Chapter 89: Neighbors helping each other, creating brilliance together

Zhao Jianguo placed his pen on the stone table, the record book lay open, the line "To be built, need to raise funds to buy film" still had wet ink. He was about to turn the page when Su Qing came out of the room, holding an enamel basin, and gently set it at his feet.

"Last night it rained, you said this morning the drainage ditch was a bit leaky? I casually caught some water, enough to wash a rag." She said that and turned to leave, not waiting for his reply.

He lowered his head to look at the clear water swaying in the basin, smiled, got up and walked to the workshop. The copper plaque on the lintel flashed in the morning light. He pushed the door open; beside the vise lay the old welding torch Dong Xu had sent, with a note attached: "Charged."

A commotion came from the front yard. Sha Zhu squatted under the first streetlamp, wiping the lampshade with a rag, humming an off‑key tune. He Yushui rushed out of her house with a notebook, ran over, stopped at the workshop door, took out a pencil and began scribbling on the paper.

"Jianguo, I've sorted the sign‑up list." She handed him the notebook. "The first is Sha Zhu, who wants to learn to weld the bottom of a thermos—you mentioned it once before, and he's remembered it."

Zhao Jianguo took the notebook and glanced at it—seven or eight names were written, with a few circled, indicating families with children who wanted to sit in.

"Sure, class starts today." He said, walking in and taking two pairs of goggles from the tool wall, "Dong Xu agreed to teach the basics, so let's first lay down the rules clearly."

He walked to the doorway and raised his voice: "Everyone listen! Starting today, the Siheyuan mutual‑aid points system is officially on trial! Anyone who attends class, works, or helps with repairs logs work hours. One point can be exchanged for two hours of workshop use or half a catty of coal coupon—your choice."

The crowd slowly gathered. Some nodded, some muttered. Yanbugui, leaning on a bamboo pole in the corridor, interjected: "Charging a set price for teaching skills—what kind of mutual aid is that?"

Zhao Jianguo wasn't rushed and countered: "Old Yan, if you need to fix a stove, who would you call? Can Sha Zhu do it? Would Dong Xu willingly do it for free? Now there's a way: you spend your strength cleaning the sewer once and you can trade it for an hour of welding work—is that a good deal?"

Yanbugui opened his mouth but said nothing.

"Besides," Zhao Jianguo waved the notebook, "this isn't buying and selling, it's taking turns. You help me today, I help you tomorrow—only then can the courtyard keep moving."

At that moment Dong Xu arrived, carrying a wooden box containing several sections of scrap iron pipe and a few broken metal parts.

"First lesson, practice hand‑work." He set the box on the ground, "Whoever wants to learn, first weld a seam—if it's continuous and leak‑free, you pass."

Sha Zhu was the first to squeeze in, putting on the goggles like a mask, which made the nearby children laugh. He wasn't annoyed, intently watching Dong Xu's demonstration, even secretly noting how the other adjusted the current.

"Don't shake your hand, keep your eyes on the melting point." Dong Xu said while slowly advancing the welding rod.

With a hiss, sparks flew everywhere. Sha Zhu watched, entranced, almost forgetting it was his turn.

"Your turn." Zhao Jianguo patted his shoulder.

Sha Zhu took a deep breath, imitated the moves. The first attempt was too strong and the rod stuck; the second was too weak and didn't fuse. Only on the third try did he manage to pull out a crooked, uneven weld.

"Oh dear, this looks like a earthworm crawling." He laughed at himself first.

"You're far better than I was." Dong Xu took the torch from his hand, "The first time I welded, I burned straight through the wrench."

The crowd burst into laughter. The atmosphere instantly relaxed.

By noon, Sha Zhu finally welded a complete aluminum ring to reinforce the leaky handle of his own pot. He lifted the pot in the sunlight and said proudly, "See? No drips at all!"

A few nearby youngsters also became interested, gathering around to ask how to sign up. He Yushui hurriedly opened the notebook to register them, her pen almost smoking from speed.

Just past two in the afternoon, the sky darkened. Soon a light drizzle began to fall. Zhao Jianguo was tidying tools in the workshop when he heard someone outside shout, "Oh no! The front yard is flooded!"

He grabbed his oil‑cloth cap and headed out. Sure enough, the joint of the drainage ditch near the west wall base had loosened; rainwater followed the slope and spread across the middle of the passageway, where several elders were carefully inching along, holding onto the wall base.

"This cast‑iron pipe is too old and badly rusted." Dong Xu crouched by the pit to inspect, "We need to replace a section."

"Then let's replace it." Zhao Jianguo straightened up, "Who's willing to lend a hand? Digging, moving the pipe, back‑filling all count—each earns one point of volunteer work, which can offset next week's water usage."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Sha Zhu rolled up his sleeves and stepped forward: "I'm in! Anyway I've already eaten the fried cake—I can't just eat and not work."

Next came the Li family couple from the back yard, who brought iron shovels voluntarily; also the eldest of the Wang family, who pulled a cart saying he could haul away debris.

He Yushui immediately took out paper and pen, drew a simple division of labor diagram: two people to dig the trench, two to remove the old pipe, two to handle the new pipe joints, the rest rotating for transport and back‑filling.

Zhao Jianguo wasn't idle either; he personally went down into the pit to help brace the supports. Rainwater struck his face coolly, mud splattered his trousers, but his movements were swift and his directions clear.

"Pad this spot up another two centimeters, or water will pool here."

"Has the new pipe opening been smoothed? No burrs means a good seal."

After more than an hour, the new pipe was installed, water tested and flowed smoothly into the storage tank. Everyone clapped in approval.

When work ended, Zhao Jianguo stood at the workshop door, took chalk and wrote on the notice board the five big characters "This Month's Mutual‑Aid List," then filled in the participants' names stroke by stroke.

"We'll update this every month," he told the onlookers, "so everyone can see who contributed."

In the evening the rain stopped, a slit opened in the clouds, and the evening sun shone through, lighting up the front yard. The three streetlamps switched on on schedule; the children were already hopping rope in the light, shouting their homemade slogan: "One repair, two welds, three water works—who's the best in the Siheyuan? Zhao Jianguo!"

The old men and women sat on the stone benches mending shoe soles, chatting about daily life—who's child had learned a new skill, who'd replaced a part—explaining everything in detail.

Su Qing walked over with a lunch box and gently set it on the stone table: "Eat while it's hot—I've cooked some millet porridge with pickled radish."

Zhao Jianguo nodded, not rushing to pick up his chopsticks. He opened the record book, looked at the unfinished greenhouse design, and added a small line beside it: "To be built, need to raise funds to buy film."

He closed the book, lifted his gaze to the front yard. In the lamplight, Sha Zhu was hand‑in‑hand teaching a child how to use a wrench properly—his motions clumsy but earnest. Dong Xu sat on the workshop steps wiping tools, occasionally glancing around, as if patrolling his own territory.

He Yushui walked back and forth with the notebook, logging today's work‑hour data, murmuring as she went: "Aunt Zhang cleaned the toilet, add one point; Old Li helped move the concrete, add one point…"

Zhao Jianguo picked up his spoon, had just lifted a spoonful of porridge to his lips, when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Jianguo!" It was Sha Zhu's voice, a little out of breath, "Guess what? I just welded that aluminum ring, Aunt Li saw it and said her window hook is broken—can you make another one like that?"

Zhao Jianguo set down his spoon, turned around: "Of course I can."

"She said, if you make it, she'll trade two catties of sweet potatoes."

Zhao Jianguo laughed: "This isn't a trade, it's mutual aid. She provides the sweet potatoes, you provide the skill—that's how the courtyard should work."

Sha Zhu scratched his head, grinned: "Then I'll start work tonight."

He turned to leave, then stopped: "Right, you said points can be exchanged for coal coupons… if we save enough, could we trade them for a radio part? I want to fix my father's old 'Peony' radio."

Zhao Jianguo looked at his earnest face and nodded: "Sure. As long as we work together, we can get anything."

Sha Zhu nodded vigorously and sprang away.

Zhao Jianguo took up his spoon again, blew on the heat, was about to sip when He Yushui shouted from the doorway: "Jianguo! Uncle Yan's here, saying he wants to register something."

He looked up and saw Yanbugui slowly approaching, leaning on his bamboo pole, holding a rusty old tiger‑vise in his hand.

"This thing can still be used," the old man muttered, "take it to refurbish—it also counts as me joining in."