Chapter 15#
Qiming Manufacturing Factory#
Chen Ziqing’s doubts were interrupted by the movie’s soundtrack, and he focused his attention on the screen.
He only concentrated for less than ten minutes.
“Technician Zong, don’t you think the temperature in the screening hall is much lower than outside?” Chen Ziqing’s yellow sneakers touched Zong Huaitang’s, his voice very small and trembling slightly, “It’s a bit cold.”
Zong Huaitang kicked his shoes away: “Don’t feel it.”
“How can that be?” Chen Ziqing unconsciously moved closer to Zong Huaitang, breathing out the smell of tangerines, “It’s really cold. Look, the hair on my arms is…”
Before he could finish speaking, his vision went dark.
A jacket was thrown over, landing on his head, carrying the clean scent of jasmine soap. He was stunned for a moment, then silently gathered the sides of the jacket and tied a knot with the long sleeves under his chin.
Wrapping his whole head up.
Still cold.
Chen Ziqing untied the knot, took off the jacket, and put it on tremblingly. There was chattering on his other side; two comrades were discussing the movie plot, chattering on and on.
None of the people sitting in the front row said anything, so he didn’t open his mouth either.
In the second half of the movie, Chen Ziqing was so cold he couldn’t stand it. The blood flow in his subcutaneous vessels seemed to slow down, and his joints were about to stiffen. He pushed Zong Huaitang, who was sitting on the outside: “I’m going out for a bit.”
Zong Huaitang turned his long legs, which were pressed against the back of the chair in front, sideways. Chen Ziqing was anxious to go outside and stood up too quickly, his body swaying as he looked for a support point.
He grabbed Zong Huaitang’s hair, hooking it with his fingertips.
Zong Huaitang slapped his hand away with a “pa”. His silhouette was blurry, making it hard to tell how angry he was, but his voice was extremely low: “What are you doing?”
“Sorry, sorry.”
Chen Ziqing made noise, but no one around moved in their chairs or turned their heads curiously to look. They all faced the screen straight, completely absorbed and serious about the plot. He gathered the overly long jacket tight, shrinking his hands into the sleeves that were long enough for opera singing, and hurriedly left the screening hall.
Even though he didn’t finish watching the movie and stay until the end, Chen Ziqing still caught a cold. No fever, just feeling cold.
Zhong Gu brought the traditional Chinese medicine decocted at home to his dormitory in a large enamel rice bucket wrapped with two towels. It was still steaming when poured into the mug.
Chen Ziqing leaned against the head of the bed wrapped in a quilt. He held the handle of the mug padded with a towel in his arms, scooped a spoonful of medicine, and blew on it again and again: “How could I get cold? So many people together, metabolism generates heat.”
Zhong Gu covered the rice bucket: “There weren’t that many people.”
Chen Ziqing took a small sip of the medicine from the spoon. Not that many? It was full.
This time, he wasn’t the only one; other comrades also fell ill, probably those with poor resistance like him.
Zong Huaitang, who sat next to him, was fine. When he came to get his jacket, he even asked if he had dirtied it. After getting his answer, he didn’t believe him and checked the jacket inside and out, front and back, right in front of him.
“Leave the jacket with me. I’ll wash it for you, guarantee no smell of me wearing it left.” Chen Ziqing was really annoyed.
“Your smell?” Zong Huaitang rubbed the tip of his nose against the jacket fabric, “I was wondering why there was a smell of piglet.”
Chen Ziqing thumped his chest.
Zong Huaitang seemed concerned: “Do you have heart disease?”
Chen Ziqing glared at him fiercely, gritting his teeth, his eyelids tinged with a slightly deep red.
“Ouch, our Master Xiang is going to shed pearls. So fragile, can’t afford to provoke.” Zong Huaitang smiled, threw the jacket over his shoulder, and left with a rogue look full of romance.
Then he turned back, stood at the door, and threw two small gauze bags onto Chen Ziqing’s bed.
Inside were minced ginger, stir-fried and hot.
“Is it for me to warm up? Put it on the soles of my feet, right?” Chen Ziqing was moved at that time. He put aside those grievances and said with tears in his eyes, “Technician Zong, you are so kind.”
As a result, Zong Huaitang said: “Thanked the wrong person. Tang Xiaoguang made it.”
Chen Ziqing’s thoughts returned. His nose was stuffy, his voice buzzing, and his brain buzzing too: “Zhong Gu, if I drink one more bowl, will I get better faster?”
“Medicine is not sugar water. There is a dosage, you can’t drink it randomly.” Zhong Gu asked suspiciously, “Are you planning to do something?”
Chen Ziqing stirred the spoon in the mug. Isn’t it just the sports meeting?
“Xiang Ning, your nose is running.” Zhong Gu handed him toilet paper, “Wipe it quickly.”
Chen Ziqing took the toilet paper and wiped his nose until it was red and peeling. He finished the medicine spoonful by spoonful listlessly.
Zhong Gu took the empty mug and casually wiped off the gray-black medicine juice on the rim with her thumb: “Do you want to go to the toilet?”
“No.” Chen Ziqing had socks on his feet inside the quilt, with gauze bags stuffed in between. Waves of heat rushed up from the soles of his feet.
With the help of a mug of traditional Chinese medicine, part of the coldness in his body seemed to be driven away.
Chen Ziqing slid into the bed. Maybe he would be fine after a sleep.
Zhong Gu was puzzled looking at his condition. Why did it feel more serious than when he injured his head? It didn’t make sense. After he fell asleep, she packed up the big rice bucket, slung her bag, and went to see a few comrades. They all had similar symptoms.
Could it be possessed by evil spirits?
Zhong Gu asked around. They all said they didn’t do anything or go anywhere, just watched a movie.
This was strange.
She and some others also watched it, and nothing happened.
Zhong Gu couldn’t figure it out. She went to her brother’s dormitory and asked him to go up and check on Xiang Ning at night. In case he suddenly had a fever and no one was around, his brain would burn out.
Zhong Ming was sewing a button that had fallen off his work uniform by the table. His thick black hands held the needle and thread, passing through the denim cloth stitch by stitch. He didn’t make a sound.
Zhong Gu pushed him: “Brother?”
Zhong Ming tightened his rugged jawline: “Do you know he…”
Zhong Gu swept the floor with a broom: “What?”
Zhong Ming found it hard to speak, really couldn’t say it. He wiped his face: “Nothing. You go home. It’s not safe when it’s late.”
“What’s unsafe? Hooligans see me like mice seeing a cat.” Zhong Gu instructed worriedly, “Don’t forget what I said. Xiang Ning was shivering even in his sleep. It’s quite uncomfortable. Brother, you must go. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
Zhong Ming sewed the button tight, pulled off the excess thread, and went to lie on the bed. He pillowed his hands behind his head, didn’t take off his shoes, and extended his legs over the outer edge of the bed end.
The dormitory was for eight people, four in one room. The other four were in the room on the other side of the curtain. Each room had two bunk beds. Zhong Ming was on the lower bunk in the front room. At this moment, a few roommates were cooking noodles for a snack with the curtains drawn in the back room. They asked if he wanted some, and he said no.
Zhong Ming got up and sat for a while, then lay back down.
“How much garlic did you put in the noodles? Even passing ants would vomit from the smell.”
Sun Chengzhi pushed the door open and came in, rubbing his nose and cursing: “Lucky Old Li isn’t checking rooms these days, otherwise he could dig the pot out even if you hid it in your ass.”
“Senior brother, you’re lying down already?” Sun Chengzhi brought the lunch box to Zhong Ming’s bed, “Look what good stuff I brought back!”
Zhong Ming opened his eyes and looked. There were mugwort cakes in the lunch box.
Didn’t know which dormitory Sun Chengzhi stole them from. There were several pieces. The cakes were stuffed with diced pork belly, smelling fragrant and tasting even better.
Although it was the season when mugwort was flourishing, not many families were willing to put meat in the dough.
“Put it back where you got it.” Zhong Ming scolded sternly.
Sun Chengzhi sat down on the chair by the table. He dropped the lunch box, took off his octagonal cap, and spun it on his finger: “Put back what? After you educated me, I stopped taking things from everywhere. Someone gave this to me. If I don’t take it, I’m not giving face.”
Zhong Ming’s expression didn’t soften.
“Really gave it.” Sun Chengzhi said helplessly, “Senior brother, if you don’t believe me, I’ll call the person over.”
Zhong Ming questioned: “With meat, and gave you several pieces?”
“Good relationship.” Sun Chengzhi was glib, “Insisted on giving it to me, what could I do.”
Zhong Ming turned over and turned his back.
Sun Chengzhi smiled playfully: “Senior brother, the mugwort cake is still hot. Want a piece?”
“Eat it yourself.” Zhong Ming said.
“Then I’ll save your share.” Sun Chengzhi finished two pieces in one go and didn’t touch the rest. He closed the lunch box lid and put it on the cabinet.
The roommates in the back room smelled it and came over, clamoring to taste a couple of bites of mugwort cake.
“Go go go!” Sun Chengzhi pointed at the lunch box, “Three pieces left. I counted them, and I looked carefully at the shape and size. If one is missing or a corner is pinched off, wait for the sole of my shoe!”
He could rob others of their food, but others couldn’t touch his.
The roommates were used to it. They satisfied their craving by bickering a bit and went back to continue eating noodles.
Sun Chengzhi leaned against the door frame picking at a small mole on his chin, his ears twitching: “Little junior brother started playing again.”
The accordion music was melodious.
Zhong Ming took a nap in the sound of the accordion. When he woke up, he asked someone with a watch in the dormitory what time it was. They said it was almost eight. He got up and reached for the upper bunk, patting it twice: “Sun Er.”
Sun Chengzhi lay on his side by the bed: “Eh.”
Zhong Ming lowered his voice: “Go check 207.”
“Xiang Ning’s place?” Sun Chengzhi lay back flat, shaking his crossed feet leisurely, “I won’t do it.”
Zhong Ming said in a deep voice: “Zhong Gu’s idea. Just go and come back. It won’t take much time.”
“Your sister is really… too opinionated and doesn’t listen to advice,” Sun Chengzhi stopped talking because his senior brother was the same. He got down from the upper bunk, “Didn’t Xiang Ning go to the hospital for an injection? Just a cold. Sleep and drink a glass of water and it’ll be over.”
Zhong Ming didn’t want to discuss this: “Anyway, just go check and come back.”
“Fine, fine, fine.”
Sun Chengzhi went to other dormitories to chat and eat some snacks, knocked on the window of the female comrade he had his eye on, gave her a small flower from his chest pocket, flirted with her about the moon and stars, and acted pretentious and artistic once before arriving at 207.
He pushed the door directly without shouting.
Sun Chengzhi stepped in with one leg, the other still outside. He covered his nose in shock: “Holy shit, Xiang Ning, why do your feet smell so bad!”
Chen Ziqing was nestled in the quilt, wet all over. His groggy eyes glanced at Sun Chengzhi. Seeing that the other party wasn’t talking nonsense, he couldn’t help but say in astonishment: “I don’t have athlete’s foot.”
Sun Chengzhi retreated outside the door: “It’s fucking stinking enough to make one’s nose fall off, and you tell me you don’t have athlete’s foot?”
Chen Ziqing: “…”
Usually, he only wore two pairs of shoes, alternating them, both placed in front of the bed. The other shoes were under the bed and hadn’t been moved, still in the way the original owner arranged them before he died. Was Sun Chengzhi talking about those two pairs? He washed and sun-dried his insoles every day. Logically, they shouldn’t smell that bad.
Chen Ziqing sniffed. His nose was blocked and he couldn’t smell anything, but Zhong Gu and others had been to his dormitory, and no one said anything.
Probably there was a little smell inside the shoes, but Sun Chengzhi had a sensitive sense of smell and magnified it.
“I’ll wash them when I have time.” Chen Ziqing said, “Are you here for something?”
Sun Chengzhi left without saying a word. He had seen him and could report back. He left without helping to close the door.
The door faced the bed directly, and the wind blew on Chen Ziqing’s face. He hid entirely under the quilt. The medicine should be taking effect, and the ginger mince was on the soles of his feet, so why was he still feeling waves of coldness?
Chen Ziqing wrapped the quilt around himself, got out of bed, closed the door, and locked it. He quickly returned to bed and lay down. Not long after, he fell asleep, and then woke up again.
He had a dream while asleep, but forgot what he dreamed of when he woke up.
He took his cold, damp hands out of the quilt and looked confusedly at the pinch marks on his palms. Blood streaks were oozing out. Pinched so hard, as if terrified to the extreme.
The calves of both legs were also sore and trembling, symptoms of explosive running.
Chen Ziqing broke out in a cold sweat and couldn’t recover.
“Knock knock”
Chen Ziqing’s breath trembled: “Who?”
“Master Xiang, it’s me and Brother Huaitang. We came to see you.” Tang Xiaoguang’s clear voice came from outside the door.
Chen Ziqing didn’t want to get up, but he needed company very much at this time. He could only go to open the door for them tremblingly.
The comrades in the factory all wore dark-colored clothes and pants. Only Zong Huaitang wore a “Dacron” shirt, white and eye-catching.
The fabric was light-colored, but otherwise had nothing special. Under some light, it could show a strong waist, and if he sweated a little, the texture of his skin and flesh would be revealed.
Zong Huaitang added a vest inside the shirt tonight. The shirt was open. He came in two steps behind Tang Xiaoguang and stood idly.
Tang Xiaoguang was much warmer than Zong Huaitang. He went to the bedside to greet him, his delicate small mouth opening and closing.
“Master Xiang, do you have a fever?”
“Your hair is wet. Do you need to change your clothes?”
“Are you hungry? I brought two jars of canned pears.”
“…”
Chen Ziqing’s throat hurt: “I want to drink water.”
“I’ll pour it for you.” Tang Xiaoguang went to get the thermos, lifted it and said, “No water left. I’ll go borrow some.”
The active one left, and the dormitory became quiet.
Chen Ziqing said to Zong Huaitang eagerly: “Technician Zong, can you come closer to my bed?”
Zong Huaitang: “No.”
Chen Ziqing didn’t force it. He closed his eyes: “It’s like an ice cellar inside my quilt.”
A corner of the quilt at the foot of the bed was lifted. Chen Ziqing moved his feet and looked up. Zong Huaitang grabbed the corner of the quilt and mocked: “It’s hot enough to drip water inside, and you tell me it’s an ice cellar?”
Chen Ziqing sighed miserably: “It’s really cold.”
Zong Huaitang suddenly stared at him without making a sound. His scalp tightened: “W-what…”
“Did you lose your soul outside?” Zong Huaitang said.
Chen Ziqing sat up abruptly: “Then what should I do?”
Zong Huaitang’s face twitched. Really believed it? How could he deceive people, and be so easily deceived.
Chen Ziqing fell into a situation where he knew the possibility was small, but was still scared to death.
“How to call the soul back?” Chen Ziqing was panicked. He had no experience in this area himself, so he searched in the original owner’s memory.
He really found something relevant.
Chen Ziqing quickly explained the method of calling the soul and asked Zong Huaitang for help: “Help me.”
Zong Huaitang refused him coldly: “I won’t play house with you.”
Chen Ziqing said without thinking: “Then I’ll go find Master Zhong.”
Zong Huaitang’s face darkened instantly: “Going against me, right? If I don’t agree, you’ll find him. Why can’t you find others in the building?”
“I don’t trust others.” Chen Ziqing curled his lips, “I only trust you and him.”
Zong Huaitang chuckled: “Then go find him.”
Saying that, he opened the door: “Go, hurry up.”
Chen Ziqing shivered from the cold. He sniffled with red eyes, wrapped himself into a silkworm chrysalis and rolled to the inside of the bed, pressing tightly against the wall: “I won’t find him anymore.”
Zong Huaitang said playfully: “Not finding him anymore?”
“Not finding him, not finding him.” Chen Ziqing felt stinging pain in all his bones. He grinned, unconsciously revealing an ingratiating smile, “With Technician Zong here, I won’t find anyone else.”
Zong Huaitang remained silent.
Tang Xiaoguang borrowed half a bottle of water and came back. Before he could speak, Zong Huaitang ordered him to do something: “Go find an unused needle, red thread, an incense stick, and a box of matches.”
“Scared and calling the soul back, right? Matches are easy, but the others…” Tang Xiaoguang put the thermos on the table and muttered while touching his hair, “Easy to find during the day, hard to say so late at night. I’ll try.”
Not long after, Tang Xiaoguang came back with the things. In this atmosphere, he could still have a game-playing mentality, saying excitedly: “Brother Huaitang, you do it.”
Chen Ziqing said a step, and Zong Huaitang did a step. He closed the doors and windows tightly, stuck the needle into the wall on Chen Ziqing’s head side, threaded one end of the red thread into the needle eye to fix it, and tied the incense stick to the other end to hang down.
Light the incense.
Wait for the incense ash to fall.
Time was passing, the incense was burning.
Then, without warning,
“It went out…” Tang Xiaoguang was dumbfounded.
Chen Ziqing was scared to tears on the spot.
“Master Xiang, why are you… Master Xiang…” Tang Xiaoguang leaned towards the bed. Zong Huaitang pushed him aside, took his place in two steps, and looked down at the person who kept crying, “What are you crying for?”
Chen Ziqing’s face was wet with tears: “I’m scared.”
Zong Huaitang: “…”
He frowned in disgust, broke the incense in a few moves.
“Alright, isn’t it shameful? Stop crying. I didn’t light the incense well. I’ll light another one.”