Chapter 660 Anxious Director Liu
There was obvious panic in his shouts as he watched his old friend stretch out his calloused hands to support the ground and his knees banging heavily on the hard concrete steps.
Amid the flying dust, Liu Chuanjun quickly propped himself up, as if he felt no pain. He just patted the dirt off his hands and continued running towards the door.
"This old Liu is already old, but he still can't keep his cool."
Director Song loosened his grip on the window frame and let out a long sigh, his tone full of helplessness and concern.
"I'm not young anymore. What will happen if I fall down? If I get hurt, who can I rely on for the brick factory?"
As he spoke, he sorted out the documents on the table, but his eyes were always fixed on the closed door.
As soon as he finished speaking, there was a rapid and powerful knock on the door. The "bang bang bang" sound was like beating drums.
There was a sense of urgency in the voice, as if the door was about to be pushed open in the next second.
"Old Song! Open the door!"
Liu Chuanjun's loud voice came through the door, with undisguised excitement.
"I can't wait to hear the good news!"
The knocking on the door became more and more urgent, as if a hole would be knocked in the door.
"I'm coming!"
He responded loudly and walked quickly towards the door, his leather shoes making a "clacking" sound on the concrete floor.
As he reached out to turn the door handle, he turned his head and smiled at Wang Jianguo and Zhao Shuzhuo:
"Look at how impatient he is. He hasn't changed at all in decades."
With a creaky sound, the wooden door slowly opened, and a heat wave mixed with dust and the smell of diesel blew in my face.
Liu Chuanjun leaned against the door frame, his chest heaving violently, beads of sweat on his bronze face, and dark marks of sweat on the front of his work clothes.
His eyes were shining like two dancing flames. Without waiting for Director Song to speak, he strode into the room. The wind caused by his footsteps blew the documents on the table.
"I'm dying of thirst!"
Liu Chuanjun yelled in a hoarse voice and ran straight towards the desk against the wall.
On the table, a blue-rimmed enamel cup was filled with steaming tea, and wisps of white mist rose in the sunlight.
He grabbed the cup and drank it without caring about the burn. The sound of him swallowing was particularly clear in the silent office.
The scalding tea flowed down the corners of his mouth, wetting the work clothes on his chest, and spreading dark water marks on the dusty fabric.
Director Song looked at his old friend's expression, feeling both angry and amused. He quickly took out a clean towel from the drawer and handed it over:
"Drink slowly, no one is competing with you for it! Drink water right after running, or you'll get a stomachache."
Liu Chuanjun pretended not to hear it. He drank the last drop of water, then he let out a long sigh and wiped his mouth.
The enamel cup slammed heavily on the table, and the splashing water left dark marks on the documents.
"Old Song, tell me quickly!"
Liu Chuanjun pulled Director Song's arm, his eyes wide open.
"Have the approval documents really come down? Where will the factory site be chosen? When will the equipment be in place?"
A series of questions popped out of his mouth like a string of cannonballs, and his thick fingers tapped on the table excitedly, causing the pen and abacus beads to tremble slightly.
The sunlight passed through his sweaty hair that was clinging to his scalp, casting a swaying shadow on the ground, as if even the air around him was boiling.
Director Song looked at Liu Chuanjun's red face and crooked collar, and did not rush to answer his series of questions.
He first shook his head slightly, then reached out to straighten the enamel cup that had been knocked askew on the table, and the bottom of the cup left a wet mark on the table.
The sunlight shone through the window onto his wrinkled face, clearly illuminating his expression of anger and heartache.
"You, how come you are the same as when you were young?"
Director Song's voice was hoarse with the passage of time. He slowly walked to Liu Chuanjun and gently patted his dusty shoulder.
"Not at all. I saw him in the yard just now. He was running very fast and nearly fell flat on his face."
His eyes swept over Liu Chuanjun's overalls that were torn at the knees, where faint bloodstains had seeped out, and his tone unconsciously became a little heavier.
"Look, your pants are torn. Did your knees get hurt too?"
Liu Chuanjun grinned and wanted to explain himself, but was interrupted by Director Song.
"Don't take it seriously!"
Director Song frowned, his eyes full of reproach.
"You are already in your fifties, how can your body withstand such torture? If anything happens to you, my sister-in-law and your eldest niece will have to take care of you."
"They and their mother have been worrying about you for a long time. Can't you let them worry less?"
At this point, Director Song turned around and took out a bottle of red medicine and a roll of bandages from the drawer and placed them on the table. His movements were very light, but with unquestionable force:
"Come and sit down, roll up your trouser legs, and take care of the wound."
Seeing Liu Chuanjun still standing there in a daze, he added:
"What are you standing there for? Do you want me to help you deal with it?"
Liu Chuanjun scratched his head, sat down on the chair somewhat embarrassedly, and reached out to roll up his trouser legs.
Director Song pulled over another chair, sat down opposite him, and unscrewed the cap of the mercurochrome bottle.
The unique smell of the medicine spread in the air. He dipped a cotton swab into the medicine while mumbling:
"When we were repairing the collapsed brick kiln, you rushed in without caring about your life. Things are different now. You have to take care of your own health and your family."
"It's a big deal for our commune to build a brick factory, but it would be difficult to accomplish without an expert like you."
He moved very gently, carefully avoiding the dust around the wound, and gently applied the red medicine to the abrasion.
Liu Chuanjun looked down at Director Song's calloused hands and suddenly recalled the time when they went to the countryside together when they were young.
At that time, Director Song always did the same, criticizing him for his recklessness while carefully helping him treat his wounds.
Time seemed to overlap at this moment. Those years of common struggle and those days of fighting side by side all turned into deep concern in Director Song's eyes.
"Okay, don't move. Wait until the potion dries before lowering your trouser legs."
Director Song put down the cotton swab and handed over a cup of warm water.
"You've really learned your lesson this time. Don't be so impetuous next time."
His voice was not loud, but his tone was full of unquestionable reproach. However, those who knew him well could hear that there was deep concern behind the reproach.
Liu Chuanjun's Adam's apple rolled violently as he swallowed the last sip of water. The bottom of the enamel cup collided with the table, making a dull "bang" sound.
He roughly wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, and the splashing water left a dark mark on the front of his worn-out work clothes.