulled her and her mother out from the beams of the house during last year's flood.
“The village chief can recognize handwriting, but the third sister might say the IOU is forged.”
Xu Yao crushed the path paved by the moonlight, her trouser legs brushing the dogtail grass that had not yet dried with night dew, "I wrote the IOU on the manuscript paper of the steel plant's labor union..."
"There is a production batch number on the lower right corner of the manuscript paper." Xue Han suddenly interrupted the conversation and kicked away the broken tiles in the middle of the road with the tip of his boot. "The ink from the 1972 batch will turn red when exposed to heat."
Xu Yao stared at his well-defined jawline.
The shadow cast by the moonlight flowing across his brow hides a kind of reassuring certainty.
Only then did she notice that the word "Han" was embroidered in blue thread on the inside of Xue Han's rolled up cuffs, and the stitches were crooked like earthworms - clearly the work of a child.
The adobe house of the village chief was dozing in the moonlight, and the red peppers drying under the eaves swayed like strings of lanterns in the night breeze.
Just as Xu Yao was about to knock on the door, she heard the crisp sound of abacus beads colliding coming from the inner room.
"My uncle is going to the town to attend the summer grain fair."
The village head's wife poked her head out, fanning herself with a palm-leaf fan. The fountain pen pinned to the collar of her sweatshirt flashed. "She said she wanted to check some account book..."
Xu Yao felt pain in her palm from the whistle.
Xue Han suddenly took a half step forward, his combat boots crushing the wild amaranth that had grown out of the cracks in the door sill: "Aunt, do you remember the draft paper format of the steel plant labor union in 1972?"
"Oh, that's so precious. Back then, I needed a letter of introduction..." The old fan suddenly stopped and pointed the handle at Xu Yao's collar. "Yao, I don't think you got thorns stuck in your collar because of cocklebur."
Xu Yao lowered her head and saw the cocklebur pinned to her collar, with half a piece of clover stuck to the fur - it was clearly caught by Wang Ergou when he pulled her just now.
Xue Han suddenly coughed lightly. She felt the warmth of gun calluses brushing against the back of her neck. The cocklebur bounced twice in the moonlight as it fell to the ground.
"The account book." Xue Han bent down to pick up the cocklebur, rubbing the barbed hairs with his fingertips. "The material list of the steel plant in 1972, is it all recorded in the blue account book?"
The cicadas' chirping suddenly surged like a tide.
Xu Yao looked at the blue-covered book that the village chief's wife took out from the bottom of the camphorwood box. The steel stamp on the cover was plated silver by the moonlight.
When Xue Han pointed at the batch number on the lower right corner of a page and raised his eyebrows, she suddenly noticed that his eyelashes were a rare light brown in the moonlight.
"This paper can't fool anyone." The sound of Xue Han closing the account book startled the gecko on the window frame, "The ink formula that turns red when exposed to heat was discontinued in 1973."
On the way back, the dew wet her cloth shoes, and Xu Yao counted the nail marks left by Xue Han's boots on the ridge of the field.
The pattern of the nails seemed like some kind of code, reminding her of the batch number that Xue Han had circled in pencil in the account book just now - when did he become so familiar with the steel plant's materials?
"The belt on Wang Ergou's waist..." Xu Yao suddenly spoke, startling the night heron in the reeds, "Did you know that Third Sister exchanged it for food coupons?"
Xue Han paused, his boots crushing snail shells on the edge of the field. "Last month, the supply and marketing cooperative took inventory and lost the third set of notes." Moonlight flowed over the old scar on the back of his neck, winding like a silver stream. "The note that my third sister used to replace her belt was stamped with 'invalid'."
Xu Yao's hand holding the copper whistle suddenly trembled.
The red string was wrapped around her little finger, like the red thread obtained from the Yue Lao Temple.
When Xue Han turned around and handed her the military water bottle, she saw two little selves shaking in his pupils, and the ends of his hair were still stained with stars brightened by the night dew.
"Before the village chief comes back..." Xue Han suddenly picked up the dried chili peppers hanging on the eaves, and rubbed them with his fingertips, creating a rustling red rain. "We should find the person who handled the manuscript back then."
The moonlight rolled the two people's shadows into a long rope, casting them on the dirt road leading to the steel plant's staff quarters.
Xu Yao was counting the sounds of the nails on Xue Han's combat boots, and suddenly discovered that there was another sound of footsteps mixed in - like the sound of rubber shoes stepping on gravel, which had been sticking behind them since they turned around the threshing ground.
The ivy on the Xu family's courtyard wall rustled in the night wind. When Xue Han used the tip of his combat boots to push aside the crooked bamboo fence, he startled the fireflies dozing on the trellis.
Xu's mother groped her way along the door frame and came out. Her cane knocked on the bluestone slab, splashing tiny bits of moonlight. "There's Huangqi porridge simmering on the stove."
“Where’s Dad?”
Xu Yao took the coarse porcelain bowl handed to her by her mother and found a faded double happiness character painted in red paint on the bottom of the bowl - it was a defective product that the supply and marketing cooperative had disposed of when her parents got married.
The creaking sound of a camphorwood box opening and closing could be heard from the inner room. Xu's father leaned out with his head hunched over, his glasses wrapped with tape: "I kept all the receipts from the steel plant's labor union in..." He choked and coughed before he could finish his words. Fine dust floated in the moonlight that filtered through his fingers.
Xue Han suddenly knelt on one knee. The sound of his military pants rubbing against the blue bricks startled the kerosene lamp wick and made sparks pop.
He brushed his fingertips over the damp old newspapers at the bottom of the box and pulled out a booklet wrapped in a blue cloth.
When Xu Yao got closer, she smelled the familiar scent of jasmine - exactly the same scent that remained in Xue Han's kettle.
"Labor Insurance Form for the Winter of 1972?" Father Xu's skinny fingers slid across the yellowed paper, suddenly stopping at a corner stained with ink. "This ink stain..."
Xu Yao's breathing suddenly became rapid.
There was also a fingernail-sized ink spot on the lower right corner of the IOU. The third sister once said that it was because her arm was hit by a child when she was writing the IOU.
At this moment, the ink at the foot of the list is exactly the same as that on the IOU, even the fine splashes are exactly the same.
Xue Han suddenly took out a half-broken red and blue pencil from his trouser pocket and stacked the two pieces of paper together under the kerosene lamp.
Through the halo, the two ink stains overlapped perfectly to form a butterfly with spread wings.
Xu's mother's cane suddenly knocked on the ground: "There is a sign-in book of the steel plant union in the iron box under the bed."
When Xu Yao was kneeling on the rammed earth ground and groping, the camphor smell of Xue Han's combat uniform suddenly enveloped her.
He supported himself on the bed with one hand, his forearm muscles tensed like a fully drawn bowstring, revealing the crooked embroidered word "Han" on his cuffs.
The moment the iron box was opened, more than a dozen faded badges rolled out with a clang. On the cover page of the sign-in book at the bottom was the handwriting of my third sister in 1972.
"The hook on the right hand side of the stroke..." Father Xu's glasses rippled under the kerosene lamp, "It's exactly the same as the 'whole' in 'three hundred yuan whole' on the IOU."
The night wind suddenly blew in through the window, carrying the sound of a dog barking.
When Xu Yao turned around holding the evidence, Xue Han was using a military kettle to extinguish the dying firewood in the stove.
In the steaming white mist, his well-defined profile flickered, and the firelight reflected by the iron sheet of the kettle seemed to light two small torches in his pupils.
"Yao girl!" Villager B's rubber shoes stepped on the dew and rushed into the courtyard. The trouser legs were still stuck with Bidens thorns. "Third sister brought people to burn paper money in the grove, saying that you will suffer retribution for stealing the money of the dead!"
Xu's mother's blind stick suddenly hit the ground heavily.
Father Xu coughed violently as he stuffed evidence into his army green satchel. The yellowed pages rubbed against Xue Han's scabbed scratches, and the rustling sound was like some kind of ancient secret language.
Xu Yao felt the red string of the copper whistle suddenly tighten, leaving a light pink line on her wrist.
"Take this with you." Xu's mother suddenly fumbled to unbutton her clothes and took out a red cloth bag from her inner pocket.
The faded Five Emperors' coins were strung with red silk thread, and they still had body temperature when they landed in Xu Yao's palm. "When you got married..."
The old man's cloudy eyes turned towards Xue Han, but the tip of his blind stick accurately touched the iron nail of his boots.
Xue Han's Adam's apple moved, and the copper buckle on his belt collided with the Five Emperors' Coins, making a clear clanging sound.
When he threw his military bag over his shoulder, Xu Yao saw that the scar on the back of his neck was coated with silver in the moonlight, winding like an awakening dragon.
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