Chapter 706 Arriving at the Commune
The wooden door creaked open a crack, revealing He Yushui's sleepy face. Her pigtails were half loose, with a few strands of messy hair sticking up at the ends.
"Sister Xiaohua, I have already arranged today's schedule, so don't worry about it."
As she spoke, she reached out and patted Zhao Shuzhuo's arm.
"Go do your thing!"
Zhao Shuzhuo opened his mouth and wanted to say something, but he saw the bedding behind the door bulged slightly, and he could vaguely see the curled up outline of Yang Xiaohua.
The morning light shone through the window paper, casting a faint halo on her shoulders.
He suddenly remembered the scene on the train, where Yang Xiaohua was leaning against the window, staring in a daze at the fields outside, her eyelashes casting tiny shadows under her eyes.
At this moment, he swallowed the words that were about to come to his lips and nodded:
"Then...then you should have a good rest."
When I turned around and pushed the bike, the bell accidentally hit the door frame, making a crisp sound.
Zhao Shuzhuo hurriedly reached out to hold it down, fearing that he would disturb the people in the room.
Zhao Shuzhuo stood in the yard pushing his bicycle, listening to He Yushui's sleepy and intimate voice coming from inside the door. The word "Sister Xiaohua" was spoken with natural familiarity, as if they had known each other for many years.
He looked at the newly pasted window paper on the adobe wall, and the wild daisies that He Yushui had casually planted on the windowsill were swaying gently in the morning breeze.
Suddenly I remembered the two girls whispering to each other under the candlelight last night - He Yushui used gestures to tell interesting stories about the Great Northern Wilderness, and a smile finally appeared on Yang Xiaohua's pale face.
"Let's go!"
Wang Jianguo's voice came from the alley, and the bell of his 28-inch bicycle jingled, scaring away the sparrows under the eaves.
Zhao Shuzhuo responded, took one last look at the closed door, and when he got on the bike, the bike chain made an old clicking sound.
Looking back, He Yushui had already closed the door, leaving only the pot of wild chrysanthemums on the windowsill swaying gently in the morning breeze.
The dewdrops on the petals reflected the faint light, which looked very much like the hidden stubbornness in Yang Xiaohua's eyes.
The two of them got on their bicycles, and the wheels rolled over the dew-soaked gravel road, splashing tiny drops of water.
The wild grass by the roadside swayed gently in the morning breeze, and dewdrops from the tips of the grass fell down, wetting their trouser legs.
Wang Jianguo pedaled the bike at a brisk and powerful rhythm. The bell of the bike made crisp sounds from time to time, startling the field mice hiding in the grass.
"Brother Shuzhuo, what do you think if the clinic is built?"
He shouted loudly, his voice being cut off by the wind.
"Should we get a locked medicine box for Xiaohua?"
Zhao Shuzhuo looked at the winding dirt road ahead, and the expression on Yang Xiaohua's face when she talked about her nursing experience on the train emerged in his mind.
"First we need to get past Director Song."
His voice was steady and powerful, but it could not hide the expectation in it.
"Director Song has been very busy lately."
Wang Jianguo said as he pedaled his bike, sweat stains already showing on the back of his work shirt.
"The brick factory has just started construction, and I heard that the higher-ups have set strict targets."
He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"I don't know if he's willing to let go of the matter at our clinic."
Zhao Shuzhuo didn't respond, but looked at the red flag in the commune compound in the distance.
The wind swept across the wheat waves, creating layers of green. He remembered the stubborn look in Yang Xiaohua's eyes when she said she wanted to work.
Thinking of Shen Chunhua's description of the villagers seeking medical treatment in the rain, I unconsciously clenched the handlebars:
"It never hurts to try."
"If it's approved, I'll go to the forest farm to find some good wood and make a medicine cabinet with a glass door and a few drawers for herbs."
The morning light gradually became brighter, and the golden sunlight shone on the two people, stretching their shadows very long.
The commune compound in the distance was faintly visible, with red flags fluttering in the breeze.
Wang Jianguo and Zhao Shuzhuo looked at each other and pedaled faster at the same time.
The dust raised by the wheels flew behind, as if foreshadowing a new beginning quietly sprouting on this black land.
When their bicycles turned into the commune compound, the sun had already climbed above the treetops.
In the mottled shadows of the trees, a half-new and half-old bicycle was leaning against the blue brick wall, with half a hemp rope wrapped around the handlebars - it was Director Song's iconic vehicle.
Zhao Shuzhuo and Wang Jianguo looked at each other, both with surprise in their eyes.
Normally at this time, Director Song’s bicycle should be parked in front of the production team’s warehouse. How come it appeared in the commune so early?
The wooden window of the office was half open, and through the window lattice, one could see Director Song working at his desk.
He was wearing reading glasses, his hair was messy and sticking up, the collar of his blue cloth Zhongshan suit was open, and he was quickly making comments on the documents with a red ink pen in his hand.
There was a foot-high pile of materials on the desk. The tea in the enamel pot had long gone cold, with a few tea leaves sunk to the bottom of the cup.
When Zhao Shuzhuo stepped into the office, his eyes were first attracted by the drooping green ivy on the windowsill.
There was a thin layer of dust on the leaves of the plant, and the edge of the plastic pot still had traces of ice chips from last winter.
His rubber shoes rolled over a few pieces of chalk that had not been swept away on the blue brick floor. When he looked up, he saw Director Song raising his head from the pile of documents. His reading glasses had slipped to the tip of his nose, revealing his bloodshot eyes.
"Director Song, why are you here so early? Is there something urgent?"
Zhao Shuzhuo reached out to hold the door frame, and the frayed edges of his work clothes brushed across the peeling wall.
He noticed that the second button of Director Song's Zhongshan suit was crooked, obviously he had fastened it to the wrong buttonhole in a hurry, and there was still a half piece of pillowcase fluff on the back of his neck.
The enamel pot on the desk was covered with dark brown tea stains, tea leaves sank to the bottom of the cup, and a few lamp streaks floated on the surface of the water from when the lamp was lit last night.
Director Song pushed up his glasses and his knuckles tapped on the documents, startling a dozing sparrow on the windowsill and causing it to fly away.
The morning light shone through the dusty glass, revealing a few striking strands of white hair on his head - Zhao Shuzhuo remembered that last autumn, his hair was still dark blue.
"Shuzhuo, you're back!"
Director Song's hoarse voice was filled with laughter. He reached out to straighten the tilted teacup, but knocked over the ink bottle next to it.
He hurriedly held the bottle, and the old watch on his wrist knocked against the corner of the table with a slight sound.
"I don't have anything important to do, but there are a lot of orders from the brick factory that need to be reviewed."
He opened the topmost document, which was filled with red circles between densely packed numbers.
"This batch of bricks is to support the construction of the county town. The quality cannot be compromised. I can't hold everyone back."
Wang Jianguo moved closer to the table, his nose almost touching the documents, and the patches on the knees of his overalls rubbed against the raised wood grain on the edge of the table.
He glanced at the aluminum lunch box next to Director Song, with lumps of last night's leftovers on the lid. He suddenly remembered that the commune canteen opened at 7:30.
At this moment, the clock on the wall had just passed six o'clock, and the sycamore tree outside the window was still immersed in the morning mist.
"Hey, what are you doing here so early in the morning?"
Director Song rubbed his temple, and the ink on the document that had not yet dried spread on his fingertips.