Chapter 674: Cemetery
She didn't finish her words, but just bowed tremblingly towards the stage, and the flour on her apron fell onto the threshing floor.
“Can we change the location of the brick factory and move it to the abandoned kiln factory at the east end of the village? That’s where we made pickled cabbage.”
"That place is good. There is an old well nearby. It is convenient for getting water. It is eight miles away from the west slope of the mountain."
The old lady reached out and touched the red circle on the map, crying and saying:
"When Haizi's father passed away, he said, 'The biggest regret in my life is that I didn't erect a monument for Old Zhou.'"
"Now, let alone the tombstone, the grave is almost gone. What are you kids thinking?"
She turned to look at the elderly people in the audience. Aunt Li and Aunt Zhang nodded with tears in their eyes, and the sunlight shone through their gray temples.
Director Song's knuckles gradually turned white as he pinched the edge of the conference table, and his tanned face looked dark blue in the shadow of the kerosene lamp.
He stood up slowly, and the second button of his Zhongshan suit was stretched straight, as if it was about to burst through the tight collar.
The coughing and fanning sounds from the audience suddenly stopped, leaving only the crickets in the corner chirping anxiously among the broken bricks.
"My dear uncles and aunts, I know you feel bad."
His voice was like hard-squeezed stone, rough as sand.
"Which of the graves on the west slope was not buried by us carrying shovels? The shroud for Old Zhou was made by me, and the shroud that Sister Liu wore when she was buried was made by my mother overnight..."
He suddenly choked up, his Adam's apple rolling, and he took out half a crushed corn cake from his trouser pocket, and the crumbs fell on the table.
"I remember these hardships more clearly than anyone else."
Muffled gasps echoed in the meeting hall. Mr. Huang's cane tapped the ground in a rapid rhythm, like beating on everyone's heart.
Zhao Shuzhuo wiped his face and said:
"But what are the houses in our village like? When the spring thaw comes, the moisture at the base of the wall can grow moss; on the night of the heavy rain, Secretary Zhao's house had 18 pots and pans!"
He slammed his palm on the table, causing the oil droplets in the kerosene lamp to jump.
"The children are doing their homework in a leaky house, and the ink in their pens has blurred due to the moisture! If this continues for another ten years, our grandchildren will still have to live in dilapidated houses and starve to death!"
“What is the purpose of building a brick factory?”
He suddenly raised his voice, scaring away the moth that was perched on the lamp cord.
"It is to allow our descendants in the Great Northern Wilderness to live in houses that do not leak, and to allow our children to study in brick and tile houses and pass the exams to see the world in the future!"
He took out a crumpled drawing from his pocket and spread it out on the table. The edges of the drawing were wrinkled by sweat.
"Look at this plan. The brick factory produces five million bricks a year. Half of them are used to build new houses, and the other half are sold for profit."
"What are you going to do with the money? Repair canals and build schools in the village, dig wells and install electric lights for you old people!"
Mr. Huang stood up suddenly, and his cane almost hit the table leg:
"fart!"
His beard trembled like dry grass in the autumn wind.
"You're exchanging dead bones for brick money. Have you let your conscience get eaten by dogs? Before he died, Old Zhou said, 'I just want to live a stable life.' You're going to dig into his stability!"
Aunt Li in the audience also cried out:
"We would rather live in a shabby house than do something immoral!"
Wang Jianguo's face flushed red, and veins on his forehead throbbed:
"This is not immoral! This is development!"
He grabbed the blueprint and waved it in the air.
"Look at the world outside! Other people in the commune are living in red brick buildings, but we are still struggling with adobe houses! Only when the brick factory is built can we in the Great Northern Wilderness stand up straight!"
He suddenly turned and pointed out the window. In the night, the outline of the western hillside looked like a silent scar.
"Those graves occupy the best clay layer. If we don't dig them up, the brick factory won't be able to produce good bricks! This is science!"
"Science bullshit!"
Uncle Zhang picked up his pipe and smashed it on the table, sparks flying from the pipe bowl.
"Why don't you dig up your ancestral grave and build a building?"
The meeting place suddenly exploded. Some old people slammed the tables, some cursed, and several young wives quickly hugged their crying children.
Director Liu quickly stood up and tried to stop the fight, but was gently held back by Director Song. He saw a complex light flashing in the other's eyes, and he couldn't tell whether it was approval or worry.
Zhao Shuzhuo looked at the boiling crowd in front of him and suddenly felt a bitter taste in his throat.
He recalled that three years ago when he had just become the team leader of the production team, he vowed at the meeting "to let the villagers eat white flour buns."
Now, he hasn’t even gotten to eat the steamed bun, but has become a “bad grave digger”.
He clenched his fists, his nails almost digging into his palms:
"The meeting is adjourned! The factory site remains unchanged and construction will begin after the 15th!"
After saying that, he grabbed the blueprint and rushed out the door. Behind him, he heard Mr. Huang's roar:
"If you dare to move the earth, I will lie under the bulldozer!"
Wang Jianguo waved his hands hurriedly, and his palms formed a blurry shadow in the setting sun, as if to wipe away the worry in the eyes of the elderly people.
He took two steps forward, crushing a few seeds on the threshing floor with the tip of his shoe. When he cleared his throat, his voice became deliberately gentle:
"Grandpa and grandma, please don't be impatient. Just listen to what I have to say."
His eyes swept across Grandpa Huang's tense brows and Grandma Cheng's red eyes. He suddenly squatted down and lowered his posture as if he was coaxing his own grandchildren.
"The brick factory was indeed located on the west slope of the mountain,"
He took out a cowhide book from his trouser pocket and turned to the page with the wild chrysanthemums.
"But everyone, look at this plan—"
Between the pencil lines, several graves were circled in red, leaving large open spaces around them.
"Before we start construction, we will ask a Feng Shui master to find a good piece of land and dig up the graves of the old and young masters one by one."
He ran his finger over the "New Cemetery" mark on the drawing.
"Do you know the Crescent Bay at the east end of the village? It's backed by mountains and faces the water. In the spring you can see wild flowers blooming, and in the fall you can hear the sound of pine waves. It's ten times better than the weeds on the west slope."
Old Madam Cheng loosened her grip on the corner of her apron and asked in a low voice:
"Can you find the person? Many graves are unmarked."
Wang Jianguo nodded quickly and took out a yellowed piece of paper from the book:
"This is the list that the old branch secretary kept. The names of the thirty-seven people who fled famine and the twelve reclamation teams are all on it."
"If we really can't find a stele, we'll use blue bricks to carve 'Tomb of the Northern Wilderness Pioneers' and arrange them in a neat forest of steles."
He suddenly remembered something and took out a tin box containing half a pocket watch and several rusty medals.
"These old objects will be placed in the memorial pavilion of the cemetery in the future, so that future generations will know how the land here was opened up."
Uncle Huang's cane no longer poked the ground, but his face remained tense:
"Excavating a grave is a big deal, we have to choose an auspicious day, and we can't let the deceased down."
Wang Jianguo patted his chest heavily:
"I've thought about it all! I'll ask the town's Yin-Yang master to preside over the grave-moving ceremony. I'll burn all the paper money that needs to be burned, and I'll sprinkle all the rice wine that needs to be sprinkled."
"Once the new grave is built, I will take the young people in the factory to take turns to keep watch at night to prevent stray dogs from scaring the old man."