Chapter 12: Car Repair
Gurgle... gurgle...
A strange rumbling came from his stomach. Li Aiguo stretched lazily and stood up, intending to lift his wrist to check the time.
But he realized he wasn’t wearing a watch.
Actually, Li Aiguo did own a watch—a Magic City brand—but he had sold it to the pawnshop to buy medicine for his father.
Not having a watch was quite inconvenient; if he had the chance, he definitely needed to get another one.
“Prepare for war, prepare for famine, serve the people! Closing time has arrived. Comrades, please return the books to their original places.”
At this moment, the shop attendants began ushering people out.
Only then did Li Aiguo remember that in these times, stores were state-owned. Except for restaurants, they all closed at noon and would reopen at 2:30 in the afternoon.
Li Aiguo carefully placed the few books back exactly where they belonged.
A female clerk nearby, who had been watching him, sighed with some regret, waved to a few colleagues, and then put the steel pipe back behind the counter.
Amid the crowd, Li Aiguo stepped out of the Women’s Sports and Culture Shop.
Just as he descended the steps at the entrance, a smile spread across his face.
The young woman who had just competed with him for the book was now crouched on the ground fiddling with her bicycle; it seemed the chain had come off.
Right, her name was Ding Qiunan.
Driven by a spirit of helpfulness, Li Aiguo strolled over and smiled, “We’re all one family across the land, comrade. Need a hand?”
In truth, Ding Qiunan had been struggling with the bike for nearly half an hour.
Afraid of getting grease on her clean clothes, she had been trying to lift the chain with a stick and fit it onto the rear sprocket, but to no avail.
Now, sweat dotted her forehead in anxious beads.
Hearing Li Aiguo’s offer, she hesitated briefly.
“It seems you don’t need help then. Goodbye.”
“Hey, wait a moment!”
Ding Qiunan ran over and stopped him.
“Comrade, sorry to trouble you. The chain’s just really tight. Do you think you can fix it?”
“Don’t worry. I’m a big train driver—I can handle anything.”
Saying this, Li Aiguo approached the bicycle. The chain lay slack like a limp snake on the ground, looking rather listless.
Taking the stick from Ding Qiunan, he gently lifted the chain to engage it with the upper part of the rear sprocket, then slowly turned the pedals, coaxing the chain to move little by little.
The chain slowly
Returned to place...
Returned to place...
Returned to place...
“Click.”
It snapped into position.
Li Aiguo: ...
Ding Qiunan, seeing his attempt fail, felt a little embarrassed.
“I told you, the chain’s too tight.”
“No problem! Let me show you what real strength can do.”
After a brief pause, Li Aiguo swung his long legs, mounted the bike, placed his left foot firmly on the pedal, and pushed hard.
“Here goes.”
“Crack.”
Ding Qiunan: ...
Li Aiguo: ...
Li Aiguo looked calmly at the broken chain in two pieces. “Your bicycle is defective.”
Ding Qiunan: ...
Li Aiguo: “Feige bicycles don’t hold up—they just look good. I suggest you stick with the crowd and buy a Forever brand next time.”
Ding Qiunan: ...
Li Aiguo: ...
Ding Qiunan: ...
Whew...
Seeing Ding Qiunan’s shoulders begin to tremble, Li Aiguo sighed, “I’ll take you to get it fixed. There’s a repair stand not far ahead. The boss there is from the Northeast and a straightforward kind of guy.”
“Okay.”
Turning the corner onto Nantongluo Alley, there was a bicycle repair shop.
By this time, the system of public-private partnership was well established, and the repair shop was a state-owned unit.
The repair fees collected went to the local street committee, and the boss received his wages monthly from them.
To attract customers, an old bike tire hung outside the shop, inside which the character for “bike” was roughly drawn in carbon powder—hard to miss.
“Uncle Liu, customer’s here.”
Li Aiguo lifted the dusty cotton curtain, peered inside the dim shop, and called out. A middle-aged man with a long face emerged carrying a wrench.
Seeing Li Aiguo, he nodded silently and crouched by the bike to start working.
Ding Qiunan stood beside Li Aiguo, whispering, “Aiguo, why doesn’t he talk? Is he...?”
“Master Liu’s like that—quiet but top-notch at his craft.”
Li Aiguo interrupted her, pulling out a cigarette and handing it to Liu Haizhu.
Liu glanced at him, wordlessly accepted the smoke, struck a match, lit it, took a few deep drags, and then busied himself efficiently with the bike.
Liu Haizhu had come from the Northeast about seven or eight years ago. With no relatives in the capital, the street committee, recognizing his repair skills, had entrusted him with the workshop.
Li’s father was a train driver who was often away, so after school, Li Aiguo liked to watch Liu work in the shop.
The Li family was wealthy; his father enjoyed his drink, and there was always plenty of liquor at home. Li Aiguo often sneaked out with some bottles, drinking alongside Liu.
Over time, they became friends across generations.
Not exactly a “generation gap” friendship—Liu was only in his twenties but looked like he was in his forties.
Standing next to him, Li Aiguo clearly looked younger.
Later, when Li’s family needed money, Li Aiguo wanted to sell his bike.
He went to several repair shops, but the bike he’d bought for 180 yuan plus a bike ticket was only offered 80 yuan.
Their reasons were simple: worn tires with no tread, faded paint on the bars, and dirty bearings.
Ridiculous—the bike was less than two years old and had been carefully used. It felt like an insult.
When Liu Haizhu learned of this, he sought out Li Aiguo and offered a high price of 150 yuan.
Despite their good relationship, they rarely spoke much.
Usually, one would repair while the other watched.
Though on friendly terms, Li Aiguo still thought Liu was a strange fellow.
He liked to wear yellow rubber shoes and cropped pants.
No matter the season, he wore an old-style bamboo hat that completely shaded his eyes and eyebrows, paired with a goatee that made him look fierce.
Though a warm-hearted man, he always put on a tough front—what else could you call that but strange?
“Click.”
With a crisp sound, the chain snapped back into place. Liu stood up, still silent.
Li Aiguo signaled to Ding Qiunan, “Pay up—10 cents.”
“Oh…”
Ding Qiunan, a bit confused, fished out a dime and handed it over.
Liu took it expressionlessly, pocketed it, and strode back inside.
“Really a strange guy.”
Ding Qiunan mumbled, watching his retreating figure, then looked up at Li Aiguo. “Thank you, Comrade Aiguo.”
“So, goodbye?”
“...Goodbye.”
Ding Qiunan pedaled away, watching the scenery blur past, feeling that something was amiss but unable to say what.
...
Li Aiguo greeted Liu through the curtain and turned back toward his courtyard.
In this era, most families in the capital burned coal; coal briquettes cost one cent per jin (half a kilogram). Some, reluctant to spend even that, bought firewood on the outskirts and built stoves indoors.
At noon, wisps of smoke already curled from several chimneys.
The air quality index would have been off the charts.
If this were the future, they’d surely be fined heavily.
Muttering to himself, Li Aiguo returned to the backyard.
He saw that the clothesline beneath the eaves was already hung with his family’s sheets, clothes, and socks.
The house was tidied up.
Surely, Third Aunt had been busy all morning.