Chapter 63: Night Talk
Big Sister Hua and Zheng Guangrong also said their goodbyes. The moment they got back to Big Sister Hua’s house, she handed a spare set of bedding to Zheng Guangrong.
"Here, take this to the docks."
"No need. I’ll take mine. Yours smells too good; I can’t let some other guy get lucky."
"Just wait for me, I’ll be right back!"
After speaking, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Big Sister Hua.
Big Sister Hua gave him a light slap, her eyes glistening as if brimming with water.
"You devil!"
Zheng Guangrong chuckled and returned to the purchasing station next door to grab his own bedding. His dog, Dahei, lay in its kennel, giving its master a look of utter disgust. Too bad Zhao Wendong, the one person who understood the dog, wasn’t there to see it.
Down at the docks, a large pile of bedding soon arrived, brought by various people. Zheng Guangrong exchanged a few pleasantries before hurrying back.
"Heh heh, Wendong, what do you think he’s rushing back for?"
Little Shanghai said with a wicked grin, watching Zheng Guangrong’s retreating figure.
Zhao Wendong didn’t say a word. He just made an "OK" sign with his left hand, then repeatedly poked his right index finger in and out of the circle.
"Hahahaha!"
The group howled with laughter, stumbling all over each other. Even Zhao Ergou was cracking up. Only Zhao Wenwu looked completely lost. He copied Zhao Wendong’s gesture a few times, then asked in confusion,
"What’s that mean? Making a hole?"
"Bwahahahaha!"
The whole group burst into an even louder roar of laughter.
They horsed around for a while. The six of them were all young men, and the idea of pulling an all-nighter on a cold winter evening instead of sleeping was strangely exciting and new.
"All right, settle down. Everyone wrap up in your blankets so you don’t catch a cold. Let’s stack the firewood and get a fire going!"
"Yeah! Let’s get a fire started!"
It’s as if a love for fire is encoded in human DNA. Bonfires have been a part of every culture, in every nation, from ancient times to the present day.
They stacked the firewood from Liangzi’s house in a crisscross pattern, placing straw and pine needles underneath as kindling. Even though they’d found the most sheltered spot they could, the seaside wind was still fierce. After a moment’s thought, Zhao Wendong brought over the remaining diesel fuel.
They had already siphoned all the remaining fuel from the engine, and had re-wrapped the entire thing in multiple, thick layers with the old, tattered blankets.
"That was a close one," he said, his heart still pounding. "This is all that’s left. We almost didn’t make it back!" Draped in a thick quilt and carrying less than ten liters of diesel, Zhao Wendong looked like a resistance fighter about to blow up a pillbox.
"Don’t worry, we’ve still got a little at the station. If you need it, I’ll bring it all for you!"
Little Shanghai, also wrapped in a blanket with only his head sticking out, radiated excitement from behind his crooked glasses.
"No need." Zhao Wendong shook his head, rejecting the offer. He hadn’t received any new mental messages from the Silver Gull, and going out to sea blindly without intelligence was like throwing meat buns at a dog—a complete waste. ’With that time, it would be more practical to go up into the mountains.’
"What’s left is just enough for now."
With that, Zhao Wendong poured some of the diesel onto the woodpile. He tucked the rest of the can inside his quilt to use later in the night.
By now, Little Shanghai trusted Zhao Wendong implicitly. If Wendong said go east, he wouldn’t even think of going west. He didn’t even ask why they weren’t pressing their advantage and heading back out to sea.
Aided by the diesel fuel, not even the strong wind could prevent the fire from roaring to life. And so, under a starry sky on a dock in the Northeast where the temperature was twenty-some degrees below zero, the inaugural bonfire meeting of the Qianjin Commune was victoriously convened.
Attendees: Zhao Wendong and five others. Menu: grilled fish, accompanied by roasted flatbread and hot meat broth from Liangzi’s parents. Beverages sponsored by: Fengcheng Old Cellar.
"Hahaha, this is great! So much fun!"
Zhao Wenwu grinned from ear to ear, wiggling his body with excitement. With a grilled fish in his left hand and a flatbread in his right, he was eating with pure delight.
"Come on! A toast to victory! To Wendong and all of you for your triumphant return!"
Little Shanghai shouted, his face flushed as he raised his bowl. Everyone else quickly joined in.
The firelight danced across the six young men’s faces, each one alight with the joy of a bountiful harvest and hope for the future.
"This is awesome! Winter is usually so boring. This is how you’re supposed to live!"
Liangzi exclaimed. Zhao Wendong’s lip twitched. ’If his dad heard that, he’d get a swift kick. Who in their right mind has a bonfire party in the dead of winter instead of holing up at home?’
’Do they think this is a few decades in the future or something? Doesn’t a fire waste wood? And energy? What if someone catches a cold? That’s a huge pain. What if they get a high fever that fries their brain or even kills them?’ The thoughts flashed through his mind and were gone. Today was different. Everyone knew they had to guard the fishing boat. Even though it was unlikely anyone would show up on the beach this late at night, they all kept a vigilant watch on the boat and their surroundings.
’Little Shanghai said he was getting blankets, but didn’t he bring a cleaver back with him? Liangzi is planning to take tomorrow off work just to help stand guard. When Liangzi’s father brought food and bedding, he also delivered an axe—Zhao Wendong saw it plain as day. Of course, he knew what it was all for. Hasn’t he himself patted the ’chicken-leg’ pistol in his own coat several times already?’
’This boatload of fish was worth more than gold right now. That’s why everyone would rather freeze through the night than take turns sleeping. Honestly, Zhao Wendong had considered hiding the fish and eating them himself, little by little. But how much could he possibly eat by next spring?’
’If he tried to trade it for grain, no one would bother him over small amounts. But if he tried to move it at this scale and made a scene? They’d snip off his ’capitalist tail’ in a heartbeat. Even Big Wang wouldn’t dare help him dispose of this much food. This wasn’t a few hundred pounds; it was thousands of pounds. And it was the most in-demand stuff, the kind of seafood the county cadres salivated over.’
’So, selling it to the purchasing station was his only real option. Of course, before he sold it, he’d be sure to set aside more than enough for himself.’
"Wendong, what are you spacing out for?" Little Shanghai’s voice broke his train of thought. "It’s too damn cold! How about we sing some songs?"
Little Shanghai’s suggestion was met with unanimous approval. Everyone called for him to go first and set an example. He stood up with a grin and cleared his throat twice.
"Alright, I’ll get the ball rolling, but don’t laugh!"
"Let us row our oars, the little boat pushes through the waves..."
"Bravo!"
When the song ended, everyone applauded enthusiastically. Zhao Wendong pursed his lips. ’What the hell,’ he thought, ’have these guys never heard any decent music? That’s a children’s song!’
"Next up, Liangzi!"
Zhang Liang took a swig of liquor, stood up, and launched right into a song.
"The Commune is an evergreen vine, and its members are the gourds upon it..."
A rendition of "The Commune Members Are Sunflowers" left Zhao Wendong dumbfounded. Then, after his older brother, his second brother, and Er Gou joined forces for a chorus of "The East is Red," Zhao Wendong had a profound realization. ’I may have come back to this era, but my taste in music is gone for good.’ He suddenly missed his phone and all its apps for watching videos, reading novels, and listening to music.
"Dongzi! Your turn!"
"Yeah, Wendong, give us a song!"
Everyone started cheering and goading him on, their eyes fixed on Zhao Wendong.
Looking at their excited faces, Zhao Wendong felt a surge of heroic pride.
He rose to his feet, slowly opened his mouth, and began to sing the song he knew best—a song that didn’t belong in this era.
"My home is in the Northeast, on the Songhua River, ah!"
"Where the mountains and plains are covered in..."
The moon cast its silvery light upon the shore as the waves crashed rhythmically. Beside the roaring bonfire, wrapped in a heavy quilt, Zhao Wendong sang at the top of his lungs with his arms outstretched, his five brothers listening, completely dumbfounded.