There was no way. The aunt's stall only had black, white, gray, blue and bright red colors, and they were all thick wool yarns. She could only choose a relatively acceptable color.
"Eighty cents a roll, no ticket needed." The aunt glanced at her and said with a smile. She was always good at judging people. This girl was obviously a family member of a soldier in the previous unit, and she was also rich.
The original owner had occasionally bought wool yarn and asked a craftsman to make clothes for her. Song Zhi still had some impression of the price of wool yarn. A ball of wool yarn should be more than one yuan, but a ticket was required. The quality of this wool yarn was obviously average, and it was incomparable to wool yarn. Her price was a bit high.
Song Zhi's expression remained unchanged as he continued to ask, "How many balls of yarn do I need to knit a sofa cushion and one for the armchair?"
The aunt was surprised. She didn't expect that this was a big customer. She calculated in her mind and said, "Ten groups is the maximum."
"Seven dollars, I'll take it if you like." To be honest, this wool is not very comfortable, but it will definitely be quite thick when knitted.
The aunt only heard her asking for it and grinned happily. When she realized it was seven yuan, her smiling face suddenly froze. "Comrade, that's not how you bargain. You've just lost a dollar."
"Auntie, you know exactly how much this yarn is worth. Let's be frank. If it's okay, I'll pay for it. If not, I'll look elsewhere."
The aunt wanted to bargain with her, but when she saw her about to leave, she quickly stopped her and said, "Okay, okay, comrade, seven dollars is seven dollars. I'm really scared of you. I'm only selling it to you at this price. Don't tell anyone else, otherwise I'll be out of business."
Song Zhi felt that this was familiar. In modern times, didn't vendors often say this kind of thing? Wasn't this rhetoric a legacy of history?
The auntie counted the balls of yarn and handed them over. Song Zhi also handed over the money he had prepared. After the auntie counted the yarn, she asked, "Sister-in-law, is there anyone in our village who can knit yarn?"
The aunt paused as she put the money in her pocket and said with a smile, "You've asked the right person. My uncle is a tailor. He taught me the knitting skill. But he's old now and has a bit of a strange temper. It's also because of something that happened a few years ago. Now he won't take any work except from people he knows well."
Song Zhi understood what she hadn't said, and his attitude immediately changed. He smiled and said, "Then please introduce me to someone else. After all, I'm an old customer of yours, right, auntie?"
As he said this, he took out fifty cents from his pocket and handed it to the aunt. He looked a little painful, blaming herself for not bringing any change with her today.
The aunt took the fifty cents from Song Zhi's hand and put it in her pocket naturally. "Okay, I'll take you there later, but you have to wait until the market closes. It won't be long. It's cold now, and we'll be closing the stall around four o'clock."
Song Zhi looked at his watch. It was already half past three. It wouldn't hurt to wait a while. He discussed with the aunt and decided to go somewhere else to look around and buy something, and come back later. Then he left.
As I was walking, I happened to see a stall selling tofu, so I bought two pounds. I planned to go home and cut it into slices, fry it in oil, and use it as a side dish when making soup.
Soon, I finished the round and didn’t need anything, so I returned to the aunt’s stall.
Seeing the lady packing up her stall, I asked in surprise, "Didn't you say you would close at around 4 o'clock?"
Song Zhi was worried that she would close her stall early because she was going to take him to the tailor, but it was obvious that she was overthinking it.
"There's not much business today. I've only sold your order from this morning till now. It's better to close the stall early and go back early. Come on, I'll take you there." As he spoke, he bent down, put the things on his back, and stood up easily.
"That's it. Don't be fooled by the shabby house. My uncle's craftsmanship is the best in the surrounding villages. He can knit so many sweaters. Even the tailors in town can't match his skills. If you want to knit sofa cushions, you can definitely ask him to do it."
The aunt walking in front stopped, and Song Zhi also stopped.
What caught Song Zhi's eyes was a mud house that was so dilapidated that it couldn't be more dilapidated. The house was quite old and most of its outer walls had collapsed due to being washed away by rain.
Although the rooms inside were intact, they looked shaky and frightening.
"Uncle, why are you making clothes in the room again? It's so dark in this room. The weather is so good outside, why don't you go? If you do this again, I won't let you take any orders." The aunt's tone was full of blame, but her eyes showed heartache.
Song Zhi followed the aunt into the room. It was very dark inside. What caught his eye was a skinny old man sitting on the bed. Next to him was a low table with clothes on it. The bed was against the wall. There was a large window on the wall, but it was covered with newspapers, and some light could vaguely come in.
In such an environment, his hands trembled as he used the scissors to cut the fabric. Song Zhi felt that the next snip would make the clothes crooked, but it didn't. Only after he finished the last cut did he speak, "What's going on?"
"Uncle, I'm here to introduce you to someone today. This is an old client of mine. She wants to weave a sofa cushion. Please make one for her."
The old man's face suddenly turned ugly. "If you don't do it, leave now."
"Uncle, what you said is wrong. We are already here." The aunt looked embarrassed and tried to persuade him.
"I can help you make the clothes, but isn't this sofa cushion a capitalist style? I won't make it. You guys should leave quickly." The old man didn't want to talk about the past, nor did he want to say more. He just urged them to leave quickly.
Song Zhi walked forward, looked at the old man in front of him, and said word by word, "Old man, you should provide evidence when speaking. Just because I made a sofa cushion is a capitalist style, isn't that too arbitrary?"
When the old man heard her say this, his eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe it. "You are so bold, girl."
"Old man, you are too old for me, a junior, to say these things, but you should look forward. Your family members don't want you to be like this. The darkness before dawn won't last forever."
Song Zhi had heard from the aunt selling cloth on the way that this old man married into a tailor's family in the city when he was young. The tailor had excellent tailoring skills and there was a constant stream of business every day. Naturally, he made a lot of money and the decoration of his home was very luxurious. As a result, he was targeted by someone with ulterior motives a few years ago. Later, his family was broken up and his wife and daughter committed suicide because they could not bear it. Only the old man returned to the village.
The old man's lips trembled, and he hesitated to speak. "The darkness before dawn, will there really be dawn?"
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