Fists can't cross Tianjin

Chapter 38 Photography

As night deepened, the streetlights on the Five Avenues became dim and sparse.

Chen Zhuo went to find the butler, Uncle Liu, and naturally encountered no obstacles or setbacks, receiving the key directly from him.

I ran into Lao Zhang, Zhang Weiguo, when I went out, and we went to the storage room in the backyard together.

After rummaging through a pile of old furniture and dusty tools for a long time, the two finally dug out a cast iron honeycomb briquette stove in a corner.

Although the furnace was rusty on the outside and had several cracks in the refractory clay inside, the main structure was still intact and there were no major problems.

"This is it." Old Zhang patted the ash off the stove. "With a little repair, it'll work perfectly. This thing is much better than that fancy kerosene stove; it has a stronger flame and is easier to maintain. Most importantly, it burns coal briquettes, and coal is the last thing we have in this yard."

As he spoke, he rummaged through a pile of junk nearby and pulled out several rusty tin pipes, including a bend.

"You need to bring this chimney too. These honeycomb briquettes are strong and smelly; burning them indoors without a chimney will suffocate people," Old Zhang instructed. "When you get back, take the hinged glass off the window and extend the chimney out. Remember, before you go to bed at night, if the stove isn't sealed tightly, make sure to leave a crack in the window and don't lock the door completely. Every winter, quite a few people in Beijing are carried out due to carbon monoxide poisoning. We martial artists have strong blood and deep breathing, making us more susceptible. Don't die near the coal stove instead of on the boxing ring; that would be a laughing stock."

"Understood, thank you for reminding me, Brother Zhang." Chen Zhuo nodded.

This is indeed a life-saving tip.

For example, even in later generations, many people still die in poorly maintained gas rooms due to a lack of experience and basic knowledge.

Old Zhang offered to return the key, since he had to be on patrol that night anyway.

Chen Zhuo is new, so he wasn't assigned any patrol duties today. Tomorrow, considering that he needs to be settled in, take photos, and familiarize himself with the environment, Old Zhang didn't assign him any tasks either.

Chen Zhuoxin was naturally very grateful.

Leaving the storeroom, Chen Zhuo carried the heavy iron stove, with several sections of the sheet metal chimney tucked under his armpit, back to the rear room.

The room gets chilly at night when the humidity rises.

Chen Zhuo found some yellow clay and carefully filled the cracks inside the stove.

They then reconnected the sections of the corrugated iron chimney and sealed the base with yellow mud. The top window of the rear building had a movable "ventilation window" that allowed the chimney pipe to extend out. Chen Zhuo skillfully used waste newspapers to seal the gaps tightly, ensuring that smoke wouldn't flow back in.

After finishing all that, he went to the coal shed and got a basket of honeycomb briquettes and some kindling.

According to Lao Zhang, the Zeng family treated their servants well, providing them with plenty of food and daily necessities such as honeycomb briquettes.

Even things like safflower oil might not need to be bought.

If needed, ask Aunt Li. If the host family has any leftovers or extra supplies, you can take them directly.

There are only a few cents left.

For Chen Zhuo, this also saved him a lot of trouble.

Back in his room, Chen Zhuo started lighting the stove.

Lighting a stove is a skill in itself.

Chen Zhuo first laid a layer of waste paper and fine firewood at the bottom of the stove, lit it, and waited for the fire to start before carefully inserting a honeycomb briquette.

Thick smoke billowed from the stove opening, choking Chen Zhuo and causing him to cough. But he didn't pay attention, focusing instead on tending to the small flame.

Soon, the black smoke dissipated, and red flames began to emerge from the furnace opening.

The honeycomb briquettes were ignited.

Chen Zhuo quickly turned down the air damper on the stove to let it burn slowly.

As the fire in the stove stabilized, a warm feeling began to spread throughout the room. This was much more practical than those fancy kerosene stoves; it provided real heat that made one's face burn.

He moved a small stool and sat by the stove, watching the flickering flames and feeling the warmth, but his mind was already planning for tomorrow.

I need to apply for my work permit tomorrow; it's a big deal.

But more importantly, the dozen or so kilograms of frozen meat and the book "Xingyi Pu" in the air-raid shelter were buried in the air-raid shelter along with the frozen meat, just in case they were searched when we went to the Zeng family. We had to find a way to get them back.

Especially meat.

Although he ate three steamed buns for the meal just now, the exertion he had been doing during that period was too much, and that amount of carbohydrates was just enough to keep him from feeling hungry; it couldn't really replenish his body.

He's like a tank running out of fuel, desperately needing high-energy fuel.

Chen Zhuo thought for a moment, then stood up and slowly walked around the cramped room, performing a set of slow-motion Five Elements Fist, as a way to aid digestion and help his body adapt to the new environment as quickly as possible.

The Zeng family's first day passed just like that.

Although the future is uncertain, at least tonight, there is a stove and a place to sleep.

This is enough.

He drew the curtains, turned around and went back to bed, lying down fully clothed.

The snow stopped the next morning.

As dawn broke, Chen Zhuo got up. He stretched his limbs briefly in the courtyard, not daring to practice his boxing in a grand manner, but only going over the boxing stance a few times.

After breakfast, Lao Zhang called Chen Zhuo over.

"Get ready, come with me to the photo studio."

Old Zhang tossed him a cigarette. "Old Liu told me this morning to get your work permit sorted out first. These days, you can't get anywhere without a permit."

Chen Zhuo took the cigarette and tucked it behind his ear: "Thanks, Brother Zhang."

The two left the Zeng family's house and headed towards the Xiaobailou Photo Studio.

"See that little red-roofed house?"

Old Zhang pointed to a somewhat dilapidated building by the roadside and said, "That used to be the home of that big warlord... what was his name again, anyway, he was a division commander, and he built it for his sixth concubine. Now? Hey, it's become a tenement, housing more than twenty families. Times have changed. Before, people like us had to walk past here with our heads down, but now we can stroll around here with our heads held high."

Old Zhang spoke of ancient things, but his eyes revealed a detached indifference that suggested he had seen through the ways of the world.

Breakfast stalls have sprung up along the roadside, the aroma of fried dough sticks mingling with the steam of jianbing guozi (Chinese crepes), making one's mouth water. A stream of people dressed in blue and gray Zhongshan suits ride bicycles, their bells jingling as they merge into the main road, like a gray river.

Chen Zhuo listened attentively, occasionally interjecting a few words, showing great humility. He liked this down-to-earth atmosphere; it made him feel real.

When we arrived at the photo studio, it was a long-established state-owned business. Several colored sample photos hung in the shop window, mostly heroic military portraits or shy wedding photos. On the glass was a red paper cutout of the slogan "Grasp revolution, promote production."

The store was dimly lit, and the air was filled with the distinctive sour smell of developing chemicals.

An experienced craftsman wearing black-rimmed glasses and blue cloth sleeves was sitting behind the counter, retouching photos.

"Take a photo? What size?" The old craftsman asked without looking up.

"One inch, for my work ID." Old Zhang handed over a cigarette familiarly. "Thank you for your trouble, sir. Please make sure you look presentable in the photo."

The old man took the cigarette, tucked it behind his ear, and then looked up to sized up Chen Zhuo: "You're a fine young man. Go inside and sit on that stool."

Chen Zhuo walked into the photography studio. It was an even darker room, with a backless wooden stool in the middle and a gray backdrop behind it. Opposite him was a bulky old-fashioned landline camera, covered with black and red velvet.

"Sit up straight." The old master cutter slipped into the black cloth and gave instructions in a muffled voice, "Tuck your chin in a little... don't be too stiff, relax your shoulders. Oh, right."

The experienced worker emerged from the black cloth, walked up to Chen Zhuo, reached out to help him fasten the top button of his work clothes, and then tugged at his collar.

"Young man, if your clothes are buttoned up properly, that's called spirit and energy."

The experienced photographer stepped back behind the camera, his hand gripping the shutter release cable.

"Look at the camera, don't blink. One, two..."

With a "click," a flash of light appeared, and Chen Zhuo felt a blinding white light before his eyes.

His first official photograph in this world was thus captured.

The young man in the photo has sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, and his clothes are neatly buttoned up. Although his face is still a little thin, his eyes are calm and deep, revealing a sense of vicissitude and perseverance that is beyond his years.

"Alright, come back in three days to pick it up." The old man wrote out a receipt.

"Don't bother, Master Wang," Old Zhang said with a smile, offering a second cigarette. "This is the new caretaker for Old Zeng's family. He's waiting for this certificate to complete his onboarding process. You know Old Zeng's temper; he hates procrastination the most. Could you please put us in line?"

Upon hearing the name "Old Zeng," the old craftsman paused in his work. He adjusted his glasses, glanced at Old Zhang, then at Chen Zhuo, and finally sighed.

"Alright, for Old Zeng's sake. You can sit outside for a while, you'll be out in an hour or two."

"Alright, thank you!" Old Zhang winked at Chen Zhuo.

The two sat down on a bench outside. Old Zhang said in a low voice, "See? That's the Zeng family's influence. In Tianjin, just mentioning Old Master Zeng can make even the most difficult things go much smoother."

About an hour later, the old master craftsman came out with a small paper bag that still smelled of medicine.

"Here you go, the negatives are in there too."

Chen Zhuo took the photo and looked at the spirited young man in it, feeling a sense of emotion.

After finishing my business and returning to the Zeng family home, it was already noon.

Chen Zhuo took the photos and receipts to Uncle Liu for reimbursement.

Uncle Liu was looking at the account books when he saw him return. He put down his pen, took the photo, glanced at it, and nodded: "It's a good photo; you look quite energetic."

As he spoke, he opened a drawer, took out a small notebook with a dark red cover, pasted the photo on it, and then picked up the stamp on the table and stamped it with a "click".

"Here's your work ID. Take it." Uncle Liu handed the still-warm booklet to Chen Zhuo. "With this, as long as you don't make any major mistakes, you can avoid most troubles when you're in Tianjin."

Chen Zhuo took it with both hands, opened it, and glanced at it.

The document bears the red seal of the "TJ City XX Government Affairs Administration Bureau," and the job title column reads "Logistics Section Staff Member."

Although he was just a "service worker," in those days, he was a legitimate "public servant." Moreover, he was serving someone of Zeng Lao's stature, which made his position even more prestigious than that of a regular factory worker.

"Thank you, Uncle Liu." Chen Zhuo solemnly put his work ID into his pocket.

Taking this opportunity, he blurted out the excuse he had come up with the night before.

"Uncle Liu, um... I'd like to ask you for half a day off."

Chen Zhuo said somewhat embarrassedly, "I left some things at my old place, mainly some old clothes for winter and some... dry food. I want to go and get them."

Uncle Liu did not look up.

"Go ahead. Although we have strict rules here, we're also understanding. It's normal for you to have some personal belongings to take care of since you're new here. But remember, you need to be back before dark, as you have to take turns patrolling at night."

"Oh, don't worry, thank you Uncle Liu!"

Chen Zhuo was overjoyed and turned to leave.