Rebirth in 1972: Redemption in Changbai Mountain

Hearing the shout, Zeng Ping turned around and saw Zhou Rui with a hint of surprise.

She and this young man didn't have much interaction before, and they barely saw each other after Zhou Rui moved to the old house far away from the end of the village.

"Hmm, Ruiwazi." The voice was faint, but trembled slightly, as if he hadn't had a normal conversation with anyone in a long time.

An'an and Xiao Niangao were already squatting next to the mud house, their bright black eyes fixed on the little house made of mud.

Zhou Rui bent down to pick up the two little ones, but the aunt and niece clung to the grass stalks on the ground and refused to move.

"Whose house is this?" An'an asked again, tilting her little face up, not getting the answer she had asked before.

Zhao Gensheng seemed stumped by the question, remaining stunned for a long while. He was fifteen years old, only one year younger than Zhou Rui, but a high fever in his childhood had left him mentally stuck at the age of six.

"This is An'an's house. Look, your house is the only one in the village with a two-story attic."

Zhou Rui looked at the balcony that Zhao Gensheng was pointing to, and to be honest, it was sculpted quite well.

I hadn't noticed it before; I just thought the dark mud looked quite square. But now that I look closely, I realize that Zhao Gensheng had carved out many window frames and thresholds on the four sides of the house using a small piece of wood.

"The house, uh, where my aunt lives."

The little rice cake stretched out its chubby little hand to touch it, but its bottom tilted and it lost its balance. Its little hand instantly sank into the hole, and half of the house collapsed instantly.

In a panic, she reached out with her other hand to scoop up the scattered mud, but the mud was too sticky, and both her little hands got stuck in the mud.

Looking at Xiao Niangao's innocent, wide-eyed expression, Zhao Gensheng showed no anger whatsoever. He grabbed Xiao Niangao's waist with both hands, trying to pull her out of the mud, leaving two clear handprints on Xiao Niangao's clothes.

"Ah, Gensheng, don't move. Ruiwa, I'm so sorry, I got Xiaoniangao's clothes dirty. Look, look, let me take them off, I'll wash them."

Zeng Ping's composure shattered instantly, and she panicked as if she had committed some terrible disaster.

Ever since she was branded as that widowed Zhao and had a mentally challenged son named Gensheng, no one in the village wanted to talk to her and her two children. On weekdays, hardly any of the children would stop to play with Gensheng.

Now that she finally has a little girl like An'an who doesn't mind that Geng Sheng isn't her, she doesn't want to upset Zhou Rui at all and just end the bond that the two children have just built up.

"Aunt Zeng Ping, don't worry. When kids play together, they're bound to get muddy. Even if this hadn't happened today, Xiao Nian Gao's clothes wouldn't have been clean by the time he got home tonight."

"Besides, Gensheng didn't mean to cause trouble. He was clearly trying to help Xiaoniangao up."

Zhou Rui waved his hand to stop Zeng Ping from unbuttoning Xiao Niangao's clothes. He never liked to restrict children's play. As long as they weren't deliberately surrounded and bullied, he never bothered to care about the bumps and bruises between teenagers.

Just like his younger brother Zhou Ping, if he loses a one-on-one fight, he will just pat him on the shoulder and tell him to find a way to win back his losses.

Zeng Ping rubbed her hands nervously against her clothes, showing none of her usual fierceness when arguing with others. Facing Zhou Rui's family, she exuded a deep-seated inferiority complex.

She stood there, not actually taking off her clothes, her eyes fixed on her son's movements, afraid that Gensheng would do something outrageous that would annoy Zhou Rui.

Zhao Gensheng seemed very calm. After freeing Xiao Niangao's hand, he resumed tinkering with the half-collapsed house.

His hands were quick and skillful; with a few clumps of mud, the house was quickly patched up again. Zhou Rui narrowed his eyes and carefully circled the house.

The house is almost the same as before it was destroyed by Xiao Niangao, and more importantly, it is exactly the same as Zhou Rui's house, with the exact same number of windows and doors.

"Aunt Zeng Ping. Aunt Zeng Ping?"

Zeng Ping was staring blankly at her son's back when Zhou Rui called her twice, snapping her out of her daze.

"Hey, hey, oh? Ruiwa, what's up? What's wrong?"

"Auntie, have you ever noticed what Gengsheng likes to do most on a daily basis?"

"What do you mean?" Zeng Ping was completely confused, not understanding why Zhou Rui suddenly asked this.

"I mean, besides playing in the mud, does Gensheng like to tinker with anything else?"

"Hmm...it seems so. There are a lot of things he carved out of wood in the house, like spinning tops, small pulleys, wooden toy guns, and the like, all piled up along the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed).

"Other kids wouldn't play with him, so he would just squat down and watch. After watching, he would go home, take out a broken razor blade, and carve it out bit by bit, making it almost identical to what the other kids had. His house was piled up with it and almost couldn't hold it anymore."

Zhou Rui looked up at the distant sky filled with clouds and wondered whether Zhao Gensheng's situation should be called innate talent or simply the result of diligent and undisturbed study and practice.

He crouched down, his gaze level with Zhao Gensheng's: "Gensheng, when did you go to my house? How many times have you been?"

Zhao Gensheng looked up at Zhou Rui with a blank expression, as if the question had completely blocked his mind.

Zhou Rui knew that Zhao Gensheng was slow-witted, so he didn't urge him. He just squatted quietly and waited for almost two minutes before he heard Zhao Gensheng speak in a muffled voice.

"I...I only went there once. When your family was building a house, they scattered steamed buns and candies. They were delicious and very sweet."

Zhou Rui's eyes lit up instantly after hearing this. This was no ordinary memory; it was photographic memory.

Not only can they remember what they see, but they can also replicate it perfectly. This is a talent that others can only dream of.

With his incredibly steady and skillful hands, if he could learn a proper trade, he could at least comfortably support himself, let alone become extremely wealthy.

Thinking further ahead, based on the two skills he just demonstrated, there are at least two crafts that would be most suitable for him: one is to learn how to build houses from a craftsman, and the other is to learn carpentry.

Both of these are promising and lucrative professions. As the lives of every household in the village improve, there will be more and more people wanting to build new houses and make new furniture, so there will be no shortage of work.

"Aunt Zeng Ping." Zhou Rui stood up, supporting himself on his knees, and casually brushed off the mud stains that Xiao Niangao had just rubbed on his trouser leg.

"Have you...have you ever thought about letting Gengsheng learn a proper trade?"

"Huh?" Zeng Ping had lost count of how many times she'd shown surprise today. "You mean, let Gengsheng become an apprentice?"

"Yes, find a reliable craftsman, the kind you formally become an apprentice to."

In this era, crafts still adhere to old rules. Without formal apprenticeship, the master craftsman will never teach you his most treasured skills, and even if someone tries to persuade you with personal connections, it won't work. This is a tacit understanding in the surrounding villages.

"But...but Gensheng's brain..." Zeng Ping's voice grew softer and softer, and she couldn't bring herself to say the rest.

Even if everyone else thought Gensheng was a fool, she, as his mother, couldn't bear to say those two words herself.