L.F-Hist.Novelist Chapter 84 New Poultry, Geese
Chapter 84 New Poultry, Geese
"Go have breakfast, there's porridge in the pot." Wang Zhihuan didn't even look up. "I'm full, I have things to do later."
Zhou Xia brought out some porridge from the kitchen. It was millet porridge, cooked until thick, with a thin layer of rice oil on the surface.
Several rough porcelain bowls were stacked beside the stove, their rims intact—something that poor families in the Taihang Mountains would be reluctant to use.
He squatted under the jujube tree, holding a bowl of porridge, when Ah Huang wagged its tail and came over, resting its chin on his knee and nudging his wrist with its wet nose.
Wang Zhi glanced back once more, then continued to plank the wood.
By the time the sun climbed over the low mulberry grove to the east, the frames for the two beds had already been set up.
Wang Zhihuan squatted in the pile of wood, using charcoal sticks to mark the bed frame. Zhou Xia, following his instructions, held the wood and watched him chisel out mortises.
Tap the chisel three times, blow away the sawdust, and tap three more times.
The mortises are cut squarely, and the tenons fit together perfectly. No nails or wedges are needed; the two pieces of wood are simply interlocked.
"You've also studied carpentry?" Wang Zhihuan asked without looking up.
"I never formally studied it. My master's medical hut leaked, and I repaired the roof a few times, so I guess I've handled a saw before."
"That's about right. Come over and give it a try."
Wang Zhi handed him the saw.
Zhou Xia took the saw and began sawing wood, imitating Wang Zhihuan's technique.
At first, the wiring was crooked and twisted; after cutting off half of it, it became crooked by a finger's width.
He bit his lower lip and started again, this time sawing slowly, his eyes fixed on the ink line, and sweat began to bead on his forehead halfway through.
"Don't stare at the saw."
Wang Zhihuan's voice came from the side, "Keep your eyes on the line. A saw is like a dagger; the force comes from the wrist, not the arm."
Zhou Xia adjusted his grip on the saw, and it became more stable.
By the time I sawed the third piece of wood, the saw teeth were no longer veering off course.
The two of them, one squatting and one standing, worked for nearly an hour. The sun rose higher, the morning mist dissipated, and the courtyard became bright.
After Ah Huang finished gnawing on a pork bone, he buried it under the roots of a jujube tree, covered it with soil using his nose, and then lay on top of it pretending he hadn't hidden anything.
"You little rascal, you're not shy at all." Zhou Xia wiped his sweat and looked at Ah Huang.
"That's just how it is." Wang Zhi picked up the ink line. "It treats everyone like family. If we relied on it to guard the house, the house would probably be empty by now."
The ink line snapped against the wooden board with a soft "snap," leaving a straight black line.
Another hour passed, and the two beds, the table, and the four stools were all finished.
The wood was pine that Wang Zhihuan had asked Old Zhang to cut down in the mountains a few days ago. It was dried for more than a month and was completely dry. The furniture made from it was light and sturdy, and the stool legs were stable and sturdy when they touched the ground.
The mortise and tenon joints were all firmly locked, and Zhou Xia tried to shake them, but they didn't budge.
Wang Zhihuan stood up and patted the sawdust off his knees.
He walked around the bed frame, squatted down to check a few joints, and then brought out a pot of steamed medicinal paste from the kitchen.
"What is this?" Zhou Xia leaned closer and smelled it.
"Boil the bark of the neem tree in water and mix it with powdered phellodendron bark to repel insects and moths."
Wang Zhi also dipped a brush in the medicine paste and brushed it into the cracks of the bed board. "Although the new wood is completely dry, the insect eggs may not be dead. One application of the medicine can last for three years."
Zhou Xia also picked up a brush and squatted down next to the table to follow along.
He applied the medicine to the wood very evenly, without putting too much paste on the brush, and followed the wood grain stroke by stroke, without piling it up or leaving any blank areas.
Wang Zhi glanced at it, said nothing, and simply moved the medicine pot half an inch closer to him.
As the two were brushing, the courtyard gate was pushed open.
Old Zhang walked in carrying a hoe. Seeing the new furniture in the yard, he smiled and said, "Master, your craftsmanship is still as good as ever. The newly made bed must be for Old Zhou and the others, right?"
Wang Zhihuan grunted in agreement, stood up, and stretched. "Old Zhang, you're here just in time. Help me move these two beds inside."
Old Zhang put down his hoe, and his son Zhang Dazhu also carried a hoe to the gate of the yard.
Old Zhang beckoned, and the father and son each carried one side of the bed into the side room where Uncle Zhou and his son lived.
The bed frame fits perfectly once it's placed inside.
Uncle Zhou stood at the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes reddening.
His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only bowed deeply to Wang Zhihuan.
Wang Zhi waved his hand and said, "There's millet in the kitchen, and the flour is fresh too. Just relax and settle in. We'll talk about other things once you've recovered."
Just then, a series of gurgling sounds suddenly came from the direction of the fence.
Zhou Xia turned her head and saw that a flock of geese had appeared in the enclosure at some point.
A dozen or so gray-feathered, white-bellied geese huddled in a corner of the fence, stretching their long necks and shoving each other, their calls rising and falling.
"This is……"
"Old Zhang brought it yesterday."
Wang Zhi picked up a plane and bent down to clean up the sawdust on the ground. "His wife's family raised geese, saying that the farm's pond was empty anyway, so why not raise some geese?"
Geese eat water plants, and when they grow up, they lay salted goose eggs, which are whiter than chicken eggs. Plus, these geese are fierce and can guard the house, much more useful than that useless Ah Huang.
Ah Huang, lying under the roots of the jujube tree, heard his own name called and thought to himself, "This human must be talking badly about me."
It pricked up one ear, wanting to listen, but its lazy nature kept its head resting on its front paws.
Grey jumped down from the stone table, strolled over to the goose pen, squatted on the crossbar, and looked inside.
A large goose suddenly stretched its neck and pecked at it. Gray darted back and landed lightly two steps away. It licked its front paws and walked away nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened.
Wang Zhi watched the gray figure disappear into the distance and smiled to himself. Zhou Xia couldn't help but smile too.
The things in this yard—the cats, the dogs, the geese—all seem to have their own temperaments, but when they're all together, they somehow make you feel at peace.
After the two finished applying the last coat of medicine, they moved the furniture to its proper place. Old Zhang took a bamboo broom and swept the sawdust in the yard into a small pile, saying he would keep it to start a fire in the kitchen.
The courtyard gradually quieted down.
Ah Huang climbed up from under the jujube tree roots, walked to Zhou Xia's feet, sniffed his trouser leg, then lay down and rested his chin on his shoe.
Zhou Xia looked down at the big yellow dog and remembered that when he almost cried yesterday, it was this dog that came over first and licked his fingers.
He reached out and patted Ah Huang's head, and Ah Huang's tail slowly swept twice on the muddy ground.
Wang Zhi also brought out two bowls of cold tea from the kitchen, handing one to Zhou Xia and drinking the other himself.
"Thank you, Master." Zhou Xia accepted the teacup.
"No need to call me Master," Wang Zhihuan said, taking a sip of tea. "Just call me Brother Wang."
Zhou Xia held the teacup and took a sip. The herbal tea was brewed with wild chrysanthemum; it was slightly bitter, but left a sweet aftertaste on the tip of her tongue.
He thought of his master again—when his master was alive, he was always like this, never saying "I am your master" or "You should do this or that".
His master simply placed the pulse pillow in his hand and told him that a doctor should persevere as long as there is a glimmer of hope.
Now that his master is gone, he traveled thousands of miles, from one mountain valley to another, and finally arrived at this courtyard.
There was a young man in the courtyard who was about the same age as him. He didn't talk much, but he was efficient at his work. He could brew wine, take pulses, and make furniture. It seemed like there was nothing he couldn't do.
Even more impressively, the very next morning after taking him in, they would prepare two beds for the injured stranger, which truly impressed him.