The Red Era: Living in Seclusion in a Siheyuan as a Boss

Chapter 644: Letter from an old subordinate!!!

Li Weiguo's trembling fingers tightly grasped the yellowed letter paper. The old locust tree outside the window rustled and whispered, cutting the April sunlight into tiny gold foils, which were scattered on his faded military uniform.

The brown paper envelope was delivered three days ago, with "Personally addressed to Comrade Li Weiguo" written on it crookedly. The three words "Zhang Tiezhu" at the end of the signature made his heart tremble violently.

The aroma of bacon wafted through the kitchen, and my wife was busy at the stove.

Li Weiguo carefully folded the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. When he stood up, his knees made a slight creaking sound - this was the "memorial" left to him by Changjin Lake. Whenever it rained, it would hurt as if an icicle was drilling into his bones.

"Xiuqin, find my woolen coat." He lifted the blue cloth curtain and saw his wife standing on tiptoe to hang bacon on the beam.

It was pickled in the twelfth month of last year. The red and white strips of meat swayed gently in the breeze, and drops of oil dripped onto the blue brick floor, creating small dark dots.

"You're wearing a woolen coat in such hot weather?" My wife turned around, a few peppercorns on her apron. "Are you going to visit those old comrades again?"

"Yeah!" Li Weiguo responded in a deep voice. He returned to the bedroom and his eyes fell on the old desk beside the bed.

There stood a rusty tin box, which contained a third-class medal of honor wrapped in red silk cloth. Underneath it was a yellowed old photo - it was taken in Tieyuan in the spring of 1952. A dozen young people were crowded in front of the earthen wall, laughing so hard that their teeth were showing.

The young man with thick eyebrows and big eyes on the far right is Zhang Tiezhu.

The green train rumbled across the North China Plain, and Li Weiguo pressed his face against the cold glass window.

The rolling waves of wheat outside the window reminded him of the snowfields of North Korea, so clean and white.

At that time, Zhang Tiezhu was the head cook, and he could always make potatoes that were frozen like stones into delicious broth.

"Sam"'s plane drew a white line in the sky, and Lao Zhang's copper spoon stirred a whirlpool in the pot.

"Comrade, please make way." A woman with a canvas bag squeezed into the seat, bringing with her the sweet scent of locust flower honey.

Li Weiguo pulled his legs inward, revealing his shiny leather shoes under his tweed coat - they were issued when he was awarded the military rank in 1955. The heels had been repaired three times, and you could still see your reflection in them after applying shoe polish.

The carriage was shaking like a backpack on a forced march, and two young men sitting opposite were arguing about "whether or not to continue buying shares of Yantai Liquor Industry."

Li Weiguo closed his eyes, and suddenly the sound of gunfire like frying beans rang in his ears again.

That was in Tieyuan. Zhang Tiezhu led the kitchen team to deliver meals to the front line and encountered the defeated South Korean soldiers on the way.

Lao Zhang swung his carrying pole and knocked down three people, seized an American carbine, and changed his career to become a machine gunner.

"We've arrived at Baocheng Station!" the conductor shouted at the top of his voice.

Li Weiguo opened his eyes with a start, and his pocket watch showed 3:10 in the afternoon.

The platform was crowded with farmers carrying baskets, and the tender cucumbers loaded on their shoulder poles were still covered with morning dew.

He tightened the net bag in his hand, and the two bottles of Hengshui Laobai Gan inside clinked against each other.

The staff quarters of the county agricultural machinery factory are even more dilapidated than imagined.

The tube-shaped building with peeling walls looked like a bunker that had been bombarded by artillery fire, and the sheets drying on the balcony fluttered weakly in the wind.

Li Weiguo counted the house number and stopped at the easternmost end of the second floor of the third unit.

A strong smell of traditional Chinese medicine wafted out from the crack of Cong's door, mixed with the smell of sulfur from burning coal balls.

The knock on the door startled the voice-controlled light in the corridor, and in the dim light, the door opened a crack.

Li Weiguo saw half of the face with wrinkles all over it, and the right eye was covered with a gray shadow - it was scratched by shrapnel during the second battle.

"Report! Platoon leader, Zhang Tiezhu from the third company's kitchen squad." The hoarse voice suddenly choked, his one eye blinked, and a turbid tear rolled out.

Li Weiguo felt his throat tighten.

He clearly remembered the scene on the day when Lao Zhang was injured: in the tent of the field hospital, the medical staff held up a kerosene lamp and used tweezers to pick out a jagged piece of shrapnel from his bloody eye socket.

At that time, Lao Zhang bit the towel without saying a word, but cold sweat soaked a large area of ​​the bed sheet.

"Old platoon leader, you are here, please come in!" Zhang Tiezhu, with a hunched back and the cuffs of his blue cloth shirt frayed, greeted Li Weiguo excitedly.

At this time, a woman's heart-wrenching cough was heard from the room, and her wheezing breath with phlegm seemed to tear something apart.

In the dim light of the 15-watt bulb, Li Weiguo could see clearly the furnishings in the room: a porcelain statue of an old man was placed on the paint-chipped chest of drawers, smoke was emitting from the honeycomb coal stove in the corner, and the bedding on the double bed was covered with patches.

The most eye-catching thing is an old photo hanging on the wall - the young Zhang Tiezhu is wearing a military uniform and holding a "PPSh" submachine gun in his arms.

"The girl got divorced and works as a temporary worker in a textile factory. Her mother has lung disease..." Zhang Tiezhu rubbed his chapped hands, which were very strong and firm. "Alas, the factory has not been doing well in recent years and we haven't paid any wages for half a year.

Many workers in the factory have been laid off, and I really have no choice but to trouble you."

"Zhu Zi, what is our relationship? I would be angry if you didn't come to me when you had troubles!" Li Weiguo said as he placed the bottles of wine and gifts he brought on the paint-chipped square table.

He suddenly recalled the scene in 58 when they and Captain Liu were the last group to return from the Northern Dynasty and drank celebratory wine in the Northern Dynasty’s base.

Zhang Tiezhu held up a bottle of Maotai and said he would work until he was 100 years old, but he choked on the wine and his face turned red.

The dusk deepened outside the window, and the whistle of the factory in the distance sounded like the howling of a wounded beast.

Li Weiguo took out his pocket watch. There was a small photo embedded on the inside of the cover - it was left by the instructor who sacrificed his life to save him.

In the Tieyuan blocking battle, the instructor used his body to block the bullet for him, and the blood sprayed on the pocket watch chain, which remained faintly rusty no matter how he washed it.

"Zhuzi," Li Weiguo took out a thick envelope from his bag, "Here is 20,000 yuan, take it and use it to pay for your sister-in-law's medical treatment.

If it’s not enough, don’t worry, I will continue to think of ways, curing the disease is more important…” Before he could finish his words, his hand was held down.

Tears flashed in Zhang Tiezhu's only eye, and the strength in his hands was astonishingly great - it was the same strength he had used when he swung a machine gun.

"No way! Old platoon leader, your pension is not much. If you give it all to me, how will your family live?"

Just as the two were pushing and shoving, a heart-wrenching cough was heard from the inner room again.

Li Weiguo suddenly stood up, and the hem of his coat swept over the bench.

He walked to the chest of drawers and stared at the certificate under the glass plate, which read "First Place in the 49 North China Military Region Shooting Competition". Zhang Tiezhu's name was written in calligraphy so clearly that it could be seen through the paper.

"I remember you could repair cars back then." When Li Weiguo turned around, his eyes fell on the toolbox in the corner. Screwdrivers and other repair tools were scattered next to the rusty vise. "What kind of work do you have in your factory now?"

"Check the warehouse." Zhang Tiezhu subconsciously tugged at his empty right trouser leg - that was the one he lost forever in a sudden car accident after retiring from the army.

He pulled a bitter smile from the corner of his mouth: "Some ingredients were missing when I took inventory at the beginning of the month, and the supervisor deducted half a month's salary from me without saying a word."

"Things will get better." Li Weiguo patted his old comrade's shoulder with his broad palm. "Do you still remember our old battalion commander Liu Zhiye?"

Zhang Tiezhu's cloudy eyes suddenly lit up: "How could I forget! If it weren't for Captain Liu leading the assault team to dig me out of the snow in the Northern Dynasty, my old bones would have been buried there long ago." He leaned forward eagerly, "Old platoon leader, are you still in touch with the battalion commander?"

Li Weiguo smiled mysteriously: "We have met several times over the years. You may not believe it, but our battalion commander is now the leader of the headquarters." He paused meaningfully, "If the old battalion commander knew your current situation, he would definitely not stand idly by..."

As dusk gradually filled the small room, Li Weiguo suddenly stood up and said, "I'm going to buy a pack of cigarettes. You wait for me at home."

There was a small shop at the entrance of the family compound. The radio was playing "Lin Hai Xue Yuan" and the old owner was dozing off on a rattan chair.

Li Weiguo ordered a pack of Daqianmen cigarettes, leaned against a mottled electric pole and lit a cigarette. The scarlet cigarette butt flickered in the darkening night.

Thirty meters away, a public telephone booth with peeling paint stood quietly.

Li Weiguo dialed the number quickly and efficiently, his calloused fingers tapping out a firm rhythm on the number keys.

The call went through three procedures before a familiar voice finally came from the receiver: "Old Captain? It's so late and you haven't rested yet?"

"Xiao Zhao," Li Weiguo said in a low but firm voice, looking at the scattered lights in the tube-shaped building outside the window, "I remember you are working in the Baocheng Health Bureau now? It's like this, there is a retired veteran named Zhang Tiezhu in your county agricultural machinery factory, who has won three second-class merits."

He paused and added, "He is the sharpshooter reported in the provincial newspaper that year. His wife is seriously ill now. Please help contact a reliable hospital and arrange a consultation with an expert."

After hanging up the phone, Li Weiguo dialed another number: "Lao Zhou, it's me, Li Weiguo. I heard that your factory has a recruitment quota this year?
Yes, a formal organization is needed.

Don't worry about the political review, her father was an old hero who participated in the War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression."

As the moon climbed above the treetops, Li Weiguo stood in front of the mailbox for a long time.

The last letter was written to the old battalion commander Liu Zhiye. The battalion commander who led them into battle back then now holds an important position in the headquarters. On the white letter paper, the pen handwriting is so strong that it can be seen through the back of the paper: "We must never let those who bleed shed tears again."

Half a month later, the letter finally reached Liu Zhiye.

The moment he unfolded the letter, he seemed to see again the young soldier who was always at the front on the battlefield - Li Weiguo.

This former subordinate performed outstandingly after returning to China and rose through the ranks in the army until he transferred to local work in the late 1970s.

Over the years, Liu Zhiye has always kept in touch with these old comrades who have shared life and death with him. He not only cares about the surviving comrades, but also the families of those who have died.

Sometimes during the New Year holidays, he would personally visit families to express his condolences; when he heard that someone’s family was in trouble, he was always the first to lend a helping hand.

This friendship forged in the flames of war has become more precious with the test of time.

In his letter, Li Weiguo described in detail the difficult situation his old comrade-in-arms Zhang Tiezhu is facing today, and the words between the lines reveal the bitterness and helplessness of life.

After Liu Zhiye finished reading the letter, he felt a sudden surge of sadness in his heart and his brows unconsciously furrowed.

He pondered for a long time, finally made up his mind, picked up the phone and dialed his home number.

"Hello! Zhiye, are you not coming back tonight again?" The slightly tired voice of his wife Gan Ning came from the other end of the phone.

She sat alone on the sofa in the living room. The clock on the wall had already indicated late at night, but she was still waiting for her husband to come home.

In this quiet night, the phone in the living room suddenly rang.

Gan Ning's heart trembled. Who else could it be who would call her at this time except her husband Liu Zhiye, whom she worried about day and night?

Hearing this, Liu Zhiye showed an apologetic look on his face, and said softly, "My dear, I'm really sorry. I have something important to do tonight, so I won't go back. You should go to bed early, don't wait for me."

He paused, and his tone turned serious: "Also, I have an important favor to ask of you."

Gan Ning, who is over 50 years old, went through the retirement procedures last year at the persuasion of her husband.

Although she has left her job, she cannot sit idle. Now she is fully devoted to the management of the "Liujiazhuang Charity Federation" and continues to shine in another way.

Gan Ning was very supportive of the charity work proposed by her husband Liu Zhiye, which was the main reason why she was willing to retire early and take over the work of the "Liujiazhuang Charity Federation".

After hearing the reasons why Liu Zhiye asked her for help, Gan Ning did not delay.

The next day, she came to the "Charity Federation" early to work.

The headquarters of the "Liujiazhuang Charity Federation" located in Liujiazhuang was formerly the office of the local village committee.

This building, which carries the memories of all the people of Liujiazhuang, has witnessed the development and changes of Liujiazhuang.

With the planning and construction of the high-tech development zone, the former Liujiazhuang government office moved to a new location in Hedong District, and this weathered old building became idle.

Later, the "Liujiazhuang Charity Federation" took a fancy to the convenient geographical location and deep accumulation of community sentiment here, and transformed it into a new home for carrying out public welfare undertakings.

Today, this building, which has stood the test of time, has been reborn.

Baocheng County in mid-June was like a steamer, with the chirping of cicadas and heat waves pouring in from the open warehouse doors.

Zhang Tiezhu stood in front of the iron rack with the help of a crutch, beads of sweat running down his neck into the collar of his work clothes that had been washed bleached.

He stretched out his calloused hands and carefully checked the number of bearings in the last box before slowly turning around while holding onto the shelf.

On the desk in the corner of the warehouse, there was half a jar of overnight tea in an enamel jar, and the red words "Resist CCP, Aid CCP, Defend the Home and Country" on the jar were already mottled.

Just as Zhang Tiezhu picked up the teacup, he heard the sound of high heels hitting the concrete floor at the door.

"Excuse me, are you Comrade Zhang Tiezhu?"

He looked up and saw a middle-aged woman wearing a moon-white cheongsam standing in the backlight. She looked less than fifty years old, with a gentle temperament and a beige knitted cardigan draped over her arms.

Behind the woman was a young man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

"I am Gan Ning from the Liujiazhuang Charity Association." Gan Ning smiled and took two steps forward. The tip of her leather shoes stepped on the greasy cement floor but she didn't care. "My comrade Jia Zhiye asked me to come and visit you."

Upon hearing this, the enamel pot in Zhang Tiezhu's hand hit the table with a clang.

The tea splashed out, leaving dark brown marks on the yellowed account book.

For more than thirty years, ever since they came back from Beichao, he has never heard anyone call the old battalion commander by this title.

"Are you, are you my sister-in-law?"

Gan Ning smiled and nodded.

……

The smell of disinfectant wafted through the third floor of the inpatient department of Baocheng County People's Hospital.

Gan Ning stood at the door of Ward 307, her eyes fixed on the bed by the window.

The bulge under the quilt was as thin as a fallen leaf, and the three words "Wang Xiulan" on the bedside card were taped over and over again, with frayed edges.

"President Gan, this is Wang Xiulan's bill for today." The nurse handed over a piece of paper in a low voice, "Hey, their family owes nearly three thousand recently."

Suddenly, there was a violent coughing sound in the ward, as if the person was going to cough out all his internal organs.

Gan Ning walked in quickly and saw Zhang Tiezhu's grandson holding a spittoon. The little boy's thin shoulders trembled as his grandmother coughed.

The cuffs of his school uniform were frayed, and his trouser legs were noticeably shorter, revealing his thin ankles.

"Grandma, please sit down." Xiao Hai stood up suddenly, and the blood in the plastic spittoon glowed strangely in the sunlight.

He hurriedly tried to pour water, but the thermos was empty.

Gan Ning pressed the boy's shoulders, and her touch was full of painful bones.

She noticed that there was a half bowl of cold millet porridge on the bedside table, with a layer of waxy yellow film on the surface of the porridge.

A few pieces of gauze that had become stiff from washing were hanging on the windowsill, swaying gently in the hot wind.

"Where's your mom?"

"I went to the factory to collect my salary." Xiao Hai looked down at his sneakers that had been torn apart. "My mother's factory said this month... they might pay me half a month's salary first."

Gan Ning touched Xiao Hai's little head lovingly, "Hey, you are so sensible at such a young age!"

At this time, Zhang Tiezhu carefully walked into the house carrying a pot of freshly boiled hot water, his rough hands trembling slightly due to nervousness.

He rubbed his hands nervously, his voice full of apology: "Sister-in-law, look at this. I asked you to come all the way here, but I don't even have decent tea. I can only treat you with boiled water. I'm really sorry."

Gan Ning smiled gently, glanced across the ward, and said softly, "Old Zhang, don't be so formal. I already know your family's current situation."

She took a bulging envelope from her attendant and handed it to Zhang Tiezhu solemnly: "From now on, all medical expenses of your brother and sister-in-law will be borne by our Charity Federation.

Here is 50,000 yuan in cash, which Zhiye specifically asked me to bring. I hope it can help you get through this difficult time."

Zhang Tiezhu stared at the bulging envelope, his eyes instantly reddened, tears welled up in his eyes. His rough hands trembled slightly, and he didn't dare to reach out to take it.

"Sister-in-law, I really can't accept this money." His voice was choked with sobs, but he was stubborn. "It's a great favor for you to help us with the medical expenses. We have hands and feet, and we won't starve to death no matter how difficult it is!"

"Old Zhang, listen to me." The sister-in-law gently touched Xiao Hai's head, her tone gentle but firm, "This is a token of your old battalion commander's love.

Zhiye often said that it was you who risked your lives to protect him on the battlefield.

Now that he is capable, it is only natural for him to take care of you old comrades."

She paused, a look of reminiscence flashing in her eyes: "In the past thirty years, whenever I heard that a comrade's family was in trouble, or a surviving relative was having a hard time, Zhiye was always the first to step forward.

Sometimes when he received a call in the middle of the night, he would get up and rush to help.

This comradeship is more important than anything else in his heart."

(End of this chapter)