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

Chapter 41 Three-Wheeled Motorcycle

He Yuzhu quit his lunchbox job and found himself with nothing to do. He had to pick up the equipment he had crafted the day after tomorrow, and he was so bored he felt restless.

When he opened his eyes in the morning, he didn't know what to do. After practicing his martial arts in the courtyard, he lit a cigarette, took two puffs, and then stubbed it out.

He Yuzhu pushed his tricycle out of the main gate of the courtyard.

When he arrived at the entrance of the military control commission, the soldier on guard saw him and grinned: "Zhu Zi, looking for Chen Ke?"

"Is Uncle Chen busy?"

"Not busy, it's been quiet these past few days, not many people come. I've been guarding the door and I know it very well," the soldier replied with a smile.

As He Yuzhu rode his tricycle in, he heard the sounds of ping-pong balls being struck in the backyard, mixed with the clanging of metal objects colliding.

He turned his bike around and headed towards the backyard.

In the backyard, four or five people were gathered around several dilapidated three-wheeled motorcycles. Some were using wrenches to remove the wheels, while others were using hammers to break the mudguards. Scattered on the ground were wheels, rusted wire, scraps of sheet metal, and disassembled seats.

The smell of engine oil mingled with the smell of rust. One truck was missing its wheels, its frame standing upright on the ground. Another truck bed was half removed, the sheet metal sticking out. And yet another truck was just a frame lying there, its engine covered in sludge and unrecognizable.

He Yuzhu walked over and squatted down next to a soldier. The soldier was using a wrench to tighten a rusted nut, his face flushed red. He looked up and saw He Yuzhu. "Yuzhu? What brings you here? Chen Ke is in the office."

"What's wrong with this motorcycle?"

The soldier put the wrench on the ground, wiped his sweat, and lit a cigarette that He Yuzhu offered. "They're totaled. These junks have been repaired several times but can't be fixed. The engines are beyond saving. Chen Ke said not to bother, take the usable parts and give them to other motorcycles, and sell the rest for scrap metal."

An old soldier nearby stopped hammering and took off his hat to fan himself. "I've been trying to fix this junk for two years. I've taken the engine apart and put it back together, but it just won't start. The captain said anyone who tries to fix it is a son of a bitch."

All the soldiers laughed.

He Yuzhu told them to take a break and smoke for a while, saying he was interested and would consider it.

He closed his eyes and searched his mind for fragments of memories, finding sections on motorcycle repair, car repair, and various mechanical principles. He used his mind to pull these fragments together and integrate them into his memory.

Before the soldiers had even finished their cigarettes, he understood how the gears meshed, how the pistons moved, and how the circuits worked—he knew it all perfectly well.

He opened his eyes, rolled up his sleeves, picked up a wrench, and began to disassemble the engine casing. A bolt was rusted; he tightened it, and it loosened with a click. Once the casing was off, the cylinder block was cracked, the piston rings were broken, and the valve stems were bent. Quite a few problems.

He removed the crankshaft, turned it in his hand, and it still worked. The connecting rods were still working, and the oil pump was still running. He tapped the cylinder head with a wrench, and it made a clanging sound.

Several soldiers gathered around. The old soldier squatted down next to him, a cigarette between his fingers, long ash he'd forgotten to flick off. "Zhu Zi, you can understand this thing?"

He Yuzhu picked up the piston ring and examined the breakage against the light. "Well done."

The veteran nearly dropped his cigarette. "What did you say?"

He Yuzhu placed the crankshaft on a piece of oiled paper and pointed to the engine. "The cylinder block crack can be repaired. The piston rings need to be remade, and a valve stem needs to be remachined. The gears are still usable, but the bearings need replacing. The gearbox isn't seriously damaged; a cleaning will do." He stood up. "What about the parts that were removed?"

The old soldier was still squatting there, looking up at him. "They're in the back warehouse, as spare parts. There are several boxes of them."

He Yuzhu told them to wait a moment, that he was going to buy it, and turned to walk towards the office building.

Chen Xiangqian was sitting in his office drinking tea and reading documents when he saw He Yuzhu enter. He closed the documents and was about to speak when He Yuzhu spoke first.

"Uncle Chen, sell me those scrapped motorcycles."

Chen Xiangqian stopped his teacup at his lips and asked, "What do you need that pile of scrap metal for?"

"I'll use it once it's fixed."

Chen Xiangqian put down his teacup. "Zhu Zi, we've been repairing those cars for two years. The engines are beyond repair, all the usable parts have been taken out, and the tires have been removed. What are you going to use to fix them?"

"I can repair the engine. I'll get the missing parts from the steel mill and draw the blueprints myself. You have to return the parts I took off so I can put them back together."

Chen Xiangqian leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the armrest. "Those old junk cars, even if you fix them, they'll still be outdated."

He Yuzhu sat down opposite him. "Uncle Chen, the quality of steel these days isn't good; the parts made by the steel mills don't last long. These few cars are old, but the steel is of good quality. If I fix them, they can last for a few more years."

Chen Xiangqian tapped his fingers on the armrest. "Draw up the blueprints for the parts that can be produced."

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"You said you'd make the missing parts yourself." Chen Xiangqian picked up his teacup. "Draw the blueprints and give me a copy. If other motorcycles in the Military Control Commission break down in the future, we can make parts based on your blueprints. If you can draw them, I'll sell all those scrapped motorcycles to you, and you can have the parts from them too."

He Yuzhu laughed. "Uncle Chen, you're taking advantage of the situation."

Chen Xiangqian took a sip of tea. "You delivered yourself right to my doorstep. It's a piece of junk that's been under repair for two years, and you insisted on buying it. I didn't stop you; I even supported you. But you have to leave me something behind."

"Okay. I'll draw the blueprints. You take them to the steel mill to have them made. Write a permit, and I'll go pick up the parts."

Chen Xiangqian picked up a pen and wrote down a note and receipt: "100 yuan, pay up. Take this to get the parts. If you can't fix it, you'll have to buy us drinks."

He Yuzhu paid and walked out with the receipt. He turned back at the door. "Is it fixed?"

Chen Xiangqian picked up the teacup. "It's fixed. We'll treat you to a drink."

Leaving the office, He Yuzhu returned to the backyard. Several soldiers were still gathered around the motorcycles, not yet dismantled, waiting for him. An old soldier, cigarette dangling from his lips, saw him and called out, "Zhuzi, you really bought them?"

He Yuzhu smiled and took out the receipt and approval slip, instructing him to retrieve the spare parts. He rolled up his sleeves and first sorted which parts belonged to which vehicle. He gathered all the usable parts together. Gears, chains, bearings, he neatly categorized them, wrapped them in oil paper, and wrote on them.

Several soldiers helped him carry the parts boxes to an open space in the corner of the warehouse. They worked until dark, and all the motorcycles were completely disassembled. The parts were stacked in several boxes, the frames were piled up, and the engines were placed separately in a wooden box.

He Yuzhu straightened up, his hands were completely black, engine oil seeped into his fingernails, and he couldn't rub it off.

The old soldier handed him a cigarette. "Zhu Zi, can this thing be fixed?"

He Yuzhu took it, lit it, and took a puff. "It'll definitely work, I've already paid for it."

The old soldier shook his head. "I've been trying to fix this beat-up motorcycle for two years, and I've almost given up. If you can fix it, could you teach me how?"

He Yuzhu smiled and agreed.

It was already dark when they got back to the courtyard. Yu Shui was doing her homework at the octagonal table in the main room, while Xu Damao sat next to her, munching on a steamed bun. He stood up when he saw He Yuzhu come in. "Brother Zhu, this meal doesn't count; you have to make it up to me. I'm going back now."

He Yuzhu nodded, and Xu Damao went out through the moon gate, which then closed.

He Yuzhu took off his greasy shirt and threw it into the sink to soak. Yushui looked up, saw the black engine oil on his hands, and frowned. "Brother, your hands are so dirty."

He Yuzhu squatted by the sink, rubbing his hands with soap. The cold water rinsed them, but they weren't quite clean. "I got this from fixing the car. Go do your homework."

He washed his hands and went into the room, where he spread out blueprints, pencils, and rulers under the light. The structure of the motorcycle was crystal clear in his mind. He drew out everything: how many teeth the gears needed, how thick the piston rings should be, how long the valve stems should be, and the inner and outer diameters of the cylinder liners.

The dimensions were marked, and after finishing one drawing, it was placed aside. Then another one was laid out. Rainwater finished his homework and ran over to look at it, but couldn't understand it.

He Yuzhu told her to go to bed early, and she took her schoolbag and went back to the west wing. The courtyard became quiet. Only the scratching of pencils on paper and the sound of the wind blowing outside the window could be heard.

After finishing more than a dozen drawings, it was already past midnight. He Yuzhu straightened up, took out a cigarette, and lit it. The smoke slowly dissipated in the lamplight.

Uncle Chen took the blueprints to the steel mill so the workshop could make the parts accordingly. It would only delay our trip into the mountains by a few days. Once the tricycle was repaired, riding it into the mountains would be so much fun.