Chapter 510: Chapter 39: Familiar Strangers
"The total is four thousand six hundred yuan. It’s really troublesome this time, as per the rules, I should be the one delivering it to Manager Mao. Today is Friday, he should be at the factory. There is a Route 6 bus outside the supermarket, just get off at Fang Street Station and follow the address to deliver the money," the cashier of Five Gentlemen’s Bamboo Mat put the freshly counted money into a plastic bag, then wrapped it in another black bag, and finally placed it in a shopping bag left over from a supermarket promotion.
Compared to the unbearable heat of summer, the business of Five Gentlemen’s Bamboo Mats was running neither too hot nor too cold. Although it couldn’t compete with modern cooling mats like buffalo-hide, some people still prefer handmade and traditional mats, so the business was doing quite well.
Every afternoon, the cashier had to hand over the money to Mao Dazhu, but today she had some matters to attend to, so she asked Xiao Xian to deliver it instead.
Hearing that Mao Dazhu was at the factory, Xiao Xian didn’t understand at first, but then she remembered that Mao Dazhu had mentioned that the mats of Five Gentlemen are all hand-woven, so the mentioned factory must be the weaving center.
After selling the mats for a week, Xiao Xian learned a bit about the production process. The bamboo mats of Five Gentlemen were well-made. However, it was said that the best-made Purple Vine Mat had low production, with only one available in over half a month, marking it as a star product of Five Gentlemen Flower Art.
In major cities with subways, thieves’ focus had shifted to subways. Hence, the bus routes were relatively safer and less crowded, which also minimized the risk of money being targeted by thieves.
This Route 6 bus runs 365 days a year from the bustling city center towards the quietest corners of Beijing City. Only two passengers were on the bus, one of whom was Xiao Xian.
Hearing "Fang Street," Xiao Xian got off the bus, walked straight ahead, turned a corner, and didn’t notice any workshops or factories nearby. She had to ask a passer-by for directions after giving the address and then continued through a secluded alley.
There was no sign of any mat factory or the Five Gentlemen Flower Art, but at the end of the alley, there was a door opened against the wall, bearing a sign "Fang Street Elderly Home."
Next to the sign was a brief description of the elderly home: "Our facility is a senior welfare institution under the Beijing Civil Affairs Bureau. Established for twenty years, it primarily provides comprehensive medical care and life assistance for solitary elderly and retired employees from enterprises having difficulties in homecare." The introduction was dated Spring 1981.
If not for this sign and introduction, Xiao Xian would find it hard to associate this elderly home, which occupied a little over three acres built with the simplest bricks and tiles, located far from urban outskirts and devoid of public facilities, with a retirement home for government officials.
Xiao Xian touched the door left open, leaving a handprint.
The paint on the door was still fresh, opened to let it dry.
Stepping through the gate, in the tranquil courtyard of the elderly home, one could immediately see several tall and green trees between the buildings.
Several bird cages hung beneath the trees, with a few parrots with green feathers and yellow heads occasionally jumping inside.
The Canna flowers bloomed vividly red and yellow, exhaling pistils, and the residual light of the setting sun shone on them, filling the air with a natural fragrance of grass and bamboo.
"Lao Zhao, who is quicker, your hands or my cleaver?" In the courtyard of the elderly home, several men in their sixties and seventies were sitting, one of which was weaving a mat, about one-third done.
The elderly man was wearing a clean round-neck sweatshirt, his fingers moving between the slender bamboo strips, pressing tightly as the strips grew denser. As one bamboo strip was woven in, the weaving elderly man picked up a steel ruler, pressing hard on the woven surface to make the bamboo strips closer together.
"Don’t be too proud, Old Zhou, with those hands of yours that had a stroke the year before last, they can’t compare to my cleaver," the old man splitting the bamboo was slightly younger than the one weaving, and had more energy. He placed freshly sawed Moso Bamboo beside him, chose an appropriate length, and then correctly positioned his blade on the bamboo tube, striking it on the ground a few times, splitting the bamboo tube into two, then he chose a thickness of about one millimeter, and split a section of bamboo into hundreds of strips.