Chapter 742: Passionate Northern Wilderness
The boy immediately stopped his movements and stood straight beside his brother like a pruned sapling, but his fingers secretly hooked on the hem of Yang Huaixi's patched cotton jacket.
Wang Jianguo put his cotton hat covered with ice on the table, and the snow froth from the red pompom on the brim of the hat fell on the corners of the blueprint:
"Director Song, look who I brought here!"
When he moved aside, Yang Huaixi could see the plan spread out on the table clearly - the clinic circled in red pencil looked like a seal, stamped on the open space next to the old elm tree.
As Director Song walked around the table, his cotton shoes made a sound on the cement floor. He reached out to Yang Huaixi, and the calloused palms rubbed against the bandages on his sleeves:
"Hurry up and sit down!"
When the enamel cup was pushed in front of him, the heat was blurring the red words "Serve the People" on the wall of the cup.
"Jianguo praised you to the skies this morning!"
Director Song pushed his glasses up, and the ink stains cast shadows on the lenses.
"Comrade Huaixi is more familiar with medicine than the Compendium of Materia Medica, and brother Huaiqing's ability in making medicine is beyond reproach. He can easily make medicines for many difficult and complicated diseases..."
When Yang Huaiqing heard his name, he quietly hooked his toes on his brother's heels under the table, but quickly withdrew his feet when he saw Yang Huaixi's gaze, and his ears turned red like sparks in the stove.
The coal stove suddenly made a slight noise. Yang Huaixi watched Director Song's finger run across the medicine cabinet mark on the drawing. The itch in his injured arm climbed up along the bandage again.
"We have nothing else in the Great Northern Wilderness,"
Director Song tapped the brick factory mark on the edge of the drawing.
"We are in need of people like you who understand medicine. A few days ago, Mr. Li from the third team had a backache and rolled on the kang in pain..."
"Later, it was Comrade Xiaohua who gave me the injection!"
Yang Huaixi was about to kick his brother's heel when he heard Director Song continue:
"Once the clinic is built, I'll have you two brothers in charge, and I'll have peace of mind."
The snow particles outside the window hit the glass with a rustling sound, and Yang Huaixi touched the gap in the enamel cup.
Suddenly I remembered the night when Douzi had pneumonia in the dilapidated temple in the black market and he used a torn quilt to block the cracks in the wall.
At this moment, the pen handed to Director Song still had body temperature. The ink line drawn by the tip of the pen on the medicine cabinet on the drawing was like a ray of warm light that split the cold night in memory.
“I feel relaxed here.”
Director Song added a piece of coal into the coal stove, and the flames shot up.
"Tell me what you need. You can pick any bricks you want to build the house. We'll ask a carpenter to make the best red pine for the medicine cabinet..."
Yang Huaiqing suddenly took out a cloth bag from his cotton-padded jacket pocket, which contained dried wild chrysanthemums:
Director Song, this is what my brother picked, it can be soaked in water to cure cough... "
Before Yang Huaixi could stop him, he saw Director Song carefully taking the cloth bag and rubbing his fingertips across the frost on the petals:
"Okay! When spring comes, we'll build a medicinal garden next to the clinic and plant these..."
The firelight from the coal stove reflected on the figures of the three people bending over the drawings. Yang Huaiqing quietly placed his red frozen fingers on Yang Huaixi's injured arm.
Wang Jianguo's pipe was pointing at the location of the well on the drawing.
The first blue brick will fall there, like a nail, firmly nailing their wandering past into the land of the Great Northern Wilderness.
Yang Huaixi clutched the enamel cup handed to him by Director Song. The residual warmth from the cup wall seeped into his blood vessels through his palm. He suddenly remembered the early morning at the entrance of the black market alley three days ago.
He was hiding from patrolling police with half a basket of stolen herbs in his pocket. The damp coal smoke mixed with the aroma of the herbs made it hard to breathe. Behind him, Douzi's knuckles turned white as he gripped the empty medicine basket.
At this moment, the coal stove in the commune office was emitting stars. Director Song pointed at the planning map, and the back of his hand was covered with fine wrinkles. Like the hand that Wang Jianguo held his pipe, both were rough from years of labor.
“Try this.”
Director Song fished out a piece of hard candy from the bottom of the drawer. The faded peony candy wrapper wrapped the amber candy, which glowed faintly under the lantern.
"I have never been willing to unpack the goods that the supply and marketing cooperative bought last year."
Yang Huaiqing's fingers were still shaking as he took the candy, but they were completely wrapped by Director Song's warm palm.
Yang Huaixi looked at the lights reflected in his brother's eyes, and suddenly remembered the old beggar's hoarse exhortation before his death:
"The human heart is bitterer than coptis root, so we must learn to be more cautious in the future."
But the hard candy in the boy's palm gradually warmed up, and the sweetness spread along his gaze, burning his nose.
Wang Jianguo squatted beside the coal stove and poked the fire. His pipe hit the edge of the stove, and the sparks splashed on the soles of his worn shoes:
"Let me tell you, Director Song is looking forward to your coming more than the Chinese New Year."
When he turned around, the red pompom on the brim of his felt hat brushed across Yang Huaixi's injured arm.
"Yesterday, I mentioned that you can identify wild ginseng, and he almost put the corn bread for dinner into my bowl."
Upon hearing this, Director Song smiled, revealing his smoke-yellow teeth. He looked exactly like Old Sun who carried bricks at the brick factory and Old Zhang who weighed sugar at the supply and marketing cooperative. His wrinkles were as bright as a threshing floor.
The snow particles outside the window hit the glass and made a rustling sound, but Yang Huaixi felt that the sound was a hundred times more peaceful than the shouting of the black market vendors.
He remembered the hot eggs that He Yushui had stuffed over the fence when he first arrived at the village entrance. The shells were still stained with straw from the chicken coop.
Recalling the roasted sweet potatoes that the kiln workers forced into Yang Huaiqing's pocket when they passed by the brick factory, the boy was so burned that he jumped in pain but was reluctant to let go.
He even remembered the smell of tobacco mixed with herbs when Wang Jianguo put his cotton coat on his shoulders this morning.
The warmth was like freshly kiln-baked bricks, built into his heart piece by piece by invisible hands, blocking out the cold winter nights when he huddled in the dilapidated temple and the fear of being chased in the alley.
"Construction of the health center will begin next month,"
Director Song tapped the plot of land circled in red on the drawing with the tip of his pen.
"You brothers should stay in the side room next to my house first. Your aunt has already heated the kang with ashes."
Yang Huaiqing suddenly grasped Yang Huaixi's sleeves and whispered excitedly:
“Can we grow herbs under the windowsill? We can just plant the seeds we brought from home…”
Before he could finish his words, Yang Huaixi stopped him with a look. Director Song laughed heartily, shaking the ink bottle on the table:
"Plant! Plant a whole window sill! Just plant some angelica and astragalus, and they are more valuable than the window paper-cuts my wife made!"
The heat from the coal stove made his eyes moist, and Yang Huaixi rubbed his eyes quietly.
He was afraid that if he closed his eyes he would be back to that snowy early morning - Douzi was huddled in the corner of the shabby shed with a high fever. When he used snow water to mix the herbs, the blood that dripped from his cracked fingertips into the medicine bowl was more bitter than coptis chinensis.
At this moment, the hot water that Director Song refilled was emitting light smoke, and he realized that the enamel cup had been emptied long ago, with tiny tea residues at the bottom of the cup, which looked very much like the leftovers in a black market pharmacy, but at this moment they were glowing with a warm light.
Wang Jianguo put his pipe on his waist and stood up, bringing with him a gust of wind:
"Come on, I'll take you to the annex and take a look at the herbs He Yushui dried for you."