Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Makeup Class
A few months into the new semester, under the "hands-off" management style, my rebellious nature became even more pronounced. The most obvious manifestation was that I spent less and less time in the school dormitory, often going to crash at the places of classmates who rented apartments. Aside from the small building rented by Guangbai, I quickly found a new base.
In Zhu Wenyao's courtyard, there was a distant uncle who served as the head of security at the Distillery. Coincidentally, this year his nephew Zhu Dasheng entered Third Middle School as a First Year High School student. Considering how tough life at school was, Uncle Section Chief set up a makeshift bed in his small room for his nephew to have a place to sleep, whether he was at the factory or not. The meals provided were much better than those at Third Middle School. Shortly after the semester began, Wenyao invited me to experience this lifestyle.
It was an early winter day when Uncle Section Chief was either on a business trip or had gone home; in any case, he wasn't at the factory. After finishing Evening Study Session, Wenyao asked me to go to the Distillery with him. Upon arriving at the factory gate, we encountered two unfamiliar faces. The guard stopped us, and Wenyao said, "I am Zhu's nephew." The guard replied, "That's not right; I know his nephew; he returned long ago." No matter what we said, he wouldn't let us in. After a few minutes of hesitation, we finally saw Zhu Dasheng's figure emerge from around a corner; it turned out Wenyao had already arranged to meet him, and he had come specifically to pick us up. Once he approached us and spoke, the guard no longer obstructed us and immediately opened a small door next to the guardhouse.
Although it was already late at night, the Distillery was still brightly lit. Following Zhu Dasheng's lead, we turned past two three-story office buildings and climbed a winding concrete staircase. Every area was spacious and bright like the best asphalt road. Not far away, against the wall, there was a separate little courtyard whose architectural style differed significantly from that of other factory buildings and offices. Soft milky-white fluorescent lights illuminated it, while deep blue glass windows were densely covered with pink curtains that exuded an air of mystery. Dasheng mentioned that it was where Japanese experts lived and that ordinary people could not enter.
Upon entering the room, we were greeted by an army green color scheme; Uncle had transitioned from military service to become a cadre. On the double bed provided by the factory lay neatly folded military blankets that showcased his style. Dasheng said that even if Uncle wasn't there, he wouldn't sleep on that bed because he couldn't fold the blankets into sharp corners.
The makeshift bed made of boxes and wooden boards was where Dasheng slept—only about four or five inches off the ground—while the bedding also matched military colors and styles, simply folded in thirds on top and looking somewhat messy, resembling a regular army soldier accompanied by a newly joined guerrilla fighter.
Aside from these two beds, there was also a three-section desk and a tall metal cabinet in the room. From the center of the ceiling hung a two-colored wire with a 60-watt light bulb illuminating it. Two chairs were occupied by me and Wenyao while Dasheng could only squat on his makeshift bed, stretching his legs forward to relieve fatigue.
In this novel place, we had no desire to review our studies; instead, we chatted for a while until Dasheng glanced at the clock on the wall and said to us: "It's time for Night Shift Workers to change shifts; let's go eat something at the cafeteria."
Perhaps for the convenience of workers on duty, the Distillery's cafeteria was located within the workshop area. We passed through an office building and entered another large gate before walking past a series of cylindrical concrete structures until we reached the cafeteria hall.
This hall was smaller than that of Third Middle School but contained over ten tables with only about ten people scattered around. Three serving windows were open; Dasheng pulled out a stack of meal tickets and got each of us a serving of Dried Tofu and rice while he got himself a bowl of noodles. The three of us sat down at a table to eat.
This was my first time eating at a factory cafeteria and my first experience having "midnight snacks." The hearty dinner I usually had at school paled in comparison to what lay before me. The Dried Tofu served here was cut evenly in thickness compared to what I usually got at school—five or six irregular pieces with an odd taste—while here it tasted just like home-cooked food: thickly sliced and mixed with chili peppers, garlic, and other seasonings—truly colorful and aromatic with generous portions enough for three or four people if served at school! Not to mention there was also free Vegetable Soup available with unlimited rice.
After finishing our midnight snack, Dasheng took us for showers. The Distillery's bathhouse was open 24 hours for workers free of charge; none of its dozens of showerheads were broken, and we could adjust the hot water temperature ourselves. In the chilly early winter breeze, we reluctantly returned to our room after washing until our skin turned red.
As time went on, Wenyao and I became regulars at the Distillery; whenever Uncle wasn't around, we would go over to Dasheng's place for meals. However, since Uncle's meal tickets were limited, after two or three midnight snacks we felt embarrassed about returning to the cafeteria again. Just then, someone started building houses in the vegetable fields outside the Distillery; one of the cooks working for them came from Wenyao's village. Occasionally we'd visit their construction site for some greasy food to improve our bland student diet.
On another sunny day when Wenyao and I skipped Evening Study Session after Lesson Seven ended, we ran over to Distillery with Dasheng but missed mealtime again. We dropped our backpacks and turned our attention toward an unfinished shed outside the walls without saying a word.
Unlike previous bustling days, today’s construction site was eerily quiet. After walking through several rows of vegetable fields toward Cook Master’s shed, we discovered that a simple door made from bamboo slats had been locked shut with two iron wires; work had been called off for now.
We stood still looking around as dusk settled in slowly while my stomach grumbled insistently—what should we do?
The makeshift door secured only by two iron wires couldn’t stop our steps; Wenyao reached out his strong hand and twisted open one end of wire before pushing half-opened door against another wall as all three of us stepped inside searching for something edible.
After some time searching around yielded disappointed faces among us—it seemed like they were nearing completion or taking an extended break since everything inside had been cleaned up neatly; aside from pots and bowls there wasn’t even any rice or flour left—our hopes for cooking ourselves a hearty meal seemed dashed.
Just then I noticed some remaining light before darkness fell completely outside while gazing at green vegetable patches beyond: “There are so many cabbages outside! We can pick some back to cook!” Upon hearing my suggestion both Wenyao and Dasheng agreed but since it wasn’t fully dark yet they indicated I should wait before acting.
After about ten minutes passed without seeing anyone outside as night fully enveloped everything around us now Dasheng dashed out quickly returning shortly after with three cabbages in hand! Next up Wenyao set up pots while searching around for scattered bamboo sticks or wooden scraps for firewood; meanwhile I found an iron bucket missing its lid filled it halfway with water then tossed whole cabbages inside letting them swim before peeling off leaves piece by piece rinsing them clean under running water.
As flames grew stronger Wenyao suddenly exclaimed “We’re out of oil!” I chimed back “Let’s add some water first.” Once boiling commenced I grabbed handfuls of cabbage leaves tearing them into smaller bits tossing them into pot covering it up tightly; meanwhile Dasheng continued searching tirelessly until finally discovering half-a-bag worth coarse salt which he generously sprinkled into pot…
After several minutes steaming away causing lid rattling loudly I lifted it revealing vibrant white-green colors filling pot—we each scooped ourselves large bowls eagerly digging in! Smacking lips together flavors weren’t too shabby either though Wenyao seemed dissatisfied adding more salt into pot stirring contents around further…
Thus began our feast: Dasheng finished one bowl while Wenyao devoured two bowls leaving me with three bowls worth until only remnants remained along with broth left behind!
Three boys who usually never did housework were in a flurry as they cooked a pot of cabbage. I still remember that unique taste; the one who was in charge of the pot that day, Wenyao, later became a real chef.
Comment 0 Comment Count