Chapter 126: Checking In at the Repair Shop

After tidying up their belongings, Xiao Weiguo loaded them up and set off with Xiao Pingle to head back to the city.

With Grandpa at home, things were well taken care of, and there were no issues. Xiao Weijun and the others could simply eat at Grandma’s place.

Carrying a passenger on the return trip made the bike ride much slower, but there was no rush, so they pedaled along at a leisurely pace. When he got tired, Xiao Weiguo let Xiao Pingle take the handlebars. It was quite a surprise—he hadn’t realized his father actually knew how to ride a bicycle. In this era, few people knew how to cycle; it wouldn't be until the nineties that riding a bike became a common skill for everyone.

By the time they arrived home, it was already dinnertime. With a thought, Xiao Weiguo filled the kitchen cupboards with a variety of ingredients. He turned to Xiao Pingle and said, "Dad, the cupboard is stocked. You handle dinner; I’m going out to find out where the repair factory is located so we can head straight there tomorrow."

When Xiao Pingle opened the cupboard, his eyes nearly popped out of his head. He hadn't expected his son to be so generous. Inside, there were four or five pounds of pork alone, along with various vegetables and the finest white rice and snow-white flour. "This boy really doesn't know how to save," he muttered.

Xiao Weiguo returned shortly after. To his surprise, the repair factory was nearby, just three streets away. It seemed that when it came time to allocate housing, it would likely fall under the jurisdiction of the Nanluoguxiang Street Office. He wondered if there were any vacant rooms in their courtyard. If there were, getting a spot in Courtyard 98 would be ideal.

Thinking of this, Xiao Weiguo hurried out to circle the entire courtyard. He discovered two rooms next to the home of the aunt with the Sichuan-Chongqing accent. They appeared unoccupied, though they were packed with clutter. These rooms would be perfect—so close to his own. If he could secure them, there would be enough space for Xiao Hongmei and the others once they moved to the city. However, they looked windowless and rather damp and gloomy.

Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the aunt who had given him the hot pot base in a long time; he wondered what she had been up to. But then again, Xiao Weiguo hadn't been home much lately, so it was normal not to run into her. When people were busy with their work, especially those with a spirit of dedication, they would sometimes go days without returning home—and they were the type who gave that dedication willingly. That was the essence of those "fiery years"; everyone’s heart burned with a collective passion, ready to sacrifice everything for the betterment of the nation.

Back home, he found Xiao Pingle clumsily chopping vegetables; his shreds were as thick as fingers. It was clear he never cooked; the house had always had a woman in charge, and Xiao Hongmei had been the one responsible for the meals. Xiao Weiguo shooed him aside and took over, quickly whipping up one meat dish and one vegetable dish.

He boiled two large bowls of white rice porridge, and soon, the two of them sat down, each cradling a big bowl of porridge and tucking into the shredded pork with peppers and stir-fried cabbage.

Xiao Pingle sighed with contentment; eating at his son’s place was truly comfortable. Just look at the white rice porridge and these two top-notch dishes—even with meat! It was a real treat.

After dinner, Xiao Weiguo pondered the sleeping arrangements. They only had one bed—a double, but it felt awkward sharing it with his father.

"Dad, let’s wash up and get some sleep. You take the bed, and I’ll just lay out a mat on the floor."

"You take the bed; your old man is much tougher than you," Xiao Pingle replied. Before Xiao Weiguo could argue, his father grabbed the bedding and mat, spread them on the floor, and lay down.

Even though it wasn't freezing, the floor could be quite cold at night.

"Let’s just sleep on the bed together. It’s big enough. We’ll just sleep head-to-toe. But Dad, make sure you wash your feet well—don't gas me out!" Xiao Weiguo put the floor mat away and moved the quilt onto the bed. Awkward as it was, he couldn't just watch his father catch a cold. He decided he would buy a small cot tomorrow to tide them over until Xiao Pingle was assigned his own place.

Xiao Pingle happily went off to wash his feet with hot water. Even so, once they were in bed, Xiao Weiguo could still smell a lingering foot odor. Thankfully, they weren't sharing a quilt, or he might have been suffocated. He decided that quilt would be Xiao Pingle’s permanent one from now on—it was truly pungent. He quickly turned his head toward the inner side of the bed to sleep. In this era, how could a farmer’s feet not smell? They were the tools used to wrest a living from the earth.

The next morning, they had a simple breakfast of porridge, boiled eggs, and pickles. Just as they were about to leave, Xiao Pingle hesitated, looking down at his clothes and shoes repeatedly.

"Uh, Weiguo, do you think this outfit is a bit too ragged?"

Xiao Weiguo looked him over. His father was wearing homemade cloth shoes with two large patches on the uppers. His clothes appeared to be his best set, yet they were still covered in patches and coated in a layer of gray dust. Anyone on the street could tell at a glance he was from the countryside. It seemed his father was worried about looking shameful on his first day at a new job.

Xiao Weiguo rummaged through his wardrobe and found a pair of "Liberation" sneakers and a light blue jacket he had bought earlier. "Dad, try these on. Once your job is settled, I’ll take you to the supply and marketing cooperative to buy a new set of clothes."

"That’s great, let me try them. And why go to the cooperative? Just use the fabric you brought back earlier to make me something. Your grandmother insists I wait until the New Year to wear new clothes anyway."

Xiao Weiguo checked the fit; the jacket was a little small, but it would do for now, though it wouldn't fit once his father started wearing sweaters underneath. The Liberation sneakers were a perfect fit. Xiao Pingle looked at himself in the mirror, beaming.

"Let’s go, Dad."

"Right!"

Before long, they arrived at the gates of the repair factory. From the outside, the factory didn't look very large—certainly not on the scale of a steel mill or a textile plant—but it seemed like a decent, medium-sized operation.

They approached and greeted the guard, explaining they were there to report for duty. The guard looked at them, puzzled, as he hadn't heard of any hiring plans recently. Still, he made a call to the office, asking, "What’s the name of the person reporting?"

"Xiao Pingle."

The guard nodded; the name matched. "Go on in. The white building in front is the general office building. Go find the Personnel Department."

"Thank you, sir," Xiao Weiguo said, quickly pulling a cigarette from his pocket and handing it over. The guard’s expression brightened immediately, and he said cheerfully, "Go on, go on."

Xiao Weiguo reminded himself to always offer cigarettes in advance; it made things run much more smoothly. He had been influenced by the realities of life in a big city in the future, where, in a society driven by personal connections, a single cigarette could elevate the efficiency of one's business by more than a notch. And in this era, it was a society built entirely on those connections.

The factory’s office building was a four-story white structure. After asking for directions, they made their way to the Personnel Department on the third floor.