stjorthotic Chapter 18 The Car
Chapter 18 The Car
Chen Zheng didn't take it seriously, took out the two flatbreads Zhang Cuihua had given him from his pocket, and handed one to Zhang Jianguo.
"Let's eat something first to fill our stomachs. We'll have to keep watch for a while this afternoon to see if we can sell a little more."
Zhang Jianguo took the flatbread, took a big bite, his cheeks puffed out, chewed a couple of times, and mumbled:
"Ah Zheng, do you think Deputy County Chief Xu was just being polite or was he serious?"
"It's true. He's the deputy county head in charge of agriculture, that's what he's in charge of."
"Our fish farming and farming are under his jurisdiction. The support projects he mentioned must be real."
Chen Zheng took a bite of the cornbread, the sweet aroma of the cornmeal melting in his mouth, mixed with the smoky fragrance of the wood-fired stove.
The flatbread cooled down and became a bit hard, making it difficult to chew.
But he ate slowly, chewing each bite and swallowing it down with a sip of cold boiled water.
Li Dashan came over carrying an enamel mug.
The jar was filled with strong tea, with tea leaves floating on the surface, and there was a chip on the rim of the jar.
He squatted down, took a sip of tea, and clicked his tongue: "Young man, I recognize that Deputy County Chief Xu from earlier."
Last year he came to our Lijiawan to see the fishponds and said he wanted to set up a demonstration site, but nothing came of it.
Listen to what officials say, but only half of it; don't take it too seriously.
Chen Zheng smiled and said, "Sir, you can't say that. The policy is good; it just depends on how it's implemented at the grassroots level."
Let's get things done first, and once we achieve results, the higher-ups will naturally take notice.
Li Dashan glanced at him and shook his head: "You young man, you're ambitious. Alright, I wish you success."
If you really manage to raise fish successfully, you can share your experience with the old man, and he can learn from you.
As he spoke, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Chen Zheng.
"This is my home address, the third house at the east end of Lijiawan Village. Come visit sometime, I'll treat you to a drink."
Chen Zheng took it, folded it neatly, and put it in his pocket: "Okay, sir, I'll definitely come when I have time."
Business was slower in the afternoon; I only sold a few fish here and there.
By the time the sun was setting, there were still seven or eight left in the basket, all of them small and not very popular.
Chen Zheng wrapped the remaining fish in lotus leaves, stacked them in a basket, covered them with burlap, and tied them with rope.
"Jianguo, pack up and go see Teacher Zhao at the health center."
Zhang Jianguo responded and helped push the cart out of the market.
The two walked along the streets of the county town, the cart wheels rumbling on the cement ground.
The leaves of the plane trees lining the streets were withered from the sun, and the cicadas were chirping loudly.
One noise after another, it's giving me a headache.
The county town was much more lively than the town, with a department store, a state-run restaurant, and a movie theater.
There were also ice cream vendors pushing bicycles and calling out their wares on the street.
A white wooden box was mounted on the back of the vehicle, with the words "popsicle" written in red on it, and the box was wrapped in a cotton quilt.
A boy of about ten years old ran over, holding up two cents and shouting, "Ice popsicle vendor! One, please!"
The middle-aged woman selling popsicles lifted the quilt and took out a popsicle from the box.
The packaging is made of cardboard and has the words "Creamy Popsicle" printed on it.
The boy tore open the cardboard, took a bite, and the ice shards crunched loudly as he ate, beaming with delight.
Zhang Jianguo swallowed hard and stared at the popsicle for several seconds.
Then turn your head away and pretend to look at the utility poles on the side of the road.
A missing person notice was pasted on the utility pole; the paper was yellowed and the edges were curled up by the wind.
Chen Zheng took out two cents from his pocket and handed them to the woman selling popsicles: "Two, please."
The woman took it and took out two popsicles from the box and handed them over.
Chen Zheng handed one to Zhang Jianguo and tore the other open himself.
Zhang Jianguo paused for a moment, took the popsicle, and held it in his hand for a while without eating it.
Water droplets on the popsicle wrapper dripped down between my fingers.
"Ah Zheng, you don't earn money easily, and you still bought me popsicles."
"Eat yours. It's only two cents a stick, it's not like you can't afford it."
Chen Zheng took a bite of the popsicle. It had a light creamy flavor and a cool sensation that ran from his throat all the way down to his stomach.
In his past life, when he was working in the city, he would buy popsicles to eat when the summer heat was unbearable.
It costs 50 cents a stick, and it's sweeter than this, but you can't taste the same flavor.
Zhang Jianguo then tore open the popsicle wrapper, took a bite, and grinned, "Sweet!"
The two of them, each with an ice pop, pushed the cart forward.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, scattering golden fragments across the ground.
The cicadas chirped even louder.
Upon arriving at the bus station, Chen Zheng left his cart in a small courtyard next to the station.
The old gatekeeper took five cents and gave me a handwritten deposit slip with a red stamp on it.
The two boarded the bus and headed towards Baiyang Town.
The bus was packed with people.
Chen Zheng held the fish basket to his feet, clamping it between his legs to prevent it from being stepped on.
Zhang Jianguo stood next to him, one hand holding onto the handle on the roof of the car.
With his other hand supporting himself on the back of the seat, he created a small space for Chen Zheng and the fish basket.
The car was shaking violently, veering left and right, causing Zhang Jianguo to stagger from side to side.
Upon arriving in town, the two got out of the car and walked towards the health center.
When Chen Zheng arrived at the entrance of the health center, he paused for a moment.
A black sedan was parked in front of the health center, with an antenna standing upright on the front and a shiny body.
Such vehicles are rarely seen in town; even tractors are a rarity, let alone cars.
Several villagers passing by gathered around the car, whispering and pointing.
An old man even reached out and touched the front of the car, but the people next to him quickly pulled him back, saying, "Don't touch it, don't touch it, you can't afford to pay for it if you break it."
Without much thought, Chen Zheng pushed open the door to the health center, went up to the second floor, and headed towards Zhao Deming's ward.
The door to the ward was open, and the bed inside was neatly made, with the blankets folded into squares.
Everything on the bedside table was gone—the enamel mug, the lunchbox, the apples, all gone.
A nurse was changing the bed sheets, tearing off the old sheets, crumpling them up, and stuffing them into a cloth bag under the trolley.
"Nurse, where is the patient in this bed?"
Chen Zheng asked.
The nurse didn't even look up, her hands never stopping as she unfolded the new sheet and laid it out neatly.
He tucked all four corners in tightly: "I've been discharged. I did it this afternoon."
"He's been discharged?" Chen Zheng frowned. "Wasn't he supposed to stay for a few more days?"
"The fever just broke, how can pneumonia get better so quickly?"
The nurse put a pillowcase on the pillow, patted it twice, and put it back on the bedside table: "His wife came and took care of the formalities."
The doctor said to observe for two more days, but his wife said it wasn't necessary and he could just go home and rest.
There's nothing we can do; the patient wants to leave, and we can't stop them.
Chen Zheng's heart sank.
Zhao Deming's lover is Zhao Xiaojun's mother, the woman in the city that Lin Xiaoyun mentioned.
She's here?
In his previous life, Chen Zheng never met Zhao Deming's lover.
I've only heard from the villagers that Teacher Zhao's wife is from the city and doesn't want to come because she thinks the village is too poor.
Living in the city with the children.
Zhao Deming has lived alone in the village for many years and never goes back home for holidays.
The villagers gossiped behind his back, saying that Teacher Zhao's wife was heartless, leaving her husband alone in the countryside.
Some people say that Teacher Zhao is stubborn; he refused a job offered to him in the city and insisted on staying in the village to teach.
His wife couldn't persuade him, so in a fit of anger, she stopped talking to him.
Nobody knows exactly what happened.
"Where is she? When did she leave?"
Chen Zheng asked. The nurse stacked the used sheets and blankets on the trolley, straightened up, and glanced at him:
"They left a while ago. They came in a black sedan, and they looked quite impressive."
She left after completing the formalities, and Teacher Zhao went home in her car.
Zhang Jianguo scratched his head and whispered, "Azheng, will Teacher Zhao be alright?"
He's not fully recovered yet.
Chen Zheng didn't answer, and turned to walk out.
Once outside the health center, the black sedan was gone.
The streets were bustling with people, just like any other day.
The cries of a tofu vendor echoed from afar, their drawn-out tones reverberating through the alley.
"Let's go visit Teacher Zhao."
As Chen Zheng spoke, he quickened his pace.
Zhang Jianguo followed behind, walking quickly.
The two walked quickly, their trouser legs kicking up dust along the way.
The two walked quickly from the town to Lutang Village, arriving in less than half an hour.
When we entered the village, the sun was already setting in the west, and the clouds on the horizon were burning red, spreading out like fish scales.
Smoke curls from chimneys in the village; someone is cooking, and the aroma of scallions and stir-fried vegetables wafts over, mingling with the smell of firewood—it's enough to make you hungry.
The dog ran around on the village road. When it saw a stranger, it barked twice, but was stopped by its owner and ran away with its tail between its legs.
Chickens were scratching at the base of the wall, their claws kicking up dust as they clucked.
Chen Zheng went straight to Zhao Deming's small house next to the school.
From afar, you could see smoke billowing from the chimney of the small house, drifting away in the evening breeze.
The door was open, and there were voices inside, but they were faint and indistinct.
As I got closer, I saw Zhao Xiaojun squatting by the door, holding a tree branch in his hand, drawing something on the ground.
He heard footsteps, looked up, saw Chen Zheng, his eyes lit up, and he threw down the branch and ran over:
"Brother Zheng! You're here! My dad's been discharged from the hospital! My mom's here too!"
He spoke with excitement, a stark contrast to the crying child in the ward yesterday.
Chen Zheng patted his head: "Is your mom inside?"
"Yeah! My mom's cooking! My dad's lying in the house!"
Zhao Xiaojun pulled Chen Zheng's hand and dragged him into the house, saying, "Brother Zheng, come in! My mom's cooking is delicious!"
Chen Zheng followed Zhao Xiaojun into the house.
The hut was still the same hut, with mud walls and a thatched roof, but it was different from yesterday.
The stove was wiped clean, the bowls and chopsticks were neatly arranged, the floor was swept, and even the cobwebs in the corner were removed.
A pot of chicken soup was simmering on the stove, bubbling away, its aroma filling the entire house.
The flames in the stove licked the bottom of the pot, crackling and making a red glow on the ground in front of the stove.
Several bowls and plates were placed on the table, covered with gauze, so you couldn't see what was inside.
Zhao Deming leaned against the bed in the inner room, the blanket pulled up to his chest. His complexion was much better than yesterday, with some color returning to his face.
Her lips were no longer purple, but she was still thin, with prominent cheekbones and deeply sunken eye sockets.
He saw Chen Zheng come in and smiled, "Zhengzi, you're here? Back from selling fish?"
My voice is still a little weak, but it's stronger than yesterday.
"Teacher Zhao, why were you discharged from the hospital? Didn't the doctor say you should be observed for another two days?"
Chen Zheng sat down on the stool next to the bed. The stool was still warm, so someone had probably just sat on it.
Zhao Deming waved his hand: "It's alright, the fever has gone down, and the cough has stopped."
"Since I'm just sitting in the hospital anyway, I might as well go home. It's quiet at home, and I can recover better there."
Chen Zheng knew this was not the truth.
Zhao Deming is a man who never wants to cause trouble for others.
During the days he was hospitalized, Chen Zheng visited him every day, and he would always say, "Zhengwa, don't come, it will only delay your business."
His wife came this time and helped him get discharged from the hospital, probably because she didn't want Chen Zheng and the others to spend any more money.
"Teacher Zhao, don't worry about the medical expenses. I earned quite a bit from selling fish today, it's enough."
"Please focus on recovering and get well first."
Zhao Deming shook his head, about to say something, when he was interrupted by a voice.
"Are you Chen Zheng?" The voice came from the stove, neither loud nor soft, neither warm nor cold.
Chen Zheng turned his head and saw a woman stand up from the stove.
He was holding a long-handled spoon, with chicken soup dripping from it.
The woman, in her forties, was well-maintained, with fair and clear skin, and did not look like she had spent years toiling around the stove.
She was wearing a gray polyester shirt, the fabric was crisp and wrinkle-free.
A small brooch was pinned to her collar, the kind that only urban female workers would wear.
Her hair was permed and curly, tied in a low ponytail at the back of her head with a black hair tie.
Two plastic beads are attached to the rubber band.
His facial features resemble Zhao Xiaojun's somewhat, especially his eyebrows and eyes, which are indifferent and show little expression when he looks at people.
"Hello, Auntie, I'm Chen Zheng. I'm Teacher Zhao's student."
Chen Zheng stood up and bowed slightly.
The woman looked him up and down, her gaze moving from his face to his hands, and then back to his face.
Her way of looking at people is different from that of the villagers.
Villagers judge people by looking them from head to toe, their clothes, appearance, and complexion.
After reading this, you still have to consider how wealthy you are.
No, she doesn't. When she looks at people, her gaze is level, neither looking up nor down.
It means looking at you without scrutinizing or weighing you up.
"I am Zhao Deming's wife, my surname is Zhou, Zhou Min."
She put the spoon on the stove and wiped her hands on her apron.
"These past few days, I'm so grateful to you all for taking care of Deming."
I heard from Xiaojun that you carried him from the lakeside to the health center and paid for his medical expenses.
We will remember this kindness.
She spoke in a flat tone, neither sentimental nor overly polite.
But Chen Zheng noticed that when she said "we remember," she emphasized the word slightly.
It wasn't just a casual, polite remark.
"Auntie, please don't say that. Teacher Zhao taught me for so many years, it's only right."
Zhou Min glanced at him, her lips twitching as if she were smiling.
She turned back to the stove, put the pot lid on, and wiped the water stains on the edge of the stove with a rag, her movements swift and efficient.
"You haven't eaten yet, have you? Stay and eat. I've stewed chicken; that should be enough."
Zhang Jianguo stood at the doorway, shuffling his feet on the threshold, unsure whether to go in or back out.
When he saw Zhou Min, he was clearly stunned for a moment, probably not expecting that Teacher Zhao's wife would be like this.
In his imagination, Teacher Zhao's wife should be similar to the other wives in the village, spending her days around the stove.
He wore patched clothes, his hair was casually tied up, and his face showed the weariness left by years of hard work.
But Zhou Min is not like that.
She stood in front of the stove in that mud-brick house, completely out of place in the small room.