Chapter 689 Letter of Recommendation
After Zhao Shuzhuo left, Wang Jianguo began his life revolving around the production team, the supply and marketing cooperative, and the brick factory.
In the early morning, when the first ray of morning light had not yet completely penetrated the mist, he had already appeared in the fields of the production team, checking the growth of the rice seedlings and discussing the details of field management with the old farmers.
During the day, he shuttled between the supply and marketing cooperative and the brick factory, busy taking inventory of goods to ensure that the supply and marketing cooperative had adequate supplies, while also paying attention to the production progress of the brick factory and solving various emergencies.
At night, he often worked late into the night in the brick factory's office, organizing the day's work records and planning the next day's tasks.
Basically, I eat and live in the supply and marketing cooperative or brick factory, and my life is busy and fulfilling.
He Yushui also brought him meals in different ways every day. In the morning, she would get up early and carefully prepare a delicious breakfast, or hot buns, fried dough sticks, and fragrant soy milk.
Or nutritious egg pancakes and millet porridge. At noon, she would cook a variety of delicious dishes according to the season and Wang Jianguo's taste, sometimes fragrant braised pork, which was fat but not greasy.
Sometimes it is refreshing and delicious cold cucumber salad, served with a bowl of white rice, which can whet people's appetite.
In the evening, she would bring you a heartwarming dinner, which might be delicious fish soup or fragrant dumplings.
Every time she delivered meals, she was full of expectation and concern. Seeing Wang Jianguo eating with relish, a bright smile would appear on her face.
On this day, the sun was high in the sky, emitting a blazing light.
Wang Jianguo was taking inventory of goods in the supply and marketing cooperative. The shelves were filled with a wide variety of commodities, ranging from daily necessities to agricultural supplies.
Wearing a pair of worn gloves, he carefully checked the quantity and price of each item, recording it in the account book from time to time.
Sweat kept dripping down his forehead and soaking his collar, but he ignored it and focused on his work.
At this time, Xiao Song, who was delivering documents to Director Song, came to the supply and marketing cooperative. Xiao Song, sweating and panting, found Wang Jianguo with an anxious look on his face and said to him:
"Brother Wang, Director Song from the commune wants you to come over. He said he has something important to discuss."
Wang Jianguo was stunned, stopped his work, and thought to himself:
What's the important matter? Why are you in such a hurry?
He quickly put down the account book in his hand, took off his gloves, simply tidied his clothes, and followed Xiao Song to the commune.
Along the way, various possible situations kept emerging in his mind, and his pace involuntarily quickened.
The sound of cicadas exploded among the poplar trees above his head. Wang Jianguo pushed the abacus onto the table. The back of his canvas shirt was already covered with dark marks from sweat.
He didn't even bother to wipe the sweat off his face. He rushed to the backyard of the supply and marketing cooperative in two steps and grabbed the 28-inch bicycle leaning against the wall.
The bicycle chain made a harsh friction sound. When he stepped on the bike, the enamel pot on his waist hit the frame with the bumps. The tinkling sound scared the sparrows under the eaves away.
The road was shining brightly under the scorching sun, and waves of heat rose as the wheels of the car rolled over the road.
Wang Jianguo bent his back and pedaled hard. The wind blew into his collar, drying the sweat, but it was quickly soaked with new sweat.
His eyes were fixed on the front, and various speculations kept flashing through his mind:
Was there something wrong with the brick factory's approval? Or did the production team's irrigation plan need urgent adjustment?
Or... did something happen to Zhao Shuzhuo? Thinking of this, his temples throbbed and the strength under his feet increased a little.
The blue brick walls of the commune compound were covered with ivy. When Wang Jianguo braked, the tires left a half-meter-long black mark on the ground.
He shook his numb legs and wiped the sweat from his face, but paused when he was adjusting his collar.
The second button of his work clothes had fallen off at some point, revealing the bleached sweatshirt underneath. He hurriedly pressed his palm against his chest, took a deep breath and walked towards the office building.
The door of Director Song's office was ajar, and through the crack could be heard the sound of a pen tip rustling on paper.
Wang Jianguo raised his hand and knocked on the door. His knuckles made a light sound when they hit the wooden door. He pushed the door open without waiting for a response.
The draft in the room blew in the air, carrying the smell of ink. The portrait of Chairman Mao on the wall swayed slightly in the light and shadow.
"Director, what do you want to talk to me about?"
Wang Jianguo tried his best to sound calm, but his voice was still a little breathless.
He noticed a thick stack of documents spread out on the desk. Director Song was wearing reading glasses and was circling and drawing on the report with a red ink pen without even raising his head.
"Jianguo, you are here,"
Director Song's pen tip never stopped moving, and the ink spread out in small blobs on the paper.
"Please take a seat. I'll finish writing it right away."
He pointed to the bamboo chair by the window, the seat still retaining the warmth of the sun.
Wang Jianguo sat down obediently, his knees unconsciously brought together, and his hands placed neatly on his thighs.
He stared at Director Song's back as he worked at his desk, and noticed that the sweat on the back of his neck had soaked his shirt collar.
The clock in the corner was ticking and suddenly a sparrow chirped outside the window, startling him and making him tremble slightly.
Every second of waiting was like a stretched rubber band. He counted the dates on the calendar on the wall, his fingernails pinching out shallow crescents on his palms.
Until Director Song finally put down his pen, his glasses slid to the tip of his nose when he turned around, revealing a meaningful smile:
"Jianguo, this matter...is a big test."
The copper pendulum of the old-fashioned clock swung, drawing a monotonous rhythm in the silent office.
Director Song put down his pen, and the last stroke of ink spread out on the letter paper like a dark flower.
He took off his reading glasses and carefully wiped the lenses with his sleeve. When he raised his eyes, his gaze passed through the halo behind the lenses and fell on the uneasy Wang Jianguo.
"Building a nation,"
Director Song's voice was a little hoarse, and he reached out and took out a cowhide envelope from the drawer.
"Take a look at this recommendation letter and see if it's OK. If there's no problem, I'll ask Xiao Song to send it out for me."
Wang Jianguo's fingers trembled slightly. The moment he took the envelope, he felt the rough edge of the paper.
When he opened the envelope, the letter paper made a slight crisp sound, and the smell of ink mixed with the humid air hit him in the face. The moment he lowered his head, the sunlight just happened to pass through the window lattice, illuminating the handwriting on the letter paper that was so strong that it could be seen through the back of the paper.
"Dear leaders, I am Song Guohua, director of Beidahuang Commune..."
Wang Jianguo recited it softly, his Adam's apple rolling up and down in his dry throat.
The letter rustled in his hands, and those hot words seemed to become real, hitting his chest again and again.
Every detail that Director Song mentioned replayed before my eyes like a movie scene—
Last winter, the brick factory was hit by a snowstorm just after the foundation was dug. He wrapped himself in frozen cotton clothes and led a dozen members to reinforce the shed overnight.
The cold wind scraped across his cheeks like a knife, and his fingers were so frozen that he could hardly hold the shovel, but he gritted his teeth and waited until dawn.