pjbooks Chapter 96 Years Ago
Chapter 96 Years Ago
The 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month is the Little New Year.
Jiang Haiping stood up from the reef and closed the ledger.
The page for accounts receivable was filled with notes, with more entries crossed out in red than left out.
Old Chen's twenty yuan was crossed out, Hong Laosan's "half to be paid before the winter solstice" was crossed out, and the remaining half was written "before the new year".
Hong Chuandong's line was crossed a long time ago, last year.
There are still three boats whose names haven't been marked.
Each one had a repayment date written on it, with the latest one stating "December 28th".
He tucked the ledger under his arm, jumped off the rocks, and his shoes made a loud thud on the gravel.
The sea breeze was stronger than during the Frost's Descent season, carrying the dry chill unique to the twelfth lunar month.
The loquat leaves were still green, but the smaller ones around the edge of the broken seashells looked a bit wilted from the wind, so A-Guang wrapped their roots with straw.
At the entrance to the kitchen in the courtyard, Lin Xiu'e was kneading dough.
Today is the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month. According to custom, people should sweep away dust and offer sacrifices to the Kitchen God. No one at the service station mentioned these things, but she still got up half an hour earlier than usual.
The dough on the cutting board had been kneaded twice and was smooth on the surface; it was covered with a damp cloth.
The fire in the stove was burning brightly, and the water in the pot was bubbling and steaming.
Next to it was a bowl of minced pork and cabbage mixed in an enamel basin. The cabbage was bought from the town's supply and marketing cooperative yesterday.
The meat was delivered by Wang Cunzhi the day before yesterday. He said it was specially approved by Director Sun because they won second place in the team competition and had to eat dumplings during the Spring Festival.
Old Fang arrived a little later than usual.
He came over from the workshop carrying a bamboo broom, making a swishing sound on the ground as he pushed the broken shells and dried seaweed into a pile in the corner.
After sweeping the yard, he leaned the broom against the loquat tree trunk, walked to the kitchen door, and looked at Lin Xiue's hands kneading dough.
"Don't make the filling too salty."
"I know." Lin Xiu'e placed the enamel basin on the cutting board, stirred the filling a couple of times with chopsticks, and smelled it. "Just right."
Ah Hai poked his head out of the workshop, clutching a torque wrench in his hand.
After the competition, he polished the wrench until it shone, and hung it on the tool rack every day, not letting anyone touch it.
"Master Fang, are you repairing boats today?"
"Why repair boats on the Little New Year? We'll only work half a day today; we'll make dumplings this afternoon."
"Then I'll adjust the valve clearance of the diesel engine this morning."
"OK."
The diesel engine in the workshop wasn't running, so Ahai squatted down next to it and used a feeler gauge to measure the valve clearance one by one, recording a number in his notebook after each measurement.
Ah-Guang flipped through the register from the first page to the last in the old parts warehouse, checking the old parts inventory from beginning to end.
After the competition, he opened a seventh registration book, with the scores of the four individuals and the total team score neatly copied at the top of the first page.
Hong Xiaobing returned to Hongjia Island. His third uncle's fishing boat was going out to sea today for its last transport trip before the Lunar New Year.
When he left, Hong Xiaobing said he would come back in the afternoon to eat dumplings.
Hong Ashun followed Master Song to the east end of Moon Island to repair the tail axle of a sampan, and Xiao Zhou went along as well.
Zhou Haisheng squatted at the very back of the old parts warehouse, touching the old parts with his eyes closed.
Even after the competition, he still does fifty practice tests every day; it's become a habit.
He touched a bearing housing and ran his fingers along the raceway twice.
"206, there are axial scratches on the raceway, about 0.02 mm deep. The auxiliary engine can be used for downshifting."
He opened his eyes, and Ding Haifeng was standing in front of him.
Ding Haifeng held a micrometer in his hand, the lid of which was open. He looked down at the scale and then closed it.
He wasn't a judge today; he was just passing by.
"Yes." Ding Haifeng put the micrometer into his pocket.
Ding Haisheng squatted at the entrance of the new workshop, with a thick steel plate in front of him.
After the competition, Lao Fang let him rest for three days, but on the fourth day he went back to squatting down.
Holding the welding clamp in my hand, without power on, I walked around the position twice without any power.
The row of burn scars on my left wrist glowed with varying shades of red in the sunlight; the newly burned ones had already subsided and were slowly turning into old ones.
Jiang Haiping placed the account book on the worktable and pulled out the half-sheet of old newspaper from underneath.
The above lines of text are still there: "Hong Laosan, halfway before the Winter Solstice".
"Old Chen, before the New Year..."
"Hong Chuandong, has been cleared."
"Checking the general accounts before the New Year, on the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month."
"The day after the grand competition, collect debts on credit."
"Second in group work, first in sewing, and first in used parts."
He took out a pen from his pocket and added another line at the bottom: The 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, the Little New Year. Making dumplings in the kitchen.
After he finished writing, he folded the old newspaper and put it back in his pocket, his hand touching the letter.
His mother's letter, the edges of the envelope were worn even more frayed, he ran his fingers back and forth on the envelope a couple of times.
When he returned home on the 25th of the twelfth lunar month, he had already written the date in pencil in the corner of the last page of the register.
From Moon Island to the shipyard's residential compound, you first ride to town, then take a ferry across the sea, and then ride another five miles ashore.
It's definitely colder than when I went back last time; the sea breeze feels like tiny knives on my face.
"Brother Haiping." Ah Hai poked his head out of the workshop door, holding up the valve that had just been tested. "Intake valve clearance 0.25, exhaust valve clearance 0.30, all correct."
"OK."
The aroma of minced pork and cabbage wafted from the kitchen. Lin Xiu'e placed the enamel basin on the cutting board and began rolling out the dough.
The rolling pin rolled back and forth on the cutting board, and the dough sheets were laid out one by one and covered with a damp cloth.
"Come help me wrap these dumplings!" She put the rolling pin on the cutting board and called out to the yard.
Ah Hai was the first to run over, his hands still covered in engine oil. Lin Xiu'e pushed him under the tap to wash his hands before letting him touch the dumpling wrappers.
Ah Guang ran out of the old parts warehouse, still clutching the register to his chest, flipping through the register with one hand and making dumplings with the other.
Zhou Haisheng followed behind him. He didn't know how to wrap dumplings, so he stood by the cutting board and watched for a while before trying to make one. There was too much filling, and the dough broke.
"Put less filling." Ding Haifeng appeared out of the old parts warehouse at some point.
He rubbed the rust off his hands, walked to the cutting board, picked up a piece of dough, scooped in half a spoonful of filling, folded it in half, and pinched three pleats on the side.
The movements were slow, but the pinches were firm, and the pleats were of uniform size.
Zhou Haisheng stared blankly at the broken dumpling in his hand, put it back on the cutting board, and picked up a new dumpling wrapper.
This time, I scooped out more than half a spoonful of filling and, imitating Ding Haifeng, pinched three pleats.
It still broke.
"You still added too much filling." Ah Guang didn't even look up as he finished wrapping another one.
Jiang Haiping walked over from the worktable.
He hadn't made dumplings much before, but after watching Lin Xiu'e roll out the dough so many times, he had a decent feel for it.
He picked up a piece of dough, scooped in half a spoonful of filling, folded it in half, and pinched three pleats.
The pleats weren't as even as Lin Xiu'e's, and the filling wasn't showing.
He placed the wrapped dumplings on the cutting board, where they stood crookedly and slowly tilted to the side.
Lin Xiue tapped it with her finger and arranged it neatly with the other dumplings.
Old Fang arrived last.
He didn't pack any dumplings. He stood at the kitchen door, smoking a cigarette, and watched for a while before pointing with his finger at the rows of crooked dumplings on the cutting board.
"good."
"Master Fang, aren't you going to take a few?" Ah Hai asked, looking up.
Old Fang took the cigarette out of his mouth, flicked off the ash, and didn't say anything.
He turned and walked to the workshop door, then turned back and said, "The kitchen is yours this afternoon. I'm going to the dock to finish the last stitching on Old Chen's sampan."
After noon, the pot in the kitchen boiled.
Lin Xiu'e carried the first pot of dumplings out of the kitchen. The enamel plate was piled high with steaming dumplings, the skins so thin they were translucent, revealing the color of the cabbage and pork filling inside.
Ahai ran over, picked up a chopstick, grabbed one, dipped it in vinegar, and put it in his mouth. It was so hot that he kept panting.
"Delicious," he mumbled, his mouth full of half a dumpling.
Ah Guang placed the registration book on the stone slab, took the chopsticks, and picked up two items.
Ding Haisheng stood up from the entrance of the new workshop, walked to the kitchen door, took a bowl, placed it on the root of the loquat tree, and squatted down to eat it.
Ding Haifeng took a bowl and carried it to the entrance of the old parts warehouse, where he sat down at the worktable and ate slowly.
The dumpling filling was neither too salty nor too bland, the cabbage was still a bit crunchy, and there was some minced ginger in the minced meat, so it was slightly spicy, but not the kind of spicy that was very strong.
Old Sun arrived at some unknown time.
He stood at the courtyard gate without coming in, carrying a cloth bag in his hand.
Lin Xiu'e brought over a bowl of dumplings, and he took them, ate two, and nodded.
"They taste better than the ones sold at the supply and marketing cooperative." He pointed to the dumplings in his bowl with his chopsticks.
After finishing his meal, he returned the bowl to Lin Xiu'e, took a small bag of mint leaves from his cloth pocket, placed it at the entrance of the kitchen, and turned to leave.
After taking a couple of steps, I turned back and said, "Go back and feed the chickens." I don't know who I was talking to; it's probably just a habit.
Hong Xiaobing returned in the late afternoon.
He ran down the seawall, panting heavily, with another mud stain on his forehead.
His third uncle's fishing boat has already set sail, and he'll be able to scrape together the remaining 150 yuan after this trip before the New Year.
When he ran into the yard, the first batch of dumplings had already been eaten, and the second batch had just been put into the pot.
"My third uncle told me to tell Haiping that he will definitely pay it back before the New Year." He bent over and took a couple of breaths.
"Understood." Jiang Haiping walked over from the worktable.
"He also brought sesame candy, saying that this time it wasn't made by my mom, but bought by himself." Hong Xiaobing took out a bag of sesame candy from his pocket and placed it on the cutting board. The candy pieces were cut a little neater than last time, but they were still crooked.
After finishing work in the evening, Lao Fang wiped the three wooden signs again.
He wiped the cloth more slowly than usual today, rubbing it back and forth over the words "Standardization Construction Pilot Unit" several times.
Dusk was creeping in from the sea.
The sea was dyed orange-red by the sunset, and several fishing boats returning late were heading towards the shore.
The sputtering sound of the diesel engine carried through the twilight, sounding even more distant than during the day.
The sea breeze blew in from the north, rustling the loquat leaves.
The fire in the stove was still burning, and the red glow shone through the stove door, casting a warm light on the bluestone slabs at the entrance.
Jiang Haiping placed the ledger on the table, dipped it in ink, and wrote the first line on a new page.