Chapter 713: Going to the City to Look for Someone Again
He reached out and patted Zhao Shuzhuo's shoulder, the warmth of his palm coming through the coarse work clothes:
"Inviting them to build the Great Northern Wilderness this time may be an opportunity for them to start over."
“No need to hide anymore, no need to worry anymore, just live your life honestly based on your own abilities.”
There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“I believe that if we give them a chance, they will cherish it.”
A gust of wind blew by, lifting the corner of Wang Jianguo's worn-out clothes. He looked at the brick house under construction in the distance, from which came the clanging sound of hammering, full of vitality and vigor.
"Of course, if they don't want to come, or if they find it's not suitable after coming, I won't force them."
His tone became calm.
"The clinic is the hope of the whole village. I won't take any risks. But before that, I want to give it a try, for our Beidahuang and for those who are eager to change their fate."
The setting sun dyed the path between the fields a honey color, and Zhao Shuzhuo's knuckles, gripping the handlebars, turned white in the twilight.
Wang Jianguo's words just now were still echoing in his ears, and the faces of several foreigners kept floating in his mind.
They brought blueprints and surveying instruments, saying they wanted to make water conservancy plans for the production team, but these days, people with unknown origins always make people feel uneasy.
"Okay then, Jianguo."
Zhao Shuzhuo wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, and the bicycle chain made a clicking sound under his feet.
He looked at the bright red badge on Wang Jianguo's chest, which was slightly hot in the sunset glow.
"You always do things in moderation."
My memory flashes back to last year's flood prevention. This man who always worked hard stayed on the river bank for three days and three nights. His shoulders were rubbed bloody by sandbags, but he didn't say a word.
The wind swept through the cornfield by the roadside, and the leaves rustled, as if hiding countless whispers.
Zhao Shuzhuo's eyes swept over Wang Jianguo's blue cloth shirt, which was pilled and had rice debris from last year's autumn harvest on the collar.
“Although I don’t know them well,”
His voice was interrupted by the evening breeze.
“But I trust you.”
When he said this, he remembered what the old branch secretary said on the day he took the oath, holding his hand: "Comrades must be sincere to each other."
Wang Jianguo touched the back of his head and smiled innocently, revealing two rows of white teeth:
"Brother Shuzhuo, don't worry. When they come, I will look over their documents several times and even hold their official seals up to the sun."
When Zhao Shuzhuo pushed the cart uphill, the wheels made a squeaking sound as they rolled over the gravel.
In the distance, smoke from the production team rose up, mixed with the scent of grass and soil.
"Anyone who can pass your test will definitely have no problem."
He patted Wang Jianguo's shoulder and felt the texture of coarse cloth in his palm.
"It's up to you to decide."
As he spoke, he got on his bicycle, and his pedals left two shadows in the twilight.
The dust raised by the wheels had not yet settled, but Zhao Shuzhuo had already ridden a long way away.
In the rearview mirror, Wang Jianguo's figure gradually shrank into a small dot, but he still stood upright in the same place, like the old locust tree at the entrance of the village, guarding the peace of the land.
The wind blew into his clothes, and Zhao Shuzhuo suddenly felt that perhaps just like the handwriting in Wang Jianguo's notebook, the changes brought about by those outsiders would also be written into the future of the production team, stroke by stroke.
When Wang Jianguo opened the door of his house, dusk was slowly seeping in through the gaps in the window lattice.
The house was still filled with the smell of midday cooking, and the cold sweet potatoes on the stove looked gray in the dim light.
He put his straw hat on the eight-immortals table and took out the hidden brown paper envelope from the crack in the wall - it was the blank letter paper he brought back from the city last time, and the edges had been rubbed to the point of being hairy.
The ink in the ink bottle had formed a thin layer of skin, which he carefully broke with a bamboo pen and ground repeatedly in the inkstone.
The tip of the pen hovered over the letter paper, but my memory uncontrollably went back to the black market half a month ago.
It was an exceptionally dark night, and the unique smell of the black market made people cough.
With a "click", the ink dripping from the tip of the pen spread out on the letter paper, like a teardrop that suddenly falls.
Wang Jianguo then realized that he had not even asked for their specific address.
He hurriedly searched his jacket pockets and shook his straw hat inside and out. The business card that Yang Huaixi handed to him in his memory had long since disappeared on the bumpy long-distance bus on the return journey.
The moonlight outside the window climbed up the window frame, stretching his shadow very long. The old clock in the corner made a "tick-tick" sound, and every sound seemed to strike at his heart.
In the twelfth month of last year, Grandpa Zhang suddenly fell ill. The whole village rushed to the town on a cart overnight, but they still failed to make it in time.
A few days ago, Aunt Li's grandson had a high fever. The herbal medicine prescribed by the village doctor did not help the child at all. The child was talking nonsense due to the fever... These scenes kept flashing before his eyes, making his eyes sore.
Wang Jianguo stood up suddenly, and the wooden chair made a harsh sound on the ground.
He opened the camphorwood box at the head of the kang and took out the Dacron shirt that had been pressed at the bottom of the box. The hem of the shirt still had traces of being folded. He smoothed it out carefully and stuffed it into his bag.
As the night deepened, the whole village fell into a deep sleep. But Wang Jianguo had no desire to sleep. In the dim light of the kerosene lamp, he carefully reviewed the sketch of the clinic he had drawn.
The crooked lines on the drawing were the result of him spending three whole nights copying the schematic diagram drawn by Yang Huaixi.
There were still a few dry grass leaves stuck on the corners of the drawing, which were picked up when he was measuring the land in the village.
The sun had just climbed above the roof, and the old locust tree in the yard was drooping under the sun.
Wang Jianguo placed the enamel jar heavily on the stone table, and the bottom of the jar made a crisp sound.
He Yushui was squatting by the well, washing clothes, and soap foam flowed over the bluestone slabs along with the water.
Yang Xiaohua stood on tiptoe to hang the freshly washed sheets on the wire; the floral fabric rustled in the wind.
"Rainwater, Comrade Yang Xiaohua!"
Wang Jianguo shouted at the top of his voice, and the sound startled the sparrows that were napping on the locust tree.
He took two steps at a time and didn't even bother to tie his coarse shoelaces which had undone.
"I have to go to the city, it's urgent!"
He Yushui straightened up and rubbed her hands on her apron. There was still soap foam between her fingernails.
"What's the matter? What happened?"
Yang Xiaohua put the wooden clip in her mouth and asked incoherently:
"How about calling a few strong men to join you?"
Wang Jianguo wiped the sweat from his forehead and rubbed his knuckles unconsciously on his pocket - there was a crumpled blueprint of the clinic in there, the edges of which were all frayed from being squeezed.
“No, no!”
He waved his hands repeatedly.
"Just for the health center's matter, we have to go find those two technicians from the city."
Memories suddenly came flooding back. Yang Huaixi pushed up his round-frame glasses and explained the appearance of the water purification system. The blue pipes drawn by the Douer brothers in pencil on the blueprint were now swaying in front of his eyes.