Chapter 681 Construction begins
On the other side, Wang Jianguo and Zhao Shuzhuo walked back in the twilight.
Zhao Shuzhuo rolled up his trouser legs, and his calves were still stained with moss from sitting on the steps during the meeting. He suddenly remembered something and took out a crumpled piece of straw paper from his trouser pocket:
"Jianguo, look at the sketch I drew of the drainage ditch at the brick factory. I always feel like something is wrong."
Moonlight crept up the brim of his graying straw hat and cast a swaying shadow on the blueprint.
Wang Jianguo squatted on the edge of the field, studying the drawings in the dim light of fireflies, and was unaware that his trouser legs were wet by dew.
At this time, He Yushui was standing in front of her own earthen stove, with flour splashed all over her apron.
The hot steam from the iron pot blurred the strands of hair on her temples, and the crackling of the firewood in the stove made her cheeks red.
From time to time, she lifted the lid of the bamboo pot, stirred the bubbling cabbage and tofu soup with a wooden spoon, sprinkled a handful of cornmeal on the chopping board, and skillfully patted the pancakes into round shapes.
Outside the window, she heard the sound of birds returning to their nests in the old locust tree. She looked at the clock on the wall and muttered softly:
"It's already half an hour past lunchtime, and I don't know if the meeting will go smoothly."
When Wang Jianguo and Zhao Shuzhuo appeared outside the fence, the kerosene lamp had already cast a warm halo on the window lattice.
Zhao Shuzhuo took a deep breath:
"Wow, the aroma of this stewed cabbage can be smelled from two miles away!"
However, Wang Jianguo stopped at the gate of the yard and took out an oil-paper bag from his canvas bag.
Those were the two salted duck eggs that Aunt Zhang had forced upon him at the end of the meeting. He carefully wiped the eggshells with his sleeves before gently pushing open the mottled wooden door.
Wang Jianguo and Zhao Shuzhuo almost trotted home. Zhao Shuzhuo's straw hat was blown away by the wind, and he shouted without turning his head:
"Never mind! The pancakes made by Miss He are more valuable than a hat!"
When the two rushed into the yard, they ran into He Yushui walking out with hot soup that had just come out of the pot. The steam instantly blurred the lenses of the three people's glasses.
Wang Jianguo rubbed his hands, looked at the neatly arranged dishes on the table, and his throat moved:
"This is not food, it's life-saving food!"
On the eight-immortals table, the stewed eggplant in red sauce was still sizzling with oil, the cold-mixed purslane was sprinkled with snow-white minced garlic, and the golden pancakes were piled up like a small mountain.
Zhao Shuzhuo grabbed the corn tortilla and stuffed it into his mouth. He was reluctant to let go even though it was so hot that he was breathing heavily. He also cut the salted duck egg into four pieces and insisted on giving one to each person.
Wang Jianguo picked up the trembling cabbage stalks and suddenly remembered what Grandpa Huang said during the meeting, and his chewing movements slowed down.
The moonlight poured in through the window covered with newspaper, dancing on the coarse porcelain bowl.
He Yushui sat by the stove adding firewood, listening to the men talking about interesting things that happened in the meeting, and she was amused and chuckled from time to time.
When Zhao Shuzhuo vividly described how Grandpa Huang heard "brick factory" as "special robbery", the laughter that broke out in the whole house startled the swallows under the eaves and crushed the day's fatigue in the aroma of steaming food.
The morning mist of late spring had not yet dissipated, but the morning light had already dyed the eaves of the production brigade a warm golden color. Zhao Shuzhuo stood on the ridge of the field with his trouser legs rolled up, the bamboo ruler in his hand shining with dew.
He was discussing this year's rice seedling plan with a dozen members. He would squat down from time to time to push away the wet soil and measure the distance between rice seeds with his fingers:
"Last year, we used the old method to plant rice seedlings, but we harvested half a dan less rice per mu than the village next door. This year, we have to try the wide and narrow row dense planting method promoted by the Agricultural Technology Station."
As he spoke, he took out a notebook, on which were densely written the characteristics of different rice varieties and their sowing times. Wherever the pen tip passed, a few brown rice seeds were stained.
At the same time, in the commune office, Director Song was frowning and thinking about the "Rural Collective Economic Development Outline" spread out on the table.
The tip of the pen was hanging above the manuscript paper, and a mountain of cigarette butts had piled up in the ashtray.
The feasibility report on the brick factory and cemetery has been revised three times. It must not only highlight the economic benefits of collective income generation, but also reflect the social benefits of improving funeral customs.
From time to time, he stood up and looked through the land planning map in the filing cabinet, and circled the locations of the west and south slopes with a red pen. The sound of sparrows flapping their wings outside the window could not interrupt his furrowed brows.
On the dirt road between the west slope and the south slope, two carts loaded with blue bricks were creaking.
Wang Jianguo was carrying a shovel and walking at the front of the team. The sweat on the back of his neck left dark marks on his blue shirt.
"Erzhuzi, be careful when moving the grave, and keep the red cloth under the urn."
He shouted behind him, then turned around and instructed the young man next to him.
"Before setting up the monument, we must use a compass to measure the direction. This is the resting place of our ancestors."
Not far away, several villagers were working together to lift a stone tablet engraved with the words "故显カ妣", with stone chips still on the newly carved lines.
On the southern slope of the mountain, Liu Chuanjun, wearing a wicker straw hat, was discussing the brick factory design plan with the masters of the kiln factory.
“The chimney should be built in the northwest direction so that the village will not be smoked on south windy days.”
He used branches to draw the outline of the factory on the ground.
“The raw material area, brick making area, and kiln firing area should be separated, and a passage for transporting bricks should be left in the middle.”
Several masters were measuring back and forth with tape measures, muttering data. In the sunlight, the metal parts of the theodolite refracted tiny lights.
The workers picked up hoes and dug the foundation. As the soil was turned over, a few dormant crickets were startled.
As the sun rose higher, both construction sites became busy. Wisps of green smoke rose from the western hillside, the ashes from the burning of paper money after the tomb was moved.
There was a clanging sound coming from the south hillside; it was the carpenters making brick molds.
In the fields far away, Zhao Shuzhuo's figure and the other members planting rice formed a green wave.
Light was coming through the windows of the commune office, and Director Song was still revising the last part of the report.
As dusk spread over the hillside, the foundation of the brick factory had taken shape, the tombstones in the cemetery were neatly arranged, and the evening breeze swept across the newly turned soil, bringing hope for spring ploughing and enthusiasm for construction.
At dawn, before the brick factory chimneys spewed out morning mist, the dirt road leading to the southern slope of the mountain was already crowded with villagers carrying benches and enamel pots.
Wang Jianguo had been waiting at the factory gate since before dawn. His coarse cloth shirt was cold from being soaked by the dew, but he could not hide the excitement in his eyes.
He repeatedly checked the red silk bouquet in front of the kiln, which was made overnight by a skillful wife in the village. Eight peonies surrounded the golden words "Good luck in opening the kiln", glowing festive red in the dim morning light.
"Director Wang! The county's technicians are here!"
The custodian came running in breathlessly. Two 28-inch bicycles were parked at the factory gate, and the instrument boxes tied to the back seats shone with a metallic luster in the sun.
Technician Lao Zhou jumped out of the car, not even bothering to brush off the dust on his trouser legs:
"Quick! Test the kiln temperature first. Even a half-degree difference is not acceptable."
Several young workers immediately gathered around and watched Lao Zhou adjust the thermometer. Every moment the pointer jumped touched everyone's heart.