Sold into a ghost marriage? Four-year-old and his thuggish father go on a killing spree.

"The diesel engine is ruined!"

Cheng Tiezhu's voice boomed from the brigade headquarters courtyard—it could be heard across half the village.

In April, Chengjiawan is in the perfect time for spring irrigation.

Last winter, the team finally managed to get a 12-horsepower diesel water pump from the commune's agricultural machinery station.

The entire brigade's more than 300 mu of paddy fields depend on this machine for irrigation.

It was fine the day before yesterday—yesterday it made a few sputtering noises when I tried to start it—

This morning, with a "crack," it stopped moving completely.

Black smoke billowed from the exhaust pipe.

The crankshaft is stuck.

obsolete.

"Go to the commune and ask for a repairman—" Production team leader Lao Yang squatted next to the diesel engine, looking anxious.

"Old Ma from the commune has pulled a muscle in his back—he's lying down." Cheng Tiezhu's voice was muffled, like thunder.

"That's called the one from the county—"

"The county's schedule is until next month."

"Next month?! Can the paddy fields wait that long? If we don't irrigate them soon—all the seedlings will die of drought!"

A group of people gathered in the courtyard of the brigade headquarters.

Old Yang was so anxious that blisters appeared on the corners of his mouth.

Accountant Lao Sun checked his abacus three times—he knew best what it meant for rice seedlings to die of drought in a season.

Several older commune members squatted against the wall, sighing.

"It's over—this year's harvest will have to be cut in half—"

"How about we borrow one from the next brigade?"

"Other people's machines are busy too—who wants to lend you theirs?"

Niannian only heard about this in the evening.

She went to the well to fetch water—two aunties were whispering to each other beside the well.

"The diesel engine is broken—Tiezhu is frantic—"

"That's right—it's over three hundred acres of land—"

Niannian carried the bucket back to the dilapidated house.

He squatted in front of the stove and thought for a while.

My dad studied agricultural machinery repair in a training course.

He will be back from his vacation the day after tomorrow.

But the day after tomorrow—is that enough time?

She didn't know how badly the diesel engine was broken.

But she knew one thing—her father was the best learner in the training class.

Director Zhao said it himself: "Gu Yanqiu's handiwork is the most solid in the first batch."

Nian Nian put down the bucket.

We left the hospital.

Walk along the dirt road to the brigade headquarters.

The door was open.

Cheng Tiezhu sat on a stone in the courtyard, smoking one pipe after another.

Behind me was the broken-down diesel engine—a dark, lumpy iron lump, silently squatting on the cement platform like a dead cow.

Uncle Cheng.

Cheng Tiezhu looked down and saw Niannian.

"What brings you here?"

"Uncle, my dad is coming back on leave the day after tomorrow. He studied agricultural machinery repair in a training course—why don't you ask him to take a look?"

Cheng Tiezhu paused for a moment with his pipe in his mouth.

Of course he knew that Gu Yanqiu was in the training class.

But he had concerns in his heart—

The training course has only lasted three months. It's fine for fixing minor problems, but a seized diesel engine crankshaft—that's a major problem.

If it can't be fixed, it will cause delays.

If it gets damaged during repairs, it will cause even more delays.

"Niannian—" he carefully chose his words, "This machine doesn't have a normal problem—the crankshaft is stuck—"

"I know," Niannian said softly.

"But now—there's no other way. Right?"

Cheng Tiezhu twirled his pipe between his fingers.

She's right.

There is no other way.

The commune's repairman injured his back. The county's waiting list is booked until next month. The neighboring brigade won't lend him any.

The only option is to take a gamble.

Betting on Gu Yanqiu's craftsmanship.

"OK."

Cheng Tiezhu stood up and tucked his tobacco pipe into his waistband.

"He'll be back the day after tomorrow—he'll come straight to the brigade headquarters."

Niannian nodded.

Turned around and left.

As she stepped out of the brigade headquarters courtyard—she heard Cheng Tiezhu mutter something under his breath behind her:

"A three-month training course...is that okay...?"

She never looked back.

Whether it works or not—we'll find out the day after tomorrow.

--the day after tomorrow.

Gu Yanqiu arrived home before dawn.

After Niannian told him about the diesel engine, Gu Yanqiu washed his face without saying a word and went straight to the brigade headquarters.

A crowd had gathered in the courtyard of the brigade headquarters—even more than the day before yesterday.

Spring irrigation cannot wait.

The rice seedlings have already started to wilt—if the drought continues for another two days, the entire season's harvest will be ruined.

Gu Yanqiu walked in carrying a canvas tool bag.

The bag was provided by the training course—it contained a set of wrenches, screwdrivers, adjustable pliers, wire, and washers.

Not complete—but enough to handle most problems.

"Yanqiu—take a look." Cheng Tiezhu pointed to the diesel engine.

Gu Yanqiu remained silent.

He squatted down in front of the diesel engine.

I first looked outside—the exhaust pipe, fuel line, and water tank.

Then I picked up a wrench—"click click click"—and removed the side cover of the diesel engine.

The crankshaft inside was exposed.

Gu Yanqiu frowned and stared at it for a long time.

He reached out and touched the crankshaft bearing—

My fingers were covered in a layer of black, gooey stuff.

He held it under his nose and smelled it.

"It's clogged with sludge."

Several older members gathered around—

"Blocked? Doesn't that mean it's useless?"

"Replacing the crankshaft—that'll have to wait for the county to do it—"

"No need to change it," Gu Yanqiu said calmly.

He took a wire from his toolbox and bent it into a hook.

He lay prone on the side of the diesel engine and reached his hand inside—

Little by little, they removed the sludge from the bearing gaps.

This job requires steady hands.

It is even more important to know where the sludge is most deadly and where to hook the bearing without damaging it.

The training course lasted three months—Director Zhao gave a whole lecture on eight causes and solutions for diesel engine crankshaft seizure.

The third type is blockage caused by sludge buildup.

Most common.

It is also most easily misdiagnosed as "the crankshaft is broken".

Gu Yanqiu's hand spun inside the diesel engine for half an hour.

They pulled out a large clump of dark, greasy sludge—it looked like burnt dough.

Then—he dismantled the oil line.

I rinsed the oil pipes and filter with kerosene.

The valves were checked again—one valve spring was fatigued and wouldn't close properly.

I pulled a wire from my toolbox—measured its thickness—and bent it into a simple spring pad.

This is an emergency measure.

But it can hold out for a while.

Throughout the entire process, Gu Yanqiu didn't say a single unnecessary word.

The work at hand is steady, accurate, and fast.

Disassembly was done methodically, and not a single screw was used during assembly.

His fingers—those hands calloused from carrying bricks, those hands blistered from digging for he shou wu (a type of medicinal herb)—

It is incredibly flexible in its use of diesel engine parts.

Like playing the piano.

— An hour and a half.

Gu Yanqiu put the side cover back on.

He wiped the oil off his face with his sleeve.

"Try starting it."

Old Yang was a little incredulous—this was too fast?

He walked over and grabbed the starter rope of the diesel engine—

"Buzz—"

The first attempt missed.

"Buzzing—"

The second time—a puff of blue smoke came out of the exhaust pipe.

"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat—"

The third beat—the sound of the diesel engine changed from muffled to a steady rhythm.

"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat—"

Stable.

The courtyard was quiet for two seconds.

Then--

"alright!"

Old Yang jumped three feet high.

"It's done! Damn, it's done!"

The crowd erupted in a buzz—

"It's really fixed?!"

"In less than two hours—"

"Even the experienced craftsmen from the county didn't come!"

"Old Gu is quite capable—"

Cheng Tiezhu stood to the side, his expression shifting from solemnity to surprise—and then from surprise to relief.

He stepped forward and slapped Gu Yanqiu on the shoulder—

"Good lad!"

His loud voice boomed so loudly that the whole courtyard buzzed.

"With your skills—it was such a waste of your talent to be stuck at home doing manual labor!"

Gu Yanqiu grimaced—but didn't actually laugh.

His face was covered in oil.

My fingers were cut twice by the wire—and blood was seeping out.

But his eyes—bright in the April sunlight.

—The news travels even faster.

The diesel engine is repaired.

It wasn't built by the commune, nor by the county.

It's Gu Yanqiu—Gu Lao Er, the one who separated from his family, lives in a dilapidated house, lost his wife, and has a four-and-a-half-year-old daughter—

It was fixed in an hour and a half.

That afternoon, the production team leader from the neighboring Liujiafen brigade arrived.

Their team's threshing machine broke down—and no one knows how to fix it for half a month.

"Captain Cheng—I heard you have a capable person here? Could you lend him your services for a day?"

Cheng Tiezhu glanced at Gu Yanqiu.

Gu Yanqiu thought for a moment.

"Okay. But I'll have to charge a small service fee—"

"Of course, of course—I'll give you two cents when it's fixed."

Two cents.

Gu Yanqiu went there carrying her tool bag.

The next day—the threshing machine was repaired.

Two cents in hand.

In addition, the Liujiafen Brigade sent ten eggs and three jin of cornmeal as a token of their gratitude.

On the third day—someone else came.

Zhangjiagou Brigade, under Baiyang Commune—the diesel engine belt keeps slipping.

Gu Yanqiu went to take a look—the pulley was worn out, so he welded a hoop with wire to reinforce it.

Half a day's work.

One and a half cents for a liter of rapeseed oil.

Niannian was at home—lying on the stove, using a pencil stub and a piece of scrap paper to keep accounts for her father.

Earnings from black fungus: 0.86 yuan.

Mushroom income: 1.17 yuan.

Income from Polygonum multiflorum: 3.44 yuan.

Income from miscellaneous roots: 0.32 yuan.

Fruit candy expenditure: 0.10 yuan.

Red ribbon expenditure: 0.03 yuan.

Diesel engine repair income: 0.20 yuan + 10 eggs + 3 jin of cornmeal.

Income from repairing the thresher: 0.15 yuan + 1 liter of rapeseed oil.

Income from repairing belt pulleys...

Her handwriting is crooked and twisted, and some characters are even replaced with pinyin.

But the numbers are crystal clear.

Accurate to the minute.

When Gu Yanqiu returned and saw the piece of scrap paper, he was stunned for a long time.

"You...this is an account book?"

"Hmm." She didn't even look up. "Income is income, expenses are expenses. You can't not keep clear records—that's what Mom said."

"Your mother...taught you to keep accounts?"

"Mom taught me to read." Niannian looked up, hesitated for a moment. "Keeping accounts—that was my own idea."

That's not entirely true.

She learned many of the characters by looking at signs when she was in the city.

The sign above the entrance to the supply and marketing cooperative reads: "Qinghe County Supply and Marketing Cooperative".

On the wall of the post office—"China Post" (People's Post Office of China).

There's also the traditional Chinese medicine shop on the street corner—"Jishetang".

Learn each character one by one.

You'll remember it once you see it enough times.

Gu Yanqiu looked at the account book her daughter had written.

Looked for a long time.

He was unable to speak.

It's not "I don't know what to say".

Yes—my throat is blocked.

His daughter is four and a half years old.

While other four-and-a-half-year-olds were still rolling in the mud and crying—

Niannian is already keeping accounts for the family.

One stroke at a time.

Accurate to the minute.

The handwriting on that scrap of paper was crooked and uneven—but it was neater than that of many adults he had ever seen.

Gu Yanqiu reached out and patted Niannian's head.

The red ribbon is still tied to that little bun—it hasn't faded even after being washed.

"Nian Nian".

"Um."

"Dad will definitely make sure you go to school in the future."

Niannian paused, her pencil still.

She looked up and gazed into her father's eyes.

He didn't speak.

But something gleamed in those eyes.

It's very bright.

It was brighter than the fire in the stove.

—The next ten days.

Gu Yanqiu's "reputation" spread from Chengjiawan to three nearby brigades.

He can repair diesel engines, threshers, and water pumps—he can tinker with all kinds of agricultural machinery.

The labor cost is not high—just a few cents, or you can barter.

More and more people came to see him.

Repairing one machine—earns two cents.

Repair two machines—earn four cents.

After a month—

The income from repairing farm machinery alone, plus the income from selling mountain products—

The first two-digit number appeared in Niannian's account book.

Twelve dollars and seventy-three cents.

It was more than what he earned in a month and a half working at the brick kiln.

Niannian drew a circle around the number on the scrap paper.

Inside the circle—she wrote three words in a crooked hand.

"It's getting better and better."

But at the same time—

She also noticed something.

The area over there—was unusually quiet.

Sun Xiufen isn't coming.

Wang Guifang also remained silent.

Even Gu Yanchun hasn't shown up for quite some time.

It's too quiet.

Niannian squatted in front of the stove, staring at the flickering flames inside.

The shadow of the flame flickered across her face.

Quietness—is not a good thing.

In this home—quiet usually means—

Someone is preparing a big surprise.