N-M Chapter 90 Departure
Chapter 90 Departure
On the day of the grand competition, Jiang Haiping woke up before dawn.
He didn't sleep well.
It wasn't nervousness; it was just that Hong Xiaobing's berth next door had been empty all night.
Hong Xiaobing's third uncle's fishing boat returned to port yesterday evening, saying that there was a strange noise in the gearbox. Hong Xiaobing rushed back to Hongjia Island overnight to help check it out, saying that he would be back before dawn.
Jiang Hai lay flat on his bed and listened to the sea breeze all night. The north wind was even stronger than a few days ago, and it slapped the damp cloth at the entrance of the kitchen all night long.
When he got up, Lin Xiu'e was already in the kitchen.
The flames in the stove licked the bottom of the pot, and the sweet aroma of sweet potato porridge seeped out from the cracks in the lid, mingling with the smell of tung oil ash.
She arrived half an hour earlier than usual today. She had already prepared four basins of tung oil putty, which were neatly arranged on the windowsill and covered tightly with damp cloths.
She picked up an old lunchbox from the stove; it was the one he usually took to town. The lid was a little deformed, and it took her a couple of tries to close it.
"No need to bring your own food. The county agricultural machinery company has a canteen." Jiang Haiping stood at the door of the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his work clothes to his elbows.
"You might not be used to the food in the cafeteria." Lin Xiu'e stuffed the lunchbox into an old cloth bag.
Two more steamed sweet potatoes were placed on the stove, the cloth bag was tied tightly, and the bag was placed on the stove.
She turned around, wiped her hands with her apron, and said, "There are fish balls inside, made last night. They'll still be edible even when they're cold."
Jiang Haiping glanced at the cloth bag but didn't say anything.
He went into the kitchen, picked up the account book from beside the salt jar, and put it in his pocket.
The seawater that clung to the cover of the ledger had long since dried, leaving only a few shallow salt stains.
Under the loquat tree in the courtyard, Lao Fang was already wiping the third wooden plaque.
He arrived half an hour earlier than usual, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, the ash on the butt piled up long and unflicked, and a rag in his hand wiping back and forth on the wooden sign.
The words "Standardization Construction Pilot Unit" were gleaming from the rubbing.
After wiping the three wooden plaques, he draped the rag over the water ladle, straightened up, and looked at the sky.
"North wind, force 5." He took the cigarette out of his mouth. "The ferry won't stop."
"Just keep going." Jiang Haiping walked to the loquat tree and placed the cloth bag next to the tree roots.
Ahai came out of the workshop with a tool bag slung over his shoulder, containing a torque wrench and a feeler gauge.
He put his tool bag on the ground, then ran back to get something else: a copper washer he had bought himself, wrapped in old newspaper and secured with two rubber bands.
He put the copper washer into the tool bag and patted the opening of the bag.
"Why bring copper washers?" Ah Guang walked over from the entrance of the used parts warehouse, carrying a register and a list of used parts. The list was wrapped in a kraft paper envelope, and the envelope was sealed with rice grains.
"Just in case the flange gasket provided during the diesel engine disassembly and assembly test deforms, I can replace it with my own. The rules don't say I can't bring my own gasket."
Old Fang overheard this, but didn't say anything and put the cigarette back in his mouth.
Ah-Guang flipped to the last page of the register, pointed to the list with his finger, silently recited the numbers, closed it, and put it into his old schoolbag.
The backpack strap broke, so I used hemp rope to fix it and tied a knot that couldn't be tied back.
He checked the contents of his bag again: a register, a list of old items, two ballpoint pens, and a spare vernier caliper.
"I brought everything." He fastened his backpack and put it on to test its weight.
Ding Haisheng came out of the new workshop. He had changed into a clean work uniform today, with the cuffs unrolled, covering the row of overlapping old and new burn scars on his wrists.
He tucked his welding mask under his arm, carried the welding rod box in his hand, walked to the well, filled a ladle with cold water, didn't drink it, but poured it into the ladle to wipe the goggles of his mask again.
After wiping it, I held it up to the light to check for fingerprints before hanging the mask on the tool bag.
Ding Haifeng stood at the entrance of the used parts warehouse, clutching the vernier caliper in his hand.
Yesterday, he tore off the white tape on the caliper handle because the character "峰" (peak) had bled so much that it was hard to read. He replaced it with a new one and rewrote it with a ballpoint pen. The strokes were much neater than before.
He put the calipers into the box, closed the lid, then opened it again to check that the calipers were free of sweat before finally securing them.
"Haifeng, even though you're not participating in the competition today, you'll need to review the scoring guidelines for old items management once you get to the county."
Before Haisheng goes on stage, help him do the final simulation round. You don't need many, just five pieces.
"I've already done three rounds of work for him." Ding Haifeng put the micrometer box into his backpack. "Yesterday afternoon was the last round, and all ten pieces were correct. He even found the depth of the cracks."
Old Fang glanced at him, took the cigarette from his mouth, and said nothing.
Lin Xiu'e came out of the kitchen, took off her apron and draped it over the stove, and changed into the blue cloth jacket with the word "Binhai" embroidered on the left chest.
She carried her sewing tool bag on her shoulder. She had sewn the bag herself; it was made of gray cloth and the edges were sewn with blue thread.
The bag contained a chisel, calipers, a ball of hemp fiber, a notebook, and the two walnuts that Qiu Changhai had given her.
She placed the walnuts on the notebook, and through the cloth, she could feel two round, bulging bumps.
Qiu Changhai didn't sit on the stone stool today. He stood at the entrance of the asbestos-roofed shed, his hand empty, not spinning any walnuts.
He watched as Lin Xiue slung her tool bag over her shoulder, slowly walked over, bent down, and adjusted the straps of her tool bag for her.
The strap was too long, so he tied a knot in the middle and pulled it down to fit snugly against her back.
"The pine planks used in the grand competition are all the same. If you encounter a piece with twisted wood grain, you know how to handle it." His voice was slow, each word seeming to linger in his mouth for a while before being uttered.
"Try a couple of cuts first to see the grain direction. If you can't follow the grain, change direction. If you try to cut against the grain, the edges will chip."
"The groove depth is plus or minus 0.1 millimeters." Qiu Changhai straightened up and wiped his hand on his pants. "You usually keep it at 0.05. On the field, you don't need to aim for that high; just keep it within 0.1."
"Know."
"Bring the walnut with you. After you've removed one crack, hold the walnut in your palm and rotate it a couple of times. Your hand will stop shaking."
Lin Xiu'e placed her hand on the tool bag, felt the two walnuts through the cloth, and nodded.
Old Sun slowly walked over from the seawall, carrying a cloth bag in his hand.
He didn't go inside today. He stood at the gate of the courtyard, placed the cloth bag on the threshold stone, took out two mint leaves from it and put them next to the bag, then turned and left.
He took two steps and then turned back. He didn't say "Go back to feed the chickens" aloud, but his lips moved and he waved his hand.
Hong Xiaobing ran from the other side of the seawall, panting heavily. He had a fresh mud stain on his forehead, and his trousers were covered with fish scales and dried seaweed.
He ran to the loquat tree, bent over, and took a couple of breaths.
"My third uncle's gearbox had a loose bearing, but tightening it fixed it. It's nothing serious." He straightened up and took a plastic bag out of his pocket.
The bag contained a few pieces of sesame candy, made by his mother. The candy pieces were cut crookedly, with slightly burnt edges. "My mom told me to bring these. She said I should eat them on the way."
Ah Hai reached out and grabbed a piece, took a bite, and chewed it with a loud crunch.
Zhou Haisheng was the last to arrive.
He was rummaging through old parts in the old parts warehouse until midnight last night, and he was still there when Ah Guang left.
He had dark circles under his eyes, but his eyes were bright. He was carrying a tool bag, and the vernier calipers and micrometer boxes inside the bag made a soft metallic sound as they clattered together.
"How many did you touch last night?" Jiang Haiping asked.
"One hundred. I felt them with my eyes closed, and I got three wrong. All three were because I mixed up the bearing housing models. I felt them again, and they were all right." Zhou Haisheng put his toolbox on the ground and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
Almost twenty days have passed since the Frost's Descent, and the morning sea breeze felt like tiny knives on his face, yet a fine layer of sweat still clung to his forehead.
"Okay." Jiang Haiping nodded.
Old Fang took the cigarette out of his mouth and looked around at the people in the yard.
Ahai squatted by the circle of broken seashells, taking out the items from his tool bag one by one to check them, announcing each item by name, like a military roll call.
Ah-Guang sat next to him, the register spread out on his lap, pointing at the list with his finger and silently reciting.
Ding Haisheng leaned against the loquat tree trunk, opening and closing the welding rod box repeatedly.
Ding Haifeng stood next to him, clutching a micrometer box in his hand, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the lid.
Lin Xiu'e did a final check on the grouting tools by the stone trough, holding the chisel blade up to the light to see a layer of dark light on it.
Jiang Haiping and Lao Fang leaned against the wall of the kitchen side by side. He touched the account book in his pocket. Next to the account book was half an old newspaper, folded into a square.
"Let's go." Old Fang put the cigarette back in his mouth.
A rented three-wheeled motorcycle was parked outside the gate. The truck bed was lined with old cardboard, and tool bags and parts boxes were stacked on top of it.
The pebbles on the seawall were bleached white by the sun, and the north wind blew them down and bounced up again.
The fishing boats on the sea had already set sail, and the muffled chugging of their diesel engines carried on the sea breeze.
The sun peeked out from the horizon, casting a red glow that made the dew on the stone steps of the dock glisten.
Jiang Haiping was the last to climb into the truck bed and sat down with his back against the tool bag.
He buttoned up the pockets of his work clothes, and the ledger poked against his chest.
The three-wheeled motorcycle started up, the exhaust pipe sputtered for a while, and the front of the vehicle turned off the seawall and headed towards the town.
Zhou Haisheng sat opposite him, took out an old bearing housing from his toolbox, and slowly felt the raceway with his fingers with his eyes closed.