Chapter 18: My Master, He Sanxing

The next day, at the first light of dawn, Zheng Fei and Zhu Xiaotao set out. They squeezed onto buses and crowded onto boats, enduring a long, tiring journey that lasted until the afternoon.

Only then did they arrive at the fortress town pier in Chongming County. In these times, not only was travel by carriage and horse slow, but the crowds were truly overwhelming.

When Zhu Xiaotao stepped off the catamaran, the Shanghai Navigation No. 8, his legs were already weak, and he crouched by the dock, vomiting continuously. This trip had been unbearably hard for him.

“Fei, how come you’re so tough? You don’t get carsick or seasick,” Zhu said.

“Just used to it,” Zheng replied.

Zhu was puzzled. They had grown up together, usually walking everywhere in the city rather than taking the bus.

After disembarking, they still had to ride the bus and then walk along a rural dirt road before finally reaching Daxi Village, the place Grandpa Sun had mentioned.

At that time, Chongming Island was under Shanghai’s administration. The island was vast, the third largest in the country, surpassed only by Taiwan and Hainan, with an area even larger than all of Pudong.

A few years earlier, Zheng, Tao Tao, and Qiusheng had all planned to be sent to rural areas after graduating junior high. Their assignments had been set—they were to be placed on the island’s state-run farms.

But suddenly, all communication stopped, leaving them unemployed upon graduation, becoming idle youths.

Two or three years later, they heard news of the educated youth beginning to return to the city.

Before dusk, they finally reached Daxi Village, a small fishing village by the estuary.

Even before entering the village, the strong smell of the sea hit them. No sooner had they stepped into the village than a pack of skinny, scrappy dogs greeted them.

Then, a group of kids gathered around, and one confident boy declared, “They must be from the outpost farm. Quick, tell the team leader to catch them!”

Zheng Fei’s mouth twitched.

“We’re not sent-down youth. We’re from Shanghai.”

“I have the ferry tickets right here.”

“We don’t believe you. You’re probably here to steal our fishing nets.”

Zheng Fei cursed under his breath. If those dogs hadn’t looked so fierce, he would have taught those kids a lesson.

Fortunately, before long the village adults arrived. Zheng Fei showed his ferry tickets and gave the name He Guangliang, which finally sent the dogs away.

“They’re here to see the team leader, huh?”

He Guangliang was the team leader of Daxi Village. Once the villagers learned these two were from the city and here to see the leader, their attitude flipped completely. They even scolded the kids who had blocked their way.

At the team office, night had fully fallen.

Zheng Fei and the others met He Guangliang, a man in his forties, roughly the same age as their parents.

Hearing they were introduced by Grandpa Sun, He Guangliang immediately asked, “Director Sun, how’s your health?”

“Pretty good. He can recite the newspaper for half an hour every morning without stopping for a breath,” Zheng replied.

He Guangliang smiled. “That habit hasn’t changed. Living so close to him, I bet you get woken up by his reciting every morning.”

“That’s right,” Zheng nodded.

“Coming to Chongming isn’t easy. You probably haven’t eaten yet. The team office doesn’t have much to offer, just some rice and a few crabs.”

Zheng Fei never hesitated with such offers and smiled, “Thank you, team leader.”

Zhu Xiaotao never expected that on his first outing with Fei, he would actually get to eat crab.

Although the Suzhou River had freshwater crabs, the banks were filthy. Few dared to eat them. Some reckless folks had tried before but ended up hospitalized with stomach pains.

While they ate, He Guangliang recounted old stories. Years ago, the team had sent people to learn at a textile factory. At that time, Grandpa Sun was the workshop director in charge of leading them, so they were all quite grateful to him.

During the chat, Zheng learned that the team leader even knew his aunt, Zhang Guifen, and many others from the lane.

After the meal, Zheng Fei went straight to the point.

The team leader fell silent after hearing their purpose.

“We do plan to restore the village’s Mazu Temple.”

He explained that when they had tried to compete for advanced status years ago, he had personally led the effort to tear down the temple. Yet some things are truly mysterious.

After the goddess’s temple was demolished, many villagers who went out to fish never returned. Whenever the topic arose, the villagers’ resentment ran deep.

Since the reforms, they had been clamoring to rebuild the Mazu Temple.

The team leader frowned as he looked at the two young men before him and asked, “Where’s your master? Didn’t he come with you today?”

Zhu Xiaotao, still cracking crab legs, stiffened nervously. It seemed the team leader didn’t trust them.

Zheng Fei, however, remained calm and unhurried. “My master is attending a meeting in Beijing. Grandpa Sun just mentioned this matter to me, so I came ahead to take a look.”

The team leader was surprised. Since Director Sun had introduced this young man, did he also think that the demolition was a mistake?

He pondered for a moment, then asked, “May I ask when your master will return?”

Zheng scratched his head. “My master was called up by the organization. He definitely can’t return anytime soon.”

The team leader seemed troubled. “Could you tell me who your master is?”

Zheng cleared his throat and said without blushing, “Truth be told, I’m a bit embarrassed to mention his name when I’m out, but he’s Mr. He Sanxing.”

Beside him, Zhu Xiaotao’s expression brightened as if he suddenly understood. He whispered, “I knew Fei must have a teacher. He hid it so well even we didn’t know.”

In truth, Zheng Fei had made up that name on the spot—there was no such artist as He Sanxing in the world.

He did this simply to add prestige to himself, to enhance his credibility.

Seizing the moment, Zheng Fei quickly pulled out some simple mural sketches from his backpack.

“Team leader, take a look. These are my drawings. Though I’m not as skilled as my master, they have about sixty or seventy percent of his technique.”

He Guangliang was visibly moved after examining the sketches. They closely resembled the murals burned years ago.

The old craftsman who had painted the Tianhou Temple murals had long since passed away. Now, if anyone wanted to find a painter, they wouldn’t know where to start.

Unexpectedly, someone had come today offering just that.