ryethenovel Chapter 30 First Month
Chapter 30 First Month
The service station opened on the sixth day of the first lunar month.
Lao Fang was the first to arrive.
He swept away the firecracker debris at the entrance of the courtyard and wiped each of the three wooden signs clean.
The one piloted in the province is the newest, and the red stamp is still bright.
Ahai arrived second, without his winter break homework, but with a marine engine maintenance manual, which he said was a new book recommended by his technical school teacher, an introduction to diesel engine electronic control systems.
Old Fang flipped through two pages and said that our ships don't have electronic control systems yet, but they will eventually. We should learn first so we won't suffer losses.
Qiu Changhai arrived third, bringing a jar of homemade pickled vegetables.
Ding Haisheng was the fourth to arrive. His military green jacket had been washed, and the buttons on the cuffs were sewn on by Guo Dayong's wife last year and hadn't fallen off this year.
Master Song came out of the shed. He didn't go back to Hongjia Island for the Spring Festival this year. His father was being looked after by a neighbor. He went back on the 29th of the twelfth lunar month to deliver dumplings and glutinous rice balls, and returned on the first day of the new year.
Ah Guang was the fifth to arrive, holding a registration book in his hand. The fourth book was almost full, and he was going to open the fifth one this year.
Hong Xiaobing was the last to arrive. He came by ferry from Hongjia Island, carrying a basket of oysters on his back. He said his mother had asked him to bring them because they hadn't finished eating them during the Spring Festival and he was sharing them with the service station.
Old Fang told him to put the oysters in the kitchen so he could add them to the lunch menu.
Lin Xiu'e arrived earlier than them.
She arrived just as dawn broke and washed all the tung oil putty basins on the windowsill, replacing them with new damp cloths.
The service station is open today, and she came to hand over the keys.
The new workshop, the old parts warehouse, and the asbestos tile shed—three keys strung together with a red rope—are placed on Jiang Haiping's table.
"Training in the provincial capital, leaving the day after tomorrow."
Jiang Haiping asked if the ferry tickets were bought. Lin Xiue replied that they were, and Director Wang had helped with the purchase. It was a long-distance bus, departing at six in the morning.
Then she squatted down next to Qiu Changhai, took out the chisel from her tool bag. The dull luster on the blade was still there, and the chisel handle was worn smooth.
Lin Xiu'e placed the chisel on Qiu Changhai's lap and said, "Master Qiu, I've used this chisel for over a year. We don't need to bring chisels for training in the provincial capital; they're issued to us there. Could you keep this for me and give it back to me when I get back?"
Qiu Changhai picked up the chisel and examined it.
The chisel's blade was evenly sharpened, and the beveled surface was covered with grinding marks. He wrapped the chisel in a cloth and put it into his tool bag.
Then he took out the pair of walnuts from his pocket, the pair that Master Chen had left for him, and stuffed them into Lin Xiu'e's hand.
It's cold in the provincial capital, but wandering around keeps my hands from getting stiff.
Lin Xiue held the walnut in her hand. The walnut had been worn for decades, and it was warm and smooth, still carrying the warmth of Qiu Changhai's pocket.
On the eighth day of the first lunar month, a young man came to the service station.
He was in his early twenties, wearing a dark blue work uniform with oil stains on the cuffs, and had a faint scar on his left eyebrow.
It wasn't Master Song, but Master Song's apprentice, Xiao Zhou. Xiao Zhou arrived on a motorcycle, with a canvas tool bag and a rolled-up quilt strapped to the back.
He parked his car in front of the service station, took off his helmet, and called out "Master!" into the yard.
Master Song came out of the shed, glanced at him, and said, "You've arrived."
Xiao Zhou said he's here.
Xiao Zhou untied his bedding roll from the motorcycle and carried it into the asbestos-roofed shed.
Two beds were crammed into the shed. Hong Xiaobing slept on one, while Xiao Zhou put his bedding roll on the other.
Hong Xiaobing said the bed creaks when you turn over. Xiao Zhou said it's better than the iron-framed beds in the shipyard dormitory; the iron-framed beds shake when you turn over.
Old Fang squatted at the workshop entrance and asked Xiao Zhou, "Aren't you working in Guangdong anymore?"
Xiao Zhou said that the factory in Guangdong no longer exists.
It's not that they went bankrupt; it's that they lost shipbuilding orders and switched to steel structure manufacturing, so they don't need mortar and grout workers anymore.
He received his last month's salary and rode his motorcycle from Guangdong back to Binhai, a journey that took two and a half days.
We stayed at a guesthouse for one night on the road, and slept at roadside gas stations for the remaining two nights.
Old Fang asked the shipyard owner in Guangdong if he still wanted to take on sewing work.
Xiao Zhou said that the boss is not getting any orders for wooden-hulled boats anymore; now they all have steel-hulled boats, and there is less and less work available for mortise and tenon joints.
Master Song came out of the shed, holding a chisel in his hand.
He glanced at Xiao Zhou and said that there was less sewing work, but it hadn't disappeared completely.
There are still some on Moon Island.
Xiao Zhou squatted at the entrance of the shed and took out a chisel from his tool bag.
The chisel blade was a bit rusty, so he used sandpaper to smooth it down bit by bit.
Hong Xiaobing squatted down beside him watching him sharpen the chisel and asked how long he had had this chisel.
Xiao Zhou said three years.
The seamstress was given to me by my master on my first day of learning to sew. It didn't rust even after three years in the damp Guangdong, but it rusted after only two days of riding my motorcycle back home.
On the tenth day of the first lunar month, the pilot project funds from the county arrived. It wasn't a check, but a transfer slip from the credit union. Director Sun delivered it personally, followed by a technician surnamed Cheng.
Director Sun placed the transfer slip on the table and said, "Fifty thousand yuan, earmarked for specific purposes: building a workshop, buying equipment, and repairing dormitories."
Every item must be inspected, and every account must be clear.
Old Fang squatted at the workshop entrance smoking. After Director Sun left, he stood up and went into the workshop, standing next to the newly purchased electric boat.
Fifty thousand yuan.
He read it aloud.
Fifty thousand yuan is enough to level all the vacant land on the west side, build a new workshop, replace two new welding machines, and build a row of staff dormitories.
Qiu Changhai squatted down next to him and asked whether to build the workshop first or the dormitory first. Old Fang thought for a moment and said the workshop. "People can squeeze in first, but the work can't wait."
On the twelfth day of the first lunar month, the service station held its annual summary meeting.
This was the first formal meeting since the service station was established. Jiang Haiping notified everyone a day in advance, saying that the county required pilot units to have an annual summary and a plan for the coming year. This was not just a formality, but something that would really be recorded in the files, and the province would review it during the mid-year inspection.
Old Fang cleaned the workshop thoroughly, moved long benches out of the kitchen and arranged them in two rows, and pushed the blackboard from the old parts warehouse to the wall, where three wooden signs were hung.
Jiang Haiping opened the ledger and read it aloud from beginning to end. The service station repaired 236 boats last year. Among them, 30 were official boats, all of which passed the county's inspection.
Of the 206 boats owned by individual fishermen, not a single one was complained about and had to be repaired.
The annual gross profit was 54,000, of which 30% came from maintenance of government vessels and 70% from fishermen.
Materials cost 21,000, labor cost 16,000, site utilities and miscellaneous expenses 3,000, leaving a surplus of 14,000.
The pilot project has 50,000 yuan in funding, which has not yet been used. After reading it aloud, he closed the ledger and said that this year's plan is to recruit three new employees, build a new workshop, and renovate a row of employee dormitories.
We aim to repair over 300 ships throughout the year.
Old Fang took the cigarette out of his mouth, stood up, walked to the blackboard, picked up the chalk, and drew a cross-sectional diagram of a diesel engine, clearly marking the four strokes: intake stroke, compression stroke, power stroke, and exhaust stroke.
He pointed to the gap between the intake and exhaust valves and said that the most frequently asked question by trainees in last year's training course was why the valve clearance couldn't be adjusted to be fixed.
Valve clearance is not necessarily better the smaller it is.
If the valve is too small, it won't close properly and will leak air.
If the valve is too large, it will open late and close early, resulting in insufficient air intake. Adjust the valve clearance; even a slight difference is unacceptable.
Last year, when Ahai took the intermediate-level technician exam, the valve clearance was off by half a millimeter, so I asked him to readjust it.
He got it right.
Ah Hai sat in the second row, I remember.
Qiu Changhai was the last to stand up.
He didn't walk towards the blackboard; instead, he put down the chisel in his hand, turned around, and said a few words to everyone.
Old Sun's sampan was brought over again yesterday.
A section of the boat's bottom plank was rotten. He pushed the boat over and said, "Master Qiu, could you fix it for me again?" I said, "Sure." After he left, I squatted down to chip away at the groove, bending over for the entire morning, stopping several times to catch my breath. I used to be able to chip three grooves in a morning, but now I can't straighten my back after chipping just one.
After the groove was finished, the panel was installed, and the seams were grouted, I touched it after the seams were grouted.
I was touching the edge of the groove. The good board was undamaged, and the rotten wood was cleaned thoroughly. This chisel has been with me for forty years. I'm not here to plan next year's work at this meeting. I just wanted to say that it will truly be good when this chisel is passed down to future generations.
No one spoke.
Lin Xiu'e lowered her head, twirling the pair of walnuts in her hand, the walnuts gently touching her palm. A-Guang squatted in the corner, turned to a new page in the register, and wrote a line: "January 12th, Master Qiu speaks."
The good boards were undamaged, and the rotten wood was cleaned up thoroughly.
The fifteenth day of the first lunar month is the Lantern Festival.
Lin Xiu'e got up at the crack of dawn. She prepared the last pot of tung oil putty on the windowsill of the service station, covered it with a damp cloth, and placed it at the entrance of Master Song's shed.
The long-distance bus departed from the county bus station at six o'clock in the morning, and Wang Cunzhi rode his motorcycle to take her there.
Her luggage roll was strapped to the back of the motorcycle. Inside the roll were a change of clothes, a shovel for mixing ashes, and the pair of walnuts that Qiu Changhai had given her.
She sat in the back seat, her scarf billowing in the sea breeze.
Jiang Haiping stood at the entrance of the service station and watched her get into the car.
She said everything at the service station had been settled. Four basins of tung oil putty had been prepared, enough for ten days.
Ah Hai's maintenance schedule is posted on the wall of the old parts warehouse, and the schedule for the next month is all set. Master Qiu's plaster is placed in the second drawer on the left side of the windowsill, and he applies one plaster every day.
All the boats that need repair at the service station are registered, and the urgently needed parts are also marked and are all on Ah Guang's used parts shelf.
Wang Cunzhi started the motorcycle, and Lin Xiue glanced back at the service station.
Lao Fang stood at the workshop entrance, Qiu Changhai stood by the stone trough, Ahai and Aguang peeked out from the old parts warehouse, Ding Haisheng turned off the welding torch and pushed the mask up to his forehead, Master Song squatted at the shed entrance, and Xiao Zhou and Hong Xiaobing stood up.
She waved to them. The motorcycle sped away along the seawall, her scarf fluttering in the sea breeze for a long time. It rounded the bend and disappeared from sight.
On the night of the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, boat lanterns were set off again at the pier of Moon Island.
Lin Xiu'e wasn't there, so her mother lit the boat lanterns for her. There were two lanterns, one with a small flag painted on it, and the other with the word "Peace" written on it.
Lin's mother squatted on the dock and pushed the boat lights into the sea. The two lights swayed in the waves, then stabilized and slowly drifted away with the tide.
Jiang Haiping stood on the rocks at the service station, looking towards the dock. Old Fang squatted down next to him, stubbed out his cigarette, and said, "That girl Xiu'e, she's been waiting for you at the shipyard gate since the summer before last, and now she's gone to the provincial capital to learn advanced craftsmanship."
You took her off the fishing boat, and she took herself to the provincial capital.
Jiang Haiping remained silent.
The moon rose from the sea, illuminating the rocky beach in a silvery light. In the new workshop, iron hooks hung beneath the overhead cranes, welding machines were connected to cables, and the old keel was clamped onto the lathe.
The thread that Qiu Changhai and Lin Xiue had carefully twisted was smooth and dense, gleaming slightly in the moonlight. The loquat sapling was already one and a half times the height of a person, and the smaller one next to it had reached shoulder height.
The two rings that Ah Guang used to make with the broken seashells were still there, shining brightly in the moonlight.
A sea breeze blew by, and the three wooden signs swayed gently—one old, one new, and one brand new. The waves lapping softly against the rocks, the sound even and steady, like the idling of a machine engine, or the tapping of a chisel on hemp fibers during sewing. One wave after another, unhurriedly.
On the first night after Lin Xiu'e left, the service station was still lit up.
Old Fang squatted at the workshop entrance, flipping the wheel machine manual; A Guang registered the newly arrived bearings in the old parts warehouse; Ding Haisheng practiced overhead welding on the scrap plate with welding rods; Hong Xiaobing squatted beside him watching; Xiao Zhou sharpened his chisel at the shed entrance; and Master Song carried a basin of tung oil putty into the new workshop.
Jiang Haiping took tomorrow's maintenance schedule down from the wall and checked it. Everyone was busy with their own things. It was an ordinary night, just like any other.