At the lumberyard.
Gu Jingwen was sawing wood, pain shooting through his hands and arms.
He stopped, unable to resist glancing at an empty spot nearby.
“How’s it going?” Xu Jianguo saw him pause and said, “Don’t rush. Get used to it first. Once your body adjusts, it’ll be fine. We all went through this.”
Gu Jingwen trembled slightly with spasms, gritted his teeth, then looked again at that empty spot and asked: “Captain, doesn’t Han Dongyuan usually work here with us?”
These past days, he had only seen him at that spot a few times.
Xu Jianguo kept working, glanced over, and said casually: “He does, but he has other things to do. He comes by occasionally.”
“Other things? What kind of things? Is he doing other work for the brigade?” Gu Jingwen pressed.
Xu Jianguo finally looked up, smiled, and said: “Yes. In the past, during winter, we couldn’t cut or saw wood here. We had to collect firewood outside, hunt, freeze, and exhaust ourselves, all while risking accidents. Even then, a day’s work wouldn’t earn full work points—not enough to fill our stomachs. These simple carpentry tasks were arranged by Han Dongyuan. He drew up designs, taught everyone, and contacted factories to sell them directly. That’s why this winter we can earn full work points.”
“But these little stools and benches don’t sell for much. Recently, he’s been contacting carpenters to set up a small bamboo-and-wood workshop here. It should be nearly ready—he’ll probably announce it in a few days.”
“Setting up a factory—that’s not easy, is it?” Gu Jingwen was stunned.
“These villagers, from what I’ve seen, can barely manage basic carpentry. Even simple things are slow and rough. As you said, they don’t sell for much. Can a factory really support everyone?”
“Every beginning is hard,” Xu Jianguo smiled. “But in the dead of winter, it’s better than just chopping trees for firewood, isn’t it?”
“And the initial funds? Is the brigade or commune supporting it?”
“No,” Xu Jianguo pressed his foot on the wood, adjusted the saw, and said, “The brigade and commune are dirt poor. What support could they give?”
Then he went back to sawing.
These past two days, Han Dongyuan has been very busy. Two days later, he went to see Brigade Leader Han Youfu.
Han Youfu called in Party Secretary Zhou Puhuai and Accountant Li Yuanqiang, and the three held a meeting.
On the table were several wooden items: A pen holder, two rectangular cylinders—one carved with a simple pattern, one painted with a landscape—another plain round cylinder, and some simple wooden utensils: spoons, chopsticks, spatulas, bowls.
Han Youfu, Zhou Puhuai, and Li Yuanqiang examined each item carefully.
“Making these simple things isn’t hard,” Han Youfu said, touching the pen holder. “But making them this smooth and attractive is difficult. And carving or painting designs—we can’t do that.”
Not everyone could be a carpenter. Though they lived surrounded by forests, whenever they needed furniture, they had to hire carpenters from neighboring villages. Usually, wood was just chopped for firewood.
The current lumberyard tasks were all basic work taught by Han Dongyuan.
Han Dongyuan explained: “A few days ago, when I went to the county, I called to ask my old unit to contact a retired carpenter. He’ll come teach everyone once the mountain snow melts. I’ve already reviewed the villagers’ work these days and drafted a preliminary list. Five villagers will learn fine carpentry from the master. The rest will continue with sawing and board-cutting.”
Inviting a master wasn’t difficult, as long as you knew the right people.
Times were hard for everyone, and retired craftsmen were often willing to take on extra work to supplement their families.
Han Dongyuan was familiar with the carpenter, trusted him, and though the journey was long, the man was willing to come.
Han Youfu, Zhou Puhuai, and the others were delighted when they heard this. After all, carpentry skills weren’t easy to learn.
Take the old carpenter in the neighboring village—he would only teach fine work to his own son or son-in-law. Outsiders couldn’t hope to apprentice under him. Even his nephew, after years of following him, could only manage rough tasks.
If Han Dongyuan truly brought a master to teach them, then regardless of whether the bamboo-and-wood workshop made much profit, simply learning the craft would be a blessing for generations to come.
“Only… Dongyuan, hiring someone like this costs money, doesn’t it? You know our brigade’s situation…” Han Youfu said, embarrassed.
They hadn’t asked directly, but they knew: a retired carpenter of higher rank would earn at least fifty or sixty yuan a month. Their entire brigade had spent autumn gathering mountain goods, which Han Dongyuan sold in Beicheng. Altogether, it brought in just two hundred yuan and a few hundred jin of grain coupons. That money was the villagers’ lifeline for the winter.
Han Dongyuan said calmly: “It’s fine. As I said before, I’ll cover the initial expenses myself.”
In fact, half of the work points the villagers earned at the lumberyard these days had already been advanced by him. He had signed an agreement with the brigade: he would front the costs needed to establish the bamboo-and-wood workshop, but all matters of the workshop—preparations, staffing, accounts—would remain independent of the brigade. He alone would manage them.
The previous autumn and winter, he had secretly used a homemade radio and grain coupons to buy up mountain goods, then shipped them out together with the brigade’s stock, making a tidy profit.
Still, covering all the upfront costs of the workshop required careful planning. Fortunately, Cheng Ning had suddenly delivered a large sum of money and coupons, solving the funding problem at once.
“We can’t let you shoulder it all,” Han Youfu and Zhou Puhuai exchanged a glance, then gritted their teeth: “The brigade should support you where it can.”
“No need for funds,” Han Dongyuan waved his hand. “I know the brigade’s situation better than anyone. Your trust is already the greatest support. But let’s be clear—when it comes to the workshop, I make the decisions.” He looked directly at the Party Secretary.
“Of course,” Zhou Puhuai rubbed his hands together and agreed readily. He had already seen the list, and his youngest son Zhou Liangshan’s name was on it. The boy was hopeless at farm work, a constant worry. But if he could learn carpentry, Zhou Puhuai would be overjoyed. He forced himself to rein in his smile and said: “This workshop is entirely your doing. Only you know where to sell the goods. We absolutely won’t interfere.”
Han Dongyuan nodded and said: “As for painting and calligraphy, don’t worry. I’ll select from among the educated youths. And let’s be clear—when the factory makes money, after deducting workers’ wages, materials, and other expenses, the remainder I have the authority to use for developing the factory, buying equipment, and giving bonuses to employees. Whatever is left after that, half will go toward developing other projects—for example, building a primary school in the village, or setting up other workshops. The final half will then be handed over to the brigade.”
Of course, the brigade leader and secretary had no objections. The brigade was chronically short of money and supplies—any income was welcome. And everything Han Dongyuan proposed was for the good of the village.
For the children to have a school—this was something they had wanted for a long time.
Once the matter was settled, Han Dongyuan didn’t discuss further details with the brigade leader or secretary. He had never intended for them to be too involved. Back at the lumberyard, he called Liao Sheng and Xu Jianguo for a small meeting to plan the arrangements for the bamboo-and-wood workshop. By noon, they had hung a large, conspicuous wooden sign outside the yard: “Shanghan Bamboo and Wood Workshop.”
Together with the villagers and educated youths present, he announced the founding of the workshop and explained the arrangements for learning carpentry from the master.
“This sign is just temporary,” he said slowly. “Later, we’ll choose an auspicious day for an official ribbon-cutting ceremony. For now, it helps us organize the work ahead. Our bamboo-and-wood workshop will produce all kinds of products, with many steps involved. These five people were chosen because I’ve observed them over the past few days and found them suited to the processes they’ll learn. But there’s also sawing, polishing, assembling—lots of tasks that need hands. As long as you’re willing to work, the workshop welcomes you. And your work isn’t fixed forever. If you want to apply to switch to another process, as long as your skills are up to standard—fast, good quality, and with the right attitude—you can transfer.”
The hanging of the sign and the afternoon announcement were like dropping a stone into boiling water.
The villagers were excited. The educated youths were thrilled—and thoughtful. They all knew a factory needed not only laborers but also other roles: management, quality control, accounting, publicity, and sales. So everyone’s hearts were itching.
Those familiar with Han Dongyuan asked him directly. Those less familiar went to ask Liao Sheng and Xu Jianguo.
All afternoon, no one at the lumberyard could focus on work. The whole place buzzed with energy. Even Wang Xiaojuan, Xu Dongmei, Ma Tingting, and Min Ran crowded around Cheng Ning, asking her questions now and then: Did she know how the workshop would arrange things for the educated youths?
Of course, Cheng Ning didn’t know. This “Shanghan Bamboo and Wood Workshop” was the first she had ever heard of it.
In her previous life, aside from Grandma Han’s occasional rambling, no one had ever told Cheng Ning much about Han Dongyuan. Most of what she learned about his time in the countryside came from overhearing conversations at the Han household or piecing together fragments from his phone calls years later.
This factory…
She gazed thoughtfully at the large wooden plaque hanging on the lumberyard gate: “Shanghan Bamboo and Wood Workshop.” It was only when Wang Xiaojuan asked her a question that she snapped back to herself, shook her head, and said: “Comrade Han never mentioned it to me. I just arrived—I know even less than you.”
Zhao Zhi had been listening closely to Cheng Ning. Hearing her say this, she immediately breathed a sigh of relief. So Han Dongyuan really didn’t care about this “neighbor” from the same compound who had chased after him here.
That afternoon, the very same Han Dongyuan—who supposedly didn’t care—received a massive burlap sack of a package. He was still at the lumberyard when Accountant Li Yuanqiang came running to tell him, smiling: “Dongyuan, your family sent you a package—an enormous sack, heavy as stone. I helped Xiao Gao lift it off the ox cart to the brigade. It must be full of food; I could smell it through the snakeskin bag.”
His dorm mates Sun Jian and Zhu Xiankai immediately poked their heads over, eyes shining.
Ever since Cheng Ning’s arrival, she had brought plenty of food for Liao Sheng and Han Dongyuan, which meant their dorm had finally escaped the days of nothing but corn porridge, sweet potato porridge, and coarse black bread. But even so, with several mouths to feed, the sauces and dried meats were nearly gone. So when they heard Han Dongyuan’s family had sent a giant sack of supplies, of course their eyes lit up.
Han Dongyuan didn’t even lift his eyelids. He only said to Li Yuanqiang:
“Alright, thanks, Accountant Li. I’ll pick it up after work.”
“Brother Yuan, we’ll help you,” Zhu Xiankai said ingratiatingly, craning his neck.
Han Dongyuan gave him a smile that wasn’t a smile and patted his shoulder.
After work, the group borrowed an ox from the cowshed, loaded the sack onto the cart, and hauled it back to the educated youth compound.
But when the cart stopped, Han Dongyuan didn’t get down. He watched Liao Sheng, Sun Jian, and Zhu Xiankai unload the sack, then said directly:
“Sun Jian, Xiankai, Shengzi—take it straight to Comrade Cheng’s dorm. Later, each of you can have a jar of dried fish sauce.”
With that, he tugged the reins, snapped the whip, and drove the ox cart right out of the yard.
Sun Jian & Zhu Xiankai: “???”
“Come on,” Liao Sheng said, unfazed. “Since when did delivering food mean you’d miss out? Let’s go—Ning Ning might even be more generous.”
At least she wouldn’t be stingy enough to withhold even a single White Rabbit candy.
He directed them: “Careful now, don’t bump or drag it. Women’s things are precious—don’t ruin them.”
Sun Jian & Zhu Xiankai: “…… This is killing us.”
The three of them struggled to carry the heavy sack to Cheng Ning’s dorm, sweating buckets despite the winter cold.
Wang Xiaojuan asked: “What’s this for?”
“Brother Han sent it to Comrade Cheng,” Zhu Xiankai blurted out. “He said it was from his family—but who knows, maybe he bought it specially for her in the county.”
Everyone: “……!”