novelslam Chapter 95 Credit
Chapter 95 Credit
By the time the three-wheeled motorcycle turned into the Moon Island seawall, the sun was already setting.
The tool bags and parts boxes in the truck bed rattled and clattered. Ah Hai sat on the far side, one leg dangling outside the truck bed, swaying back and forth in the sea breeze.
He was still clutching the bag of copper washers in his hand, a patch of old newspaper dampened by his sweaty hands.
Under the loquat tree in the courtyard, Old Fang was squatting and smoking.
He didn't go today; he stayed at the service station all day, repairing a sampan from Hongjia Island. The gearbox bearing was loose, so he tightened it and it was fine.
He heard the exhaust of the three-wheeled motorcycle, took the cigarette out of his mouth, stood up and walked to the gate of the courtyard.
"Master Fang, second place in the team!" Ah Hai jumped down from the truck bed, his tool bag nearly hitting the seashell ring. "First place in sewing, first place in old parts management!"
Old Fang put the cigarette back in his mouth without saying a word.
He took the report card from Jiang Haiping. The mimeographed paper rustled in the wind. He pressed it down with his palm and read it from beginning to end.
After reading it, fold the report card neatly and hand it to Ah Guang.
"Put it on the worktable."
Ah-Guang took the report card and ran into the old parts warehouse. He rummaged through a drawer for glue, applied two lines to the back of the report card, and then neatly pasted it onto the wall above the register shelf.
After sticking it on, I took two steps back to look at it, then went back and pressed the left corner to make sure it was firmly stuck on before leaving.
Ding Haisheng got out of the truck bed and hung the welder's mask on the tool rack at the workshop entrance.
He walked to the well, filled a ladle with cold water, and gulped it down.
Ding Haifeng stood under the loquat tree, took the micrometer box out of his schoolbag, and checked whether the clasp on the lid was fastened securely.
Lin Xiu'e placed the tool bag at the entrance of the kitchen, took out the two walnuts from it, and placed them on the windowsill, arranging them in a row with the other four basins of tung oil putty.
Zhou Haisheng was the last to get off the bus, still clutching the old bearing housing in his hand.
After getting off the bus, I stood at the gate of the courtyard for a while, and then Ah Guang pulled me into the old parts warehouse.
Jiang Haiping took the ledger out of his work clothes pocket.
Turning to the page about the debt, next to Hong Laosan's line "Half to be repaid before the winter solstice," there was an additional line of small writing from yesterday: "Already at sea, can be repaid before the new year."
Old Chen is still short twenty yuan.
There are also three or four other ship names, with repayment dates all before the end of the year.
He also took the half-old newspaper out of his pocket and unfolded it.
The lines listed above are still there, and the last line is the one added yesterday: "Second in group work, first in sewing, first in used parts."
He turned the old newspaper over and wrote a few words on the back: "Starting tomorrow, we'll be collecting credit." After writing that, he folded it up and put it back in his pocket.
Old Sun slowly walked over from the seawall, carrying a cloth bag in his hand.
He came by this afternoon and brought a small bag of dried shrimp to the kitchen; he's here again now.
He stood at the gate of the courtyard and looked at the people inside. He saw Lin Xiu'e arranging walnuts on the windowsill, saw Ahai squatting by the circle of broken seashells, unpacking the bag of copper washers, and saw Ding Haisheng drinking water by the well.
He nodded, placed the cloth bag on the threshold stone, and turned to leave.
"Go back and feed the chickens." This time he said it out loud.
After finishing work in the evening, the lights were turned on in the kitchen.
Lin Xiu'e soaked the dried shrimp that Old Sun had given her in water, then took out half a cabbage from under the stove, chopped it in half, and made a series of clattering sounds with the knife on the cutting board.
The flames in the stove licked the bottom of the pot, and the water inside began to sizzle.
Jiang Haiping squatted at the entrance of the kitchen, spreading the account book on his knees.
Old Chen owes that twenty yuan for almost a year.
I paid 80 yuan on credit to repair my computer at the beginning of the year. I paid back 60 yuan in installments, and I still owe 20 yuan.
Old Chen never waited for anyone to urge him to pay back the money. He would bring it over as soon as he had caught and sold the fish. Sometimes it was five yuan, sometimes three yuan. The last payment was two months ago.
He used his fingernail to make a mark on Old Chen's row.
Ah Guang ran over from the old parts warehouse, holding a registration book in his hand.
"Brother Haiping, I copied the scores from the competition onto the last page of the register. The team's total score is also calculated; it's four points higher than the county service station."
He opened the register and handed it to Jiang Haiping, who took it and looked at it.
The four scores were written neatly, and the reason for the deduction was noted in small print after each score.
Ahai fastened the belt tension, while Ding Haisheng fastened the vertical weld excess height slightly.
Lin Xiue's hemp filling at the third groove was a little loose, while Zhou Haisheng hesitated for five seconds when identifying the first old piece.
"Hesitating for five seconds also results in a deduction of points." Ah Guang pointed to the small print with his finger. "The judge said his hand lingered on the bearing seat for too long."
"One point is deducted for every five seconds. It's better than losing ten points for admitting a mistake." Jiang Haiping returned the register to A-Guang.
The next morning, Jiang Haiping pushed his bicycle out of the courtyard gate.
The wind on the seawall was still strong; the north wind blew in from the sea, carrying a salty smell, and the reeds by the roadside bent down and then bounced up again.
He rode to Hongjiadao Ferry Terminal and took the early ferry across.
Old Chen's boats were parked under a crooked banyan tree.
A sampan was placed on the raft, its bottom facing upwards.
Old Chen, shirtless, squatted down beside the boat, shoveling barnacles. The shovel scraped against the bottom of the boat, and the barnacle shells fell onto the sand with a crackling sound.
He heard footsteps, looked up, and saw his face was rough and red from the sea breeze.
"Hai Ping." Old Chen put the shovel on the boat and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
He knew why Jiang Haiping had come.
He bent down and pulled a plastic bag from an old tin box under the boat raft.
The bag contained money—ten-yuan, five-yuan, and one-yuan notes—stacked neatly.
He dipped his finger in saliva, counted twice, pulled out twenty yuan, and handed it to Jiang Haiping.
"The last twenty. I cleared them out before the New Year." Old Chen closed the tin box and pushed it back under the boat. "I was supposed to pay it back last month, but the typhoon damaged the nets, and it cost me a few dollars to repair them."
Jiang Haiping took the money, took out his ledger from his pocket, and made a red mark on Old Chen's line.
He turned the notebook over to show Old Chen, who glanced at the red line and reached out to pick up the water pipe from the boat.
He stuffed a pinch of tobacco into the pipe, lit it with a match, and took a puff.
The smoke was dispersed by the sea breeze.
"What place did you get in the competition?" Old Chen threw the matchstick on the sand.
"Second place as a team."
"Okay." Old Chen took another puff of his pipe, placed it on the boat raft, and said, "If the main engine shakes again next year, I'll come back to you guys."
Jiang Haiping put the ledger back in his pocket and pushed his bicycle toward the ferry.
After walking a few steps, he looked back and saw that Old Chen had squatted down again to shovel barnacles, the sound of the shovel scraping against the bottom of the boat echoing continuously.
After cleaning the barnacles on that sampan, it needs to be coated with anti-rust paint and left to dry for two days before it can be put into the water. We can still go out to sea once before the New Year.
It was almost noon when he returned to the service station. A bicycle was parked at the gate; it belonged to Hong Xiaobing's third uncle.
Hong Laosan squatted under the loquat tree, with a plastic bag in front of him containing money.
He was a little thinner than when he last came, his cheekbones were higher, and he hadn't shaved his stubble for several days.
"Pay back half before the winter solstice." He handed the plastic bag to Jiang Haiping. "Here's 150. Pay back the other half before the new year."
Jiang Haiping took the plastic bag, took out his ledger from his pocket, and flipped to Hong Laosan's entry.
He added a line next to "Already at sea, can be returned before the end of the year": "150 will be returned before the winter solstice, and the remaining 150 will be returned before the end of the year."
After finishing writing, he showed it to Hong Laosan.
"Has Auntie San's bracelet been redeemed?" He closed the ledger.
Hong Laosan paused for a moment, then looked down at his rough fingers. "I redeemed it. She pawned it without telling me. Old Ma told me that Master Fang didn't take the money from her bracelet, and I only found out when I got back."
He stood up, brushed the sand off his knees, and looked at Jiang Haiping. "I've redeemed the bracelet. I won't gamble anymore."
Jiang Haiping nodded.
Hong Laosan pushed his bicycle out of the courtyard gate and rode along the seawall towards Hongjia Island.
The sea breeze made his clothes flutter, and his back was a little straighter than when he last came.
At lunchtime, Jiang Haiping spread his account book out on the stone slab under the loquat tree.
He crossed out the two accounts he had collected today in red pen: the one for Old Chen and the one for Hong Laosan, both marked "half to be paid before the winter solstice."
The red pen strokes bleed a little bit onto the paper. He held the notebook up to the light to check and made sure the ink hadn't seeped into the words next to it.
"Let's collect the ones that are close by first. We'll collect the rest slowly." He closed the notebook and brought out an enamel mug from the kitchen.
The porridge was still a little hot, so he stirred it a couple of times with his chopsticks, and the sugar slowly dissolved in the hot porridge.