CHAPTER 38: CHAPTER 28: SHOPPING ANECDOTES

When he arrived at the county supply and marketing cooperative, Zhang Guoqing took out all the vouchers from his pocket and went from counter to counter. It wasn’t until he reached the fabric section that he remembered Jiao Jiao didn’t specify any requirements.

"Comrade, what kind of women’s winter clothing do you all buy? Could you kindly recommend something?"

"This military green thick fabric sells best. Both men and women can make clothes with it," said the long-braided salesperson. After speaking, she sneaked another glance at him and then reminded him, "Today, there’s flawed cloth shoes and wool that don’t need vouchers. You should go quickly, or they’ll be gone."

"Alright, comrade, thank you very much for the tip. I’ll take this bolt of military green," he said.

After getting the voucher and paying, he took the fabric and rushed to the flawed items counter, which was surrounded by quite a few people. Upon looking at the wool, he found the problem not serious—it was just a color difference, which wasn’t noticeable if you didn’t pay attention to the darker shades. The quality was indeed fine. He recalled Zhou Jiao buying two colors of gradient wool to knit beautiful sweaters back in college. No wonder so many people were buying them today.

"Comrade, can you help me figure out how much wool a sweater needs for a woman who is 167CM and for myself?"

"You need 1.2 pounds, while a tall, slim woman like me needs 8 to 10 ounces. There’s not much wool left; if you want it, you must hurry."

"Please help me take all the dark blue and gray ones, and also all the bright red and maroon," he said.

Zhang Guoqing found these colors relatively better, with few flaws, almost indistinguishable, and it was genuine wool.

The salesperson was particularly curious, looking at him, as no one had ever bought the whole lot at once. How many people must be in his family: "Comrade, together it weighs 8 pounds, originally 12 yuan, now 6 yuan, no vouchers required, totaling 48 yuan. Are you sure you want it all?"

He looked at other flawed items to see if there were necessities, "And would you please bring me 2 pairs of cloth shoes, both size 44, and 5 towels."

Looking at the crowded surroundings, he didn’t feel like squeezing in among the women. "That’s it, please calculate the total and write up the voucher."

The salesperson was now sure that he truly wanted the items. "2 pairs of cloth shoes, originally 6 yuan per pair, towels 0.80 yuan, totaling half price of 8 yuan plus 48 yuan for wool, altogether 56 yuan."

After receiving the bill and making the payment, he returned to collect the goods. The salesperson earnestly told him, "Please check the 8 pounds of wool along with the 2 pairs of shoes and 5 towels. I’ve checked for you, and the flaws aren’t serious."

The salesperson opened and inspected the items, then packed them into Zhang Guoqing’s cloth bag. Fortunately, the bag was large. It took Zhang Guoqing an hour to spend all the vouchers he had. The prices weren’t high, but it was mostly small items, and the extra cloth bag he brought was filled as well.

He later wrote up the vouchers directly, paid for everything at once, and then went from counter to counter to collect his purchases. All the salespeople on the first floor smiled when they saw what he did. Zhang Guoqing had to explain helplessly that his wife was in confinement, and the vouchers were nearing expiration, so he asked for leave especially today to come by. Explaining can lead to understanding from others, which is always better than potential trouble later on when circumstances might change.

It wasn’t cowardice, but caution—better to prevent difficulties than regret after they occur. Ultimately, several kind salespeople helped, which allowed him to finish everything within a reasonable time. Zhang Guoqing thanked them repeatedly, for people were the most honest and simple in these times.

Heading upstairs, he collected 2 cans of malted milk and packed them into his bag, then Zhang Guoqing quickly walked away, feeling embarrassed. He secretly decided not to go to the supply and marketing cooperative for at least a few months, until people had mostly forgotten and started discussing new topics. He saw several young women and middle-aged ladies whispering to each other behind his back.

He tied the two bags of goods onto the bike’s rear rack and pondered the cornbread at home but steeled himself to head to the state-run restaurant across the street. These days were good; you could leave a bike right outside without it being stolen. However, he still habitually carried the two bags inside with him.

The restaurant was pitifully empty, with only a couple of people eating noodles. Sister Huang, the server, knew him from when she and Zhou Jiao would come for snacks during middle school, and she was deep in thought.

"Sister, see what’s available to eat. Your brother here is starving," Zhang Guoqing shouted as soon as he walked in.

"Where’s your little wife? Why didn’t she come with you? Haven’t seen her in ages," Sister Huang looked behind him and said, "There are steamed buns and your favorite braised pork this afternoon, and you’re in luck—we’ve got marinated beef. A production brigade’s cow fell into a ditch and died."

"First, give me 2 buns and a serving of noodles, and I’ll take the rest to go," Zhang Guoqing patted his stomach, not wanting to eat too much, "Jiao Jiao gave birth last night, and she hasn’t dared to go out with that big belly for the past few months."

Sister Huang stared at him intently, exaggeratedly winking and grinning, "You’re something else, being a dad at such a young age! Your sister here is already a 22-year-old spinster, and your Jiao Jiao was what, 16 or 17? Quite the feat!"

Zhang Guoqing gave her a sideways glance; this cheeky girl, "You should marry my buddy soon. He’s doing quite well now at the township grain station. If you keep waiting, even flowers wither. Crazy’s already 25, and his mom came asking me last time about how you two are getting on."

Sister Huang and his close buddy Cheng Feng were a couple but always encountered issues, whether it was with the house or dowry money. Sister Huang had an overbearing mother who had high expectations, thinking her daughter was a city girl and couldn’t just settle for any rural guy. Fortunately, Cheng Feng’s family was well-off, and he joined the township grain station earlier this year. He was head over heels for Sister Huang.

"It’s all settled; we’re getting married at the end of the year. It was just determined a few days ago. At the end of the year, bring Jiao Jiao to our wedding banquet after she’s out of confinement. I might be transferred to the township state-run restaurant, so I’ll be near you."

"Alright, Crazy finally sees his day. Congratulations to you both."

He first looked around to see no one nearby, then whispered, "Sis, help me buy some good liquor from the master chef. As much as possible, because once you move to the township, it’ll be harder to get. Last time, he refused to give me a pound, but once I opened my mouth, it was gone. At least a 5-pound jar; his liquor is better than the cooperative’s."

Sister Huang laughed and winked, leading Zhang Guoqing into the kitchen. As soon as he saw the master chef, Zhang Guoqing chuckled foolishly, habitually rubbed his head, and grinned at Sister Huang, signaling her to speak quickly before the master chef, who was glaring and ready to hit him with a ladle, could respond.

"No need to make faces, boy. That wine last time—I snatched it from an old friend. That guy cherished it for over 20 years since his son was born, storing five jars, and now they’re gone," the master chef said as if he’d seen a ghost, sighing and aching inside.

"Well, he had only one son in his life, so you’re not being honest, Master Chef, keeping it all to himself. I’ll ask the mistress if I have to. I can smell it already," Zhang Guoqing began to tease him.

The master chef had no choice; this rascal, if soft tactics didn’t work, would get shameless. Last time, his three remaining pounds were taken by two from him; he was helpless, only glaring at Sister Huang, suspecting her of leaking information. He’d only brought it in today because of the beef stew.

"Alright, at most 2 pounds. There’s no more than that; I have only a 5-pound jar."

This naughty kid threatens to tell his wife if he doesn’t get the wine; his wife’s renowned for worrying about his drinking affecting his health. If she knew he hadn’t brought it home, she’d definitely make a fuss.

"Master Chef has wine, I want some too! I’ll gift it to my father-in-law," Huang said in a rush, blurting out, "Take back 2 large jars at noon, not the 5-pound ones but at least 10 pounds this time. Xiao Wu, we’ll get it ourselves."

Zhang Guoqing glared at the master chef, pretending to be hurt, accusing him, "I’m going to tell the mistress that you secretly stashed 20 pounds of liquor for yourself without giving me a drop."

He exchanged sneaky looks with Sister Huang, signaling stealthily, "Master Chef, if you check with the mistress, only a pound for you, and the other 19 pounds are mine. How about it?"

"Oh dear, I knew no good would come with you around. Five pounds, just five—no more," the master chef hurried to catch up as he saw him heading out, still worried that if his wife found out, even a single pound might not be safe. He’d hidden this 20 pounds at an old friend’s place, discreetly bringing it in today.

"Xiao Wu, found it, a 10-pound jar! Haha, Master Chef, I found it; will you agree?" Huang excitedly shouted.

"You both are something, using tactics—is it really necessary? Just don’t let my wife find out; take this jar away so out of sight, out of mind."

"Master Chef, don’t drink it all at once, or I’ll tell the mistress. She’s worried about you. One pound at most each time, and I’ll keep an eye," Sister Huang reminded.

Joking aside, necessary advice must be given; the old man had no moderation with alcohol, and they feared he’d drink to trouble.

"Got it, you’re full of tricks, kid. I’ll pack it up for you to take by hand," he said.

"Sister Huang, grab something to put this jar in for my father to savor slowly," Zhang Guoqing reminded her, "Master Chef, give me a pound of beef stew, and pack it together."

Sister Huang shook her head, "No need; this jar is sealed, and it’s awkward to carry open on a bike, plus my dad doesn’t drink. Go eat your noodles before they get soggy; the sooner you return, the sooner Jiao Jiao can ease her mind."

Zhang Guoqing saw she was genuinely uninterested, so he didn’t insist. He didn’t personally enjoy drinking; he had his stash of good liquor back in his space. It was just that his father liked this one, cherishing the 2 pounds he took last time until they were finally gone. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered with all this.