Bai Fumei in the 70’s

There was a thick **** smell just after entering the door. The thick black blood coagulated on the ground. Two peasant women were scrawling on the floor with buckets.

He Songbai walked in, and almost everyone stopped and looked at him in horror.

He Songbai quickly said a secret sign, and the man with a pig muzzle who was lifting a machete was relieved and scolded: "Shunzi a few so unreliable, let people in."

"Who are you?"

His tone was terrible because he was scared so much that he almost couldn't even hold the knife straight and cut it in his hand.

The slaughterhouse is still very tightly controlled. All levels are guarded, from the top of the mountain to the end of the mountain. Only three or four pigs are slaughtered, and there are dozens of people looking at the wind. Coupled with the sparse population here, there are hardly any strangers involved, and today a stranger came in.

When Cao Cao Cao Cao arrived, Shunzi raised his head to the door and whispered, "This is our brother Zhang's friend. Master He, you have a face."

He Songbai asked: "Is Brother Zhang here? I'll come to discuss his livelihood with him."

He took out the cigarette sticking around his waist and handed it to the strong man. The cigarette is from the Chinese brand, and it is very expensive.

The man confiscated and pushed away. He frowned and said unhappy, "What do you mean?"

He Songbai reported his name: "I am the second son of He."

Seeing that he took the initiative to report the name, this man's face was less rusty. He took the smoke and said reluctantly: "Brother Zhang is not here today and went out to go fishing. Now I am in charge of it, and it is the same as what I said."

A sip of water is a great unity, and fishing for water means making money.

The man said contemptuously: "Why do you want to come here to survive?"

He looked at He Songbai's body, he was more than high, and he was not strong enough. Looking at his appearance, he was afraid that he could not bear the work.

He put the machete in his hand into He Songbai's hand, "We don't lack anybody here, we lack a pig splitter. See, no, there are five pigs that haven't been split, you divide them. , Bones return to meat."

The man took the opportunity to stretch his waist, his muscles and bones made a rattling sound, "I have split four, and I'm tired. You have to do it. If you can't do it, leave, and we don't want any more people here."

He Songbai Lisuo said: "Of course."

He paused and asked humbly: "Why is'bone to bone to meat to meat', you gave me a head to learn from it?"

The man demonstrated it again, chopped a whole pig, and handed the sticky and dirty knife to He Songbai. "Chop, I'll go over there."

Slaughtering a pig is a hard job. After the slaughtering, two people dragged the pig to scald the hair, peeled clean pig hair, and then cut with a big knife. The knife fell off the strong bones. Return to the pig's head, return to the hoof, the middle two ribs and meat slowly divide.

The process is not complicated, but it is very laborious. A sturdy and strong man can't bear to slaughter so many pigs every day. He is so vigorous, bitter and tired that he can easily overwork and fall ill.

The remaining five scalded pigs were placed in front of He Songbai abruptly. He put on a rubber gown, put on long rain boots, and bent down to vigorously split the pig. More than two hundred kilograms, he moved and turned over alone, the knife fell and the bones were scattered, and even wearing protective clothing, pig blood splashed on him, and his hands were covered with stains.

Tie Zhu had mixed tastes beside him, and his heart was extremely complicated.

He also helped He Songbai to work, turned him a pig, and pressed him.

It took a while for He Songbai to split the pigs. The whole person was as if he had been taken out of the water, sweat on his forehead shed continuously, and his clothes were soaked and clung to his body.

Tie Zhu whispered: "This job is too tired, too tired."

This man was heard by the man, and he smiled: "Lao Tzu owed two thousand famines back then, and worked here for three years, everything."

"It's too tiring to leave early, and it's really tiring to work," the man said.

He saw that He Songbai had chopped all the pigs. He was a hard-working and hard-working man with a rare and pleasant look on his face.

Liang Tiezhu couldn't help but take a look. Master He, who slaughtered the pig, took off his rubber apron, and he didn't wear a shirt. The two strong chest muscles on the naked chest trembled. It's like a thin chicken.

This made it difficult for Tiezhu to imagine that he could stay out of bed here.

"I'm exhausted to earn this money. Is there a life to enjoy?" He urged Song Bai even more quietly.

He Songbai took off his clothes, squeezed his sweat, wiped his body, and said indifferently: "I want thirty kilograms of pork every day, not pigs, pig's trotters and pig's head."

"It's a big tone."

The man chuckled.

"You will come at 3:30 tomorrow morning, and after four pigs are chopped every day, the goods will be given to you."

"Success." He Songbai responded without hesitation.

Liang Tiezhu really wanted to tie people away and beat him up.

What a rocket!

...

Zhao Lanxiang saw He Songbai back in the afternoon.

Like a wife, she went out to meet him, holding a fan in her hand, to fan him.

But as soon as she stepped closer, she smelled a faint **** smell, and the man's clothes were still stained with blood. Although he deliberately washed it with clean water, there were still indelible marks on his clothes.

She was terrified and quickly touched his body.

She said angrily and sadly: "Are you fighting again?"

"Isn't that all right, can't you fight in the future?"

He Songbai reluctantly stopped the subject from pulling away his clothes, explaining: "This is pig blood. Not mine."

"I'm fine." He raised his hand and gave the woman a string of pork skewers.

"Pork pork intestines and pork belly, you can take it and cook it."

Zhao Lanxiang took it, and the heavy foot weighed five pounds. Where did you eat so much meat in this dog day? But after listening to the man, she smiled sweetly.

"My brother Bo is really promising!"

"So much pork... I can eat it for a week. What are you doing today?" she asked suspiciously after taking the pork.

Buying a pork doesn't mean you get so much pig blood. Fortunately, you don't wear white clothes. Otherwise, there will be blood stains hanging on the blue sky and the day, which should be more scary.

He Songbai said vaguely: "Pork was bought at a slaughterhouse. It was cheap, and meat was sold all day long. The meat in the store was already sold out."

He said that he took out the money for selling kidney bean cake and gave it to the subject with a stack of food stamps.

Zhao Lanxiang counted twenty-five pieces of two hairs in amazement. She dare not think of such a high price. It is estimated that it was her turn to sell it for another sixty-seven cents.

She said: "You are exhausted, hurry into the house, don't basking here."

He Songbai nodded, and he was indeed tired.

After a day of rushing, five more pigs were hacked. Tomorrow he had to get up at two o'clock. He would take a bath and sleep now.

He Songbai found a dark color for changing clothes, brought two buckets of water to the well, and quickly took a shower in the cold water. He returned to the room with a clean and fresh body, and fell asleep.

The light of the setting sun spattered into his window, and the broken bottle by the window was filled with fresh little daisies, which were newly picked by the subject, and at this moment was dewdrops exuding a slight fragrance.

He Songbai smelled this floral fragrance, and fell into a dream with satisfaction and exhaustion.

After Zhao Lanxiang returned to Chaifang to put the pork away, she came back to see He Songbai. Through the window, she saw a man with a sleepy head. The slight voice leaked his fatigue.

He only snored when he went to work hard in the days of autumn harvest. The intensity of the trench work has always been a good sleep. Zhao Lanxiang listened to his breath and couldn't help but feel hurt. Even when she bought a bicycle, she didn't want to wake him up.

Although she knew that he would be very happy to see the bicycle in the bullpen.

...

Zhao Lanxiang returned to the log house, cut the mangoes she bought today, and pounded them into mango jam. She used these mango jams to make mango rolls. In order to preserve for a longer time, she rolled the mango off the frypot and fried it crispy. She added milk to the mango roll made for He Songbai, which she bought by the way when she passed by the brigade. It might have been squeezed by Sister He herself. She often milked the cows she cared for.

But she is not qualified to drink milk, because this cow belongs to the brigade, and drinking it privately is to embezzle collective property. If you want to drink milk, you have to buy it by yourself. It's not expensive at all. You can put a big bottle for a dime. She bought a dime, half boiled it for Granny, and the rest was used to make creamy mango rolls.

She finished frying mango rolls, and she packed all the leftovers that were not well fried, packed quick lime as a desiccant in a cloth bag, and packed it in an iron box.

She carried the box to Jiang Li. Jiang Li smelled a faint mango fragrance and couldn't help but ask: "What, so fragrant?"

Zhao Lanxiang said politely: "Don't think about it, this is for your brother without your share."

Jiang Li took out the letter and gave her a look: "Is it written like this?"

Zhao Lanxiang glanced quickly.

"Brother: Zhanxinjia. The mangoes here are ripe. I spent a little money to buy you some mango specialties."

Zhao Lanxiang said: "It is not possible to write like this, let me change it."

Jiang Li couldn't help but be speechless, "I want to change you to change, I feel very successful in writing like this."

Zhao Lanxiang grabbed the pen and quickly wrote a line.

"Brother: Zhanxinjia, the mangoes are ripe here. I spent some money to buy you some mango specialties. They are delicious. Please write back to me after eating. If they are delicious, I will consider sending them again. You’re a little bit cheap. In addition: the money is spent, and I ask my brother to give living allowances."

After Jiang Li read the letter, his temples could not help but painfully.

"Huh... It's quite like imitating."

Jiang Li's style of writing letters, Zhao Lanxiangmen who has opened her letter many times and replaced the "material subsidies" on behalf of her brother is very clear.

With eyes closed, true and false can be imitated.

The author has something to say: Brother Bo: Please call me to slaughter pig in the future