If all you think about while working is how miserable you are, you’ll often find it impossible to keep going.
So, you have to look for the interesting parts in the process.
Take An Jing at this moment, for example.
She imagined herself as a scavenger searching for treasure amidst the ruins.
Every time she discovered something new or old, she couldn’t help but pick it up, examining it closely and admiring each mark time had left behind.
The closer to the door, the more worn-out the items were, while those deeper inside were better preserved.
Here, An Jing found boxes and boxes stuffed with old books—calling them old was an exaggeration, because they looked almost new, hardly a crease on them.
Besides those, there was a huge box filled with scattered cassette tapes.
Some had cases, some didn’t. Some looked like albums from certain singers, while others seemed to be blank tapes meant for recording…
She even dug up seven or eight battered-looking radios and tape recorders.
“Ha, finally almost done cleaning up.”
Zhou Chao suddenly hugged a nightstand that looked like it was in decent condition and carried it outside.
“Whoa, there’s even a TV here, and it seems well-preserved!”
Fang Qiang called out excitedly, slapping the shell of the TV.
“It’s even got a solid wood frame, damn, this thing’s an antique!”
“The landlord said you could do whatever you wanted with the stuff, right?”
An Jing tilted her head and asked.
“Yeah, told me to handle it. Throw out whatever I don’t want.”
“Wow, then you really hit the jackpot!”
“Haha, only if it still works!”
Fang Qiang stroked the TV’s shell.
“This thing is probably black and white, huh?”
“Just looking at it, you can tell it’s black and white.”
An Jing dragged out the last box from the farthest corner.
Sweat ran into her eyes, making her blink hard.
“This one’s a whole box of floppy disks, and there’s a big old-fashioned tape recorder on top… the kind park aunties love to use.”
Fang Qiang glanced over.
“It’s in good shape, looks almost new.”
“Might still work! Look, it’s even got a power cord, so we can plug it in.”
“Alright! We’ll try out all the stuff that still works later!”
Fang Qiang straightened up and thumped his lower back.
He’d been working part-time hauling water lately, and his waist was in bad shape; a little exertion made it sore and achy.
“Let’s pile up anything we don’t want to the side—I’ll call the junk collector over!”
***
(2)
“Some things are probably so worthless, the junk guy won’t even want them!”
Zhou Chao’s voice came from outside the garage.
“It’s fine. Just sell whatever we can, and whatever doesn’t sell, toss in the trash room. If it’s too big to throw out, just dump it somewhere outside!”
“Man, littering like that?”
“Who cares? There’s nowhere else to put it here!”
“Come on, have some decency, Qiang!”
“Decency? I don’t have that kind of thing!”
Fang Qiang burst out laughing.
“Damn, this whole cabinet is only worth this little?”
“There’s barely any scrap metal on this piece of junk. I almost didn’t want to bother!”
“Alright, alright, help me take this door panel too.”
“That thing’s worthless.”
“You can chop it up for firewood if you want, just take it away. I’m not even raising the price.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll haul it all away for you. Altogether, that’s eighty-seven yuan and sixty cents.”
“Deal!”
“Here’s your money—help me move the door panel.”
“OK!”
Once the junk collector pedaled off on his heavy tricycle, the area in front of the garage suddenly looked much neater.
What was left were the odds and ends nobody would recycle—Fang Qiang piled these up in a corner for now.
Luckily, there wasn’t much left, so he couldn’t be bothered to haul it all out; he just left it there—after all, as long as there was enough room for a bed and a table, that was enough.
“Ha, look, I’ve just got this folding bed, put it against the wall and it just about fits. Damn, the wall’s so dusty…”
“Stick some newspaper on the wall and it won’t rub off on you,” An Jing suggested.
“Or you could go to the big market street and buy some posters to put up. I think it would look pretty good.”
“I’ll do that later. The market’s not far anyway.”
Fang Qiang nodded, shifting the wobbly table to the doorway where the light was good.
During the day, even without turning on the lamp, you could read just fine.
After all, the garage had no windows, so you had to do things near the door for daily life.
“Your table’s all wobbly, is it even usable?”
“Try propping it with a book.”
As she spoke, An Jing grabbed a book from a cardboard box—one that looked like it had never even been opened—called “Civil Law Code,” and shoved it under the missing corner of the table.
“Nope, this one’s a bit too thick. Need something thinner.”
“Get a wider one, or else it’ll just slip out.”
“This one then!”
An Jing fished out another book, this time “Production Safety Guidelines for Xiaocheng Wheel Factory.”
“Try this!”
“Mm—this one works, just right.”
Fang Qiang shook the table hard.
“Very steady, no more wobbling, we’ll just leave it like this.”
“You should get a new chair, though. These are all busted.”
But Zhou Chao shook his head at An Jing’s words.
“No need. We can take these chairs apart and piece together new ones from the parts. They’re all office chairs, just a bit battered.”
“Not a bad idea.”
Fang Qiang washed his hands at the doorway, wiped them dry on his clothes, and couldn’t wait to set the TV on the table.
There were only two sockets in the whole garage: one by the table—probably installed for the electric rolling door—and one in the corner, which was likely for plugging in some car repair equipment.
The TV was well-preserved, just a bit dusty, but a quick wipe with a dry rag and it was clean enough.
Fang Qiang plugged it in and fiddled around with the buttons and switches until he finally found the power button.
The TV clicked on with a “da” sound, and a burst of restless snowflakes filled the screen.
“Haha, it works!”
Zhou Chao helped adjust the antenna, and the picture gradually cleared up on the screen.
“Looks like you can actually watch something.”
“Can’t believe it’s working—hey, not bad! Even though it’s black and white, at least it’s still usable.”
Fang Qiang patted its shell contentedly, and the wavy lines on the screen vanished with the vibrations.
“A Qiang, you’re not setting your computer up in here?”
“I sold it when I moved. That old thing lagged so much it drove me nuts.”
“Seriously? You sold it? How are you going to play games now?”
“Not playing for now. When I earn some money, I’ll buy a good one!”
Just then, from the corner of the room, faint music with a bit of background noise began to play. It sounded like disco tunes from the late ’80s or early ’90s.
“That tape recorder works?”
“Yeah, it works!”
An Jing excitedly held it up.
“It’s in great shape, and it doesn’t even go off-key!”
“These big tape recorders should all be able to record onto tapes.”
“Yeah, and we’ve got a whole box of random tapes, some of which are meant for recording. Even if they’ve been used, it’s fine, because you can just record over them! When I was a kid, I accidentally recorded over part of my English listening tape.”
“Oh, those are actually useful?”
Fang Qiang scratched his head.
“I was just going to toss them with the floppy disks.”
***
(3)
“Don’t throw them out! The rest aren’t really garbage, at most they’re just junked items, but you never know when they might come in handy!”
An Jing suddenly slapped her palm.
“Right! I should try it out!”
“Try what?”
Fang Qiang looked confused.
“See if it can still record normally!”
With that, An Jing dashed to the big box, rummaged around, and pulled out a black cassette that looked like it was in decent shape.
She shoved it into the tape recorder, fast-forwarded until it clicked, then firmly pressed the record button.
“What are you doing?”
“You two, just say something, anything.”
An Jing held the capsule-shaped tape recorder high.
“Uh, hello…?”
“Haha, Qiang, why do you sound so stiff!”
“Come on, being told to record out of nowhere—I don’t even know what to say!”
“No worries, that’s enough!”
An Jing rewound the tape and hit play.
Immediately, the voices of all three came out from the tape recorder.
There was more background noise than on the music tape from earlier, and it even sounded a little echoey and muffled, but you could at least make it out clearly.
“You can hear it!”
An Jing couldn’t hide her excitement.
“I want to record a tape of me singing for Xiao Ying. What do you guys think? One of my own songs!”
“Whoa, since when did you get so romantic? Love really changes a person, huh?”
Fang Qiang cried out in mock shock.
A sweet smile spread across An Jing’s face.
“Because she recorded a song for me last time!”
“That’s actually a great idea.”
Zhou Chao rubbed his chin.
“But you’ll need to download an instrumental version of the song online, the kind without vocals. Some of those aren’t easy to find, though.”
“Yeah… just singing a cappella?”
“I mean, you could, but having accompaniment would be much better, right?”
Suddenly, Fang Qiang seemed to remember something.
He slapped Zhou Chao on the shoulder, startling him.
“Zhou Chao!”
“Damn, take it easy, will you?”
“Didn’t A-Wei say you can play keyboard? You could accompany An Jing!”
“I only know a few songs, and it’s been years. I’ve forgotten most of them.”
“No worries, just practice!”
“You think it’s as easy as eating? Just practice whenever you want, and you’re good to go?”
Zhou Chao laughed and scolded, but seeing An Jing’s slightly disappointed look, he sighed.
“Alright, I’ll see if I can dig out my keyboard at home. We’ll give it a try. But no guarantees it’ll work out!”
“That’s fine, Zhou Chao! By the way, how many minutes does a cassette usually hold? How many songs do we need to prepare?”
“Go ask Baidu when you get home, why are you asking me?”
Zhou Chao rolled his eyes dramatically.
“I’m not a walking encyclopedia, damn it!”
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