Chapter 89: Braised Goose with Potatoes

Zhou Zhixiong finished attaching a leg to a bench and brushed the sawdust off his hands.

“Sixteenth Brother, here to install the doors?” He had already guessed Zhou Yimin’s reason for coming.

Zhou Yimin nodded. “Yeah! It’s about time, so I came by to check.”

“They’re ready. I oiled them just yesterday and set them out by the side of the house to dry,” Zhou Zhixiong said. With the current weather, they should’ve dried already. If he wanted to use them, he just needed to bring them back and install them.

He added, “They’re a bit heavy—you won’t be able to carry them yourself. Have that kid Zhiming bring some people over.”

If Sixteenth Brother tried to carry the two doors home himself, his great-uncle would definitely come over and scold Zhou Zhixiong up and down. Not just him—even if his dad were still around, he’d still get chewed out.

“Alright, I’ll talk to Brother Zhiming when I get back. Oh, by the way, Brother Zhixiong, do we still have enough wood? I’d like to make two large wardrobes,” Zhou Yimin said. He was planning to make one for his grandparents too—their clothes were all still stored in trunks.

He had even taken one of Grandpa’s trunks before to grow bean sprouts.

He hadn’t forgotten about that.

“Not quite enough. Go talk to Zhicheng—he should still have some.” As a carpenter, Zhou Zhixiong had a good idea of what kind of lumber his cousin had on hand.

He thought for a moment, then asked, “Any specific requirements for the wardrobes?”

Zhou Yimin quickly explained what he wanted. Sliding-door wardrobes—something Zhou Zhixiong had never made before. It would be a bit of a challenge.

“Wooden wheels?” Zhou Zhixiong asked.

“No need, I’ll provide all the fittings,” Zhou Yimin shook his head.

“Alright then, that’s not too hard.”

There was no need for Zhou Yimin to draw anything. Just hearing the rough measurements was enough for Zhou Zhixiong to picture it clearly.

“Thanks, Brother Zhixiong!”

Zhou Zhixiong chuckled. “My family should be thanking you!”

He was more than happy to make a few things for Zhou Yimin.

Zhou Yimin turned and headed to Dachun’s house. It wasn’t far.

Dachun, his father, his younger brother, and his newlywed wife weren’t home—only Dachun’s grandparents were there.

No need to guess—they were probably still at work.

“Grandpa, Grandma, could you let Brother Zhicheng know to pick out a few good pieces of redwood and send them to the carpenter’s place?” Zhou Yimin said to the elderly couple.

They recognized Zhou Yimin. Living in the same village, there was no reason not to know him.

Besides, this young man had helped out their son-in-law’s family.

“Alright! We’ll tell him when they get back from work. Want to come in for a drink of water?”

“No, no. Thank you. Goodbye, Grandpa, Grandma!”

As they watched Zhou Yimin leave, the old man finally spoke up, “Such an outstanding young man. We need to have Dachun and the others spend more time with this Sixteenth Uncle of theirs.”

Even if the blood tie wasn’t particularly close, with enough contact, the bond would naturally grow stronger.

With a relative like that, why wouldn’t you want to get closer? You’d be a fool not to.

They’d heard that Zhou Yimin had arranged a job in the factory for one of his older nephews in the village. Technically, Dachun and his siblings were also considered his nephews.

So they had a chance too.

Especially Dachun’s younger brother, Daqiu. He wasn’t in great health. If he could land a job in town, that would be ideal.

“Exactly! Especially Daqiu. But the money for buying a job position is hard to come by. Old man, how much money do we still have? Let’s try to gather some,” Grandma asked.

They hadn’t come empty-handed when they moved in with their son-in-law. Over the years, they had managed to save a bit.

“Eighty-six yuan and twenty cents. When Zhicheng gets back, we’ll sit down and talk with him—see if we can help Daqiu get a job. No more scratching in the dirt out here,” Grandpa nodded.

With Daqiu’s health, he really wasn’t cut out to be a farmer. It’d be best if he could study and become an official.

They’d noticed Daqiu often reading and studying on his own too.

Zhou Yimin hadn’t even reached home yet when he caught the smell of braised goose with potatoes—it was quite fragrant.

As soon as he walked in, he heard Third Aunt talking to Grandma, telling her that Hongxin Commune was showing a movie tonight and asking if she wanted to go.

Don’t be fooled by Grandma’s age—she loved a lively event.

When it came to watching movies, she usually didn’t miss them. Even if it was a bit of a walk, she’d just follow the crowd from the village.

“Of course I’ll go! What movie are they showing? Did you find out?” Grandma asked.

“No idea. I think Dazhong said it. Heard he’s going to Hongxin Commune to make some purchases…” Third Aunt started gossiping with Grandma.

Zhou Yimin hadn’t expected his grandma to enjoy movies too.

Originally, he wasn’t very interested in films from this era. After being spoiled by movies from the future, these might be hard to sit through.

Apparently, the projectionist had to operate the equipment and narrate the plot at the same time.

Speaking of projectionists, they were one of the “Eight Workers” at the time—an enviable profession.

The so-called Eight Workers were: salesperson, driver, postman, childcare worker, barber, projectionist, cook, and cultural troupe member.

Projectionists didn’t just earn a good salary—they were treated like VIPs when invited to show movies: premium cigarettes, fine tea, good liquor, and the best dishes.

Some projectionists didn’t even carry the equipment themselves—others would do it for them. All they had to do was puff on a cigarette and leisurely operate the machine.

Not just anyone could be a projectionist—you had to have some technical skill and education.

And it wasn’t just about operating the machine. At the time, movie projectors required regular maintenance by the projectionist.

That machine was considered high-tech for the era, and not many people were capable of handling and maintaining it properly.

So projectionists had to know a bit of everything.

If a projectionist didn’t have the skills, even a single screening wouldn’t run smoothly.

In short, projectionists were highly sought-after. Just look at Xu Damao in that one courtyard drama—he was living the good life.

Unlike in the future, where movies play automatically and projectionists are obsolete.

It was kind of like being a driver too—not just knowing how to drive, but also how to fix the car and maintain it.

Hearing that Grandma wanted to see a movie, Zhou Yimin decided they’d eat early that evening so he could take her to Hongxin Commune on his bike.

He also wanted to experience what movies from this era were like.

Zhou Yimin went into the kitchen, mixed a small basin of cornmeal, kneaded the dough into flat cakes, and stuck them to the sides of the iron pot.

They wouldn’t be eating rice for lunch. It’d be braised goose with potatoes, paired with corn cakes.

Cornmeal-only cakes were still quite tasty—unlike sorghum cakes, which used crushed corn cobs too and could scratch your throat.

On the other side, a pot of sorghum rice was cooking for Zhou Zhiming and the others who were helping with construction.

“Go wash your hands, it’s time to eat,” Zhou Yimin told Laicai, the kid tending the fire.

Seeing him sweating all over, Zhou Yimin added, “Wash your head too, you hear?”

“Got it, big brother,” Laicai yelled as he dashed out.

If you’re not eager to eat, there must be something wrong with your brain! Especially for a growing kid like him—he always felt hungry and never quite full.

(End of Chapter)