37: Chapter 37 Old Steel Reinforcement and Imperfect Repair

The morning mist in the Old neighborhood hadn't yet dissipated when a pile of rusty old rebar appeared in front of Brother Li's bicycle stall, jutting out from the concrete at uneven lengths like a miniature metal jungle.

When Chen Jie walked over with his canvas backpack on his back, he saw Brother Li squatting in the pile of rebar, rummaging through it, the wrench in his hand striking the iron pipes with a "ding-dang" sound.

"Jie-zi, you've finally arrived!" Brother Li straightened up, holding a piece of rebar bent at a right angle in his hand. "Will this be strong enough to fix the broken leg of the bench?"

Chen Jie took the rebar and weighed it in his hand; the rust on the surface rubbed onto his palm like a layer of coarse sandpaper.

He glanced over at the bench, where the iron pipe at the break was sticking out crookedly. The temporary support made from scrap pipe yesterday had already loosened, and the bench surface cast fragmented shadows in the morning light.

"This rebar is too thick; it needs to be ground down to fit the joint."

He pulled an angle grinder from his backpack and plugged it into the socket at the nearby repair stall. With a "buzz," the grinding wheel spun, casting a circle of white light in the morning sun.

Zhao Kai stood to the side with his arms crossed, watching Chen Jie secure the rebar in a vise. When the grinding wheel touched the iron surface, sparks flew, and bright red shards fell to the ground like scattered crushed agate.

"I'm telling you, this is just a waste of time," he kicked the rebar. "The Neighborhood Committee has already promised to buy a new bench, so why bother fixing this piece of junk? No matter how much you polish it, the rust will still seep out from the inside."

He paused, recalling the fan repair from a few days ago, his tone turning teasing. "Last time you fixed that broken fan for Brother Li, the blades looked like they were covered in patches, and it made a 'creak-creak' sound when it spun. Only Brother Li wouldn't mind. Your craftsmanship is only suited for dealing with these old things that are about to fall apart; if a new item got into your hands, it would probably be repaired into an antique."

Chen Jie, who was sanding the corner of the rebar, paused at these words and held out the sharpened rebar toward Zhao Kai. "Do you think this rebar is ugly?"

Seeing Zhao Kai frown and nod, he pointed toward the iron pot at Wang Leis Braised Food Stall in the distance. "That pot rim has seven notches, yet Wang Lei has used it for five years, and the braised pork knuckles still taste just as fragrant."

He lowered his head and continued sanding, rust falling in showers onto his work pants. "When I fixed the fan, I intentionally didn't grind the blades too smooth; keeping a bit of a curve actually makes the wind stronger—old objects are like the stones in the mountains; they have their own temperament, and going along with them is more effective than trying to force a change."

He suddenly thought of the jade stone from Suiyu Slope, which could slow down time under the waterfall and recognize the white stone by glowing at Old Zhou's house. "Just like that stone of mine; in the mountains, it could lift stone slabs, but here in the city, it can only quietly help keep braised food fresh. Can you say it's useless?"

Brother Li leaned in to look at the ground rebar, then touched the broken end of the bench. "The dimensions match, but... the joint is off by half an inch in height. I'm afraid it will be crooked if we weld it on."

Chen Jie didn't speak; he smeared a bit of machine oil on the joint and used the wrench to force the rebar against the break.

Sure enough, the right angle of the rebar was too sharp and didn't align with the curve of the chair leg, leaving a gap as if it were a screw that hadn't been tightened properly.

He tried to bend the rebar, and the rusty metal emitted a "creak" of protest, but it remained unmoved.

"I told you it wouldn't work," Zhao Kai sneered. "This piece of junk rebar is just like that jade stone of yours; it looks sturdy, but it's actually incredibly stubborn. At least the fan could still spin when you fixed it, but if this chair collapses when someone sits on it, let's see how you compensate for that."

"If I have to compensate, I'll pay with this wrench."

Chen Jie dug a thick rubber pad out of his tool bag, placed it in the gap between the rebar and the chair leg, and wrapped the two together tightly with wire. "This will cushion the pressure."

He sprinkled some solder onto the joint, and the spray gun let out a "whoosh" as it emitted a flame. The orange-red fire licked the metal, melting the rebar and the chair leg into an irregular lump, like a piece of dough that hadn't been kneaded evenly.

"This work is way too rough." Zhao Kai squatted down to take a look. "The weld is as crooked as Wang Lei's knife skills when cutting braised food. It's even uglier than the weld on the fan; I'm afraid it'll fall apart if someone sits on it."

"It won't fall apart." Chen Jie turned off the spray gun, and the weld turned a dark brown as it cooled. "The rebar is solid; even if the weld loosens, the wire will hold it."

He patted the bench surface. The bench wobbled, but it didn't tilt like it had before. "It's just not very pretty, but it'll do for now."

Brother Li touched the repaired chair leg and chuckled. "Can good looks put food on the table? As long as it's sturdy, that's all that matters! Jie-zi, your craftsmanship is even more reliable than when you fixed my fan—last time you patched the cracks in the blades with glue, and my daughter said it was incredibly ugly, but it ran more steadily than a new one."

While packing up his tools, Chen Jie's fingertips brushed against the jade stone in his backpack. The green light on its surface had faded, leaving only a cold touch.

He suddenly felt that the imperfection of the rebar and the "contentment with circumstances" of the jade stone were somewhat similar, just like life in the Old neighborhood—hidden within the bumps and stumbles was a sense of stability; without needing to be deliberately polished, one could live freely instead.

Zhao Kai was still complaining about how ugly the weld on the bench was, but Brother Li had already moved a stool over to sit nearby, showing off to the old men playing chess, "This chair can last another two years."

The morning mist gradually dissipated, and the sunlight fell onto the uneven bench surface, casting a patch of crooked light spots, like a piece of cloth crumpled and smoothed out by time, wrapped in the warmth of the worldly life.