Chapter 75: Smuggling Across the Border

Zhang Guoqing kept an eye on the old man, worried he might drink too much, while listening to Xiaofei and the others brag and joke around, discussing their plans to go hunting in the mountains the next day. By the end, they’d even decided how they were going to cook the wild boar meat.

“Xiao Wu, what do you think? We’ll bring our gear, and you lead the way,” someone suggested.

“Sounds good. Let’s head out early tomorrow morning so we can get back sooner,” Zhang Guoqing replied.

Seizing a chance, Zhang Guoqing quietly tugged at Brother Zhou’s sleeve. “Brother Zhou, can I borrow the keys to that car from earlier? Don’t worry, I’ll be back in thirty minutes at most. Just keep it quiet.”

“Want me to come with you?” Brother Zhou trusted his driving skills, but it was getting dark and the roads were deserted.

Zhang Guoqing shook his head, took the keys discreetly handed to him under the table, slipped them into his pocket, and left with his bowl in hand. No one paid him any attention, assuming he was just heading to the kitchen.

Brother Zhou watched him go and almost laughed—this guy was quite the actor.

Zhang Guoqing hurried to the west wing and found Zhou Jiao bored, counting her fingers. “Honey, I got the car keys. Hurry up and bring the stuff out, or we’ll get found out. Quick!”

Zhou Jiao quickly produced half a lamb and several plastic boxes. “Stick to the plan, hubby. Here’s everything you mentioned earlier. Need anything else?”

“You can’t eat much during your confinement, so grab two more black chickens. That’s enough—the rest Mom already put in the cellar. We’ll eat what we have first.” As he spoke, he stuffed the lamb and bones into a prepared cloth sack, then used another old bag for the beef, pork, and other bits.

“Be careful, hubby. Don’t drive into a ditch, haha,” Zhou Jiao said, stashing the boxes away.

Zhang Guoqing hefted the bags and, after a quick word from Zhou Jiao, slipped out. He checked that no one was around, dashed outside, loaded everything into the car, and drove off, finally letting out a long sigh of relief. With nowhere else to go, he headed straight for the county town.

He remembered a small alley in town with a used bookstore. Since coming here, aside from their textbooks, they had almost no books at home—life was just too busy. In the past, he couldn’t sleep at night without reading a few pages. Biking there would be exhausting, but driving took no time at all. He parked at the alley entrance.

He strolled over. Two used bookstores were still open. It was getting late, so he went into one. The owner was an old man he knew—he and Zhou Jiao used to come here to read for free.

“Old man, got anything new in recently?” he asked.

The old man glanced at him. “Wait a sec, just got some in this afternoon. I’ll bring them out for you. Watch the shop for me.” With that, he disappeared inside, unconcerned about anyone stealing books.

Zhang Guoqing squatted down and started sifting through the books. Many were old classics, valuable and worth savoring. He set aside the ones he liked, then found some on traditional Chinese medicine—these would be good for his wife, who now spoke five languages and was skilled in medicine, he thought with a chuckle.

“How about it? They’re all in this bag. Pick what you want and we’ll settle up,” the old man said, pleased to see Zhang Guoqing so enthusiastic.

Zhang Guoqing just nodded, digging through the bag. They were all old books—he didn’t ask where they came from, probably cleared out from someone’s home. Not many people bought used books these days.

“All right, old man, how much for these? Can you tie them up for me?”

The old man counted them and checked their condition. “Thirty-two books. I’ll take three yuan.”

Zhang Guoqing didn’t haggle, paid up, carried the books to his car, then went to the other shop—also run by an old man. He picked out another thirty books there, which only cost him two yuan. He paid and left.

Looking at the two piles of books on the back seat, he realized he’d spent five yuan—compared to his older sister’s monthly wage of twenty-two yuan, it wasn’t exactly cheap. Not wanting to waste time, he hurried home, moved the bags and books into the small living room, and exchanged a few words with Zhou Jiao. He didn’t mention the books, worried she’d want to read them during her confinement, which wasn’t allowed.

He washed his hands, grabbed some rice, and headed to the main room. Except for Brother Zhou, no one realized he’d even left. Everyone was happily chatting about all sorts of things.

He winked at Brother Zhou and slipped the keys back into his pocket. Fang Fei saw him with his bowl of rice. “Xiao Wu, why aren’t you drinking? You haven’t toasted with us yet.”

“I just wanted a few bites first, then I’ll join you guys for drinks. Of course I’ll drink—haven’t toasted you all yet. If you’re hungry, there’s rice and buns in the kitchen. Eat a little to settle your stomach, then we can keep drinking.”

“I’m good, already full. Sister-in-law said to call her if we want more food. You sit and eat a few bites too. The old man was just telling us about his time on the battlefield—we’re all listening,” Xiaofei said, waving him off. After drinking, he really couldn’t eat any more.

Grandpa Lin was at a crucial part of his story, and everyone—adults and kids—was listening intently. Eating, drinking, and listening to the old man’s tales, Xiaofei leaned over to Zhang Guoqing and whispered, “Bro, how about that half a lamb and the beef? I put it all in the small living room. How should we cook it?”

Fang Fei lowered his voice, “Was it hard to get? If it was, we should save it. Man, I’m so full right now. Let me think… barbecue, and maybe a lamb bone soup. Stew the bones tonight, barbecue tomorrow after we come down from the mountain.”

“Sure, whatever you want. I was thinking of a bonfire party tonight, but tomorrow works too. Eat whenever you’re hungry. It’s not even dark yet—by six, we’ll be hungry again,” Zhang Guoqing joked.

Fang Fei nodded, “You’re right—eat when we’re hungry.”

Zhang Guoqing smacked his lips—this guy was unreliable. He’d wait until after dinner to decide. “Aren’t you interested in what the old man’s saying?”

“Ask your Brother Zhou—this dinner’s like a memoir. My family does this every holiday. I’m sick of it.” Fang Fei clinked bowls with him and Brother Zhou, who overheard their whispered conversation.

Zhang Guoqing couldn’t help but laugh.

Brother Zhou pointed outside—someone was knocking at the door. Fang Fei listened, too. “Someone’s really at your door. Go check—did you lock the gate?”

Zhang Guoqing’s eyes flashed—he knew who it was. “Must be Grandpa coming to find us.” He went out to greet the visitor.

“This kid’s smart. You know who’s at the door just by the knock. You all should learn from your uncle—read more, and you’ll know the world without leaving home. The more you read, the more you’ll think,” Grandpa Lin said.

Xizi stood up solemnly. “Great-grandpa, I remember everything you say. Uncle says first you learn to read, then understand the meaning. Books teach us how to be good people and do things right. We have to think about how we want to live and act. I remember—I’m already learning to think.”

“Good, good. You’re a great kid. Study hard and get into Beijing University to visit your great-grandpa. You’ll be a role model for your younger siblings.”

“I’ll remember your words and take care of my brothers and sisters. I’m going to find Auntie for some candy—anyone want to come?” With a red face, he led the other kids out, cheering."