Chapter 666 Preparing for a Meeting
The locust tree outside the window has now turned into a dark silhouette. A leaf suddenly broke away from the branch and floated towards the mound outside the factory, like a butterfly trying to fly through time.
Director Song was leaning against the door frame, holding an enamel pot. The gap on the edge of the pot was still stained with corn porridge from this morning.
He looked at the smoke-filled office. Director Liu's pipe and Wang Jianguo's hard hat cast uneven shadows on the windowsill. Suddenly, he grinned with wrinkles all over his face:
"Speaking of the meeting——"
He took two steps forward, and his Liberation shoes made a rustling sound on the concrete floor.
"When the site headquarters conveyed the spirit of 'working hard and advancing quickly' last month, I saw that our brick factory should perform this drama."
He opened the lid of the jar, scraped the caffeine on the inner wall with his fingernails, and poured in half a cup of herbal tea:
"That piece of barren meadow on the west slope was a good wheat field when I was a kid."
In the mist, he squinted his eyes and looked at the distant mountains outside the window, where the clouds were being torn into cotton-like shapes by the wind.
"Two years ago, the surveying team of the field headquarters said there was a clay mine underground, and I thought it would be useful. Once the brick factory chimney is erected, our saline-alkali land in the Great Northern Wilderness will also be able to grow 'gold bricks'!"
Zhao Shuzhuo's notebook was rustling on his knees. He noticed that half of a red meeting notice was sticking out of Director Song's work clothes pocket, with Mao's style words "grasp the revolution and promote production" printed on the corner.
The poplar forest outside the window suddenly made a sound, like a preview of the rolling wheat waves in the distance. He closed the pen cap, and the metal buckle made a crisp click:
"Director Song is right. We need to let our fellow villagers know the whole story—"
When he stood up, the legs of the chair scraped against the ground.
"In particular, we must explain in detail the people-friendly policy of 'each household paying 500 bricks per month' after the brick factory is built, and then show the red flag of the 'youth commando' approved by the site office."
Wang Jianguo suddenly slapped his thigh and stood up. The "Serve the People" sticker on his helmet gleamed in the sun:
“I suggest taking the village representatives to see the brick-making equipment first!”
He pulled the crumpled equipment list from his trouser pocket, with ink smeared on his palms.
"That vacuum brick-making machine we brought from the province can produce 2,000 bricks an hour, which is ten times faster than making them by hand!"
"Once they see the conveyor belt spitting out bricks, I guarantee no one will talk about the wild rabbits on the west hillside anymore!"
Director Song knocked the bottom of the jar against the windowsill, startling two sparrows that were pecking at aphids.
"Xiao Wang, what you said makes sense."
He wiped the tea stains from the corner of his mouth and his eyes fell on the slogan "Learn from Dazhai in Agriculture" on the wall.
"But we must first make clear the political significance of 'supporting frontier construction'. Last year, our headquarters sent three truckloads of sorghum to the front line. This time, the brick factory can actually support infrastructure construction—"
He suddenly lowered his voice and tapped Zhao Shuzhuo's notebook with his knuckles.
"By the way, remember to add 'priority for housing supply to military families' in the notice. Once this label is put on it, I guarantee no one will dare to drag their feet."
Zhao Shuzhuo put the pen into his jacket pocket, and his fingertips touched the shiny Chairman Mao badge at the bottom of the pocket.
He grabbed the tin trumpet on the table, and the canvas strap swung over his shoulder, making a rustling sound:
"I'll go to the village office and make the announcement now."
He walked to the door and suddenly turned around. The sunlight poured in from behind him, casting his shadow on the production schedule on the wall.
"By the way, Director Song, after the broadcast I want to go to the old hunter's house - he always said that there are animal traps buried on the west hillside, and we have to find them before we start the work."
Wang Jianguo looked at Zhao Shuzhuo's quickly disappearing back, and suddenly took out the sunflower seeds from his trouser pocket and gave them to Director Song:
"This kid is very careful."
He bit open the melon seed shell and the kernel crunched between his teeth.
"When the canal was being repaired last year, he took his men to enclose Widow Li's old jujube tree in the irrigation area. Now the jujubes from that tree are so sweet that they're almost tooth-destroying."
Director Song was chewing melon seeds and looking out the window. Zhao Shuzhuo was walking through the threshing yard, and the tin trumpet in his hand was shining silver.
The western hillside in the distance was shrouded in a pale golden haze, and a few free-range cows were slowly nibbling on dandelions. He wiped his mouth and flicked the melon seed shells out of the window:
"Better to be more detailed."
He turned around and took out the red flag that was pressed at the bottom of the cabinet.
"When we were reclaiming the Great Northern Wilderness, weren't we relying on these thoughtful people? When the brick factory starts to emit smoke, we'll hang a piece of red silk on the chimney so that people in the surrounding area can see the new look of the Great Northern Wilderness!"
Director Song leaned back in a creaking rattan chair with an enamel pot resting on his knees. The notch on the pot's rim was facing the "Brick Making Equipment Selection Manual" spread out on Director Liu's desk.
He stared at an illustration of a semimechanized brick-making machine in a manual, the lines of the metal rollers reminding him of the crawler tractors he had driven in his youth.
The familiar sour feeling came over my back teeth again - it was a habit I had from chewing cold steamed bread for half a month when I was harvesting wheat in the Great Northern Wilderness.
"Speaking of tools,"
He tapped the yellowed pages with his fingernails. The cactus on the windowsill swayed in the wind.
"In 1972, our brick factory opened. Your sister-in-law was pregnant with our first child, and she followed me to break bricks in the mud. What tools were there at that time?"
"If the wooden mold is cracked, tie it up with wire. If the shovel handle is broken, cut it with acacia branches instead."
He rolled up his trouser legs and there was a crescent-shaped scar on the inside of his knee.
"This wound was caused by a brick mold when I was moving bricks. Your sister-in-law used a red-hot sewing needle to pick out the splinters on me. The pain was so severe that my teeth were almost broken."
Director Liu took out a tin box from the drawer. Inside was a collection of wrenches of various sizes, with a rusty screw at the bottom - it was an old item used in the early days of the factory when bricks were made by hand.
He fiddled with the screws with his fingertips. The sunlight shone through the window, casting a spider-web-like shadow on the back of his wrinkled hands:
"I visited the province two years ago and saw the semi-mechanized equipment at the brick factory was like a buffet, with bricks spitting out of the machines in an orderly manner like steamed buns lined up in a queue."
"The 'Improved No. 3' wooden mold that our factory is using now was made by me and Wang Jianguo after working through the night for seven versions before it was finalized. But no matter how much we polished it, we could only produce about 100 to 180 bricks a day, and our fingers would get blisters from it."
Director Song's eyes fell on the old watch on Director Liu's wrist. The glass on the dial had three cracks, but the hands were moving steadily.
He suddenly recalled that last year, during a production meeting held at the farm, he saw this old man secretly drawing a sketch of a brick-making machine on the back of a cigarette box with a pencil, and the cigarette ash fell on his trouser legs and burned several holes.
"Semi-mechanized..."
He murmured to himself, his fingers unconsciously stroking the red words "Grasp the Revolution and Promote Production" on the jar. It was a souvenir distributed on National Day in 1959, three years earlier than Director Liu's brick factory.
The brick kiln outside the window is producing bricks. The bright red bricks are lifted by a crane, making the operator's goggles look orange-red.
"But you have also looked at the budget of our new brick factory. The money from buying a machine is enough to replace two Jiefang brand trucks for the Infrastructure Department. If they think..."
"Let's try it."