Chapter 29: The Only One Who Wears a Mask While Working

You never know until you calculate, and the result was shocking.

After finishing his meal, Duan Chengliang did the math and was taken aback. He had just consumed four taels of vegetables and eight mixed-grain steamed buns before finally feeling full—a rare, satisfying sense of satiety. It meant his appetite had more than doubled. Previously, his monthly ration would leave him with a surplus, allowing him to save up quite a bit of cornmeal. But at this rate, let alone having any left over, his rations wouldn’t even be enough to keep him fed.

He couldn't help but feel the pressure of life mounting. His improved physical condition had brought a massive increase in appetite, meaning he had to recalculate his grain consumption. He realized he couldn't afford to be careless; he had to plan ahead, and his preparations needed to accelerate.

Of course, the large number of buns he ate was also due to the canteen’s dishes being devoid of meat or fat. He recalled the one yuan worth of pork he had bought at the grocery store early that morning, which brought a sense of relief to his heart.

This could work. If he bought a yuan’s worth of pork a day—about a pound and a half—he could save up a significant amount even if he ate some every day, storing it away in his spatial pocket. With meat to supplement his diet, he wouldn't have to rely solely on steamed buns to fill his belly.

Duan Chengliang used the last bite of his bun to wipe his lunchbox clean and popped it into his mouth. He looked around, wondering why Old Shen hadn’t shown up yet. He waited at the dining table for a while longer, but seeing no sign of him, he packed up his lunchbox and headed out of the first canteen back to the coal yard’s duty room.

As soon as he entered the duty room, he saw Old Shen sitting by the coal stove, warming himself.

Duan Chengliang smiled and said, "I thought you were waiting for me at the first canteen. I sat there for quite a while, but I didn't expect you to have come straight here."

"The canteen is too crowded and full of prying eyes; it’s not convenient," Old Shen replied. "So, Chengliang, did you get the hammers made?"

Duan Chengliang smiled faintly. He walked over to his iron locker with an air of pretense, made a gesture, and under the cover of this movement, retrieved the tattered bag from his spatial pocket. He set the heavy bag down at Old Shen’s feet, gave it a nudge with his toe, and said with a grin, "Master Shen, take a look and see if the work is to your satisfaction."

Old Shen’s face lit up with joy. He bent down to open the bag and casually pulled out a claw hammer head. He looked at the hammerhead, which shimmered with a faint blue luster in his hand, and couldn't help but exclaim, "Oh my, Chengliang, this is impressive. One look and you can tell this is the work of a seasoned pro."

Seeing his carefully forged hammerheads in someone else's hands, Duan Chengliang couldn't help but feel a surge of pride, though he merely smiled modestly.

Old Shen couldn't hide his excitement. "The hammer you had made for me—forget using it for a month, I reckon it’ll last a year or two without any problems. Look at how this was tempered, that deep blue hue. Well done, Chengliang. You really found a master craftsman this time."

Duan Chengliang could clearly see how satisfied Old Shen was, and he felt a weight lift off his chest. Old Shen bent down to inspect the rest of the hammerheads one by one, his face growing more delighted with each one. Finally, he straightened up and gave Duan Chengliang a thumbs-up. "Chengliang, you’ve done me a huge favor. I owe you one. Tell me, what do you want? Money or goods?"

Duan Chengliang quickly waved his hands, politely saying, "It’s just colleagues helping each other out. No need, really."

Old Shen was earnest. "That won't do. We can't break the rules. How about this? I’ll suggest a few things, and you choose. I estimate that if I were to pay for these hammerheads, a yuan each would be fair. For ten heads, I can give you ten yuan..."

Duan Chengliang was basically satisfied with the price Old Shen offered. Although it was a few coins less than what his spatial pocket valued them at, the difference between a virtual valuation and reality was acceptable, and he didn't want to haggle with Old Shen. The problem was, he didn't need money right now, but he also didn't want to ask for goods. He preferred a clean break, with no lingering entanglements.

In truth, what he wanted most was grain coupons.

However, those were hard to come by. Every month, families would line up at designated locations to receive them from grain store staff based on their ration books. The reality was that every household’s ration was insufficient; just having enough to eat was a blessing. No one had grain to spare, so who would have extra coupons? Knowing this, Duan Chengliang didn't hold much hope, but he tentatively asked, "Master Shen, I’m looking for grain coupons. Do you have any?"

Old Shen, who was about to continue speaking, paused at this sudden question. He laughed, stood up from the stove, walked to the door to peek outside, and then returned, saying, "I only have coarse grain coupons right now, and not many. I’ll have to give you money for the rest."

Duan Chengliang was overjoyed. He hadn't expected his casual inquiry to actually bear fruit. He nodded quickly and said, "Master Shen, what are you saying? As long as there are coupons, I’m not picky. Besides, don't we usually eat coarse grains anyway? I’ll take whatever you have."

In the end, they agreed that Old Shen would give him fifteen catties worth of coarse grain coupons plus seven yuan.

As he was leaving, Old Shen told him, "Don't think I’m giving you too much money for the coupons; that’s just the going rate nowadays. I suspect prices might even rise. Who knows what they’ll be worth later? And these are just coarse grain coupons—national grain coupons and white flour coupons are worth even more. Anyway, I’m off. I’ll remember this favor."

After Old Shen left, Duan Chengliang stood there in a daze, reflecting on the conversation. He realized that Old Shen hadn't just saved these coupons up; he likely had some other source. But this time, Duan Chengliang didn't ask further. Being too inquisitive after a shallow acquaintance only breeds suspicion and damages relationships.

The afternoon’s work remained intense, with coal dust swirling through the air.

Among the loaders at the coal yard, Duan Chengliang was the only one who wore a mask. He had only started doing so after he had transmigrated; in his memories, his predecessor had been just like the others, never wearing one. They complained that wearing a mask while doing heavy labor made it hard to breathe. It was fine at first, but as it became clogged with coal dust, it grew suffocating, and everyone found changing them to be a hassle.

The more they complained, the more determined Duan Chengliang became to wear his. He shuddered to think what his predecessor's lungs might have looked like after the past two years. He wondered if he already had some stage of pneumoconiosis.

The only thing he could do now was to lead by example and wear his mask, usually a double layer, and change it for a clean one at noon. Every time he washed his mask and saw the pitch-black, soup-like water in the basin, his heart would tremble.

He had warned his coworkers, but they just laughed it off, thinking he was being fussy and pretentious. The masks issued by the factory were never used by the workers; they would take them home to help their families keep out the cold, or even trade them for other goods. To them, trading a clean mask for something useful was far more practical than letting it get ruined by coal dust.

It was only Duan Chengliang, with his knowledge from another life about the dangers of pneumoconiosis, who treated this with the utmost seriousness. This threat of lung disease was, by far, the most concerning and frustrating aspect of his current job, and it kept him on high alert.