Chapter 34: One’s Own Haven

“This is the place. This room, and the one next to it, used to belong to a senior shift worker at the steel mill. Not long ago, he and his entire family moved to the southwestern region to support the Great Third Front construction, so these rooms have been vacant. The one next door was assigned yesterday, but it looks like they haven’t come to take it yet. This one is yours,” said Comrade Liu, pointing to a side room at the back courtyard as he introduced the place.

Xiao Weiguo gazed at the room, his mind awash with thoughts.

He had finally acquired a place of his own within the city walls of Beijing, a foothold to call his own. Of course, there were still many problems. Strictly speaking, the house was rented from the state, though the rent was minimal. After the reforms of the eighties and nineties, it would become private property. His employment was also still temporary; if he didn’t secure a formal position before the great retrenchment of rural temporary workers, he might be sent back to where he came from. The room itself was small, barely more than twenty square meters—just enough for a bed and some simple furniture, and it would be full. But in these days, twenty-odd square meters was the actual usable area, with none wasted on communal spaces.

Still, Xiao Weiguo felt content. After all, it was a room in the heart of old Beijing.

If it were to be demolished in the future, it would be worth at least two apartments within the Third Ring, worth several million. Of course, Xiao Weiguo’s ambitions lay beyond that.

Comrade Liu continued, “I’ll go and speak to the head elder in the courtyard about your situation later, so you won’t be mistaken for an outsider. You don’t need to go yourself. Take time to tidy up the house—there’s still a lot to do.”

Thanking and bidding farewell to Liu, Xiao Weiguo entered the room. Inside, a few pieces of furniture had been left behind—two or three items, including a washstand, two long benches, and a small square table.

The room had been cleaned thoroughly. Clearly the previous tenant and his family were tidy people, and they’d left the place spotless.

Xiao Weiguo took stock of the supplies he’d need: a bed, a trunk, a dining table, a coal stove, a set of cooking and dining utensils, bedding, a quilt and mattress, and various small items like a broom, scissors, a basin, a thermos, as well as a few sets of clothes—ready-made would suffice.

After making a mental list, he left the compound and headed straight for the commission store.

He had just over a hundred yuan on him—not much in the way of ration coupons, and a long list of things to buy—so the commission store, which dealt in secondhand goods, was the best option.

The commission store had evolved over the years in the absence of an official secondhand market, gradually becoming the city’s go-to place for used goods. At first, it was simply a place to recycle old items, offering consignment services for furniture, clothing, pots and pans. Over time, it developed into a business that bought goods at a low price and resold them.

They sold old wardrobes, tables, benches, radios, alarm clocks, watches, kitchenware, thermoses, used books—everything could be found there. It was, in a sense, Beijing’s offline version of a secondhand marketplace.

Upon entering, Xiao Weiguo noticed many similarities to the supply and marketing cooperative, though it was much quieter.

At the watch counter, he saw all sorts of watches—even Longines, Vacheron Constantin, Patek Philippe—but they were all used and bore visible scars. Xiao Weiguo found it fascinating, and the prices were not high: a Vacheron Constantin, for instance, was priced at 560 yuan. He thought to himself that once he had money, he must buy a few to keep. In this era, gold was everywhere.

For now, though, he could only leave reluctantly.

Moving on to the used book section, he saw a wide array of titles. There were mostly Russian books in the foreign language section—almost no English, with titles like War and Peace, Anna Karenina, The Red and the Black, How the Steel Was Tempered, Crime and Punishment, and even histories of Russian romance. In Chinese, the Four Great Classics and various picture books were most plentiful.

After a brief look around, he headed for the furniture area and began purchasing according to his list.

He’d hoped to find a rare bargain—perhaps a bed or trunk made of precious nanmu wood—but no such luck. He guessed the time wasn’t right, and besides, the regulars here would know the value of such things. Even if any showed up, they’d be tucked away to await a big sale.

Halfway through his shopping, Xiao Weiguo realized he was buying more than he could carry; he needed a cart parked at the entrance, so he could load items as he bought them.

He paused, stepped outside, and found several porters vying for his business, boasting of their strength. He picked one with a kindly face, negotiated a price of thirty cents, including handling, and asked him to park the cart at the door so he could load his purchases one by one as he continued shopping.

He chose only the most cost-effective secondhand goods, yet the total still came to sixty or seventy yuan, mainly because the larger items were expensive. A 1.5-meter-wide wooden bed, along with big pieces like a cupboard, trunk, dining table, and wardrobe—these would have cost several hundred if bought new.

With the porter, the two of them hauled a cart piled high with goods toward Courtyard No. 98.

Passing a courtyard across from No. 98, Xiao Weiguo noticed the sign: No. 95. At the entrance, an elderly man with glasses was tending two green plants. Looking closely, he resembled Third Grandpa from the television drama “In the Name of the People.”

So his hunch was correct—No. 95 was the courtyard where Sha Zhu and the others lived. He made a note to observe discreetly in the future, perhaps for amusement.

Following behind the cart, Xiao Weiguo helped the porter push it into No. 98. They were met by an elderly man with a goatee, who asked, “Who’s moving in? Is this a newcomer?”

Xiao Weiguo stepped out from behind the cart and replied, “Hello, sir. I’m the new arrival in the back courtyard—my name is Xiao Aiguo, and I’m a buyer at the cotton mill.”

“Oh, it’s you! I heard about you from Liu this morning. I’m the head elder here—my name is Liu Qingchang, and I’m a teacher at the nearby middle school. Go ahead and get settled; I’ll introduce you to the others in the courtyard,” the elder said.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll come visit you once I’m settled,” Xiao Weiguo replied, then continued pushing the cart toward the back.

“Thank you, sir—here’s your thirty cents,” Xiao Weiguo said gratefully to the porter.

Back in the room, Xiao Weiguo resumed organizing his things.

Half a day passed in a blur.

The little room was finally in order. Just inside the door stood a square red-lacquered dining table, with four chairs set on each side. To the left was the kitchen area, with the coal stove set in place and the cupboard beside it, dishes neatly arranged inside. About a meter up the wall was a built-in chopping board.

To the right of the table was the washstand, used for daily washing. Further in stood a long table with a few books, intended as a desk for reading and writing, with a high stool next to it for ease of use.

To the right of the desk was a wardrobe, dividing the room. Behind it was the bed, already made up with quilt and bedding. The bed was set against the wall; at its left was a nightstand with a kerosene lamp, and beside that a large trunk for off-season clothing and valuables.

The room had two windows, front and back: the front above the coal stove, the back above the desk. Brooms and such were kept behind the door.

Standing at the threshold, Xiao Weiguo surveyed his work with a smile, his heart brimming with satisfaction.