Chapter 260: Jia Dongxu Is Gone

In the spring of 1961, it seemed to bring little warmth to the Steel Rolling Mill.

The workshop still roared with machines, but the sound carried a feeble, exhausted quality, as if the workers' bodies had been hollowed out by hunger. Chronic malnutrition, like a slow‑acting poison, eroded everyone's vigor, including Jia Dongxu in the press‑workshop.

That afternoon, slanting sunlight filtered through oil‑stained windows, casting mottled patches on the floor littered with metal shrapnel.

Jia Dongxu felt his eyelids weighed a thousand pounds, his mind as if filled with paste. The thin porridge that could still show a silhouette and the throat‑clearing steamed buns from the morning had long been exhausted; his stomach gurgled emptily, and his limbs were limp and weak.

Master Yi Zhonghai's assigned part‑polishing task was only half done, but he could no longer hold on. Seeing that no one was watching, he slipped quietly to a corner of the material area where miscellaneous supplies were stacked, a relatively concealed spot.

A heavy drowsiness seized him; he could not even mind the oily floor and cold metal parts. Leaning against a few discarded wooden crates, he drifted into a hazy sleep.

He was too tired, too hungry. In his dream, he seemed to smell the fragrance of a Meat Bun…

At that moment, a stack of medium‑sized steel pieces nearby, piled rather haphazardly, emitted a faint, teeth‑aching squeak due to uneven foundation and prolonged vibration. A steel beam weighing nearly a hundred jin at the top began to tilt slowly, then suddenly slipped down!

"Clang—!"

A deep, harsh crash roared, accompanied by a brief, almost negligible wail, standing out starkly amid the noisy workshop!

"What's happening?!"

"Material area! Go check it!"

A few nearby workers shouted and rushed over. The sight made their scalp tingle—Jia Dongxu's torso was half‑crushed by the heavy steel beam, blood gushing from his mouth, nose, and beneath his body, and he was already lifeless.

"Dongxu! Dongxu!" Yi Zhonghai arrived upon hearing the news, pushed through the crowd, and upon seeing his disciple's grim state, felt his vision go black, his footing stagger, nearly collapsing. His face turned as pale as paper, his lips trembled, yet he could not utter a single word.

"Heaven… has collapsed! The disciple he had carefully chosen, hoping to support in old age and death, has… has gone ahead of him! How can he accept this?!"

"Quick! Send to Yi Yuan! Notify Security Section!" The workshop director remained relatively calm, hoarsely commanding. Though the person was clearly beyond help, the procedure had to be followed.

In the factory Yi Yuan, the doctor gave only a cursory examination and shook his head. The Security Section's investigation was swift, concluding clearly: Jia Dongxu's chronic hunger caused mental lethargy; he left his post during work and slept in a non‑work area, constituting a serious violation, for which he bore primary responsibility. The steel‑part stacking posed safety hazards, and those responsible would also be punished.

When the factory office staff and Yi Zhonghai arrived at the Siheyuan, sorrowfully notifying the family, Jia Zhangshi was inside stitching shoe soles. Upon hearing that her son had an accident, she first froze, then leapt up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her sharp nails scratching the faces of the informants, leaving several blood marks: "What the hell! My son was fine—how could he die? You're lying to me! You're colluding to deceive me!!"

Meanwhile, Qin Huairu, who was washing clothes in the Central Courtyard, heard the commotion in the Front Courtyard and her mother‑in‑law's wailing; her heart lurched, and the hammer fell from her hand. She stumbled forward, and upon confirming the tragedy from the crowd's chatter and Yi Zhonghai's sorrowful gaze, felt the world spin, her vision blacken, and she fainted softly to the ground.

The others scrambled again, lifted her onto a handcart, and hurried her to Yi Yuan.

After a series of examinations, the doctor's words stunned everyone again: "The patient suffered a massive shock, activating fetal Qi. She is already nearly two months pregnant and needs to convalesce quietly."

A still‑born!

The news struck like another heavy hammer, crushing the heart of Jia Zhangshi, who had just endured the loss of her son, and also hitting Qin Huairu, who had just regained consciousness and was still in bewildered grief. Bang Geng, naively tugging at Qin Huairu's sleeve, whispered, "Mom, dad's gone—does that mean we can have a banquet?" Childlike words were unfiltered, yet made the sorrow even more bleak.

In the hospital mortuary, Jia Zhangshi saw her son's cold, rigid corpse, and the last sliver of hope shattered. She went berserk, collapsing to the floor, pounding her chest and stamping her feet, wailing loudly, her snot and tears smearing her face: "My son! You died so terribly! How am I supposed to live now!!"

After a bout of wailing, she sprang up, rushed toward the arriving Factory Director Yang Weiguo and Deputy Factory Director Li Huaide, and seized Li Huaide's sleeve: "It's you! It's you Steel Rolling Mill that killed my son! You must pay with your lives! Compensate my son!"

Factory Director Yang Changzhang furrowed his brows, his complexion iron‑blue. Li Huaide, flustered by the pull, had to step forward, patiently saying: "Jia Dama, please accept our condolences. Comrade Dongxu's incident at the plant grieves us as well. The plant will, according to regulations, provide compensation. The burial costs will be fully covered by the plant. As for the specific relief compensation, we still need to convene a meeting and will give you an answer as soon as possible."

"Research? Research what!" Jia Zhangshi persisted, spitting wildly, "I want my son now! You compensate my son!" She then turned to the pallid Yi Zhonghai beside her, her hands clawing erratically: "Yi Zhonghai! You old scoundrel! You are my son's master! How have you looked after him? Compensate my son! You won't die peacefully!"

Yi Zhonghai's face bore several fresh blood marks from her scratches; he felt both shame and anger, yet could not erupt, only suppressing his grief and resentment, and said in a deep voice: "Elder Sister-in‑law! The most important thing now is to lay Dongxu to rest! Let's get him home first!"

After much back‑and‑forth, they finally persuaded Jia Zhangshi. The plant sent a cart, hauling Jia Dongxu's body back to the Siheyuan. According to custom, the mourning hall was set up at the entrance of the Jia family in the Central Courtyard.

However, Jia Zhangshi, citing "my son died unjustly; he cannot be quietly buried in silence," stubbornly refused to proceed with the burial, leaving the coffin in the courtyard, saying she would wait for a satisfactory explanation from the plant.

It was late spring, the weather warming. The thin coffin lingered in the courtyard; anyone passing by at night felt a chilling draft, a sickly chill. Residents of the courtyard were greatly disturbed, especially children and women, who dared not go out after dark.

The pressure ultimately fell back on Yi Zhonghai. As the First Elder of the courtyard and Jia Dongxu's master, he could not ignore it. With no other recourse, he had to dip into his own pocket, bargaining and cajoling, finally persuading Jia Zhangshi to hastily inter Jia Dongxu.

After the funeral rites were completed, night deep and quiet, the Jia mother‑in‑law and daughter‑in‑law faced each other in silence, the cold reality before them— the main beam had collapsed, how would the days ahead be lived?

In Jia Zhangshi's murky eyes flickered shrewd calculations; she lowered her voice to Qin Huairu: "Huairu, from now on this household will rely on us two mothers. I still have to be a harsh mother‑in‑law outside, and you must play the pitiful one! That old Yi Zhonghai feels guilty, so we must cling to him tightly! We can't let him abandon our family! Yet we must also guard against him taking advantage!" She paused, then stated the core demand: "When you take over Dongxu's shift, you must give me five yuan a month for my old‑age fund!"

Qin Huairu felt a chill in her heart; the mother‑in‑law was trying to force her to death. She lifted her tear‑filled eyes, her voice carrying a barely perceptible firmness: "Mother, five yuan is too much. I heard the top‑shift wage is only twenty‑seven yuan five cents; to support this whole family, and Bang Geng will still need to go to school later, at most three yuan! Moreover, after I start working, you must stay home to raise the children. If you don't agree… I will… I will take the child and remarry!"

"Remarriage" stabbed Jia Zhangshi's heart like a needle. She could manipulate her daughter‑in‑law, yet feared the daughter‑in‑law might truly go through with it. Without Qin Huairu, who would support her in old age? Who would continue the Jia lineage? Her expression shifted several times, and finally she gritted her teeth and agreed: "Three yuan, that's three yuan! But if you dare have any ulterior thoughts, I… I won't be done with you!" She added ominously: "When you have a child, you must quickly go to the hospital for a check‑up! Don't ruin the Jia family's reputation!"

Qin Huairu lowered her head and answered. In the darkness, her gaze gradually grew cold and hard. Relying on others is worse than relying on oneself; Yi Zhonghai, the mother‑in‑law—none are dependable. She must plan for herself and the children.

A thought sprouted in her mind—to have Bang Geng recognize Yi Zhonghai as his godfather! That way, for the sake of this "god‑grandson," Yi Zhonghai's salary, job, and house would eventually belong to Bang Geng, compelling him to continue supporting the Jia family!

She shared the idea with Jia Zhangshi; at first Jia Zhangshi objected, thinking it shameful for a grandson to acknowledge an outsider as grandfather. But after Qin Huairu painstakingly outlined the benefits—Yi Zhonghai's eighth‑grade worker salary, those two spacious houses…—she wavered. In the end, profit triumphed over that pitiful "family‑line" notion.

The next day, Qin Huairu dragged the clueless Bang Geng to find Yi Zhonghai and the elderly couple, Jia Dama. She fell to her knees with a splash, tears pouring like rain: "First Elder, First Elder‑wife, Dongxu is gone, we mothers have no support left. Bang Geng is the Jia family's root; from now on… let Bang Geng be your god‑grandson, to support your old age and funeral! Please, for Dongxu's sake, give him a helping hand…"

Yi Zhonghai looked at the kneeling Qin Huairu and the bewildered Bang Geng, feeling ten thousand refusals in his heart. He knew this was a hot‑potato; once taken, endless troubles would follow. Could he refuse? He was the courtyard's highly respected First Elder, Jia Dongxu's master; if he ignored the orphaned widows left by his disciple, refusing to acknowledge a god‑relationship, how would the courtyard view him? His painstakingly upheld "Moral Model" image would instantly collapse. The reputation of a person who leaves when the tea cools—he could not bear that!

Under Qin Huairu's pleading cries and the faintly hopeful gaze of the First Elder's wife (who had long desired a child), Yi Zhonghai wrestled internally for a long time, and finally, with a heavy nod, said: "Rise… From now on, Bang Geng will be my god‑grandson."

When the dust settled, Jia Zhangshi immediately dragged Yi Zhonghai to the Steel Rolling Mill to handle the compensation paperwork.

The plant's final agreement was: Jia Dongxu's workstation would be inherited by his family; because Qin Huairu was pregnant and awaiting delivery, and Jia Zhangshi was elderly, Qin Huairu could only start work after giving birth, during which the plant would provide a ten‑yuan monthly living allowance; a one‑time injury compensation of three hundred fifty yuan; after Qin Huairu began work, she would become a regular employee, inheriting Jia Dongxu's seniority, with a monthly salary of twenty‑seven yuan five cents.

When Jia Zhangshi heard the compensation was only three hundred fifty, she immediately began shouting to summon Old Jia: "Old Jia, the Steel Rolling Mill is bullying our Jia family's orphaned widows; our son died, and they only compensate three hundred fifty. Come up and take them away!"

Li Huaide and the others felt a chill down their spines, yet were helpless, only able to look at Yi Zhonghai.

Yi Zhonghai had to step forward again, pleading to the plant leaders: "Factory Director, Li, you have seen the Jia family's situation—orphans, widows, no income, two children, and Huairu is pregnant; it is indeed difficult…"

After a long back‑and‑forth, seeing the five hundred yuan was hopeless, Jia Zhangshi raised a new demand: "If the money is less, that's fine! But Qin Huairu's household registration must be moved into the city! And my grandson's registration must also be urban! With a city hukou, we get a fixed grain quota; otherwise we mothers will starve to death!" This was indeed a practical issue.

Li Huaide and Factory Director Yang Changzhang discussed, and considering the Jia family's real situation and stability, they finally agreed to arrange urban household registration for Qin Huairu and the children. For the Jia family, this was undoubtedly the most important long‑term safeguard besides the workstation.

Holding the hukou transfer certificate and the thick stack of three hundred fifty yuan compensation that Yi Zhonghai had kept, Jia Zhangshi felt a slight sense of security. Yet her gaze toward Yi Zhonghai grew more complex, containing both reliance and deep wariness.

The Jia family's sky collapsed, yet through various schemings, compromises, and cold profit ties, it was barely held together as a wobbling framework. The days ahead were destined to be even harder, and even more… turbulent undercurrents.

Qin Huairu stroked her not‑yet‑showing belly, watching the clueless son; deep in her gaze, the struggle of the weak and the vines about to sprout were quietly spreading. Yi Zhonghai, looking at the nominal "god‑grandson" Bang Geng, felt no joy, only a heavy, future‑less bewilderment.