Chapter Fifty-Four: The Sound of the Bugle

Zhao Zejun had dealt with this elderly couple a few times before. The old veteran, who was missing part of his leg, had grown muddled with age, but the old woman was still sharp—one might even call her wise; last time, she had even guessed the origin of that envelope. Now she pointed at the few listless chickens in the room and said, “The rain’s too heavy, it’s damp inside, and the chickens are going to catch some plague.”

The coop was a single-room unit tucked under the eaves of the second floor. Rainwater streamed down from the upper roof, pouring onto the little house below. The coop was already old, and now, with the downpour and runoff from above, its roof could no longer hold. Water dripped steadily through the gaps, turning the floor into a muddy swamp. The hens and their chicks huddled together on the highest patch of ground they could find.

“Auntie, don’t worry about it, just go home and rest. I’ll buy all these chickens and keep them in my building for now. Junzi, go catch the chickens,” Zhao Zejun bellowed.

“There’s water all through the house, I can’t stay there either. I’ll borrow a few basins to catch it. The old man’s leg is acting up again!” The old woman pointed back toward her home as she spoke.

Zhao Zejun glanced that way. The second team was already following him out, while the first was still resting upstairs. He shouted at Junzi, “Go upstairs and get the others who are resting to come down—help fix their house!”

Junzi had just turned to head up when a muffled boom sounded nearby.

At first, Zhao Zejun thought it was thunder; but through the veil of rain, he saw a plume of dust rise into the air.

The veteran’s house had collapsed—half of it lost to the storm.

“My old man!” The old woman froze, then screamed at the top of her lungs and ran toward her home. But her foot slipped, and she fell into the mire along the wall.

Zhao Zejun’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets. A perfectly solid house, and it just collapsed right in front of him?

“Rescue them—everyone, get down here!” he shouted.

“Boss Zhao, what about our houses? Are we still doing the inspections?” a worker tugged at his sleeve.

“To hell with the houses—go save them!” Zhao Zejun flung off the worker’s hand and charged into the rubble.

When he arrived, one wall and most of the roof were already down, leaving a precarious slope of debris threatening to collapse at any moment.

The old veteran lay helpless in the foul water and mud, his head bleeding, bricks and tiles pressing down on him, clawing at the earth to drag himself out.

A heavy roof beam creaked ominously above him, straining under its weight, slowly descending toward the old man.

…

Jiang Xuan had just come downstairs with his crew when he saw a sight that chilled him to the bone.

In the pouring rain, Zhao Zejun was bracing the fallen beam with his shoulder, his whole body wedged like a human wall between it and the remaining wall—using himself to shield the old veteran beneath the ruins!

Jiang Xuan’s face turned ashen. The rest of the house could collapse at any moment, and Zhao Zejun was trapped inside.

“Zhao Zejun, get the hell out of there!” Jiang Xuan roared as he rushed in, crouching to take Zhao Zejun’s place under the beam, one hand trying to pull him out.

Zhao Zejun shoved him aside, hunched and gritting his teeth. “Cut the crap—get the old man out first!”

Junzi and the others arrived, working together to drag the veteran clear and carry him to safety. Liang Shi hauled over a thick bamboo pole to brace the beam and wall in Zhao Zejun’s stead.

“Give me a hand, I’ve got a cramp…” Zhao Zejun ground out, still holding up the beam.

Jiang Xuan, strong as an ox, threw his arms around Zhao Zejun’s waist, twisted, and heaved him out of the ruins. Their combined weight sent them both tumbling into the mud.

Behind them, the bamboo creaked and splintered; the rest of the house finally gave way, collapsing in slow motion.

Lying on his back in the mud, rain sluicing over him, Zhao Zejun gulped for air.

Jiang Xuan leapt up in a flash, pointed at Zhao Zejun’s nose, and swore, “Next time you pull a stunt like that, I won’t bother saving your sorry ass!”

Zhao Zejun just gave a foolish chuckle.

“Brother, are you all right?” Junzi came over to help him up. Zhao Zejun asked, “How’s the old man? He’s alive, right?”

“He should be fine. Engineer Liang took him and the old lady upstairs—got them into dry clothes and boiling some water.”

“Let’s go up and rest a while too.”

Upstairs, they found the old woman sitting on a small stool. Liang Shi was heating water in a large washbasin, wringing out a hot towel and handing it to her.

The old veteran lay flat on a makeshift bed, gasping for breath. The blood on his head had been cleaned away, though there was a nasty cut.

“He’s all right now. Just needs to rest a bit—then we’ll take him to the hospital for a couple stitches. Lucky enough—his bad leg was acting up, so he was lying in bed with the quilt over him. The quilt took the brunt of the falling bricks,” Liang Shi said.

When Zhao Zejun appeared, the old woman tottered to her feet, clinging to the wall, and gripped his hand tight. Her lips trembled, not a word could she say, but tears welled up in her wrinkled eyes and spilled over.

“Auntie, it’s all right, it’s all right,” Zhao Zejun said loudly to comfort her. “The house is gone, but you’re both safe. You can stay here with us, don’t be sad.”

Leaving the room, Zhao Zejun gazed out at the rain falling like a waterfall and made up his mind.

Every year, the rains flooded Gaogang Village; every year, some houses leaked or collapsed, and among them were always elderly couples like the old volunteer soldiers he’d just rescued.

Living here so long, everyone, himself included, had grown numb to it.

But the coming demolition would bring unprecedented challenges—battles with the relocation office, and his own abilities were still too limited.

Wasn’t there something he could do? Something that would help others, and himself as well?

…

In another room, Jiang Xuan and several workers were already waiting.

“Starting tomorrow,” Zhao Zejun announced, “the construction team’s two groups will drop everything else. We’ll go door-to-door helping elderly folks living alone to repair their houses. If anyone’s place is leaking or has collapsed and is uninhabitable, bring them all to the second-floor dormitory. If that fills up, I’ll put them in my other properties.”

Footsteps sounded behind him—it was Liang Shi. Zhao Zejun handed him the five thousand yuan the old lady had just returned. “Engineer Liang, if there are too many people sheltering here, disease could spread in this weather. Use this money to buy basic medicines. And the forty thousand I transferred over for expansion—spend it all on daily necessities and food. If it’s not enough, I’ll find a way…”

He rattled off instructions at lightning speed, but the workers, including Liang Shi, just stood there, staring at him as though he’d turned into a stranger.

“Boss Zhao, there’s only a handful of us. Not enough manpower, not enough resources. I know you mean well, but there are so many needy people in this world. We can’t help them all,” said Old Chen, one of the workers.

Zhao Zejun waved him off. “You may not understand—you may think I’m some soft-hearted lunatic. But that doesn’t matter. Just do as I say. Pay will be calculated as if we were working construction.”

If the boss was paying the same, what was there to complain about? Work was work, after all.

Besides, these men had worked for plenty of bosses, but never one who valued human life over money like Zhao Zejun did. It felt good to work for someone like that.

Liang Shi adjusted his glasses. “Boss Zhao, I won’t say more. However you want to do it, I’ll follow. But you need to keep track of the budget and personnel. There are nearly two thousand households in Gaogang Village—our money and manpower won’t be enough.”

“There are two rules to remember,” Zhao Zejun said. “First, we help only the elderly living alone, orphans, and at most the disabled. Any able-bodied young people, or elderly with children at home—we don’t intervene. Second, if the house is just leaking, we’ll repair it; if it’s already fallen in, we can’t afford to rebuild, so we just rescue people. If they’re willing, they can come live here.”

If his earlier call for rescue seemed like a beautiful but unattainable dream, these two rules made the plan immediately feasible. With nearly two thousand households, once you filtered by these criteria, not many remained.

“All right, everyone, get moving. Jiang Xuan, come with me to the subdistrict office.” Zhao Zejun looked out at the deluge. Disaster or not, if an ordinary citizen was stepping up, the authorities couldn’t stand aside.

Moreover, in the upcoming demolition, the neighborhood committee and subdistrict office staff would be the main force of the relocation bureau.