Chapter Fifty-Five: The Sound of the Gate in a Rainy Night

As soon as Yun Yingying spoke, the girls understood immediately—they were all in the same boat when it came to this matter. Not a single girl wished to catch a chill, so their pace quickened considerably as they ran ahead.

Outside, the sky was shrouded in dark clouds, thunder and rain raging, while the house itself was enveloped in darkness. Han Li’s journey home was far from comfortable; although the village roads had long since been trodden firm, they were still muddy, offering no promise of ease.

Yet, when the street gate opened and Han Li glimpsed the stone path within his own courtyard, he felt a wave of relief. Carrying an enamel basin, he drew a full bucket of water from the vat, entered the house, and stripped off every last piece of clothing. After washing away the rainwater from his body, he looked at the wet traces left on the floor. His brow furrowed; he realized what his home was lacking.

But with rain pouring down outside, now was hardly the time to dwell on such matters. Han Li lit the kerosene lamp, sat shirtless on the heated kang, and gazed out the window at the torrent of rain. Then, pulling the quilt behind him and using the lamp’s glow, he began to read.

He hadn't been reading long when the street gate was knocked upon. The sound of rain was so loud that only Hao Hongmin’s voice could be heard, though her words were indistinguishable. Han Li fetched his heavy raincoat from the cupboard and put it on before stepping out to the courtyard and opening the gate.

He was greeted by Hao Hongmin, also in a raincoat, standing outside. Han Li, wondering if something had happened, spoke up. “Is there something urgent in this downpour? Let’s go inside and talk.”

“It’s nothing serious,” Hao Hongmin replied. “Everyone’s just bored because of the rain, so they sent me to borrow poker cards and checkers from you.”

The two walked toward the house, though the stone path was too narrow for them to walk side by side. At first, they bumped into each other, but soon switched to a single-file formation to pass smoothly. Perhaps the collision had been awkward; after entering, Hao Hongmin removed her raincoat, her cheeks still tinged red.

“You really had foresight, paving this stone path early on—it’s so clean,” she remarked.

Han Li smiled. “Foresight? Not really. I just couldn’t be sure when I’d return to the city, so I wanted to tidy up where I lived. At the very least, it’s comfortable for me.”

As he spoke, Han Li retrieved the poker cards and checkers from the cupboard. The poker cards were specially made; the usual A, J, Q, K, Joker, King, and Queen had all been removed.

In their place were 1, 11, 12, 13, or themes such as construction achievements, scenery, flora and fauna, and sports. There were cards featuring artistic films like “The Women’s Army Ballet” and “The White-Haired Girl,” as well as those depicting contemporary figures, such as the Iron Man, Lei F, Jiao... and many others.

A well-preserved deck from this era could fetch anywhere from ten thousand to fifty thousand in the future, making them highly collectible.

Hao Hongmin took the cards and checkers from Han Li, tucked them beneath her raincoat, and carefully pressed them to ensure they wouldn’t fall or get wet, then bid him farewell.

Han Li lost his mood for reading; a rainy day indoors was simply idle time. He decided it was better to inspect the courtyard for a spot to build a small wooden shed, so he donned his raincoat and stepped outside.

He wondered about the peculiarities of Shanghe Village—every house had a backyard, which Han Li understood. The backyard was useful for storing firewood or miscellaneous items, keeping the front yard neat and attractive. But his house, despite having only two rooms, had been built right in the center of the courtyard. Most other houses hugged the boundaries, but Han Li had never paid much attention to this before.

Now, wanting to build a little shed, he found the centrally located house ideal; both sides could be freely extended. Perhaps this was the wisdom of the locals—to make future expansions easier.

It wasn’t the time for a full shed yet, but Han Li could still construct a makeshift vestibule. (A vestibule is a small room at the entrance of a house, offering insulation and preventing cold or hot air from rushing directly inside when the outer door is opened.)

For the first time, Han Li decided not to build a traditional vestibule, but rather an extended eave. This way, on rainy days, he could change clothes under the eave, sparing the house from water-soaked floors. When winter came, he could surround the eave with wooden boards, turning it into a vestibule.

The main advantage was that Han Li could choose the direction of the door based on the prevailing wind, effectively preventing cold drafts and keeping the room temperature stable.

Once he had made up his mind, he set to work, knowing that with the rain pouring down, no one would notice him. Han Li measured the distance with a stick, dug four holes in the chosen spot, and then took four sturdy tree trunks from his storage space, trimmed them to identical lengths, and planted them firmly.

Next, he built a triangular ridge and covered the top with thicker branches. When finished, the result was that outside, it rained heavily, while inside, it merely dripped—a modest improvement for now. In time, with more materials, he could upgrade it further, eventually laying stone beneath to complete the job.

Now Han Li could hang his raincoat under the wide eave, no longer worrying about water soaking the house. Feeling quite pleased, Han Li decided to stew two chickens and enjoy a little wine before sleeping soundly for the night. If it didn’t rain tomorrow, he planned to go mushroom picking in the mountains. With a few hazel mushrooms or yellow mushrooms in the chicken stew, the flavor would be even richer.

The same routine, the same process—the orange flames danced upon Han Li’s face. Once he paused, he felt an inexplicable heaviness in his heart; was this the aftereffect of working too much? Han Li shook his head and laughed at himself, adjusted the firewood’s flame, and lay back on the kang to read.

That familiar, enticing aroma soon wafted through the room. Han Li pressed a few cornbread cakes made of mixed flour to the side of the pot, adjusted the fire again, set the kang table, arranged the bowls and chopsticks, and poured himself half a jug of white liquor.

Under the glow of the kerosene lamp and candles, Han Li sat on the kang, eating and drinking. Outside, darkness prevailed, and only a sliver of the world was visible through the window, but the sound of rain striking the roof and ground was clear as ever.

Once he was sated, he stored the cornbread and leftover chicken in the cupboard to keep them safe from mice. He moved the kang table and all its contents to the outer room, deciding not to wash the dishes that night.

Having drunk a little wine, Han Li was eager to crawl under the covers and sleep. He had barely set his bedding when the street gate was knocked upon by Yun Jingjing and the others.

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