louisehourcade Chapter 148 Mending the Cracks, Smoke Rises from the Stove
Chapter 148 Mending the Cracks, Smoke Rises from the Stove
The winter snow of 1975 came earlier than usual. When the first snow fell, Lin Chen was in the workshop debugging a newly developed precision forging mold. The cold wind outside the workshop swirled snowflakes against the window. He had just finished marking the last data on the blueprint when the enamel mug in his pocket vibrated—it was a message from Liu Guangtian, sent by someone, saying that Yi Zhonghai had fallen at the entrance of the tenement and hadn't gotten up for a long time.
When Lin Chen hurried back, wearing a heavy work coat, several neighbors had already gathered at the entrance of the courtyard. Yi Zhonghai was curled up in the snow, his right leg twisted unnaturally, his gray hair, covered in snow, clung messily to his forehead, muttering, "It's nothing." Lin Chen pushed through the crowd, squatted down, and touched his knee. The old man gasped in pain, cold sweat beading on his forehead. "Don't try to tough it out, I'll take you to the hospital." Without another word, Lin Chen carried Yi Zhonghai on his back. The snow crunched under his feet, much like the sound of everyone in the courtyard stomping through the snow when he was falsely accused of stealing chickens years ago.
The hospital diagnosed him with a fractured kneecap, requiring three months of bed rest. As Lin Chen paid his medical bills, the nurse at the payment window glanced at the name "Yi Zhonghai" on the medical record and muttered, "That name sounds familiar. Isn't it that level eight fitter from the steel mill who got into trouble a few years ago?" Lin Chen didn't reply, but carefully folded the payment slip and stuffed it into his pocket. On the way back to the tenement, Yi Zhonghai, perched on Lin Chen's back and smelling the faint scent of machine oil on him, suddenly said, "Back when you were repairing the forging press with a homemade wrench in the workshop, I knew you were no ordinary kid. Unfortunately, back then, all I was thinking about was my retirement."
Lin Chen settled Yi Zhonghai in the south-facing hut and brought a honeycomb briquette stove and a thermos from his own home. The snow fell even heavier that night, and worried the old man would catch a cold, he got up every two hours to check the fire. At three in the morning, just after adding coal, he saw Yi Zhonghai lying on the bed with his eyes open. Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating his face, which was streaked with tears. "Young Lin, I'm so sorry to your aunt," the old woman said, her voice trembling. "Before she passed away, she clutched the silver bracelet I made for her, saying she'd wear it together when I came back."
Lin Chen sat on the edge of the bed, refilled the enamel mug with hot water, and handed it to her. "When Aunt Yi passed away, Qin Huairu and the others helped sew her funeral clothes. Sha Zhu asked someone to bring her steamed buns from the military guesthouse. The neighbors all came to see her off." Yi Zhonghai held the warm enamel mug, his knuckles white from the effort. He remembered that late night before he went to prison, when Aunt Yi was mending his prison clothes under the lamp. The stitches were so fine, like the thoughts she had put into her work her whole life. At that time, he had complained that she was too slow and urged her to hurry up.
The next morning, Qin Huairu arrived carrying a thermos. She wore a crisply starched blue cotton jacket, her hair neatly combed. The thermos contained soft, sticky millet porridge with two poached eggs. "Uncle Yi, I heard from Guangtian that you fell, so I made some porridge for you to nourish yourself." She ladled the porridge into a rough porcelain bowl, her movements as natural as if she were caring for an elderly relative. Yi Zhonghai looked at the golden poached eggs in the bowl and suddenly remembered when Qin Huairu had just taken over the job. To get her to be paired with Sha Zhu, he had deliberately gone easy on her during the assessment and even deducted half a month's apprentice allowance from her. "Qin girl, the resettlement fee from back then..." He started to speak, but Qin Huairu interrupted him: "It's all in the past, Uncle Yi. Take good care of yourself and I'll bring you food every day."
Qin Huairu kept her word and appeared at the tenement every morning without fail. She not only brought food but also helped clean the house and bathe and change Yi Zhonghai's dressings. Once, Lin Chen caught her washing Yi Zhonghai's dirty clothes; the soapy water in the basin was steaming, and although her hands were still raw from chilblains, she scrubbed them with unusual care. "Lin Chen," Qin Huairu said, straightening up and rubbing her back, "back then, I schemed against Sha Zhu for food coupons, and Uncle Yi schemed against us for his old age. In the end, nobody benefited."
Lin Chen handed her a bar of soap: "It's never too late to understand. Your sewing shop is doing well, isn't it? Last time I went to the neighborhood committee, I saw a lot of people queuing up to have clothes made." Mentioning the sewing shop, Qin Huairu smiled: "Thanks to you, the order from that garment factory you introduced me to last time made me quite a bit of money. Now Jia Dang can help out too, life is much more stable." She paused, glancing into the room, "Uncle Yi is very skilled. Once he's fully recovered, I'll have him fix my sewing machine; that old fellow keeps getting stuck lately."
Yi Zhonghai heard everything clearly from inside the house, and his eyes welled up with tears. He recalled his glorious days as an eighth-grade fitter; whenever the machine tools in the workshop broke down, he could fix them all. But ever since he focused all his attention on planning for his retirement, he hadn't truly used his wrench for the neighbors. That afternoon, he asked Lin Chen to bring his toolbox. The brass lock on the box was rusted, and when it was opened, a gleaming metal clamp fell out—a tool he used when he was learning to mend porcelain in his youth, which he hadn't used since becoming a fitter.
A week later, Sha Zhu suddenly arrived. He was dressed in a crisp cadre uniform, carrying a net bag of apples, followed by a chubby-faced little boy. "I heard from Yu Shui that Grandpa Yi fell, so I came to check on him." Sha Zhu's voice was somewhat unnatural, and his eyes darted away, avoiding Yi Zhonghai's gaze. The little boy broke free from his hand and ran to the bedside, curiously examining Yi Zhonghai's toolbox: "Grandpa, what's this?" Yi Zhonghai's heart skipped a beat. He remembered how Sha Zhu had always been like this when he was little, always following him around asking questions, but he had never truly had the patience to teach him any skills.
"This is a mending tool, used to mend broken bowls." Yi Zhonghai propped himself up, picked up the mending tool, and handed it to the little boy. "People were poor back then, and if a bowl broke, they couldn't bear to throw it away, so they used this to mend it and keep using it." Sha Zhu stood to the side, looking at the wrench his father had given him years ago, still hanging on the toolbox, its paint peeling off, yet still sturdy. "Uncle Yi, I..." He was about to say something when Yi Zhonghai interrupted him: "Sha Zhu, when I changed your attendance record to absolve you of responsibility, it wasn't for your own good, it was so you would take care of me in my old age. I'm sorry."
Sha Zhu's eyes reddened. He squatted down, looking at Yi Zhonghai's leg in a cast. "It's all in the past, Uncle Yi. If you hadn't recruited me into the steel mill back then, I don't know which construction site I'd be carrying bricks now." He took out a wad of cash from his pocket and placed it on the table. "Take this money to buy medicine. If you need more, just let me know. You helped me a lot when my mother passed away." Yi Zhonghai looked at the wad of cash, remembering how he had only given a token amount of money when Sha Zhu's mother died, and felt even more bitter.
Ever since Sha Zhu's visit, Yi Zhonghai seemed like a different person. He stopped sighing all day and instead had Lin Chen bring over discarded parts from the workshop, which he repaired using his toolbox. He filled a table with the wrenches and pliers he fixed. Lin Chen gave these tools to the neighbors in the courtyard, and everyone exclaimed in surprise, "Grandpa Yi's craftsmanship is still so good!" Once, Yan Bugui lost a few beads from his abacus. Yi Zhonghai used thin wire to mend the beads and polished them until they were smooth and shiny. Yan Bugui, holding the abacus, said with a stubborn but soft heart, "You're still somewhat useful. Next time my grandson's toy breaks, I'll ask you to fix it again."
On the winter solstice, Lin Chen suggested setting up a dumpling feast in the courtyard and inviting all the neighbors to join in the fun. Qin Huairu and Jia Dang started kneading the dough and preparing the filling half a day in advance. Liu Guangtian and Liu Guangfu polished the tables in the middle courtyard until they shone. Yan Bugui even took out his treasured cooking wine, saying it would enhance the flavor of the dumpling filling. Yi Zhonghai, leaning on his cane, stood aside, watching the busy figures in the courtyard, and suddenly said, "I'll go cook a few dishes for everyone." He went into the kitchen, skillfully tied on his apron, and picked up the spatula, as if he had returned to the days when he helped cook in the steel mill canteen.
The dumpling feast began after the snow had stopped, and the moon hung in the old locust tree in the corner of the courtyard, casting a silvery glow. Several dishes cooked by Yi Zhonghai were placed in the center of the table, their aromas irresistible, especially the braised pork, its color a glossy red, rich yet not greasy. Sha Zhu picked up a piece and put it in his mouth, his eyes lighting up: "Uncle Yi, your cooking skills are even better than mine, the head chef!" Yi Zhonghai smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothing out: "Back when I was helping out in the canteen, I secretly learned a few tricks, and I didn't expect I hadn't forgotten them."
After a few rounds of drinks, Yan Bugui suddenly raised his glass: "Yi Zhonghai, I was too petty to haggle with you over those grain coupons back then. I'll toast you." Yi Zhonghai quickly raised his glass, and the two glasses clinked together with a crisp sound. Qin Huairu also raised her teacup: "Uncle Yi, I'll toast you too. Although you schemed against me back then, you also gave me the opportunity to learn a trade; otherwise, I don't know how I'd make a living now."
Looking at the scene before him, Lin Chen was filled with emotion. He recalled the day he was reborn, the furtive figure of Jia Zhangshi outside the window, the indifference of everyone in the courtyard when he was falsely accused of stealing chickens, and the despair of being cold and hungry in the dead of winter. But now, the laughter and joy in the courtyard had dispelled all the gloom. Those past scheming, conflicts, and estrangements were like a broken porcelain bowl, being mended little by little with everyone's sincerity and kindness.
After the banquet, Yi Zhonghai, leaning on his cane, saw Sha Zhu off at the door. Their shadows stretched long in the moonlight on the snow. "Sha Zhu, your son is very smart. Let him learn a trade sometime; earning a living with a skill is the most reliable thing," Yi Zhonghai patted Sha Zhu's shoulder. "He can have everything in my toolbox." Sha Zhu nodded, his eyes reddening. "Uncle Yi, I'll bring you to live with me this spring. I'll take care of you in your old age." Yi Zhonghai shook his head. "No need. I'm quite content living in this courtyard; the neighbors all take care of me. I want to make a living with my own skills; that gives me peace of mind."
Back in the courtyard, Lin Chen was helping to clear the dishes. Watching him busily working, Yi Zhonghai suddenly said, "Lin, I want to pass on my eighth-grade fitter skills. What do you think of that kid, Guangtian? He's talented, he just needs a good teacher." Lin Chen stopped what he was doing and smiled, "Guangtian has been hoping you'd teach him for a long time. Last time he told me that the parts you polished back then were more precise than machines." A gratified smile appeared on Yi Zhonghai's face. He picked up a metal clamp from the table and carefully wiped it under the moonlight: "Back then, I was too focused on retirement, and I neglected my most precious skill. Now I understand, what truly sustains us in our old age isn't calculated favors, but a passed-down skill, the warmth of everyday life."
After the Spring Festival, Yi Zhonghai's leg recovered completely. He set up a repair stall at the entrance of the courtyard, repairing farm tools and furniture for free for the neighbors. Every morning, a long queue would form in front of his stall, children chattering around his toolbox, and elderly people sitting nearby basking in the sun and chatting. Lin Chen would occasionally come over to help, watching Yi Zhonghai skillfully repair various items with his calloused hands, and seeing the smiles on the neighbors' faces. He understood that this old man, who had once been focused on planning his retirement, had finally found himself again amidst the warmth and life of everyday life.
One day, Lin Chen returned from a business trip to the south, bringing with him a brand-new set of precision measuring tools for Yi Zhonghai. Yi Zhonghai's hands trembled as he held the tools: "These are too valuable; I can't accept them." Lin Chen smiled and said, "These are teaching aids for you. You'll find them useful when teaching Guangtian and the others. You see, life in this courtyard is like the porcelain bowl you mended; though it has cracks, it's stronger and more meaningful than before."