Sha Zhu's Rebirth in the Courtyard: Starting with Hitting Someone in the Head

Chapter 108 The Death of a Coworker

In the autumn of 1961, the harvest in the suburbs of Beijing was difficult. Several years of severe drought had left the soil extremely dry. The corn stalks were barely thicker than a child's finger, the ears were shriveled, the sorghum was weak, and most of the crops looked withered and decaying.

The arid land near the mountain was even worse; the soil was dry, cracked, and hard. Standing at the edge of the field, all you could see was a yellowish expanse, and it was impossible to tell whether it was crops or withered grass.

The villagers were all emaciated, their legs as thin as hemp stalks, and they walked with a limp, a result of years of food shortages. During the autumn harvest, no one slacked off; men, women, and children all went to the fields to carefully harvest, not letting any stray grains of wheat or small ears of corn slip by.

After the grain was handed over to the state, each household received very little grain. Ordinary farmers relied on the melons and vegetables from their private plots to make do with their staple food, and survived on bran and wild vegetables.

The Jia family had hoped to have some respite after the autumn harvest two months ago, but now, Jia Zhangshi's wishful thinking has fallen through.

Her family didn't have enough food to help her, and arguing with them was useless. In the end, she completely severed ties with her brother.

The family's food supplies were running low, and there were very few dried wild vegetables left. The wild vegetable porridge they cooked each day was getting thinner and thinner. Bang Geng would finish his bowl and still lick the bottom of the bowl. Xiao Dang was so hungry that he kept groaning. Qin Huairu, with her pregnant belly, shared two mouthfuls of her porridge with Xiao Dang and drank the thin soup herself.

Jia Dongxu saw it all, but said nothing, his anxiety growing ever stronger. Qin Huairu asked him what was wrong, and he said nothing, turning over to continue staring at the ceiling. His mind was racing with thoughts of his coworker, Lao Zhao.

Last month, an accident happened in the workshop. Old Zhao, a fitter in the same shift as Jia Dongxu, suddenly collapsed next to the lathe while working. He was covered in cold sweat and his face was as white as paper.

Several coworkers quickly carried him to the factory clinic. The medic checked his eyelids and told them to get him to the hospital immediately. The group hurriedly lifted Old Zhao onto a cart, and Jia Dongxu went along with them.

The emergency room doctor said it was a heart problem caused by long-term malnutrition and overwork. They tried to resuscitate him for almost an hour, but he still couldn't be saved.

When Lao Zhao's wife received the news, she rushed to the hospital and threw herself on the bedside, crying her heart out. The two children cried along with her, and the whole corridor was filled with their sobs.

The factory provided a pension as required by regulations, and arranged for Lao Zhao's wife to be transferred to a regular position in the kitchen. The two children were also transferred to urban household registration with their mother, and their food rations were secured.

Jia Dongxu had thought about this matter countless times. When Old Zhao was alive, he was just like him, supporting several mouths on his own, and living a very frugal life. Now that he's gone, his family is actually better off than before. His wife has a job and a household registration, his child is receiving government-subsidized grain rations, and the factory even gave him some money.

He squatted at the workshop entrance eating lunch today, chewing on a cornbread bun in his hand, and felt that the bun was heavier than usual. He looked up at the spot where Old Zhao had stood, and his thoughts were no longer on Old Zhao, but on himself.

She thought to herself that if he also died in the workshop, Huairu could take his place and get a Beijing residency permit. Banggeng, Xiaodang, and the baby in her belly could all eat government-subsidized grain. Her mother wouldn't have to go digging for wild vegetables every day; she could just stay home and take care of the children.

In the afternoon, Jia Dongxu went to the entrance of the canteen kitchen to see Old Zhao's wife. Several female support staff were squatting on the ground picking vegetables, and Old Zhao's wife was among them. She was washing potatoes, scrubbing them clean one by one, and then putting them into a basket.

She was talking to the female worker next to her, saying that her two children were now eating government-supplied food, and although the monthly ration wasn't much, it was much better than before. It was just a pity about Old Zhao; if only he hadn't died, even if he were crippled, the whole family would still be alive and could have survived.

She started crying again as she spoke, and several women around her were trying to comfort her, telling her not to be sad anymore, to raise her child well, and to support the Zhao family.

Jia Dongxu clenched his fists outside, as if he had made a decision.

When he got home from get off work that evening, he sat in his room, lost in thought. These thoughts began to sprout in his mind like wild grass.

"Dongxu, what's wrong with you? You've been spacing out these past few days." Qin Huairu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) sewing clothes for Xiaodang, looking up at him.

"It's nothing, I'm just tired." Jia Dongxu took off his coat and hung it behind the door, walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and sat down, reaching out to pat Xiao Dang's head.

Xiao Dang looked up at him and smiled, then looked down again to continue playing with the cloth tiger in her hands. Jia Dongxu looked at his daughter's smiling face, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he pulled his hand back and put it in his pocket, where the few crumpled bills were digging into his disabled hand.

That night, Jia Dongxu lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Qin Huairu, who was beside him, was also unable to sleep because of his tossing and turning. She turned to her side and gently placed her hand on his arm: "What's wrong with you lately? Were you scared by the accident with your coworker?"

"No. There's a lot of work in the workshop, I'm exhausted." Jia Dongxu placed his hand on the back of her hand and patted it. "Go to sleep."

Qin Huairu didn't press further and closed her eyes. Jia Dongxu lay in the darkness with his eyes open, the thought in his mind like a ladle in water, pressed down and then floating back up.

He remembered Old Zhao's wife crying in the emergency room corridor, and he also remembered her saying that her family was doing better than before. She would raise the child well and support Old Zhao's family.

He touched his disabled right hand, thinking of how Huai Ru would share the porridge with Xiao Dang every day while she drank the thin soup, how Bang Geng would lick the bottom of the bowl, and how his mother would scrape the bottom of the pot by the stove.

Jia Dongxu clenched his right fist and tapped his chest. He thought, "I might as well die on the lathe. Life as a disabled person is not easy. I don't want to be a burden on my family."

A few days later, he received his salary. Jia Dongxu got up in the middle of the night and went to the black market. After wandering around for a while, he bargained with a tall, thin man and bought a small, skinny hen.

In those days, even chickens couldn't get enough to eat. The hens felt more bones than meat, and their feathers were so dry that you could see the skin. He bought another ten pounds of cornmeal, spending all the money in his pocket.

Jia Dongxu tucked the hen under his arm and carried the grain sack back home. The hen fluttered weakly under his arm, not even squawking.

Back at the courtyard house, Jia Zhangshi waited for her son to return from the black market. When she saw a chicken tucked under his arm, her face changed instantly.

She stood up and walked up to Jia Dongxu, reached out to touch the chicken, then weighed the grain bag in her hand, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Are you crazy! How much does this cost? Given our situation, you're still buying chickens? Are you trying to ruin our lives?!"

Jia Dongxu put the grain bag on the table without replying. He squatted down, found a rope, and tied the chicken's feet together. The chicken thrashed about on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Say something!" Jia Zhangshi said, hands on her hips. "You only make so little a month, and the money you spend on this thing is enough for our family to live on for several days!"

Jia Dongxu stood up and glanced at his mother. "Mom, tomorrow I'll have Huairu stew the chicken. You, Huairu, and Xiaodang can all have some nourishment. I'll also steam some cornbread. Money spent can be earned back. I have a way to get by. Don't worry, you'll see in a few days."