Chapter 12: A Private Room

Seeing that Wang Shuning was the most vocal about her house, He Zhuzhu tried to secure a tenant. “It won’t cost that much. Just the materials; the village can help with labor. You just need to cook dinner for everyone.”

Wang Shuning muttered, “Where will we get the materials? Who knows how much it will cost?”

He Zhuzhu looked at the village chief, pleading. “Village Chief.”

He Haiming understood. Wang Shuning was interested in He Zhuzhu’s house and was negotiating. This girl was clever.

“The village has leftover bricks, tiles, and wood from building the ancestral hall. You can buy them at cost—around seven or eight yuan. I’ll get people to help—six or seven. You need to provide dinner, including a meat dish.”

Wang Shuning pretended to think. “I’ll pay for the repairs and kitchen. If I don’t stay long enough, it’ll be a loss.”

He Zhuzhu hadn’t expected the educated youth to repair the room. The girl’s point was valid; she’d marry eventually, and the house would be theirs.

The village chief looked at Wang Shuning. “What do you want?”

Wang Shuning looked at He Zhuzhu. “I’m not strong enough to chop wood. Your family will have to provide firewood for the kitchen.”

He Zhuzhu readily agreed. “Okay.” A girl wouldn’t use much firewood; they could collect more branches from the riverbank and mountain.

“Okay. Village Chief, please arrange the repairs tomorrow. We start work the day after.” Wang Shuning agreed after a pause.

Zhang Meili felt embarrassed. If she chose to live with Wang Shuning at He Pingping’s, she wouldn’t have to pay for repairs. “Shuning, call me to help with dinner tomorrow night. Jingyi and I can help.”

Guo Jingyi, understanding the situation, knew Wang Shuning was clever. Living with her, one never knew when they’d be taken advantage of. “Call us if you need help. I’m a good cook.”

Wang Shuning smiled and nodded. “I can manage alone. It’s just a few dishes.”

The village chief: “Go back, unpack, and collect your rations at the village square. Don’t work tomorrow; settle into your rooms. It won’t be so easy later.”

He Zhuzhu helped Wang Shuning carry a bag. “Come, I’ll take you back.”

The village chief turned to Wang Shuning. “I’ll have the materials delivered. The room will be repaired tonight, and the kitchen tomorrow morning.”

Wang Shuning nodded. “Thank you, Village Chief. I’ll buy meat tomorrow and treat the villagers who help.”

He Zhuzhu brought Wang Shuning back. Two children, a boy and a girl, were squatting at the gate.

He Guoyue and He Guochai stood up. “Mom, the vegetables are washed.”

“Don’t rush. Mom will do it now.”

He Zhuzhu brought Wang Shuning inside, put down her things, and said, “Until the kitchen is ready, eat with us. It’s only two meals. Go collect your rations; you can eat when you return.”

Wang Shuning took out a bag with two leftover buns. “I brought these from home. I didn’t finish them on the train. Please warm them up, Aunt Zhu. They’ll go bad tomorrow.”

He Zhuzhu took them. “Okay.” They were light yellow, likely made with corn and wheat flour. City people were well-off; villagers rarely used white flour for buns, mostly corn and sweet potatoes.

The village square was half the size of a football field. The other four were already there.

The village accountant distributed rations, instructing them, “Save it. This will last until the next distribution, especially you girls. You don’t earn many work points, so you’ll get less rations.”

A small bag of wheat flour, a small bag of rice, a bag of corn kernels, a bag of sweet potatoes, and half a bag of brown rice—their food for the next five months.

Wang Shuning looked at the small amounts of wheat flour and rice; there was little refined grain, mostly coarse grains.

Lü Bei Chu carried Guo Jingyi’s rations.

Zhang Meili and Wang Shuning carried their bags, walking heavily towards their lodgings.

Soon after Wang Shuning returned, the village chief arrived with six people and a cart loaded with bricks, tiles, and wood.

Wang Shuning’s room was eight square meters. They reinforced the roof, replaced broken tiles, and filled wall cracks with cement—all in under an hour.

He Haiming approached Wang Shuning. “The accountant calculated the cost of the materials: seven yuan and fifty-two cents. I’ll round it down to seven yuan and fifty cents.”

Wang Shuning took out her money and gave him seven yuan and fifty cents. “Thank you, Village Chief. I’ll prepare dinner tomorrow night for the villagers who helped.”

Even though He Haiming didn’t work, he still deserved a meal.

The village chief nodded, pleased with her attitude. She seemed well-behaved.

That night, at He Zhuzhu’s, there were two dishes: greens and chili scrambled eggs, and corn and sweet potato porridge. Two buns were on a small plate in front of Wang Shuning; no one touched them.

The family was poor—a widow and two young children. Without their guest, there would have been no meat. The chili scrambled eggs were very spicy.

She broke a bun in half and gave it to He Guoyue and He Guochai, keeping the other half. She wouldn’t take advantage of others, nor let others take advantage of her.

He Guoyue looked at her mother.

Seeing Wang Shuning naturally eating, He Zhuzhu nodded.

He Guoyue took a bite of the soft, fragrant bun.

He Guochai followed suit.

It was delicious.

After dinner, Wang Shuning, with a towel on her head, cleaned the room with a broom, dustpan, and feather duster. There was a lot of dust from the repairs.

The bed was old but sturdy. The small stool was good, but the cupboard looked like it had been gnawed by mice; it was oily and had a hole. She moved it outside and would repair it with leftover wood from the kitchen.

Dust kept falling from the walls as she dusted them; she’d need newspapers to cover them.