lcionline Chapter 1138 No
Chapter 1138 No
The hemp paper covering the windows had several holes in it. Wind seeped in through the cracks and out through the crack in the door, carrying with it a faint musty smell. "Secretary Zhao, is this house...safe?" Lin Xiaomei asked quietly, her eyes filled with worry as she gazed at the two adobe huts. Old Zhao took a drag on his cigarette, slowly blowing out smoke rings. "Safe, of course! It's just a little old. We can clean it up and live in it," he said, tapping his pipe against the sole of his shoe. "All right, it's getting dark. Hurry and move your things in. I'll have my wife make you some corn porridge. You can eat at my house later." The educated youths, upon hearing this, hurriedly began unloading their belongings. Chen Jianjun and Lin Xiaomei were assigned to one room, while the other six were assigned to the room next door. Chen Jianjun, carrying a canvas bag, entered the adobe hut. It was bare except for two kangs made of adobe bricks, covered with a layer of hay, and a few broken cardboard boxes piled in the corner. Apart from that, there was nothing else. "These conditions are too harsh." Lin Xiaomei put down her luggage and sighed, "But it's better than being squeezed on the train. There's not even a place to sit on the train. I stood for two days and two nights." Chen Jianjun nodded. He also felt that although this adobe house was old, it was better than the train. The train was packed with people, even the aisles were full of people standing. He was squeezed together with other educated youth, and it was difficult for him to breathe. He could only take a nap on his luggage at night. Now he has a place to shelter from the wind and rain, which is already very good. He put the canvas bag on the kang and began to pack. First, he took out "Quotations from Chairman Mao" and placed it on a broken wooden box at the head of the kang, then folded the clothes and put them in the cardboard box. Just when he was halfway through packing, he suddenly felt movement at the back window. He stopped what he was doing and listened with his ear tilted. The back window was right next to the kang. The hemp paper covering it had a hole in it, and the wind blew in, carrying with it the rotting scent of an old locust tree. It was a strong smell, like rotting wood, tinged with a faint earthy odor. Besides the wind, he could hear a subtle, almost imperceptible rustling, like a child's footsteps in cloth shoes. It was a faint, almost inaudible sound, as if coming from just below the window. Chen Jianjun felt a little uneasy. He walked to the back window, carefully lifted a corner of the curtain, and peeked out. Outside the window was the trunk of the old locust tree. Moonlight filtered through the gaps between its branches, casting mottled shadows on the ground. The locust tree's branches swayed violently, and when the wind blew, they would hit the window, making a "bang bang" sound. There was not even a shadow of a cat on the ground; only the soil at the base of the tree, somehow damp, as if it had just been soaked by water, shimmering faintly in the moonlight. "What's wrong? Is there anything out there?" Lin Xiaomei asked, seeing Chen Jianjun standing still by the window. Chen Jianjun shook his head: "Nothing, I just heard some noise. Maybe it was the wind blowing through the branches." He didn't want to worry Lin Xiaomei, so he didn't mention the rustling sound. Lin Xiaomei said "oh" and didn't ask any more questions, continuing to pack her things. It was getting dark soon. Every household in the village lit a kerosene lamp. The dim light shone through the windows, casting blurry spots of light on the dirt road. Lao Zhao's wife came to call them to dinner. Chen Jianjun and Lin Xiaomei followed her, passing through several narrow alleys, and arrived at Lao Zhao's home. Lao Zhao's home was also an adobe house, slightly larger than the one they lived in. There was an eight-person table in the room, and on the table was a coarse porcelain bowl filled with corn porridge and a plate of pickles. Lao Zhao, his wife, and a little grandson about ten years old were already sitting at the table waiting. "Hurry up, hurry up," Old Zhao greeted them warmly. "The conditions in the village aren't great, and we don't have much to offer. Just some corn porridge and some pickles. Don't be offended." "Secretary Zhao, you're very kind. This is very good," Chen Jianjun said, sitting down. He was truly starving. Since morning, he had only eaten the single white flour bun his mother had given him, and his stomach was already rumbling with hunger. The corn porridge was thick and had a faint aroma of corn. The pickles, though a bit salty, went very well with the rice. Chen Jianjun and Lin Xiaomei ate with relish, quickly finishing their bowls. Old Zhao's young grandson watched them, his eyes full of curiosity. He nibbled on a cornmeal steamed bun, stealing glances at Chen Jianjun from time to time. After dinner, Chen Jianjun and Lin Xiaomei thanked Old Zhao and headed back to their homes. The village night was quiet, broken only by the occasional barking of dogs and the sound of wind blowing through the old locust trees. As they reached the locust tree, Chen Jianjun heard the rustling footsteps again, this time even clearer than he had heard them in the house that night, like someone in cloth shoes slowly moving beneath the tree. He quickly pulled Lin Xiaomei along, quickening their pace as they entered the adobe house. Lin Xiaomei, exhausted from the day, washed up and went to bed, soon breathing evenly. Chen Jianjun, however, could not sleep. He lay on the kang, staring at the ceiling. The ceiling was made of sorghum stalks, covered with a layer of paper. Some areas were worn, revealing the thatch. He couldn't help but sense movement at the back window. The rustling footsteps seemed to linger beneath it, and the lingering smell of the old locust tree drifted in through the crack in the window, filling the room. Just as he tossed and turned, another educated youth from his room, Li Jianguo, returned. Li Jianguo had arrived six months earlier than Chen Jianjun, the previous autumn. He wore a worn army green jacket, his hair a little dishevelled, and a tired look on his face. Seeing that Chen Jianjun was still awake, he walked over and sat down on the kang. "Are you still awake?" Li Jianguo asked, his voice very low, as if he was afraid of waking up Lin Xiaomei. Chen Jianjun nodded: "Yeah, I can't sleep." Chen Jianjun nodded quickly: "Secretary Zhao, I am Chen Jianjun. I will need your guidance in the future in the village." Old Zhao smiled, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth: "It's not a matter of guidance. We are all farmers. We will work together and take care of each other in the future." As he spoke, he pointed to the two adobe houses under the locust tree, "You educated youth came in a hurry, and the village has not prepared your residence. These two adobe houses used to belong to Old Zhou's family. Later..." He paused and put the pipe to his mouth He lit a cigarette, and the sparks from the pipe shone in the twilight, illuminating his face. "Later, the three members of the Zhou family died, and the house was empty. You can just live there for now. After a while, the village will build a new one for you." Chen Jianjun looked in the direction that Lao Zhao pointed. He was the village accountant, named Accountant Zhang, who always had a sad look on his face. "I think it's Lao Zhou's wife who hasn't left yet. She's still worried about something." "Don't talk nonsense!" another villager interrupted him quickly.