Chapter 2 – Opportunity Amid Adversity
In some inland cities of the 21st century, rats had become a rare sight.
But in this era, let alone economically underdeveloped places like Hong Kong—even in Europe and the mighty polar bear nation—rats were still a public menace, crawling everywhere.
Yang Wendong stepped forward and took a look. Not much of the chicken had been gnawed off, so he said, "It's fine. Just cut off the part they bit."
He then took the precious half chicken, used a kitchen knife to slice off the chewed area, and discarded it.
Zhao Liming walked to the narrow space behind the kitchen cabinet and said, "Brother Dong, there's a small hole in the back here. Looks like the rats chewed through it and got in."
"Yeah, I'll find a wooden board later and nail it over," Wendong said, putting the knife down. He had finished trimming the meat.
Su Yiyi also came over to look at the hole and said, "I checked a few days ago, and there wasn't a hole here."
"It's all rotting wood," Wendong said. "We can break it apart with our hands, let alone rats with their teeth."
"Let's just be more careful from now on," Zhao Liming added. "Spring's coming soon. The rats will be out in force."
Yang Wendong nodded. "But it's hard—wood doesn't stop rats."
The main reason rats had basically disappeared from urban households in the future was because homes were built with reinforced concrete. Rats couldn't gnaw through it.
But in 1958 Hong Kong, most poor families lived in wooden houses. The slightly better-off locals had homes made of earth bricks or stone—still not enough to stop rats from burrowing in.
Only a handful of upscale commercial residences used high-strength construction materials, better drainage systems, and sometimes even metal-clad kitchen cabinets—or fridges—which could keep the rats out.
"It's not that bad," Su Yiyi said. "Besides waking us up at night, there's not much food for them to eat here anyway."
"True. But we still need to be careful with the rice," Zhao Liming replied.
"Alright, time to start cooking. I'll go outside and light the fire," Wendong said, ending the discussion.
In this era, there were too many hardships. Rats were just one of many.
As long as there was no outbreak of the plague, a rat nibbling some food wasn't the worst thing in the world.
Far more dangerous were fire hazards in the wooden shack neighborhoods, lack of clean water, economic hardship from unemployment, extortion from gang members, and other survival challenges. Rats were the least of their worries.
…
Soon, Su Yiyi finished cooking braised chicken and some rice. The delicious aroma wafted through the air, drawing curious glances from their neighbors.
In the shanty town, it was rare to eat meat even once or twice a year.
Several children gathered nearby, their wide eyes silently watching Yang Wendong and his group.
"Go play somewhere else," Su Yiyi said after finishing the meal, gently ushering them away.
The kids scattered, and she smiled, "Brother Dong, Brother Liming, let's eat."
"I'll just dip some bread in the chicken broth," Zhao Liming said with a smile. "Leave the meat for Brother Dong."
"No need. Let's all eat together. Just save some for Auntie Guo," Wendong said, shaking his head.
Zhao Liming insisted, "Really, I'm fine. I've been working at the docks lately, and the food's not bad. Had some meat."
"Seriously?" Wendong looked skeptical.
At the docks, sometimes business owners would buy food for the workers—not out of kindness, but to boost morale and productivity with a little extra expense.
Of course, most of that food was skimmed off by foremen, gang members, or the dock company itself. But occasionally, the workers did get something.
"Really," Zhao Liming laughed. "Brother Dong, you need to get your strength back. Once you're healthy again, we can work together at the docks and eat meat every day."
"Alright," Wendong nodded and said to Su Yiyi, "You should eat some too."
"No way. Mom said this chicken was all for you. I'll just dip some broth," she replied, shaking her head.
"No more of that," Wendong said firmly. "You're eating some meat too. I saw in the newspaper the other day that a person only needs 50 grams of meat per day. Any more is a waste.
Everyone gets a bit. I'll just buy more next time."
Even though they were poor, the body's original owner had about 60 Hong Kong dollars in savings, which Wendong had now taken control of.
But he didn't dare to spend recklessly.
"Wait… Brother Dong, you can read the newspaper?" Zhao Liming asked curiously.
Wendong nodded. "I can recognize some basic characters. I studied a little bit before."
The original owner was practically illiterate. If he had been able to read, he wouldn't have lived such a miserable life.
At this point in Hong Kong, the illiteracy rate was shockingly high.
In fact, if Wendong could write all the commonly used traditional Chinese characters, he'd easily be able to find a job that could support a family.
And in a society with high illiteracy, literate workers were even more valuable.
"That's impressive!" Zhao Liming said, amazed. He had no idea that self-learning was nearly impossible for most.
Wendong didn't pursue the topic further. Instead, he glared at Su Yiyi until she finally took two small pieces of chicken to eat.
The remaining pieces were set aside—with extra care to keep rats away—and saved for Auntie Guo, who hadn't slept in two days.
After dinner, Su Yiyi took the pots and bowls to a well some distance away to wash them. Zhao Liming and Wendong went along.
Water was scarce, and long queues often formed. If Su Yiyi went alone, she might not be able to get any.
…
Washing dishes took almost an hour.
For people at the bottom of society, simply surviving consumed nearly all their time and energy.
In the afternoon, under the blazing sun, the entire shack district became quiet. Many residents had taken the roofs off their homes to let the sunlight in—otherwise, it would be unbearable to sleep at night.
Wendong did the same. After everything was done, he asked Zhao Liming, "Hey, I remember there's a lot of bamboo up in the hills behind us, right?"
Zhao Liming replied, "Yeah, the construction companies use them. After a while, when the bamboo gets too dry, they toss it up there."
"I want to go cut some," Wendong said.
"Cut bamboo? That stuff's useless. Too old and brittle to make anything with—not even stools," Zhao Liming said, confused.
In the shack settlement, broken wooden planks were a hot commodity. But no one wanted old bamboo—except maybe some coastal residents who used them in small amounts.
"Let's go check it out. I've got a use for it," Wendong said, deep in thought.
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