Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

The courtyard of the county's agricultural machinery repair and manufacturing plant was filled with a pungent smell of diesel fuel and the burnt smell of iron from electric welding.

In the semi-open repair sheds on the east side, with their doors wide open, the clanging of metal being hammered echoed incessantly.

Two heavily painted Dongfanghong tractors were dismantled into eight pieces, their engine covers wide open and thrown onto rotten straw mats. Several experienced workers in oil-soaked blue canvas overalls were squatting on the ground, cleaning the gears from a black diesel-filled basin. Further inside, a gas welding torch suddenly sizzled, illuminating a blinding white arc of light, and large clusters of dazzling sparks crackled and scattered across the steel frame.

In the very center of the courtyard, the dark green Jiefang truck parked there stood out conspicuously.

The right headlight was shattered, leaving only a deformed black metal frame. The front right corner of the car was dented in a large section of sheet metal, and even the thick, heavy anti-collision steel beam was twisted into a pretzel shape.

The deformed iron sheet seams were not only filled with blackened rotten tree bark and wood chips, but also had several large pieces of grayish-white adobe wall plaster mixed with wheat straw stuck in them.

Beneath the truck chassis, a pair of Liberation rubber shoes, covered in black gear oil, stood out straight.

Clang!

A heavy, rusty open-end wrench was suddenly thrown out from under the oil pan, hitting the yellow mud ground covered with a thin layer of ice and splashing up two specks of black oil foam.

Immediately afterwards, Zhao Shanhe braced himself firmly on the cold, hard ground with both hands, twisted his body, and nimbly crawled out from under the car.

His faded old cotton-padded jacket had long been taken off and placed on the waste oil drum beside him; he was only wearing a dark gray close-fitting sweater.

The sweater was stained black and gray from the oil stains under the car, and the two strong forearms were covered with sticky marks from a mixture of rust and engine oil. Several bloody scratches from the steel wires gleamed red in the cold wind.

Zhao Shanhe plopped down on the old wooden crate behind him, pulled off the rag hanging around his neck to wipe the black sweat from his face, his chest heaving slightly.

A driver in his forties next to him also slid out from under the car.

He stood up, supporting himself on his knees with both hands, took off the dog-skin cotton hat that was soaked in black mud and its original color was no longer recognizable, casually draped it over the main beam of the vehicle, and couldn't help but wipe the black sweat from his face, taking another look at the wretched front of the vehicle.

"Good heavens..."

The old mechanic gasped and smacked his lips.

"Shanhe, what are you guys doing with that truck you're driving near Shantun? Are you going to haul timber into the mountains, or are you just driving it through minefields and blocking gun emplacements? Look at the front of that beam, it's ripped off a huge groove from the mud-brick wall and red bricks, it's so damn ruthless!"

The old man gripped a pair of nicked pipe wrenches and pounded them hard against the dented and deformed water tank cover, producing two dull, crisp "bang" sounds.

"Thanks to that heavy, thick crash beam across the front of the truck, it absorbed most of the force! If it weren't for that, the radiator would have been smashed right through by the mud bricks and crashed into the cab!"

At this point, the old mechanic wiped the black, oily sweat from his forehead and smacked his lips again.

Zhao Shanhe reached into the pocket of his cotton-padded jacket and pulled out half a box of Hongmei cigarettes. He shook out two cigarettes, handed one over, and put one in his own mouth as well.

He struck a match, cupped his hands around it to light it, took a deep drag, and squinted at the front of the car through the thin blue-white smoke, his voice low and deep:

"Uncle Zhou, never mind how it got hit. Just tell me the truth: when is the fastest you can get it fixed?"

Old Zhou tucked the cigarette behind his ear and carefully circled the front of the car halfway around.

He raised his hand and tugged at the drooping, frayed thread, then squatted down and squinted at the bottom of the water tank, smacking his lips twice:

"I see the water tank connector has a slight crack, but that's easy to fix. I'll have my apprentice bring over a welding torch and braze it for you, and it'll be leak-proof. The main problem is the headlights and bumper."

Old Zhou stretched out his dark, grimy fingers and gestured:

"We need to straighten and correct the main beam slightly first, and then find a sledgehammer to knock the rolled-in sheet metal flat little by little. Our factory doesn't have any ready-made Jiefang parts, so we need to scavenge a set of salvaged headlight assemblies and bumpers from the scrap heap of the Second Transportation Institute next door to replace them."

Old Zhou turned around and wiped the oily sweat from his neck:

"If you really want to snatch it, I'll bring my two little rascals and work overtime tonight to fix it for you. By tomorrow evening, you should be able to hear the commotion and drive it back to Kaoshantun."

"become."

Zhao Shanhe nodded and took the cigarette out of his mouth:

"Then I'll have to trouble you, Uncle Zhou. Please check the front axle, steering, and brakes carefully for me. Minor scratches and dents on the outside are fine, but please make sure there are no hidden problems under the chassis."

"Hey! Stop talking to me about how troublesome it is!"

Upon hearing this, Old Zhou's eyes widened, and he rubbed his large, dark hands vigorously on his cotton trousers twice.

"Why are we still talking about this? If it weren't for you taking my brat to the city to do business and giving him a hand, he might still be squatting in a repair shop with his hands covered in grease, learning to dismantle tractors with me!"

Mentioning his son, Old Zhou's face, which was covered in engine oil, broke into a wide smile, and he couldn't suppress the smile.

"Now it's all good. He's come to the city, seen the world with you, and even has some cash in his pocket. Last time he came back, for the first time ever, he even remembered to bring his mother two pounds of hot rice cakes. He came in showing off to me, saying that if he saves up for another two months after spring, he's definitely going to bring back a black and white TV for the family!"

At this point, Old Zhou slammed the broken pipe wrench in his hand against the crash beam twice, patting his sunken chest as if to assure everyone:

"Just because of this relationship, you left your car here with me. If I, Old Zhou, dared to cheat you on even a single screw, I'd be ashamed of myself!"

At this point, Old Zhou's smile faded slightly, he leaned forward a bit, and lowered his voice:

"But Shanhe, tell your uncle something, do you need any more people on your end? My good-for-nothing son of mine went on that trip with you before the New Year, and he's been so bored at home these days, he can't even sleep soundly, his eyes are practically glued to your messages!"

Old Zhou glanced around at the noisy repair shed, then looked down at his own calloused hands covered in black engine oil, and spoke with unusual sincerity:

"If your business grows bigger and you really need people, I may not have any other skills, but I've been dealing with these lumps of iron for over twenty years. Liberation trucks, Dongfeng trucks, tractors—as long as they're not completely shattered into pieces, I can give you some breathing room once they're in my hands."

Old Zhou looked up at Zhao Shanhe, rubbing his large hands together somewhat awkwardly, yet with a hint of anticipation:

"If you end up with more and more cars in the future, just let me know if you ever need someone to repair them."

"I'll come to your place to mooch a meal too!"