pjbooks Chapter 89 The Zhang Family
Chapter 89 The Zhang Family
Two days before the competition, Jiang Haiping went home.
He got up before dawn.
Inside the kitchen, Lin Xiu'e was already mixing tung oil putty. Four basins were neatly arranged on the windowsill, covered tightly with damp cloths.
She took two steamed sweet potatoes from the stove, wrapped them in old newspaper, and put them in his bicycle basket.
He pushed the half-new Flying Pigeon bicycle out of the courtyard gate; the oil on the chain hadn't dried yet, so it didn't make a sound when he pedaled.
The wind on the seawall was even stronger than it had been a few days ago, blowing against my face like fine sandpaper.
He turned up the collar of his work clothes, lowered his body, and rode towards the town.
From Moon Island to the shipyard's residential compound, you first go to the town, then take the early ferry across the sea, and then ride five miles a day after landing.
There weren't many people on the ferry. He leaned his bicycle against the gunwale and stood at the bow, enjoying the sea breeze the whole way. The captain recognized him and called out from the wheelhouse, "Is this the fourth son of Director Jiang?" He nodded.
The boatman didn't say anything more, but turned on the radio. It was broadcasting a weather forecast, saying that there would be a northerly wind of level 5 to 6 tomorrow.
When the ferry docked, the sun had just risen above the sea, and the hazy sunlight spread across the pier, the dew on the stone steps still wet.
He pushed his bicycle onto the dock and rode towards the family compound.
I rode for fifteen minutes to cover five miles, and when I arrived at the entrance of the residential compound, my tires were covered with a layer of mud and wet sand from the road.
The family compound consisted of a row of four-story red brick buildings, with fishing nets and clothes hanging out to dry in front of them, making a pattering sound in the sea breeze.
His house is on the second floor, at the far west end. There's an old shoe cabinet by the door, and on top of it is a pot of asparagus fern, which his mother raised. The leaves are a bit yellow, probably because it hasn't been watered enough.
He knocked twice, but no one answered. He took out his keys and opened the door.
There was no one inside.
His dad went to the factory, and his mom probably went to the market.
He placed his bicycle keys on the shoe cabinet and stood at the doorway, looking around.
The living room wasn't big, with a square table and four chairs. On the table was an enamel tea tray, and the teacups on the tray were upside down, with water stains on the bottom, indicating they hadn't been wiped dry after being used in the morning.
His father's work uniform, a gray-blue color, with the words "Binhai Shipyard" printed in red on the left chest, was hanging on the wall; it had faded a bit from washing.
On the TV cabinet are photos of his four brothers when they were young. The youngest one was taken when he was seven or eight years old. He was missing a front tooth and was smiling foolishly.
The leak marks on the roof are still visible.
There was a yellowish water stain in the southwest corner of the ceiling, which stretched from the corner of the wall to the edge of the lamp holder, and its shape resembled an open map.
His third brother did the repairs, but he only rearranged the tiles; he didn't clean the water stains on the ceiling.
His mother probably figured that since it was up there, she wouldn't see it and would just forget about it.
He moved a chair, stepped on it, and reached out to touch the water stain.
A layer of dried wall plaster was stuck to my fingertip, and it came off with a swipe.
The paint around the water stains had peeled off; a small piece came off easily with a finger, revealing the grayish-brown cement underneath.
He thought to himself that he would have to scrape off the old plaster, apply a layer of putty, and then paint it whitewash after it dried.
The materials are available at the hardware store in town; a bag of putty powder costs 50 cents.
He jumped off the chair, went to the kitchen, found an old enamel basin, and poured half a basin of water into it.
He found another scraper, an old scraper his father used to use for repairing ships. The blade was a bit rusty, but it was still usable.
He moved the chair to the wall where the water was leaking, stepped on it, and used a scraper to scrape off the peeling paint piece by piece.
The scraped-off wall plaster fell to the ground, scattering grayish-white debris everywhere.
When I got to the center of the water stain, the wall plaster was particularly thick, and it took two strokes of the scraper to clean it.
He worked for almost an hour and finished scraping off the plaster from the wall.
I wiped the wall with a damp cloth to remove the dust and debris, and then let it air dry.
His mother came in carrying a bag of cabbages.
She stood at the doorway, stunned, watching her son stand on a chair and wipe the wall with a wet cloth, with broken pieces of paint scattered around his feet.
"Why are you back?" She placed the cabbage on the shoe cabinet and wiped her hands on her apron.
"The grand competition is still two days away, I'm free today." Jiang Haiping jumped off the chair, threw the damp cloth into the enamel basin, and said, "The roof was repaired, but the marks on the ceiling are still there. I'll take care of them on my way."
His mother walked over and looked up at the ceiling. After the water stain was scraped off, new cement was exposed. It was gray and stood out starkly against the surrounding yellowish old wall paint.
"Your third brother said we don't need to do this, since it's on top anyway."
"You need to clean it on the top. If the water stains aren't cleaned properly, the paint will peel off again after it gets damp."
His mother didn't say anything more.
She bent down and swept the broken wall plaster from the ground into a dustpan, then took it to the kitchen and dumped it into the trash can.
When I came back, I brought him a glass of water from the kitchen and took the bag of steamed sweet potatoes from his bicycle basket and put it on the table.
"It was steamed by Xiu'e." Jiang Haiping took the water and drank a sip.
"She's a good cook." His mother unfolded the old newspaper, picked up a sweet potato, looked at it, and put it back. "Last time, she asked Ah Hai to bring you some fish balls, and your dad ate two bowls. He didn't say anything, but I could tell."
Jiang Haiping didn't reply and put the cup on the table.
The sea breeze blew in through the window, causing the old newspapers on the table to flip.
He took out his wallet from his pocket, counted out five ten-yuan bills, and placed them on the side of the tea tray.
"This month's."
His mother glanced at the few banknotes but didn't reach for them.
She carried the cabbage to the kitchen sink and turned on the tap to wash it.
After the water gushed for a while, she turned it off and broke the cabbage into pieces, placing them in the colander.
"I told you in my last letter that the roof was fixed; your third brother came back and fixed it."
"understood."
"Your dad and your third brother came back last month and talked about you. He asked you several questions. He asked if the service station was busy and how the food was going over there."
"What did you say?"
"I said I was busy, but I still ate." His mother turned the cabbage leaves over and continued to break them apart. "He didn't ask again. He was concerned, but he didn't say it out loud, just like your grandfather."
Jiang Haiping leaned against the kitchen door frame and finished the water in his glass.
His mother washed the cabbage, shook the water off her hands, and turned to look at his face.
"You've lost weight. Probably from the sea breeze."
"Um."
"What is the grand competition about?"
"Four items. Ahai's diesel engine disassembly and assembly, Haisheng's welding, Xiu'e's grouting, and Haisheng's old parts management."
"Can you get a place?"
"I didn't participate in the competition. I was the team leader."
His mother was silent for a while, then turned on the gas stove on the stove, and the water in the pot began to sizzle.
She put the cabbage into the pot, put the lid on, and turned around.
"You were only this tall when your dad led the team to the provincial competition." She gestured to her waist with her hand. "You were squatting at the factory gate watching him get on the bus, crying and wanting to go with him."
"I don't remember."
"You were little then. Later, your dad came back from a competition with a bag of White Rabbit milk candies. You ate three and then stopped, saying you'd save them for the chubby kid next door." She turned the gas stove down. "You've always been this kind of person, always asking for others' attention. And you still are now."
The water in the pot boiled, and the lid bounced slightly twice from the steam.
She lifted the pot lid and stirred the cabbage with chopsticks.
Steam billowed from the pot, carrying the sweet aroma of cabbage.
Jiang Haiping came out of the kitchen and stood in front of the living room window.
Outside the window is the shipyard's residential compound. Clothes hanging on wires are neatly arranged by the sea breeze. In the distance, you can see the shipyard's gantry crane, its gray steel frame standing by the sea, with a red flag hanging on it, stretched straight by the wind.
His father's work uniform was hanging on the wall; it was grayish-blue with the words "Binhai Shipyard" printed in red on the left chest.
He remembered wearing this shirt when he was very young; the hem dragged on the ground, and the sleeves were rolled up three or four times. His father was squatting in the yard repairing a trolley, and he was handing him a wrench.
His father pointed to the bottom of the boat with his chin and said, "First learn to read the wood, then learn how to cut it."
He didn't understand that sentence then, and he still doesn't fully understand it now.
But he knew that some things need to be savored slowly, like brewing a cup of mint tea and letting it cool down before it tastes good.
He pushed the window open a crack, and the sea breeze blew in, causing the old newspaper on the table, which had been used to wrap sweet potatoes, to flip over.
He pressed the newspaper down, took out his account book from his pocket, and turned to the page for debt.
Next to the repayment date of Hong Laosan's line, which read "half to be repaid before the winter solstice," there was an additional line of small print written yesterday: "Has already set sail, can be repaid before the new year."
Old Chen still owes twenty, which he can pay off by the end of the month.
He closed the ledger, moved the chair to the wall, and began to scrape putty.
Mix the putty powder with water, scoop it up with a scraper and apply it to the wall, smoothing it out stroke by stroke.
The technique for applying putty is similar to grouting; the force must be even, and the angle of the scraper must not change.
His mother came out of the kitchen with a bowl of sweet potato porridge and placed it on the table.
"Eat first, then we'll do it."
He placed the scraper next to the putty bucket, dusted off his hands, and sat down at the table.
The porridge was cooked until thick, and the sweet potatoes were cut into large chunks, with a sweetness and the aroma of rice blended together.
His mother sat opposite him, holding a bowl in her hand, but she didn't drink it; she just watched him eat.
"Your dad is coming home for lunch today."
"Um."
"If he asks you about the service station, just say a few words. Don't be like last time, where you said yes to everything he asked."
"understood."
He lowered his head and finished the porridge in the bowl. There was a piece of sweet potato left at the bottom of the bowl, which he picked up with his chopsticks and ate.
His mother took away the empty bowl, stood in front of the stove for a while, and didn't turn around.
"I pawned the silver bracelet your grandmother gave you."
Jiang Haiping put down his chopsticks and looked at her.
"When your grandmother passed away, she said she would leave the bracelet for her grandson to use when he gets married. If you need it after the competition... even if you pawn the bracelet, it will still help. That way, I'll feel more at ease." Her voice was very calm, as if she were talking about something very small.
"Third Aunt's bracelet was pawned too, and Old Fang didn't take it. He won't take yours either." Jiang Haiping placed the enamel mug on the table, his voice soft but steady. "Mom, I'm not being polite. The service station can support itself now, so it's better for you to save up and buy yourself something."
His mother didn't turn around, but wiped the stove with a rag and said, "Okay."
The first coat of putty on the wall has dried.
He stood up, took sandpaper, and smoothed out the dried area, then sanded it a second time.
His mother brought in the dried chilies that were drying on the windowsill, cut them into small pieces one by one with scissors, and put them into a glass jar, the scissors making a snip-snip sound.
The sea breeze outside the window made the clothes on the clothesline slap and clack.
His father came back at noon.
Jiang Weiguo pushed open the door and saw his son standing on a chair scraping putty, so he paused for a moment.
He took off his Zhongshan suit and hung it behind the door, put the pen from his pocket on the shoe cabinet, and went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.
The father and son exchanged a glance.
"I'm back."
"Um."
"How's the service station?"
"The grand competition is the day after tomorrow. All four events are ready."
"Just keep the team in mind." Jiang Weiguo stood in front of the window with a water glass in his hand, glanced at the newly plastered ceiling, and then at the old scraper in his son's hand, the one he used to use to repair ships.
He didn't mention the scraper, but turned around and asked, "Have you eaten?"
"have eaten."
"Your mom said so."
I'm full.
Jiang Weiguo nodded, took his water glass, and went into the study, closing the door behind him. The door wasn't completely closed; it was left ajar.
After Jiang Haiping finished applying the second coat of putty, he wiped the scraper clean with a damp cloth and placed it on the shoe cabinet.
His mother tightened the lid on the glass jar containing the chili pepper pieces and put it in the cupboard. There was an old calendar pasted on the cupboard door, the year being the year before last.
"Are you coming back for Chinese New Year next year?" His mother stood in front of the cupboard without turning around.
"After the 25th of the twelfth lunar month".
"Bring Xiu'e back for a meal."
Jiang Haiping was taken aback.
He took the bicycle keys from the shoe cabinet, and the ledger in his work clothes pocket poked his chest.
"OK."
His mother nodded and took off her apron, hanging it next to the stove.