Chapter 707 Requesting Director Song’s Approval
He added some cold water to the enamel pot, and when he tilted his head back to drink it, his Adam's apple rolled violently under the loose skin.
Zhao Shuzhuo noticed the frayed edges of his shirt collar and remembered what Shen Chunhua said: Director Song's wife took the children away last year, leaving him alone at home.
The metal cabinet in the corner of the office was half open, revealing the neatly arranged account books inside, with a yellowed family photo on the top layer.
In the photo, Director Song is wearing a neat Zhongshan suit and holding a little girl with pigtails in his arms. Behind him is the poplar tree planted in the year the commune was founded.
Today, the poplar tree outside the window has grown tall and majestic, and the words "Hello, Director Song" carved by the children on the trunk have become blurred by the passage of time.
Wang Jianguo wiped the sweat from his forehead. Dark sweat stains appeared on the back of his coarse shirt, spreading out into large patches in the morning light.
He reached out to steady the tilted bicycle bell, feeling the coolness of the metal through his palm. Then he mustered up the courage to speak:
"Director Song, I discussed with Brother Shuzhuo yesterday that we now have a supply and marketing cooperative and a brick factory,"
His voice unconsciously rose as he pointed at the brick kiln vaguely visible outside the window, with its chimney emitting columns of gray smoke.
"Look, the red bricks fired in the brick factory are piled up like a small mountain. We can build a brick house soon!"
Director Song put down the pen in his hand, and his eyes behind the glasses were full of doubt.
The corner of the "Production Schedule" spread out on the desk was lifted by the draft. Seeing this, Wang Jianguo quickly reached out and pressed it, and his fingertips touched the densely packed red circles and annotations on the paper.
"But our farm is still lacking one very important thing—"
He swallowed, his voice becoming hoarse as he recalled what Shen Chunhua had told him last night about old man Zhang going to the doctor in the rain.
"In a commune as big as ours, there are only two clinics, and the nearest one is five or six miles away from us!"
The sound of sparrows flapping their wings came from outside the window, and Zhao Shuzhuo quietly took half a step towards Wang Jianguo.
He saw Director Song pause as he stroked his chin, revealing a pale patch on his cuff.
"Last month, Aunt Liu had acute gastroenteritis. Her son pulled her on a cart for more than two hours. She was unconscious when we arrived at the clinic."
Wang Jianguo's Adam's apple rolled up and down, and he took out a crumpled notebook from his arms, with a piece of dried mugwort sandwiched between the pages.
"I've counted the number of emergency visits to the hospital at night last year, and many people had to wait until dawn..."
The pen cap was creaking as Director Song pinched it. He looked at the commune map on the wall, his eyes following the winding dirt road and stopping at the red dot marking the health center.
“Building a health center is no small matter.”
He took off his glasses and wiped the lenses, his voice hesitant.
"Venue, medicines, equipment, and a doctor who can take charge..."
“We’ve got our eyes on the venue!”
Wang Jianguo immediately opened his notebook, revealing a simple hand-drawn floor plan. The pencil lines were crooked but showed his seriousness.
"Just clean up the firewood room to the west of the production team's warehouse, paste new window paper on it, and then find a carpenter to make a few medicine cabinets."
He was gesticulating excitedly and accidentally knocked over the ink bottle on the table.
"It just so happens that I have a professional nurse here who has worked in the city hospital for five years. She is good at giving injections, changing dressings, and handling emergencies!"
Zhao Shuzhuo added at the right time:
"We can also recruit a few young girls as apprentices to learn skills from us."
He remembered the look in Yang Xiaohua's eyes when she told him about her nursing experience on the train, and the nurse's apron that Shen Chunhua had mended overnight.
"This way, villagers won't have to travel in the dark to treat minor ailments like headaches or fevers."
The office fell into a brief silence, with only the ticking of the wall clock.
Director Song put on his glasses again and looked carefully at Wang Jianguo's plan, his eyes sweeping over the list of "urgently needed materials" circled in red.
The sunlight outside the window gradually became stronger, making the white hair on his temples shine slightly. Finally, he exhaled heavily, reached out and patted Wang Jianguo on the shoulder:
"You young people, dare to think and dare to act..."
There was relief in his voice, but also some worry.
"But this matter still needs to be discussed at a general meeting of members, and then reported to the higher authorities for approval..."
"As long as you nod, we will do the rest!"
Wang Jianguo's eyes were surprisingly bright, and the buttons of his shirt were trembling slightly due to his excitement.
"I will go to the health center tomorrow to get advice and make a clear list of the equipment needed!"
He turned to look at Zhao Shuzhuo, and they smiled at each other. The morning light shone through the window lattice onto them, stretching the shadows behind them very long, as if he could already see the busy figures in the future clinic.
Director Song put down the red ink pen with some hesitation, and the tip of the pen left a small ink blob on the kraft paper document.
He took off his reading glasses and wiped the lenses with the cuff of his Zhongshan suit. The metal frame cast tiny spots of light in the morning light.
When he stood up, the friction between his office chair and the blue brick floor made a harsh sound, startling the sparrows napping on the windowsill and causing them to fly away.
"Health center?"
Director Song walked around the desk piled with reports, and his army green Liberation shoes raised a few wisps of dust as they stepped on the ground.
He reached out and patted Wang Jianguo's shoulder. His fingertips could feel the young man's taut muscles through the coarse work clothes.
"You two don't know, I also want to build a clinic in Jianye Village."
His gaze passed over the two people and looked at the row of crooked poplar trees outside the window. The shadows of the trees were looming in the morning mist, as if they also hid his unfinished thoughts.
On the metal cabinet in the corner of the office, there was a half-empty bottle of medicated oil, and next to it was a crumpled train ticket - it was left behind by Director Song when he went to the city to fight for medical resources last winter.
At this moment, he walked to the window, his fingers unconsciously stroking the peeling red paint on the window frame:
"Three years ago, when I first became the director of the commune, I included the construction of a health center in the plan. You see,"
He suddenly turned around and took out a yellowed notebook from the drawer. The big words "Health Center Construction Plan" on the title page had faded.
"We even had the venue selected at that time, which was the old ancestral hall at the east end of the village."
Wang Jianguo stared at the yellowed photo in the notebook. In the picture, under the mottled lintel of the ancestral hall, several children were standing on tiptoe to look through the crack of the door.
Director Song's voice mixed with the roar of the tractor outside the window came:
“But it’s too difficult.”
He loosened the buttons on his collar, revealing the washed-out shirt underneath.
"For example, our commune has two existing clinics, which only have three doctors and five nurses."
"Last month, Dr. Li had to take a leave of absence due to a family matter. The remaining staff worked non-stop for half a month and even wore out two medicine boxes."
The old wall clock suddenly made a sound of gears meshing, and Director Song reached out to hold the crooked photo frame.
That was a group photo taken at the commune’s commendation meeting last year. Half of the medical staff sitting in the front row have now been transferred to the county town.
"I went to the city seven times,"