Chapter 117: Another Year Older

“Not going to let this young lady try it on? See if it fits?” Liu Baishi wasn’t one to shirk work so easily.

“Don’t bother trying it on now. There’ll be plenty of time for her to try later. Aunt Liu, from this moment on, you’re officially one of the masters in our shop. When it comes to making clothes, both of them will listen to you. I won’t even insist they formally apprentice under you; if you’re willing, that’s great, but if not, no worries. Let’s just treat them as shop assistants. Whenever there’s work, they’ll do it. When you feel ready to teach them, then we can talk about master and apprentice, alright?” Hong Tao was careful not to mention the apprenticeship, fearing this precious elderly lady might slip away. He believed that a girl like his aunt—willing to learn and honest—would sooner or later earn the old lady’s favor.

“I can’t call myself a master. I’m just a woman who does the work. Since the boss pays me, just give me whatever work there is. As long as I can do it, I won’t cheat or slack off,” Liu Baishi said calmly, her voice soft but firm. Hong Tao sensed this spry old lady had a strong spirit and was not someone easily persuaded. She wasn’t fond of jokes or small talk, quite unlike Second Master, who was much more approachable.

“Alright, no problem. Do whatever feels comfortable. You can start working when you want. We cook our own meals at noon here, all eating together—Han-style food. If you have special dietary needs, there’s a halal restaurant not far away; they can bring you food from there, no problem,” Hong Tao quickly briefed her on the shop’s general routine.

“Heh, you’re quite the talker, knowing about Han and halal. Second Master, I think that settles it. I’ll start work tomorrow. How’s that sound, young master?” Liu Baishi smiled faintly, looking at Hong Tao before turning to the room where Second Master was still drinking alone.

“Fine, whatever you say. Let’s go,” Second Master responded like a hired coachman, immediately setting down his cup and eagerly running to open the door.

“Old fellow! Turns out you do have a thing for this! Heh heh heh... Now that you’re in my hands, you’re not running away!” Hong Tao watched as Second Master helped Liu Baishi into his tricycle like he was escorting a queen from the palace. Then, laughing cheerfully, he pedaled off. Hong Tao had a hunch about what was going on.

He guessed Liu Baishi was a widow, and Second Master might have a crush on her. They must have known each other for quite some time, judging from the clothes he wore—they were clearly made by her, just by looking at the stitching. As for the details, Hong Tao couldn’t tell, but he knew that as long as Liu Baishi was pleased, Second Master would be firmly in his grasp. Those little cricket-raising tricks of his would be uncovered sooner or later.

“Xiao Tao, are you planning to have this auntie teach me how to cut clothes?” His aunt was sharp; she didn’t need Hong Tao to explain.

“Do you want to learn?” Hong Tao immediately saw the desire in her eyes.

“Of course! Her hand-sewn clothes look just as good as the ones I make on the machine. Do you think I can learn?” Her eyes sparkled with envy. It was truly like the story of Wu Dalang raising a night owl—people and their hobbies vary widely. Hong Tao just couldn’t understand how anyone could turn tailoring into a passion.

“She’s human, and so are you. There’s nothing you can’t learn. When she comes, you’ll know how to get along with her. Old-fashioned people first look at character. You and Juanzi should take good care of her, keep her happy, and she’ll be willing to pass on her skills. You can’t buy this with money; otherwise, she’d take her craft to the grave rather than teach you a thing. Got it?” Hong Tao, worried that his aunt and Juanzi might not grasp the stakes, explained carefully.

The fire hadn’t caused much damage to the tailor shop or the barbershop. During the lunar new year, everyone was busy with celebrations. New clothes had been made before the festival, and haircuts had been done early as well. Few people came in January to get haircuts, so the month after the New Year was a slow season for both shops.

Uncle Big-in-Law was strict; by the eighth day of the lunar month, he arrived with over twenty workers. They started digging the foundation while hauling wood, bricks, tiles, and sand into the courtyard with tricycles. Director Zhou was also quick to act. On the tenth day, a large truck delivered steel bars and cement. Half of the materials were unloaded immediately; the rest would wait until the first floor was complete to avoid damage from spring rains.

The two-story building Hong Tao designed was simple: reinforced beams with brick walls. The reinforced beams were to increase the room spans, making the space larger and free of central pillars—ideal for a commercial space. For the exterior, he designed two layers of overhanging eaves in a faux-ancient style. This architectural style was briefly popular in the early 1990s but soon fell out of fashion, rarely seen in modern cityscapes.

However, here it felt unique and fresh. The building’s location beside Yonghe Temple and opposite the grand archway of the Imperial Academy gave it a subtle historic resonance, fitting the area’s style better than other buildings on the street.

In later times, these fake eaves were made of concrete, painted to mimic wood, because cement and steel were cheaper and allowed faster construction. But at this time, wood was inexpensive, while cement and steel were costly and hard to come by. So Uncle Big-in-Law borrowed skilled carpenters from other housing offices who specialized in traditional construction. They built genuine wooden eaves—only the outer half of each floor’s roof edge—with the back anchored to the reinforced beams and the front supported by wooden pillars set into the ground.

Hong Tao only drew the renderings; he wasn’t skilled in structural or construction plans. He collaborated with design staff from the housing office, who reverse-engineered the blueprints from his renderings. How to make it sturdy and practical was up to the professionals—he just wanted the final result.

According to the finalized plans, the building was 31 meters long, 11 meters deep, divided into four sections, with eight large rooms over two floors, each about 60 square meters. Hong Tao had wanted a basement but lacked enough cement and machinery for piling, so he gave up.

Still, he insisted the building’s load-bearing structure be built with extra capacity, so a proper upper floor could be added later. This extra work cost over 3,000 more yuan, driving Uncle Big-in-Law nearly mad—he couldn’t understand why more rooms were needed and joked about needing a third floor.

Hong Tao couldn’t explain the street-facing shopfront prices of the future, only insisting that it was better to be prepared. Uncle Big-in-Law had no choice; they’d already spent tens of thousands. What was a few thousand more? You’d be no good if you lost your ears after falling into a well.

Because the shops needed to remain open, the two-story building was constructed in phases. They’d build the south half first, move the tailor shop and barbershop there once it was finished, then complete the north half.

Hong Tao also asked Uncle Big-in-Law to contact Director Zhou to coordinate with sanitation and municipal departments, arranging two new sewer lines for the building, including a sump pit midway in one. Neither Uncle Big-in-Law nor the workers understood why this was necessary—there was already a sewer in the backyard, which should have sufficed. Hong Tao never offered a convincing explanation. He couldn’t say the sewer was for a future restaurant, much less mention how those places used recycled cooking oil—it would sound absurd to people just starting to enjoy meat.

After the blueprints were done, Hong Tao had little to do on site. At this time, shoddy “tofu-dreg” constructions didn’t exist yet; workers wouldn’t dare cut corners. They feared damaging their reputation as much as anyone feared a collapsing building. Reputation was still a valuable currency then, though it would take only a few years to erode traditional morals completely.

The spring of 1981 came unusually early. Shortly after the New Year, Hong Tao shed his thick wool pants. School life resumed a steady rhythm: classes, shop visits to help out, training at the sports school, and outings with Second Master on his tricycle to browse consignment stores. Since Liu Baishi started working at the tailor shop, Second Master no longer worried about finding her. Every morning and evening, he was punctual at the shop entrance, escorting her to and from work, claiming she had bound feet and walked with difficulty.

One day, Second Master took Hong Tao all the way to Xicheng District, right to Huguo Temple Street. There, in a consignment store, they found a fine piece: a hardwood round table with three small stools. Hong Tao didn’t recognize the wood types—he knew the names rosewood, huanghuali, padauk—but couldn’t distinguish their appearances. (To be continued...)

P.S.: The extra chapter comes with 120 monthly tickets... la la la...