Taking the household booklet from Mother Li, Li Xiangdong tucked it into his cloth bag and left with his father, eldest brother, and second brother.
"Third Son, if anything's unclear during registration, make sure to ask questions," Father Li said, munching on his cornbread, not forgetting to remind his youngest son.
"Don't worry, Dad."
Li Xiangdong nodded.
The four chatted as they walked. Second Brother reached the bathhouse first. Not far after, Father Li and Eldest Brother arrived at the coal shop.
Their workplaces were all in the same alley as their home.
Li Xiangdong, now alone, walked out of the alley and headed east along the main road. The scenery felt like old photographs: low, worn red-brick houses, utility poles with tangled wires looking like future condemned buildings.
Sparse vehicles made the road seem wide, with bicycles and cars moving side by side, neither yielding.
In 1976, the United Nations labeled the capital a desertification-edge city. By this year, the Fifth Congress had declared March 12 as Arbor Day. The roadsides were lined with saplings planted just months ago, as thin as fingers, spaced every ten meters.
Yup, that's where all the poplar and willow fluff would come from later!
The crowd wore mostly blue and gray. Only the traffic police in the middle of the road stood out in crisp white uniforms.
People coming and going mostly smiled, their steps leisurely. Some stopped by the roadside, smoking and chatting.
Life wasn't the fast-paced rush of the future, and people had grown used to the laid-back vibe of the great movement era. Gone was the urgency of the '50s and '60s—racing against time, working morning to night, proudly toiling for the nation's construction even on an empty stomach.
Drifting along, Li Xiangdong walked for about ten minutes, arriving at the gate of the railway station staff dormitory compound.
"Hey, you there, young man! Yeah, you—what're you here for?"
The small window of the gatehouse opened, revealing a head. The man, looking over sixty, pushed up his glasses and sized up Li Xiangdong, who was glancing around.
Li Xiangdong approached. "Hello, sir. I'm here to report for work."
"Oh, come in and talk."
Hearing it was for reporting, the old man's head ducked back, closed the window, and resumed reading his newspaper about the latest leadership directives.
"Sir, have a smoke."
Li Xiangdong knocked, entered, pulled a Daqianmen cigarette from his pocket, handed it over, and lit it for him. He took out his introduction letter from his bag. "What's your name, sir? This is my introduction letter from the street office."
"No need for formalities. We're all working class. Just call me Grandpa Hou." Grandpa Hou set down the newspaper, took the letter, and read it carefully. "Looks right, it's for here. But you're early—the HR folks aren't in yet."
Li Xiangdong smiled. "No problem. If you don't mind, I'll keep you company and chat."
"Mind? Hardly anyone comes by here all day. It's nice to have someone to talk to."
Grandpa Hou returned the letter, took a drag, and said, "Sit, don't stand. You're so tall, it's tiring looking up at you. When did you get back from the countryside?"
"Wow, Grandpa Hou, you've got sharp eyes! You even figured out I'm a returned educated youth? No wonder the leaders trust you with such an important post!"
Li Xiangdong scanned the small gatehouse, spotting a 12-inch black-and-white TV covered with a cloth on the counter. He pulled a chair over, sat beside Grandpa Hou, and laid on the flattery.
His compliment was sincere. In the alley where he lived, only a few households had TVs. In an era where even radios weren't common, a gatekeeper having a TV to watch at work? That was some serious status.
Grandpa Hou's identity was no ordinary one!
"Your mouth's sweeter than honey. It's all written in your letter—what sharp eyes? My glasses are 300 degrees. And this? Just a cushy gatekeeping job. In your mouth, it's an 'important post.'"
Grandpa Hou grinned, liking this sweet-talking kid more by the second. He felt at ease.
"Your letter says you're Li Xiangdong. Should I call you Comrade Xiao Li or Comrade Xiangdong?"
Seeing Grandpa Hou in high spirits, Li Xiangdong pressed his advantage. "Call me whatever you like, but my family calls me Dongzi. Why don't you call me that too? Makes us feel closer, right?"
Grandpa Hou chuckled. "So, I'm guarding the gate and picking up a relative today?"
Li Xiangdong nodded earnestly. "You're like my elder, aren't you? Once I settle my onboarding, I'll swing by on breaks to chat and keep you from getting bored."
"We got a deal?"
"Deal!"
"Set in stone?"
"I'll definitely come!"
"But I don't trust your words!"
"Come on, would I trick you?"
"Who knows?"
Grandpa Hou waved the cigarette butt of the Daqianmen. "You're so stingy you won't even offer a Peony, giving me this instead? Think I'll believe you?"
"Heh, my bad. I'm just used to these."
Li Xiangdong laughed awkwardly, pulling a pack of Peony from his bag and quickly handing one over.
Seeing Grandpa Hou wasn't really mad, he flattered, "I just slipped up grabbing the letter, and you caught it. Still say you're not sharp? You're too modest, old comrade."
Grandpa Hou lit the Peony, took a satisfying drag, and said, "I'm nearsighted, not blind. I might not read the fine print, but I know a cigarette pack. You're a smooth talker, but not exactly honest."
Despite his words, his tone was much warmer.
"I'm not smoking your cigarettes for nothing. Stay put. When the HR chief comes, I'll put in a good word for you. Guarantee no one gives you trouble today."
Grandpa Hou's voice brimmed with pride.
"If you can put in a word, I'd be so grateful."
Li Xiangdong thanked him quickly.
New hires getting hassled was common, and nobody liked the headache.
If Grandpa Hou could smooth his onboarding, the flattery and cigarettes were well worth it.
Plus, Grandpa Hou was an interesting guy. It takes two to tango, right?