Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

Xingbao immediately drooped his little face, swayed slightly, and clung to the edge of the cool bed, putting on a pitiful and soft look. He took the opportunity to argue in a soft voice, "Grandpa, if we wrap this machine in cloth, it will look much more high-class! When the important people see it, they will only think that we are careful in our work and particular about our things. We must not skimp on this coarse cloth! Besides, we don't have to spend our own money to use this cloth. Uncle Baozhang just said that if we need any materials or supplies for this batch of work, we can ask him for them and have the township issue them to us."

He tugged at the patched corner of his clothes, pouting, a hint of grievance in his eyes, and continued in a soft, sweet voice, "Anyway, it's all paid for by the government, so it won't hurt to apply for a few more bolts of cloth. Let's save the rest for new clothes and cloth shoes at home, okay? Look at this outfit of mine, first my eldest brother wore it, then my second brother wore it, and now it's my turn. It's patched upon patched, beyond repair. Even the beggars on the street don't have clothes this tattered. And the straw sandals I'm wearing, I clumsily wove them myself, they rub my feet so badly."

He rubbed against the edge of the cool bed, feigning affection, his little scheme barely concealed. His youngest brother, Wei Bao, was born lucky; the whole family doted on him, giving him the best of everything first. As the old saying goes, the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and he wanted to take advantage of this business trip to sweet-talk his way into some perks, hoping to get some new fabric for his clothes. Otherwise, the good stuff would never be his.

The mother, holding the cradle, looked at the layers of patches on Xingbao's clothes, a hint of guilt creeping into her eyes, her heart aching. She knew she owed her child, but with five children of varying ages at home, daily chores, meals, and workshop tasks piling up, she was busy from morning till night, with no time to make new clothes for them. In those days, every household in the countryside was poor; in the village, older children wore the same clothes as younger ones, and patches upon patches were the norm. Her lips moved slightly, her Adam's apple bobbed, but all the words she wanted to say remained unspoken, unable to utter a single comforting word.

It was the grandmother, sitting to the side fanning herself with a palm leaf fan, who was the first to feel sorry for her sensible grandson. She stopped fanning herself and looked at everyone, speaking gently in her voice, "In my opinion, we should have applied for a few more sets of fabric. After the New Year, Xingbao and Guixiang will officially start learning and practicing medicine under Doctor Yang. It's really not respectable or proper for the two children to go out without even a decent set of clothes. Third Aunt, you're busy with housework, managing the workshop, and taking care of Xiao Weibao all day long. You're too busy to manage everything. Once the fabric is approved, I'll take over and cut and sew Xingbao's new clothes for him."

After Xingbao's sweet and pitiful pleading, the matter was settled. Everyone weighed the pros and cons and felt sorry for the child's tattered clothes, so they all agreed to apply for more fabric for packaging and to buy more fabric for the family to make clothes.

Without delay, the project was on a tight schedule and couldn't afford any more trouble. Father didn't hesitate for a moment; he immediately got up and went to find Chief Zhao to coordinate the material requisition and machinery packaging. Everyone quickly took on their respective roles and got to work: Sister Shanshan went to the bamboo house in the front yard to stand guard and get Second Brother back to participate in the workshop work; Eldest and Second Brothers went to Uncle Youcai's house to borrow his complete set of fine woodworking tools to supplement the workshop's missing equipment; Brother Dashan went to the fields to call his uncle, who was tending the fields, back home, and everyone gathered to work on producing these official rice transplanters.

The workshop's production line continued to operate as usual, and Xingbao remained responsible for polishing and manufacturing the core transmission gears. He had originally wanted to choose the two pieces of high-density, wear-resistant, and durable hardwood, but after careful consideration, he immediately abandoned the idea: such high-quality hardwood was extremely rare in the countryside. If he were to send the highly wear-resistant hardwood gears to a VIP, it would mislead his superiors into thinking that the wooden rice transplanter itself was durable and did not require replacement of consumable parts, which would ruin subsequent plans and affect the perception of his superiors, resulting in more harm than good.

After weighing the pros and cons, Xingbao simply chose to use the regular wood that the township head had just delivered to make the gears. It met the hardness requirements, was flexible enough, and most importantly, it was common and affordable for ordinary farmers. It met the standards for mass-produced machinery, and it wouldn't be too conspicuous and cause extra trouble. It was just the right balance.

Not long after, Father finished his negotiations outside and walked back to the workshop in the backyard. Hearing his footsteps, everyone busy cutting, polishing, and marking subconsciously slowed down their work and turned to look at Father. The whole room was filled with unspoken understanding, all anxiously awaiting the outcome of the negotiation.

Father remained calm, revealing neither joy nor anger. He walked straight to his workstation, picked up the blank material that had been marked and marked earlier, and while securing the wood, he reassured everyone, "Everyone, just focus on your work. It's settled. The village head has agreed to go to the township first thing tomorrow morning to report to Township Head Gan in person on the packaging and material requisition matters. This shouldn't be a problem; it should be done."

The most difficult hurdle—manipulating relationships and securing supplies—was finally handed over to Chief Zhao, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Whether the subsequent fabric requisition, wooden crate coordination, and official reporting could be completed depended entirely on the chief's coordination with the township; the government and chief would bear the consequences of both success and failure. From now on, their family wouldn't need to worry about external relations; they could focus on producing and finishing the ten rice transplanters to a high standard, fulfilling their own responsibilities, and staying out of all other affairs.

Before we knew it, dusk had fallen, the sun had completely sunk behind the western mountains, and a thin layer of pinkish-purple sunset clouds spread across the horizon. It was just the right time for the shop to welcome guests in the evening. The woodworking workshop in the backyard was closed and dimly lit, with fine wood shavings and dust scattered all over the ground. The air was thick with dust and the smell of oil fumes mixed with wood chips. It was not a suitable place to work with lights on.

Everyone stopped their carpentry work and went about their tasks to tidy up the work: they gathered up all kinds of chisels, planes, ink lines and other woodworking tools, neatly stacked the semi-finished rice transplanter parts, swept away the wood chips and dust floating on the ground, patted off the debris and dust from their bodies, changed into clean clothes, and prepared to go to the front yard shop to receive evening guests.

Everyone worked hard for half the night, entertaining the guests until they went to bed, and it was almost time to close the shop and end the day's business. Father sat at the counter in the corner, slowly closing the thick income and expenditure ledger and putting away the writing implements; the siblings were cleaning up and finishing up the shop. Just then, the wooden door of the shop was gently pushed open, and the cool evening breeze flowed into the room through the crack, dispelling the heat accumulated during the day, and two figures, one tall and one short, stepped in.