Chapter 27 It's time to refuel the tractor
"The account book for the autumn of 1973," he suddenly threw the rag on the millstone, "the embankment payment for Yangjiagou."
Xu Yao looked at the five peppermint candies wrapped in cellophane in the tin box, and suddenly remembered the maltose that her third sister asked Sun Zhiqiang to bring for her last December - those sticky candies were always wrapped in the oil paper used to wrap snacks in the supply and marketing cooperative, with the faded "1973" printed on the corner of the paper.
The night dew wet the branches of the old locust tree, and Xue Han took out a ball of crumpled cigarette paper from his trouser pocket.
Xu Yao used the moonlight to make out the scribbled math on the paper. The work point records for the fall of 1973 and the numbers on the grain station's purchase order were like misaligned gears that just wouldn't mesh.
“The chicken coop at my third sister’s house.”
Xue Han suddenly used the tip of the harpoon to draw a crooked arrow on the mud. "It was newly built last winter."
Xu Yao thought of the yellow mud mixed with broken porcelain pieces, which now glowed a strange bluish-white in the moonlight.
When the first dog barking tore through the night, she grabbed Xue Han's sleeve and crawled into the shadow of the fence. Her fingertips touched the hardcover book hidden in his sleeve - it was the family account book that Xu's father would not leave even when he was coughing up blood.
The gong sounded three times at midnight. Xue Han squatted beside the chicken coop and crushed pieces of yellow mud. The remaining blue prints on the broken pieces were exactly the same as the pickle jar that was borrowed by the third sister from the Xu family.
Xu Yao's hand suddenly trembled as she opened the account book. On the page of September 17, 1973, next to the "medical fee of five yuan" circled by her father in red pen, there was a light brown stain - it was the tea seed oil that her third sister loved to apply on her temples.
When the morning mist covered the threshing floor, Xu Yao found a half-broken pencil in Xue Han's military coat.
They squatted beside the haystack behind the village committee, placing the broken porcelain pieces and the account book side by side on the grindstone. Xue Han's rough fingertips ran over the misplaced numbers, and suddenly pressed the back of her hand: "I'll go find a tractor later."
When the sun climbed up the eaves of the ancestral hall, the village chief, covered with poplar bark fragments, pushed open the gate.
Xu Yao looked at his muddy cloth shoes with thousand-layer soles, and suddenly remembered the mint candy Xue Han stuffed into her last night - it was now clinking in the iron box, as if responding to the sound of a tractor rumbling in the distance.
"The account book for the fall of 1973," Xue Han thrust the harpoon hard into the cracks in the threshing ground, "should be in the embankment of Yangjiagou."
When the third sister's sharp laughter pierced the window paper of the village committee, Xu Yao was spreading the family account book on the eight-immortal table covered with red cloth.
The kerosene lamp made the tea seed oil on the third sister's temples shine. Her nails, stained with balsam juice, poked at Xu's father's handwriting: "Can the accounts kept by a blind man be taken seriously?"
Xue Han suddenly slammed the tractor key on the corner of the table, and the sound of metal collision startled the sparrows on the beam.
Xu Yao looked at the yellow mud on the key, and suddenly pulled out a yellowed supply and marketing cooperative receipt from the interlayer of the account book - a five-yuan medical bill dated September 17, 1973, with a bright red "Cash Paid" stamp on it.
"Can I get a cash receipt for medicine bought on credit?" Xu Yao's voice was so clear that the tuberose on the third sister's temples trembled.
The whispers in the crowd were suddenly interrupted by Sun Zhiqiang's cough.
The third sister suddenly pulled open the indigo headscarf, revealing the tears in the corners of her eyes that were deliberately rubbed red: "Who doesn't know that Accountant Xu loves his daughter the most?
"She suddenly caught a glimpse of the broken porcelain pieces that Xue Han pulled out from under the tractor seat, and his balsam-stained nails scratched five white marks on the red cloth.
Xu Yao's hand that reached for the tin candy box was wrapped in Xue Han's body temperature. The smell of engine oil mixed with mint from his palm smoothed out the trembling of her fingertips.
When the village chief held up the IOU softened by the night dew, the roar of a tractor suddenly came from the direction of the threshing ground. In the dust, the remaining pages of the account book from the autumn of 1973 were fluttering like a group of gray moths flying towards a light.
As the sunlight split the morning mist like a tempered sickle, Xu Yao poured the contents of the tin candy box onto the eight-immortals table.
Five mint candies rolled down beside the yellowed letter, and the colorful spots of light reflected by the cellophane happened to fall on the third sister's violently heaving chest.
"On the seventh day of the twelfth month of 1973,"
Xu Yao pressed her fingertips on a creased piece of letter paper, "This is a 'thank you gift' from my third sister, Sun Zhiqiang." The crooked words "I bought two pounds of malt sugar on your behalf" on the letter paper were exactly the same as the ink marks "Five yuan for sugar on credit" in the family account book of the same year and date.
Xue Han suddenly poked the candy wrapper with his finger stained with machine oil: "Oil print." His rough fingertips wiped away the brown stains on the edge of the cellophane, and the ink peony on the snacks wrapped by the supply and marketing cooperative was clearly visible in the morning light.
Suddenly, Widow Li exclaimed in the crowd: "Isn't this the kerosene ticket I gave to my third sister last year?"
The third sister grabbed the corner of the table with her balsam-dyed nails, and two petals of the tuberose on her temples fell off.
Xu Yao slowly flipped through the account book. The broken porcelain pieces in the page from the Mid-Autumn Festival in 1973 fell "clang" on the red cloth. The blue printed pattern fit perfectly with the porcelain pieces in the mud cracks of the newly built chicken coop at her third sister's house.
"I bought the pickled vegetable jar on credit," Xu Yao's voice was as clear as mountain stream water, "how did it break under your wall?"
She suddenly held up a piece of paper that smelled of tea seed oil. On the back of the medical bill dated September 17, 1973, there was a half-print of a nail dyed with Impatiens balsamina.
The crowd was like a exploded hornet's nest. Several men who had helped the third sister build a chicken coop suddenly squeezed to the front row: "No wonder there are broken porcelain pieces mixed in the yellow mud!" Xue Han promptly poured the broken porcelain pieces under the tractor seat onto the table. The sound of the porcelain pieces colliding startled the sparrows on the beams and they flew around.
The third sister suddenly laughed out loud, and the indigo headscarf slipped off as she was torn apart: "The little hoof is really good at making up stories!"
She stretched out her red-nailed hand to Xu Yao's collar, "Everyone knows that you and this tractor driver..."
He choked before he could finish his words - a half-broken pencil slipped out of Xue Hanjun's coat pocket, with the medal number of "Advanced Worker of 1973" engraved on the pen shaft.
"This sum was from last year when the dam was being repaired..." The old accountant's trembling words were interrupted by repeated gasps.
Xu Yao gently placed the pencil next to the medical bill. The remaining pages of the work points account book from the fall of 1973 rustled in the draft, and the altered numbers showed ink marks of varying depths in the morning light.
"Enough!" The village chief suddenly knocked on the copper basin with his pipe.
Xu Yao looked at the swaying light and shadow on the edge of the basin, and suddenly remembered that when Xue Han was squatting beside the haystack to help her organize the evidence last night, the cockleburs that had rubbed off his coat were still stuck to his back.
This detail made her straighten her back inexplicably.
When the third sister rushed over to tear up the account book, Xue Han's harpoon handle was just right between the two of them.
"No wonder Accountant Xu suddenly became seriously ill!" An angry roar broke out in the crowd.
Xu Yao could feel Xue Han's body temperature coming through her cotton-padded jacket. The smell of mint and motor oil emanating from his cuffs inexplicably calmed the trembling in her fingertips.
The tea seed oil on the third sister's temples spread in the cold sweat, leaving a large oil stain on the indigo collar.
The village chief’s hand holding up the IOU suddenly paused - in the lower right corner of the yellowed paper, between the veins of the poplar leaf specimen from the autumn of 1973, a fountain pen watermark with the words "Witnessed by Xu Yao" could be vaguely seen.
When Xu's father was teaching his daughter calligraphy, he always liked to put a leaf in important documents as an anti-counterfeiting mark.
"Fake!
This is all fake! "The third sister suddenly messed up her hair, and the broken petals of tuberose mixed with cold sweat stuck to her twisted cheeks.
She tried to tear the IOU with her balsam-stained nails, but Xue Han blocked her with his tractor keys.
Amid the sound of metal colliding, Xu Yao clearly heard the footsteps of Sun Zhiqiang hastily retreating from the back of the crowd.
The ink marks of the autumn of 1973 glowed a strange golden red in the sunlight, just like the blood foam that Xu's father coughed onto the account book.
This discovery made several women who had received favors from Accountant Xu burst into tears.
"Didn't Third Sister say she wanted to donate money to repair the ancestral hall?"
The seven bright red "1973" stamps were so dazzling in the morning light that it was hard to open one's eyes.
Xue Han suddenly coughed lightly behind Xu Yao, and she took the opportunity to open the last page of the account book.
On the back of the family photo that was clipped in on New Year's Eve in 1973, Xu's father wrote in red pen "Yaoyao's Dowry: Five Mint Candies", and the candy wrapper stuck next to it coincided with the pattern of the cellophane in the iron box.
This carefully planned exposure finally ended with the noon bell.
"The tractor needs refueling." Xue Han suddenly touched her cloth shoes with the tip of her shoe stained with yellow mud.
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