60s: I have a store

Chapter 593 An unexpected person
Zhou Dafu's palms were full of sweat as he held the driver's license, and the plastic cover was warmed by his body temperature.

When he got on the bicycle, the certificate in his overalls pocket hit his thigh as the wheels bumped, and each impact was like a cheerful drumbeat.

The shadow of the locust tree at the entrance of the alley was swaying on the ground. He could even imagine Chen Shumin wearing a blue apron and busying herself in front of the stove.

Pushing open the mottled wooden door of the courtyard, the aroma of frying in an iron pan hits you in the face.

"Shumin!" Zhou Dafu's voice exploded in the yard, causing the blue shirts on the clothesline to rustle.

Chen Shumin poked her head out of the kitchen, the spatula in her hand still dripping with oil. She was suddenly stunned when she saw her husband's red eyes and his smile that was almost reaching his ears.

"Passed! I passed the test!" Chow Tai Fook almost slapped his driver's license on the round table, the gold-plated factory logo shining in the setting sun.

Chen Shumin's apron string was still swinging behind her. She stroked the name on the certificate with trembling fingers and suddenly laughed out loud: "Really. Really passed!"

There was a choke in his voice and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

Zhou Dafu hugged his wife in his arms. The rustling sound of the work clothes mixed with the smell of food wafting from the kitchen.

"After you become a regular employee, your salary will increase by 10 yuan, and you will get a subsidy for driving!" He whispered in Chen Shumin's ear, his voice trembling with excitement. "Then we'll buy you a new coal stove and buy you some flowered cloth to make clothes."

Chen Shumin buried her head in his shoulder and laughed, then pushed him away: "Hurry up and wash your hands and eat!"

He secretly wiped his eyes when he turned around.

On the dining table, the braised pork in the enamel bowl was steaming. Chow Tai Fook picked up the largest piece and stuffed it into his wife's bowl. The fat glowed alluringly in the setting sun.

"After we get our salary, let's go out to a restaurant to celebrate!" He held up the enamel pot, the boiled water inside sparkling in the sunlight.

Chow Tai Fook finally waited until Zhou Yimin and others got off work, and then couldn't wait to share the good news.

His Adam's apple moved before he spoke: "Uncle Sixteen, I..."

Before he could finish his words, Zhou Dazhong appeared from behind him and his eyes were instantly attracted by the ID card dangling in front of his chest.

"Got the driver's license?!" Zhou Dazhong's exclamation scared the sparrows under the eaves away.

Chow Tai Fook was very proud. The driver's license he unfolded shone with golden light in the setting sun, and the gold-plated factory logo made the three people's eyes sparkle.

"We must have hotpot tonight!" Zhou Yimin's big hand slapped Zhou Dafu's back so hard that he almost lost his balance.

Before he could finish his words, Chow Tai Fook and Chow Tai Chung both spoke up to dissuade him, one worried about spending too much, the other worried about taking advantage of someone.

When the argument was in full swing, a small figure with pigtails suddenly appeared from the wall.

Xiaomei holds her doll and says in a baby voice, "I want to eat"

It was like a small bomb, shocking everyone and making them turn their heads.

The little girl shrank her neck when she was stared at, but she bravely took two steps forward and stared at Zhou Yimin with round eyes: "Brother Yimin, I want to eat meat with chili oil"

Zhou Yimin's loud voice suddenly turned into a gentle voice. When he bent down to pick up Xiaomei, the cuffs of his work clothes swept the coal briquettes in the corner. "Xiaomei said she wanted to eat, so let's eat!"

He raised an eyebrow at his two nephews, "Did you hear that? Xiaomei has spoken."

Without waiting for the two to persuade him, he ran home like a whirlwind, the house keys in his trouser pocket jingling.

Half an hour later, the copper hot pot began to bubble again.

Chow Tai Fook squatted by the well and washed the tripe. The clean water washed over the pink ingredients, creating fine foam.

He secretly stuffed two big unity bills into the bamboo basket - this was the advance salary after he was converted to a regular employee.

Chen Shumin was cutting sauerkraut by the stove, and from time to time she looked up at the gate of the courtyard. The setting sun cast a golden edge on her profile.

When Zhou Yimin walked into the yard carrying half a leg of lamb, Xiaomei rushed over with cheers.

The mutton rolled in the boiling soup, and the red oil foam that was stirred up was on the children's noses.

Zhou Dazhong put a piece of boned meat into Zhou Dafu's bowl. When the chopsticks touched each other, he lowered his voice and said, "Uncle Sixteen is just like this. Don't take it to heart."

Zhou Dafu looked at Zhou Yimin who was busy at the stove, his glasses misted over by the heat, and suddenly he felt that the smell of fireworks in this courtyard was more precious than any delicacies from land and sea.

The residual warmth from the copper hotpot was still churning in his stomach as Zhou Yimin walked towards the courtyard under the moonlight. The key in his trouser pocket made a tiny noise.

When he turned the corner of the alley, he saw a dark figure standing in front of his courtyard gate. The moonlight condensed into frosty white on the man's shoulders. The familiar outline of the Zhongshan suit made him pause - it was Zhao Zhenguo.

"Brother Zhao! Do you have something to talk to me about?" Zhou Yimin sobered up instantly.

The black shadow turned around, and Zhao Zhenguo's pale face was clearly visible in the moonlight. The second button on his collar was crooked, obviously buttoned incorrectly in a hurry.

"Yimin, I do need your help with something." Zhao Zhenguo's voice sounded like it had been rubbed by sandpaper, with a suppressed hoarseness.

He raised his hand to touch a cigarette, but found his pockets empty and curled his fingers awkwardly.

Only then did Zhou Yimin notice that the director of the logistics department, who usually stood straight, now had a hunched back.

The night wind blew up the dead leaves on the ground, rustling past their feet.

Zhao Zhenguo gave a bitter smile, his voice broken by the wind: "The workers at the instant noodle factory haven't seen meat for a long time. The meat processing factory's quota was all given to the steel mill and textile factory, and we can't even get the bone scraps."

As he spoke, his Adam's apple rolled violently, "If this continues, I might not be able to keep my position."

Zhou Yimin immediately said, "Isn't this a place to chat? Let's go inside and chat!"

Zhou Yimin slammed the door shut, and the brass door knocker made a dull sound.

There were still some oil spots from the hot pot on the eight-immortals table. He grabbed a half-dry rag and wiped it hastily, then poured two bowls of water from the aluminum kettle.

The scale deposited at the bottom of the enamel bowl cast a dark shadow on the water surface. In the steaming hot air, Zhao Zhenguo's Zhongshan suit shoulders were stained with large sweat stains, which looked grayish white in the moonlight.

"Brother Zhao, moisten your throat first." Zhou Yimin pushed the bowl over, and the metal edge of the bowl made a slight sound when it hit the wooden table.

Zhao Zhenguo's hand holding the bowl trembled slightly. He held the scalding water in his mouth for a long time before swallowing it. His Adam's apple rolled violently, as if trying to push all the bitterness back into his stomach.

Then he started to complain bitterly, as if he couldn't help but get it off his chest.

Zhou Yimin leaned back in his chair, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the rough texture of the enamel bowl.

The chirping of crickets outside the window became louder and louder, but Zhao Zhenguo's confession was like a flood that broke through a dam.

From the distribution policy of the meat processing plant to the workers who nearly lost their lives while secretly fishing in the wild river, every sentence carried a heavy weight, making the wooden table seem to creak.

"I am such a coward as a director!" Zhao Zhenguo suddenly slammed the table, and the splashing water shattered into silver stars in the moonlight.

The air suddenly fell into dead silence.

Zhao Zhenguo rubbed the corner of his clothes awkwardly and added in a whisper: "If there is no other way, just pretend I didn't say anything."

"What nonsense are you talking about!" Zhou Yimin stood up suddenly, causing the wooden chair to make a harsh sound on the ground. "Brother Zhao, if you say so, no matter how difficult the task is, it must be done!" Zhou Yimin leaned against the mottled wooden window frame, the cigarette between his fingers flickered, and the sparks drew winding light trails in the darkness.

Zhao Zhenguo sat at the round table, leaning forward, with even the wrinkles of his Zhongshan suit stretched straight. He stared at Zhou Yimin's profile, as if trying to dig out the answer from it.

The night wind blew through the hall, blowing up the production reports on the table, causing the papers to rustle, but it could not cover up the heavy breathing of the two people.

"Brother Zhao, I have an idea for a solution." Zhou Yimin suddenly put out his cigarette, sparks splashed onto the blue brick floor, creating tiny spots of light.

This sentence was like a stone thrown into the silence. Zhao Zhenguo stood up suddenly, and the wooden chair scraped against the ground with a harsh sound: "Yimin, what is the solution?"

There was an uncontrollable tremor in his voice, and his eyes behind the glasses were surprisingly bright.

Zhou Yimin walked to the table and tapped it heavily with his rough fingers: "The feed produced by Zhoujiazhuang is purchased by the six villages. The chickens from Lijia Village and Taojia Village have been sold to the steel plant."

He paused, his eyes sweeping across Zhao Zhenguo's suddenly tense face, "I can't give you all the remaining four villages, but I can definitely give you the share of two villages."

Before he finished speaking, Zhao Zhenguo rushed forward and grabbed Zhou Yimin's hand.

His palms were covered in cold sweat, but he used all his strength, as if grasping the last straw: "Yimin, are you telling the truth?"

Zhou Yimin patted the back of Zhao Zhenguo's hand with his backhand, and the cuff of his work clothes brushed against the other's wrist: "When have I, Zhou Yimin, ever told a lie?"

His voice was filled with unquestionable certainty, and he added: "I will take you there tomorrow morning to finalize this matter."

Zhao Zhenguo suddenly let go of his hand, fell into the chair, his eyes red.

The problem that had troubled him for months was solved in this simple house.

Outside the window, the moonlight had become gentle, and the chirping of crickets was no longer harsh. He let out a long sigh, and finally a long-lost smile appeared on the corner of his mouth: "Yimin, you really saved the instant noodle factory!"

The two agreed to set off tomorrow, and Zhao Zhenguo said goodbye.

The next day, before the morning light pierced through the gray tiles of the courtyard, the sound of rapid knocking on the door sounded like heavy rain hitting the iron sheet.

Zhou Yimin turned over in his quilt, muttering as he reached out to reach the alarm clock on the bedside table, but instead touched the empty table top.

"Yimin! Yimin!" Zhao Zhenguo's voice penetrated the door, startling the sparrows under the eaves and making them fly around.

He rushed to open the door in his crooked cloth shoes. In the morning light, Zhao Zhenguo's Zhongshan suit was wrinkled like a pickled vegetable leaf. His eyes were bloodshot, but surprisingly bright: "Let's go!"

Zhou Yimin had no choice but to agree, and after a quick wash, he set off.

Zhou Yimin jumped onto the motorcycle and the roar of the motorcycle tore through the morning mist. The goggles Zhou Yimin was wearing were soon covered with a layer of white frost.

Zhao Zhenguo held on to the back seat tightly, with the canvas bag dangling between them.

When the adobe wall of Luojiazhuang came into view, a clapper sound suddenly came from the big locust tree at the entrance of the village, and a dozen young men holding red tasseled spears emerged from behind the low wall.

"Stop!" The young man in the lead held his gun horizontally, and the bayonet gleamed coldly in the morning sun.

He looked the two men up and down. His army green jacket was washed to a pale color, and there were grass scraps on the cuffs. "What are you doing in our village?"

Zhou Yimin took off his goggles, revealing his eyes that were red from the wind. "Excuse me, is Village Chief Luo here? I came here to deliver feed last time."

The young man's eyes widened suddenly, and his red tasseled spear almost fell to the ground: "Are you Zhou Yimin, Section Chief Zhou?"

He hurriedly turned around and waved, and the other villagers put away their weapons.

Zhou Yimin noticed that their gun barrels were wrapped in faded red cloth strips, but the tips of the guns were sharpened to be as sharp as new.

Passing through the streets where corn was drying, the jujube wood door of Village Chief Luo's house was ajar.

When he pushed the door open, the chickens in the corner of the yard flapped their wings and fled in all directions, and the flying chicken feathers stuck to Zhou Yimin's shoulders.

Village Chief Luo was weaving handles for a bamboo basket. When he saw the visitor, he immediately put down his work and wiped his calloused hands on his apron. "Yimin, what brings you here this time?"

"Village Chief Luo, I think the chickens in your village should be out of the cage soon?"

Before Zhou Yimin finished speaking, Village Chief Luo laughed out loud, revealing his half-missing front tooth: "That's right! If you keep feeding us, we'll run out of food!"

He turned to look at Zhao Zhenguo, who was nervously twisting the hem of his Zhongshan suit. "Who is this?"

"Director Zhao from the instant noodle factory wants to discuss purchasing with you." Zhou Yimin replied.

"Let's go!" Village Chief Luo took off his apron and said, "I'll take you to see the chicken coop!"

Walking through the alley filled with the smell of rice bran, the sound of roosters crowing could be heard in the distance.

Zhao Zhenguo suddenly grabbed Zhou Yimin's arm, and the sweat on his palm seeped through his work clothes: "Yimin, listen to this sound, it's better than anything else!"

The moment I pushed open the bamboo fence door, the smell of rice bran and bird feathers hit me in the face.

More than a thousand egret chickens flapped their wings in the fence, their golden feathers fluttering in the sun, and the startled dust wrapped around the tiny crowing of chickens, forming a boiling vortex in the air.

Zhao Zhenguo's Adam's apple rolled violently, and the fingers that were holding the purchasing budget in the pocket of his Zhongshan suit were already aching.

Village Chief Luo squatted down and took a handful of feed from the bamboo basket. The chickens immediately came over like a tide, and amid the sound of their sharp beaks pecking at the ground, he pulled up a fat hen and said, "Director Zhao, look at how fat it is. I feed it with dried fish every day."

The hen struggled and flapped its wings, which brushed Zhao Zhenguo's trouser legs. He subconsciously took a half step back, but immediately moved closer, staring at the hen's shiny feathers and bright red comb.

"Village Chief Luo, your chickens are really well-raised." Zhao Zhenguo's voice tightened, as if his throat was blocked by chicken feathers. "They are really well-raised."

When he squatted down, the trouser legs of his Zhongshan suit were covered with mud. He gently parted the feathers on the chicken's neck with his fingers to check the thickness of the subcutaneous fat.

Zhou Yimin stood aside, watching the sweat beads oozing from his friend's nose, and suddenly remembered Zhao Zhenguo repeatedly calculating the costs under the lamp last night.

Village Chief Luo put the hen back into the flock, the remaining warmth in his palms mixed with the smell of poultry droppings.

He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, revealing his half-missing front tooth: "Director Zhao, take a look, what price can you give for these chickens?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the entire chicken farm fell silent, with only the sound of chickens pecking at food echoing between the wooden fences.

Zhao Zhenguo stood up and brushed the dust off his trouser legs. He took out a pen and quickly calculated on the purchase book. The sound of the pen tip scratching the paper made Village Chief Luo's eyebrows tremble slightly.

"Two dollars and seventy cents a piece."

As soon as he finished speaking, Zhou Yimin clearly saw that Village Chief Luo's pupils suddenly contracted, while Zhao Zhenguo's hand was still holding the pen, and his knuckles turned white due to the force.

"Two dollars and seven cents?!" Village Chief Luo's pipe almost slipped from his hands. He stared at Zhao Zhenguo's flushed face, then looked at Zhou Yimin and nodded slightly.

"Deal!" Village Chief Luo suddenly burst into laughter, and his laughter scared away the sparrows on the fence.

He stretched out his rough palm and shook hands with Zhao Zhenguo, "Director Zhao is straightforward! We can't waste time."

(End of this chapter)