Chapter 672 Meeting Contents
Zhao Shuzhuo stopped laughing and became serious. He stroked the wood grain of the table with his fingertips.
"But let me be frank. If any of the brothers and sisters are not here, you must quickly tell them after the meeting."
"What we are talking about now is directly related to everyone's future life."
He paused, then fished out a crumpled piece of paper from the inner pocket of his Zhongshan suit. It made a rustling sound when he unfolded it.
The sunlight passed through the folds on the paper, casting a few pale golden lines on his nose:
"Let's not talk about anything else for now. Let Director Song talk to everyone first."
Before he finished speaking, the tiger boy in the back row suddenly let go of his hand, and the little cub, who had been holding back for a long time, let out a loud "Ah", causing the whole audience to laugh.
Zhao Shuzhuo was not annoyed. Instead, he turned around and made a "please" gesture in the direction of Director Song. The patch on his cuffs was particularly conspicuous in the sunlight.
When Director Song stood up, the chair legs scraped across the ground with a harsh sound.
Zhao Shuzhuo quickly reached out to hold the back of the chair, but accidentally knocked over the enamel pot on the table. The dark brown tea flowed into the cracks between the bricks beside the table legs.
"Look how clumsy I am."
He complained in a low voice, took out a blue cloth handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped it. On the edge of the handkerchief was embroidered half a broken peony, which was the work of his wife when she was young.
"Stop laughing, be serious!"
He pretended to have a stern face and shouted at the young wives who were still whispering to each other, but when he turned around, his expression was gentle again.
"Fellow villagers, we are all familiar with Director Song. Last year, he taught us how to build mushroom sheds. Which family didn't harvest two extra baskets of mushrooms?"
"What he has to say today is more important than that—"
Having said this, he suddenly raised his voice.
"Clap your hands loudly, let Director Song know how honest the folks of Jianye Farm are!"
Applause suddenly broke out, mixed with the light scolding of Tiger Boy's mother to stop the child.
Zhao Shuzhuo stepped behind the table and looked at the densely written words on Director Song's unfolded notebook.
Suddenly I remembered that when I held the first members' meeting a few years ago, I also stood behind the old branch secretary like this, and my palms were sweating with nervousness.
The sunlight filtered through the gaps in the awning, weaving a piece of golden silk on his trouser legs that had been washed bleached. In the distance came the clucking of a hen.
The applause that came one after another sounded very much like the lively sound of threshers rolling over rice ears during the autumn harvest every year.
Director Song slowly stood up with the help of the table, then bent down and bowed to everyone, with the back of his blue shirt shaking.
The wooden chair creaked as he sat down, and he pulled out a crumpled notebook from his trouser pocket. On the cover were written the words "Meeting Draft" in red pencil.
"Everyone, please sit down. I called you all here today because I have something great to talk about."
He licked his lips and ran his fingers across the page.
"This is good for the country, good for our village, and good for every household. I guarantee you will feel enlightened after listening to this."
"A while ago, Secretary Zhao and Director Wang went to the city to restock the supply and marketing cooperative. Everyone knows about this."
He raised his head and glanced below the stage. The poplar leaves on the threshing floor were rustling.
"They were not idle when they went there. In addition to bringing back fertilizers and pesticides, they also did something big. What big thing was it? Take the houses in our village for example. Which family doesn't have to 'catch a small basin when it rains heavily outside'?"
"I went to Mr. Li's house last week and saw his grandson's homework book wrinkled from the rain. How can they live like this in the long run?"
Someone in the audience responded quietly:
"That's right. There's a crack in the east wall of my house. I've stuffed it with grass three times."
Director Song nodded, took out a yellowed paper from his notebook, and held it high:
"Captain Zhao and Comrade Wang Jianguo were thinking about this matter! When they arrived in the city, they didn't even bother to drink some hot water, and went straight to find Secretary Dong."
"Secretary Dong is a cadre who left our village. When he heard about the difficulties in our village, he slammed the table and said, 'We must let the people live in houses that don't leak!'"
"Later, they went to the city every day to talk to the leaders about the hardships of our village and the benefits of building a brick factory."
He put the paper down and counted on his fingers.
"Our village is 40 miles away from the town's brick factory. The transportation cost of transporting a truckload of bricks is half the price of a pig."
"If we have our own brick factory, we can save half of the money for bricks, and the villagers can also go to the factory to work, carrying bricks, guarding the door, keeping accounts, there is always a job to do, and get a monthly salary, isn't it better than digging for food in the fields?"
At this point, Zhao Shuzhuo took the lead in applauding, but the applause was sparse, like dried bean pods colliding with each other.
Uncle Zhang in the front row was holding a pipe and muttering:
"What's the point of building a brick factory? A bunch of educated youth might come here again, and we can't even feed ourselves..."
Aunt Zhou next to him poked him:
"What do you know? The educated youth came here to build the countryside."
Uncle Zhang spit out a mouthful of tobacco:
"Construction is construction, but shouldn't we take care of food and accommodation?"
Director Song listened to the murmurs below and calmly turned a page in his notebook:
"I know everyone has doubts in their hearts. Don't worry, let's talk about them one by one. Let's talk about the educated youth first--"
He raised his voice deliberately.
"The brick factory is our own factory, and we give priority to our own laborers! People over 50 can guard the factory, women can pick up bricks, and young people can learn kiln firing technology. We are all family members, and we don't have to serve outsiders!"
The audience suddenly became quieter, and someone asked quietly:
"When will the brick factory be able to produce bricks? My house can't wait."
Director Song smiled:
"Construction will begin next month. The site for the foundation has been selected. It will be on wasteland at the west end of the village, and will not occupy arable land."
"Everyone will help mix mud and move bricks, and we will be paid one day's work points, and we can also share dividends at the end of the year!"
He suddenly took out a red brick from his pocket and weighed it in his hand.
"Look at this brick. I brought it back from the brick factory in the city. Our factory will make this kind of brick from now on. It's very solid. It can easily build three large tiled houses!"
The sun shone through the poplar leaves, casting mottled shadows on the red bricks. Uncle Zhang leaned over and touched it, rubbing his rough palm across the brick surface:
"Can this brick really be used to build a house?"
Director Song nodded heavily:
"Not only can it be used, but each brick is two cents cheaper than outside! When the factory is up and running, every household in our village will be able to move into a red brick house. Leaking? Cracked walls? Those are all old stories!"
At this time, someone in the back row shouted:
"Captain Zhao and his men must have suffered a lot for this, right?"
Director Song's eyes suddenly turned red:
"They live in a big dormitory in the city, eat steamed bread and pickled vegetables, and the soles of their shoes are worn out - why? Just to save a few dollars for our village and get more benefits!"
He turned to look at Zhao Shuzhuo, who was wiping his glasses with his head down. The sunlight fell on the white hair at his temples, like a handful of gold.