Chapter 79 Chapter 79 Double Update in One
Lin Xinghuo took Ling Hula's cart to visit Uncle Rong.
For the past two months, Master Rong has moved into a quiet sanatorium, rumored to be the former residence of a Qing Dynasty Hanlin. Though remote, the buildings exude a refined, Jiangnan-style elegance, unlike the tightly packed courtyards of northern China. Small houses are scattered throughout the gardens, connected by winding canals, arched bridges, and verandas, creating a uniquely secluded retreat. This layout, which prevents residents from being too close and potentially intertwined, was chosen as a "sanatorium." Lin Xinghuo knows of seven or eight prominent cadres who have been "placed" there.
The situation has intensified recently, but the management here has become more tolerant and compassionate. Even a junior like Lin Xinghuo, who's not familiar with current affairs, has figured out what's going on, without the need for guidance from the wise residents.
Especially this time when Lin Xinghuo came here with an ox cart, the guard officer Tang Quanli, who had established a relationship with her through the old Ma who was in charge of the small courtyard, came out of the office and said to her: "Now one child is allowed to move in to take care of the old leaders, Mr. Rong... otherwise, can you send someone?" This meant that he was willing to make concessions and could issue a certificate to Lin Xinghuo. No matter if it was a piece of paper or a phone call, it would be a precious place to return to the city in Lin Xinghuo's hands - Lin Xinghuo himself was still an educated youth, and he stayed here temporarily under the name of a brigade salesperson.
Rong's eldest son died young, leaving only his youngest son serving in the army south. The neighbors to the south have been troubled in recent years, and the army he served in is already on alert for war. Forget about transferring Rong Qingxing back to care for his elderly father. Even if Rong Bocen were to pass away, Rong Qingxing wouldn't be able to return home for the funeral.
The entrance to the once quiet garden now has many haggard-looking but smiling people, both men and women, middle-aged people covered in dust, and brightly dressed young men from the courtyard.
"I need to ask my master-in-law what he wants to do with it," Lin Xinghuo and the others said, after checking the items. They took a basket as wide as a washbasin from the oxcart. "These are fruits sent from my hometown in Snow Province. They've been sitting there all winter and are about to go bad. Please share them with us. We've all worked so hard." Perhaps her master-in-law hadn't convinced her, so she had to sell them here. However, she had no use for them and didn't want to accept such a favor.
Although summer had arrived, common northern fruits like apples and pears hadn't yet reached their peak. Peaches and apricots did ripen early, but everything was rationed these days, especially in a city like Beijing. Fresh fruit wasn't easy for anyone who wasn't already wealthy enough to enjoy. Even in autumn, when fruits arrived, the staff at the street supply and marketing offices would buy up most of the fruit. Those sold outside would get a small share, snatched up by citizens holding coupons. Even mediocre officials like Tang Quanli, who had risen through the ranks through hard work, coveted fruit.
The campaigns of the past decade have severely undermined production enthusiasm, and the material shortage is widening. This is especially true now that the ruling elite's foundation is shaken, and the hearts of their subordinates have shifted from elusive "power" and "fame" to "profit." The most tangible benefit is material goods.
It’s no wonder that Tang Quanli was willing to take the initiative to show goodwill.
Someone nearby who had just arrived to deliver his family's luggage saw this and hesitantly came forward to ask, "Which commune sent these supplies? Can we buy some? We haven't used our food coupons for this month yet." If they bought the food, they could send it in, and the old man would have a good meal.
Tang Quanli actually smiled at these people and kindly explained on Lin Xinghuo's behalf: "She is also a family member."
They even consoled them by saying, "Even if a family member moves in to care for the leader, the rest of the family can still come visit once a week." Their eyes immediately lit up. They had previously been worried that sending a relative in might lead to another one getting into trouble, but that turned out not to be the case. They could still come back next week. So what was there to be afraid of?
Lin Xinghuo nodded to everyone, patted the axle lightly, and Ling Hu slowly pulled the car inside.
"Whose granddaughter is this? Why is she carrying an ox cart?" Nowadays, cattle and horses are collective property, whether in the city or the countryside. These cyclists dare not underestimate them.
"Why don't I remember anyone having a granddaughter sent to work in the nearby commune?" He was quite capable, as he was able to arrange for his child to work in the village near the capital despite facing such a big problem.
"Maybe it's Minister Rong?" The elders of these families have all lived in this sanatorium for years. Only Mr. Rong moved in this year. Although he had a hard time in the past few years, he managed to stay in his position. He has real power, so arranging this shouldn't be a problem.
"The Rong family has no granddaughter!" Someone who knows the situation said with certainty that old man Rong has only two sons. The eldest son has no children, and the younger son is too old to give birth to a daughter of this age.
“Poor thing.”
“It’s not easy.”
Everyone sighed and was no longer in the mood to discuss the things on the cart.
Tang Quanli had entered the house early. Although he was willing to give a good face, he was also wearing a cadre uniform with four pockets and could not look too cheap - the people living here were all old, and who knew how many of them would be able to get up in the future.
While this place might seem like a pleasant environment, living by the water isn't actually very healthy, especially for middle-aged and elderly people in the north. Lin Xinghuo had sharp ears; as he walked along the winding road, he could overhear conversations in the clusters of small houses. It was almost July, and several elderly residents recuperating here were still bedridden. Without a blanket, their arms and legs ached, making it impossible to sleep.
"Uncle-master, don't move. I'll do it." As soon as they arrived at the two small inner rooms, Rong Bocen strode out to greet them. It was obvious that he had been waiting in the house.
"Why did you bring so many things again?" Rong Bocen frowned. He was different from Master Fang. Master Fang still looked playful and unrestrained when he frowned, but Master Fang looked very serious when he frowned, and what he said was definitely not a polite remark. The junior really needed to answer.
But Rong Bocen's biggest weakness is his junior brother. Such a serious man couldn't help but show a helpless look when he heard his nephew say, "My master said you are pitiful. You have eaten in the cafeteria for half your life. Now you can finally have a meal cooked by your family once a week... and these things are all picked up by my master and sent to you." Although he knew that Zhong Qin was lazy and it was impossible for him to pack such well-organized and thoughtful luggage, Rong Bocen was sure that the sarcastic remarks were made by his junior brother.
Rong Bocen touched his nephew's head, feeling sorry for the child being ordered around by her unreliable master. She was so young, and it was too difficult for her to find these things. "Don't listen to your master's nonsense. I have everything I need. Just take care of yourselves."
There were many things they couldn't say. Even though this sanatorium in Beijing was relatively spacious, it was under constant surveillance. On the surface, Lin Xinghuo appeared quite free, arriving in a bullock cart, but in reality, the eyes that followed her the entire way were constantly fixed on her. Therefore, those elderly people who finally had their children by their side only spoke of their health, not even daring to inquire about the specific circumstances of their families.
The same goes for Lin Xinghuo. Although she has countless ways to block out sounds, she cannot use them here. She can only move things here as much as possible without going too far, to show with practical actions that she and Master Fang are really living well.
Uncle Master □□ misunderstood that his fellow apprentices and nephews had saved all their goodies and sent them to him, and he became even more worried about his fellow apprentice's health after years of suffering in the labor camp. After ten years of separation, he only caught a glimpse of Fang Tongjian from afar when he first returned. That glance was so painful that Rong Bocen couldn't sleep. Zhongqin looked horribly pale, and he was so thin that he was just a skeleton... The only consolation was that the spirit passed down from Master and his wife remained, and his eyes were still clear and bright.
"Uncle Master, it's cool by the water. Let's spread a sheet on the mat." Lin Xinghuo deftly spread out the thick coarse cloth and spread it on the gray and broken old reed mat. This cloth was woven when he was just learning to weave and his hands were not very experienced. It was a little hard, which was just right for making a bed in summer.
Elsewhere, Rong Bocen had already loaded a brand new bamboo mat onto the oxcart, along with two newly issued cadre uniforms and two brand new green military uniforms. "I won't give your master the cigarettes. Uncle Shishu kept them for himself." There were only two packs in total. Rong Bocen was a heavy smoker, and cigarettes weren't much of a good thing, so he didn't give any to his junior.
The bamboo mat and cadre uniform were Rong Bocen's own treatment, but he had specially exchanged the green military uniform with someone else, and there was a small piece of Dacron material with small flowers inside. "These two pieces are a bit big. My uncle's craftsmanship is not as good as yours. You can modify them yourself." Rong Bocen's first wife passed away more than 30 years ago. Such a serious and upright person has developed a good skill of sewing. Lin Xinghuo heard from Master Fang that the clothes that his uncle sent him in the past were all made by himself.
"I'll keep this jar of pickles, you can take the rest." He put the bundle of yellow flour buns back on the cart. They looked like they were steamed with cornmeal, but they were actually made with white flour and pumpkin, giving them a dazzling yellow color. They were delicious, of course, but there was only a small amount of fine grain on his ration book every month. He had originally given them the ration book to his junior brothers and nephews so that they could eat better and replenish their energy, but Xinghuo was always finding new ways to send them in.
Last time, it was a 'black' steamed bun with a little sorghum flour and a sweet filling, and the time before that, it was a 'sticky steamed bun' with a soft filling and a good amount of jujube flesh in the middle... I don't know how Xinghuo can cook so many things and still make them invisible. But Rong Bocen, who has experience, just carried the bag to the car.
"Give this bamboo mat to your master first. I'll wait for your uncle to make you one with flowered cloth next time." Zhong Qin loves bamboo. Now he can't grow bamboo for him, but fortunately he can still get bamboo mats.
Lin Xinghuo felt a pang of sadness. Master Rong was very frugal. The tattered reed mat on his bed was so hairy it pricked people. "Don't bother. I really have it at home."
"Good boy, be obedient!" Rong Bocen stuffed all the new salary into Lin Xinghuo's pocket. He was really worried about letting such a child struggle outside, and with his junior brother's health, what if... only money can save his life. He wanted to remind "Lian Chi", but was afraid of harming the child.
Rong Bocen felt a little regretful. He shouldn't have followed his master and his mistress's example, tinkering with the treasure hidden in the pond for no reason. He should have saved his salary. If he could give out tens of thousands of yuan right now, his junior apprentice and his children would have more confidence.
Rong Bocen had already applied for a salary advance of several months to a year, as much as he could get. This put his former employer in a difficult position. While salary advances were possible, and it wasn't difficult to arrange, as long as the employee agreed with the cashier. But this only worked while Rong Bocen was still employed. While his salary and other benefits were still being paid, who knew what would happen in the future? If he were to be demoted completely, it would be a bad debt. Rong Bocen was at a high salary level, earning nearly 5,000 yuan a year, and no one could afford the responsibility.
Yet, he was still nominally the head of the ministry. No matter how those power-grabbing individuals sprang about, the sign above his head still read "Provisional Leadership Group." As long as he held onto that temporary hat, Rong Bocen would remain minister. Though serious, Rong Bocen possessed integrity and a kind approach. His former subordinates met and discussed several times before deciding to grit their teeth and advance their leader six months' salary. Furthermore, the cashier had burned the special application form, a sign that everyone was shouldering the burden together.
It's more than two thousand yuan in half a year. They are not a profitable production department, and they are also the most severely punished government office after the movement started. It took them two months to get the money without alerting outsiders.
But at this time, with the passing of a generation of great men, the situation has changed greatly.
Rong Bocen was the first to recuperate in the waterside pavilion converted from the former residence of a Hanlin scholar, while the guards outside the small courtyard had been withdrawn for a month.
*
"I originally placed your master in Sajin Hutong just to provide him with some 'security' there!" As he rode his nephew's oxcart down the busy street, Rong Bocen finally managed to say this. He realized that even after the guards of the small courtyard had withdrawn, these few people hadn't touched the contents of the lotus pond. How had they managed to 'move' him out beforehand?
He remembered the young man that his junior fellow apprentice had sent to visit him. Although his junior fellow apprentice had only brought back the fact that he was a fellow villager of his nephew, Rong Bocen guessed that he was the ideal son-in-law chosen by his junior fellow apprentice for his apprentice. It was said that the boy had very deft hands - "Is your master not fiddling with anything?" Bronze ware is a national treasure. Even the rise of the movement did not delay this industry. Moreover, the past few years have been a period of major archaeological excavations. Rong Bocen knew that several large tombs of the Shang Dynasty had already submitted applications... What Rong Bocen feared most was that Fang Tongjian would make some fakes. This junior fellow apprentice had poor hands-on ability, but his theoretical knowledge was really amazing. When he was young, he and his friends made some things that the old shopkeeper of Liulichang was fooled by.
Rong Bocen was extremely anxious. On the one hand, he was extremely worried about his junior brother's health, and on the other hand, he was afraid that he would really take advantage of the favorable conditions at Shang Fuhao's tomb to get something. Rong Bocen had already taken the blame for his junior brother's misfortune, believing that his junior brother had dragged his broken body into this matter in order to rescue him:
Since the Red Sun's sudden fall earlier this month, the group, deprived of both restraint and support, has gone completely berserk. The noise they're making is growing louder, and the tactics they're using behind the scenes are becoming increasingly brutal. At another so-called sanatorium outside Beijing, over a dozen veteran comrades have died in quick succession, with the cause of death being covered up as "excessive grief." Then, a certain important official was hospitalized after "accidentally ingesting" rat poison, but the propaganda outlet, long controlled by the clique, claims it was "appendicitis." While the situation appears to be generally positive, privately, everyone is deeply concerned. Everyone in the small courtyard is worried about Rong Bocen, who could have resumed his work by waiting for the clique's downfall. So, some are thinking, some are taking action, and some are implementing the plan to rescue him.
Lin Xinghuo thought about the nearly overflowing treasure chest in Master Fang's study. It wasn't hard to say he hadn't tinkered with anything. But getting Master out early didn't require any of those items. He had only spent some of the gold and silver items he'd used to practice.
Regardless of their age, gold and silver items are inherently valuable due to their craftsmanship and materials. They're even more valuable now than antiques. There's no need to open up any new channels; simply by feeding Tang Quanli, he'd let them go.
"The leader said 'Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun'... but Tang Quanli didn't see it as clearly as he did!" Tang Quanli knew that without armed forces, those crazy dreams would be hopeless.
Rong Bocen gently patted his nephew's shoulder, suppressed his anxiety and whispered: "... Last month, in the name of guarding against 'corrections' and 'reversals', it was proposed to further arm the militia in a certain place and create 'reserve forces', but the leader did not agree at the time." In fact, if the leader's nephew's confidant sent to Fengtian had not been captured in March, causing that person to lose the leader's trust, the leader might really agree to this idea while he was ill, because the "denial movement" was indeed a taboo that the old man could not tolerate.
In other words, he almost got his hands on some "guns and barrels".
Perhaps it is precisely because these plans failed that these people became more and more crazy. They used to persecute people with various means, but now they have started to kill people directly.
Rong Bocen sighed dejectedly, hoping that less blood would be shed.
But when he arrived at Sajin Hutong, Rong Bocen's mind was attracted by the familiar gate. He didn't know how his junior brother was doing now.
Wu Nian opened the door, and Rong Bocen didn't see his junior brother. His heart sank immediately. Without even having time to talk to the younger generation, he jumped out of the car and went straight inside.
Rong Bocen went straight to the study, which had been his master's wife's favorite place. It was spacious and bright, allowing him to study under the south window while gazing out at the winding lotus pond through the viewing windows in the back room. After his master's wife left, this place had become where his junior brother spent the most time. As long as he could still get up, he would never waste his time in the bedroom.
But there was no one in the study either.
The most conspicuous treasure chest was filled with a variety of "antique" artifacts. Rong Bocen's legs felt like they were filled with lead as he stood outside the threshold, staring blankly at the exquisite treasure. A scaled-down bronze tripod stung the old man's eyes, and his heart felt like it had fallen into a well. His most feared guess had come true.
"Uncle Rong, Master Fang is in the backyard," Wu Nian warned as he helped Lin Xinghuo move things. If Old Man Rong were to shed tears in front of the younger generation, Old Man Fang, the instigator, would surely blame someone else. The two women in the family, one older and one younger, were both his favorites, so he would be the only one in trouble.
Rong Bocen concealed his feelings by lowering his head and wiping his eyes. He felt a little clearer and felt that the younger generation looked natural, and that even though his junior brother was a little weak, it should be fine.
He went straight to the back through the small door hidden in the study as if he knew the place well, and saw koi swimming leisurely in the shallow curved water leading out from the lotus pond, with white water lilies as big as bowls floating on the water surface, which were rare in Beijing... Rong Bocen realized at this moment that this yard was a little too well maintained.
Following the winding stream and walking on the newly paved cobblestone path, Rong Bocen touched the old plum tree with lush branches and leaves, and his heart became even more uneasy and hesitant.
After passing the plum trees and the newly built rockery, the view suddenly opened up:
A familiar lounge chair was placed with its back to the lotus pond, facing the green bamboo that was planted at who knows when.
Rong Bocen had no time to look at the quiet bamboo path. He just stood there staring at the reclining chair with a little bit of his head exposed.
"Oh! It's so boring!" The top of the recliner suddenly twisted, and Fang Tongjian complained. He didn't know what the recliner under him was made of. When he moved his feet, the recliner actually turned around and instantly faced Rong Bocen.
Fang Tongjian heard his senior brother's footsteps and deliberately turned the recliner around, hoping to scare him when his senior brother got in front of him. However, his senior brother was still as boring as he had been for ten years and could even stare at the recliner for ten minutes!
Fang Tongjian completely forgot the complicated feeling of "homesickness makes one feel more nervous" when he returned to Beijing, and was completely inconsiderate.
So what caught Rong Bocen's eyes was his spirited junior brother holding a fat baby—
His imagination of the man dragging his broken body to plan for him, and his memory of the sallow and thin figure from a few months ago, were all shattered by a slightly rounder face.
This complexion is comparable to that of the fat baby.
Rong Bocen's usual resolute steps were no longer in the right place.
Fang Tongjian, who did not greet his senior brother and even wanted to scare him, finally had some awareness of being a junior brother. He stood up, held Lin Beiguo in one hand, and helped Rong Bocen into his recliner with the other hand.
"Holding such a fat little baby in one hand." Rong Bocen thought inappropriately that his junior brother should be fine.
After Rong Bocen sat down in the thickly cushioned recliner, Fang Tongjian conveniently stuffed the fearless Lin Beiguo into his arms and shouted to the front: "Wunian!"
Wu Nian smiled and moved out the small table and embroidered stool that Fang Tongjian insisted on hiding. The small table was filled with food and daily necessities. It was a solid wood round table made of the same wood as the recliner. It was really heavy, but Wu Nian put it down steadily. The hot tea in the tea bowl was slowly flowing without any ripples.
Rong Bocen was surprised by his arm strength, and his mind finally worked. He hugged the little meat ball in his arms and found that he was indeed a solid fat baby.
"Zhongqin, give me a cigarette." Uncle Rong felt that he needed to calm down first. He had so much to say, but his junior brother was teasing, so he still had to sort out his thoughts.
I don't know what touched Fang Tongjian's heart, but he smiled and continued to show off: "Girl?"
"Your uncle wants to smoke!"
Upon hearing this, Lin Xinghuo brought the pipe with a jade-shaped mouthpiece and a carved copper tube that was placed on Master Fang's desk to the back. Fang Tongjian picked up a handful of golden tobacco from the small porcelain jar on the tray and lit it for his senior brother himself.
Fang Tongjian is indeed meticulous. This old-fashioned pipe was prepared by him long ago. Although it was Wu Nian who did it, every detail was directed by Fang Tongjian. Even the calligraphy and paintings on the pipe were engraved by him personally. It took him longer than the time to complete the script.
The pipe was too ornate for Fang Tongjian's taste. It was carved with a hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix, its eyes inlaid with rubies, and its feathers shimmered with precious stones. Even the small purse with a pleasing design was embroidered by Lin Xinghuo herself, and Fang Tongjian had drawn the pattern himself.
Rong Bocen took the familiar pipe, stroked the paintings and inscriptions on it, and instantly burst into tears.
Fortunately, Lin Xinghuo and Wu Nian had already escaped by then.
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