wavenovel Chapter 17 8-cent stamps
Chapter 17 8-cent stamps
Sun Changkui couldn't stop Chen Tuo, and Chu Mingshan was about to step forward to stop him.
But he was stopped by Wei Juncheng's stern gaze.
To be honest.
If it were on the battlefield, Chen Tuo's food and clothing would not be a problem.
But we're not on the battlefield now, we're in the forest.
Judging from Chen Tuo's attire, Wei Juncheng felt that Chu Maolin's beating was entirely deserved.
If Chu Maolin were his son, breaking one of his legs would be too lenient.
The more you wash your cotton-padded jacket and trousers, the thinner they become.
Wearing such an outfit, Chen Tuo could easily freeze to death while wandering around the forest.
His lack of food and job is not a problem that Songling alone can solve.
But as educated youth sent to the forest farm, regardless of their status, the lack of warm clothing to protect them from the cold was a responsibility the forest farm could not shirk.
"Secretary Wei..."
Chu Mingshan had also thought of the same problem that Wei Juncheng had considered. He wanted to take responsibility, but was stopped.
"I'm in charge of the Lushulin Forest Farm, so this is my problem. Sun Changkui, you need to take care of Chen Zhiqing's wintering problem."
After saying that, Wei Juncheng turned to leave, but was stopped in his tracks by Chu Mingshan's words.
"Secretary Wei, are we just going to drop the matter about that kid?"
"I'm too ashamed to do anything about it! But I can't just ignore it either. I'll talk to the post office and tell them to notify the department if they mail a lot of paper."
Before leaving, remembering the poem Chen Tuo had written on birch bark, Wei Juncheng turned to him and instructed him:
"Just tell the post office staff to give him some manuscript paper, don't go around embarrassing our Songling Forestry Bureau!"
Chen Tuo pushed open the post office door, and as he passed through the lobby, a wave of heat hit him.
Looking into the post office lobby, I saw a bright red cast-iron coal stove and a coal pit the size of a cartwheel next to it.
Chen Tuo turned to look at Sun Changkui, who was following behind.
The Songling Post Office had more than just one coal stove in the lobby.
Inside the telegraph room, which was separated by glass partitions, there was also a coal stove.
There was also a coal stove inside the counter where letters were sent and received, items were mailed, and postcards were sold.
Amidst the hissing sound of boiling water, post office workers wearing thin sweaters were chatting comfortably.
Chen Tuo looked at him with suspicion, but Sun Changkui ignored him completely as he took off his coat.
Although Songling is a forest area, the heating of the residential areas is mainly done with coal.
There's a coal mine under the Forestry Bureau in Huma.
The heating fuel for the various residential areas of Songling, Xinlin, Huzhong, and Tahe all comes from the coal mines in Huma.
Because this is the Northeast, the coal produced in Huma is not worth transporting compared to the timber.
The remaining coal was used to build a power plant, which supplies electricity to several surrounding forest areas.
Sun Changkui ignored his questions, and Chen Tuo didn't take them seriously either.
Since there was no firewood, he dismantled the roof beams of the educated youth settlement to use as firewood.
God won't let a blind man starve, will he?
"I need to mail a letter..."
When Chen Tuo spoke, he was not met with enthusiastic service, but rather with scrutinizing gazes.
"Where are you from? What kind of mail are you sending? Where are you sending it?"
Because it is a forest area, and the area around the forest farm is basically uninhabited.
The mail for forest farm employees was received and sent by the farm's mailroom.
The same applies to letters from residents of Songling Town; the town's post office staff handles their collection and delivery.
Therefore, the Songling area post office can only serve a limited number of regular customers.
When Chen Tuo, a complete stranger, wanted to send a letter, the first thing he would face was questioning.
"This is Chen, a former educated youth who stayed behind at the Xiaoyangqi educated youth settlement, and he is going to send a letter to Huacheng."
After Sun Changkui stepped forward to explain, the people from the post office were not as ignorant as the forestry manager of Songling.
"Has the manuscript been submitted and reviewed by the relevant authorities?"
Although Sun Changkui vouched for him, the middle-aged man who had just spoken still brought the issue to the forefront.
Words should not be spoken carelessly, nor should letters be sent carelessly.
Unlike post offices outside the forest, post offices in the forest area not only have less work, but also receive subsidies from the Forestry Bureau.
Besides subsidies, it's easy to make furniture and work with wood, and you can even earn extra money.
Therefore, the post office staff did not give Sun Changkui any face and were extremely wary of him.
"Secretary Wei and the five managers in charge haven't gone far yet. Why don't you go ask them? They'll take care of it for you, and give them two sets of your unit's letterhead!"
I had something on my mind, and the people at the post office weren't giving me any face.
At this time, the distinction between those close to the outside world and those distant from the inside was particularly evident to Sun Changkui.
Compared to Chen Tuo, Chu Maolin is one of our own.
Compared to Chen Tuo, the people at the post office were outsiders.
Sun Changkui turned sour, and the middle-aged man who had just asked the question reluctantly ordered a plump girl to handle the business for Chen Tuo.
"What kind of mail? Registered or regular mail? Regular mail costs eight cents, and two envelopes cost one cent each."
She got up and told Chen Tuo the price of mail. The chubby girl took five or six notebooks of letter paper and walked to the counter.
"Eight cents? That's pretty cheap. Can I borrow a pen?"
Although he was mentally prepared, Chen Tuo still didn't expect that just mailing a manuscript of poems would result in so many odds and ends.
Looking back now, he may have overdone it by hastily writing down eight graves filled with hostility.
But you can't get fans without being ruthless.
It was these fragments that allowed Chen Tuo to see the power of words.
His background in Chinese literature, coupled with a second chance at life, allows him to stand on the shoulders of many and examine certain works.
Chen Tuo knew the source of the difficulties just now, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
As someone who has toiled and struggled in the workplace, and also endured hardship and compromise.
Chen Tuo did not approve of the previous harassment, and at the same time, he did not want more young people to be harassed in this way.
This aligns with what he said outside the door about pursuing fame and fortune.
I have an eight-cent stamp.
But I don't know where to send it.
It lies beside me every day.
Quietly waiting for an email.
When my poems are laid out on the paper.
Writing stroke by stroke.
Then the eight-cent stamp was affixed.
It was sent to a distant place.
I wonder if it will get lost along the way...
Taking the pen from the chubby girl, Chen Tuo wrote the title "Eight-Fen Stamp" on the birch bark.
The modern poems I had read, recited, and memorized over the years flashed through my mind, quickly forming twenty lines.
Beside them, a friendly, chubby girl watched quietly.
Behind him, Sun Changkui was scratching his head in frustration.
What does "I don't know if it will get lost along the way" mean?
Sun Changkui didn't want to ask Chen Tuo, who was creating art on site, about this.
It wouldn't be appropriate to snatch his poetry manuscript and then go after Wei Juncheng, Chu Mingshan, and others.
"Xiao Hong, Chen Zhiqing's poems are quite good, aren't they?"
Fearing there might be something wrong with Chen Tuo's poem, but not wanting to ask directly, Sun Changkui could only keep giving the middle-aged man meaningful glances.
He also asked Hong Ye, a post office employee who was watching Chen Tuo write poetry, to help delay the process.
Upon receiving a signal from Sun Changkui, the already vigilant post office staff surrounded the counter.
"Are you Xiao Chen, the educated youth? You came to our unit that year. You've grown so fast, haven't you? It's only been two years, right? You've grown so tall!"
As a group of educated youth sent to the countryside, very few people in Songling actually knew Chen Tuo.
An older woman at the post office remembered him somewhat.
But her impression of him was just that of a skinny little boy from a few years ago.
Chen Tuo passively accepted everyone's criticisms.
Not many people in Songling know him, and the number of people he knows can be counted on one hand.
Dr. Hu, Old Wu, Crippled Sun, Secretary Wei, and Director Chu.
If we add Chu Maolin, then it can only be considered as six fingers...