Chapter 107: The Electric Fan

After buying a bunch of food, drinks, and necessities for Xiaoyu, Chen Liang led her out of the department store. He told her to wait by the bicycle for a moment, then squeezed back inside.

At the store’s warehouse, Chen Liang pulled out the receipt and paid. Hoisting a heavy electric fan on his shoulder and clutching a radio under his arm, he boldly shouted, “Make way! Watch out or I’m not responsible if I knock you over!”

The standing fan was clearly a rugged, Soviet-made model—large, sturdy, and made from solid sheet metal, exuding a sense of durability.

Chen Liang moved swiftly, coming back out faster than he went in, barreling through the aisles in less than five minutes to return to Xiaoyu. Handing the radio to her, he slung the fan over his shoulder, hopped on the bicycle, helped Xiaoyu up, and headed home. Along the way, passersby—whether familiar or not—couldn’t help but glance twice.

In those days, radios and electric fans were prized possessions, far beyond the reach of ordinary families.

Returning to the alley, their haul sparked envy among the neighbors. The Chen family was truly wealthy. To them, buying such big-ticket items was as easy as snapping fingers. Yet considering the Chen household’s income, it suddenly made perfect sense.

After all, except for the two little girls, everyone was working and earning, so life naturally was better. Damn, real envy was due here!

Carrying a fan weighing fifty or sixty pounds, Chen Liang acted as if it was nothing. He rode one-handed, pedaling swiftly while carrying his wife—a small but remarkably strong frame.

At that time, Soviet-made electric fans were built to last, top quality. No one could find fault with them. Buying one meant having it for life.

The Chens were not stingy people. As Chen Liang carried the fan and radio back, a group of neighborhood kids trailed behind him.

Setting the items down, Chen Liang immediately spotted Banggeng, the son of Widow Qin, mingling amongst the children. Chen Liang’s eyes shifted cunningly, a mischievous idea forming in his mind.

He called to the group, “Zhou Xiaohu, come here.”

If Chen Liang was the leader among the young adults in the alley, then the tall and sturdy Zhou Xiaohu was the kids’ king of the next generation.

“Uncle, what’s up?” Zhou Xiaohu asked, confidence shining in his eyes.

“Xiaohu, are you the toughest wrestler among the kids here?”

“Definitely!” Zhou Xiaohu nodded proudly.

“All right. But talk is cheap. Let’s have a free wrestling contest. The first ten winners get popsicles on me. Deal?”

Previously, when Shazhu brought boxed lunches, Banggeng was well-fed and chubby. Chen Liang might have worried other kids couldn’t beat him. But since Shazhu left and Yizhonghai stopped subsidizing the Jia family, Banggeng had grown lean and thin, clearly undernourished—an easy target for the other kids.

As soon as Chen Liang finished, a chorus of “Yes!” erupted from the children.

Zhou Xiaohu immediately grabbed Jia Banggeng and slammed him to the ground—a tough break for Banggeng, who happened to be standing closest to Xiaohu.

Zhou Xiaohu had no wrestling training, nor Chen Liang’s skill of throwing gently. The fall hurt Banggeng badly.

Crying, Banggeng got up, realizing he had no chance at popsicles, and ran off.

Worse, he dared not tell Mrs. Jia Zhang about it. Since Zhou Xiaohu was the neighborhood’s kids’ king, if Banggeng complained, no child would want to play with him anymore.

Even if Mrs. Jia knew, she wouldn’t dare confront the Zhou family. Xiaohu’s parents were butchers at the meat processing plant, known for their fierce tempers. Most people didn’t dare provoke them.

After the kids finally decided the top ten winners, Chen Liang smiled and handed Zhou Xiaohu twenty cents. “Go buy popsicles for them.”

Taking the money, Zhou Xiaohu beamed. “Thank you, Uncle Chen.” The winners followed suit, thanking him.

“Thanks, Uncle Chen! Thanks, Liang Uncle! Thanks, Second Uncle…”

Just then, Chen Hong, who had been hiding inside watching, rushed out and clung to Chen Liang’s leg. “Second Uncle, I want one too! I want a cream popsicle!”

“Of course,” Chen Liang said. “Xiaohu, come here.” He called Zhou Xiaohu back, handing him fifty cents more. “Take a cream popsicle for Chen Hong. Use the rest to buy popsicles for the kids who lost.”

“Remember, no sneaking bites on the way, or Chen Hong will tattle on you. Then your brother will spank you when you get home!”

“I got it, Uncle Chen. I promise no sneaking!” Zhou Xiaohu wasn’t afraid of Chen Liang—he knew Chen Liang wouldn’t hit him—but he feared Chen Hong’s tattling.

If Chen Hong tattled, Chen Liang would send his older brothers, Da Hu or Er Hu, to rough him up. At home, he’d likely get scolded by his parents and punished with no dinner—a miserable prospect.

Chen Hong, reluctant to go out in the heat, eagerly awaited the cream popsicle from Zhou Xiaohu, who eventually arrived.

Chen Hong carefully inspected the wrapper to ensure no one had licked it before happily biting in.

Honestly, families as meticulous as the Chens in raising their kids were rare. Most treated children like herding sheep—no one hesitated to lick the candy or popsicle first.

After sending the children off, Chen Liang went back inside to entertain the adults, handing out Red Pagoda Mountain cigarettes and sitting with them under the cool breeze of the new electric fan.

“Gotta say, this fan’s really something. Feel the wind—really cools you down,” Old Zhang from the backyard said after finishing his cigarette, circling around the oscillating fan appreciatively.

He patted his knee. “Not bad at all. Tomorrow, I’m getting one too.”

Old Zhang’s family was similar to the Chens—except for a few kids in school, everyone else worked. So when he said he wanted to buy one, he meant it.

“Old Zhang, just remember, this thing uses a lot of electricity. Don’t buy it and then not use it because the bill’s high,” Chen Liang warned.

Old Zhang snapped back with a grin, “You little brat, don’t look down on me. Old Zhang here can afford an electric fan. I’m not scared of the electricity bill!”

He downed the tea in his cup, stood, and declared, “I’m off. I’ll show you that your old Zhang will always be your old Zhang. I’m heading to the department store to buy one right now!”

With that, resolute Old Zhang patted his backside and marched out.