Courtyard House: I fish in the heavens, a professional bird abuser.

"Professor Shen."

He Yuanchao looked at the old man who was so excited that he didn't know what to do, and a gentle but firm smile appeared on his face.

He didn't take the stack of money; instead, he reached out his hand.

Amidst the bewildered gazes of Shen Molin and everyone else,

He Yuanchao's finger passed over the thick stack of "Great Unity" bills and small change that exuded a deadly allure, and landed precisely on the top of the stack of money.

There, there was a separate, slightly worn, one-yuan banknote...

With his index and middle fingers, He Yuanchao very lightly, yet with utmost seriousness, picked up the one-yuan banknote from the very top of the thick stack of money.

Sunlight fell on his well-defined fingertips, and also on that ordinary one-yuan banknote.

"I've already received the money."

He Yuanchao's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a peculiar penetrating power, echoing clearly in the quiet street.

He waved the flimsy banknote between his fingers and smiled slightly at the completely stunned Shen Molin:

"This one dollar is enough to buy the Xuan paper and ink sticks I need today, and there might even be some left over. This calligraphy..."

His gaze fell on the scroll tightly clutched in Shen Molin's hand, his smile sincere and carefree.

"Consider this a small gift from your son to you, sir, and also a return gift to thank you for speaking up for me earlier."

I hope that you will not refuse, sir, and will grant my request.

boom!

He Yuanchao's words were like a final, heavy blow, completely shattering everyone's preconceived notions!

Can you really exchange a one-yuan bill for a piece of calligraphy certified as a "priceless treasure" by a leading authority on Chinese classical studies?!

This is hardly a business transaction.

This is clearly... a perfect match!

It is the ultimate embodiment of the spirit of scholars!

It is a transcendent state of mind that regards money as nothing!

Shen Molin held the scroll, looking at the light one-yuan coin in He Yuanchao's fingertip.

Then look at the thick wad of banknotes in your other hand, which looks incredibly "vulgar."

His lips trembled violently, and finally, he could no longer hold back his turbid tears, which rolled down his wrinkled cheeks!

"Okay...okay...okay!"

Shen Molin said "good" three times in a row, his voice choked with emotion, filled with endless relief, excitement and emotion.

With trembling hands, he held the scroll of "Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion" tightly in his arms, as if it were a rare treasure that had been lost and found again.

With his other hand, he slowly and with utmost respect, put the wad of money back into his inner pocket.

He did not insist on giving money anymore.

Because he understood.

What this young man wants is not money, but respect, recognition, and a spiritual resonance that transcends material things!

"Young friend...young friend who aided Korea!"

Shen Molin took a deep breath, trying to calm his turbulent emotions. His gaze towards He Yuanchao was filled with unprecedented admiration and closeness.

That was the kind of gaze that only true friends across generations would have.

He put down his cane and reached into his inner pocket again, this time pulling out an old-fashioned Hero brand fountain pen and a palm-sized kraft paper notebook.

He opened the notebook, quickly wrote a few lines on the title page, then tore the page off with a "rip" and handed it to He Yuanchao with both hands.

On the paper was an address located in Haidian District, written in neat and strong handwriting, with a phone number below it.

"Young friend who aided Korea!"

Shen Molin's voice carried an undeniable solemnity: "These are my dormitory address and office phone number at Tsinghua and Peking Universities."

Meeting you today, young friend, and receiving this wonderful gift is truly a great blessing for this old man in his later years!

I, Shen Molin, am honored to have you as my young friend, despite our age difference!

He patted He Yuanchao's arm forcefully, his eyes filled with the earnest expectations of an elder for an outstanding younger generation:

"From now on, whether you encounter technical difficulties at work, any obstacles in life, or any insights or confusion in calligraphy..."

Remember! Come find me anytime! As long as these old bones of mine are still here, I will do everything in my power to help you!

"My door will always be open for you!"

Shen Molin's words were resolute and unwavering!

This is not just a promise, but a powerful endorsement of personal connections!

A top-tier network of connections from the nation's most prestigious university and a leading authority on traditional Chinese culture!

The value of this gift far exceeds the four hundred yuan, and even surpasses the "Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion" itself!

It is priceless!

He Yuanchao was also startled. He solemnly took the note with both hands, carefully folded it, put it in the pocket of his work clothes, and put it close to his body.

Then, facing Shen Molin, he bowed deeply once more:

"I will forever remember Professor Shen's kindness! Thank you so much, sir!"

"Haha! Good! Good!"

Shen Molin burst into laughter, all his pent-up frustration vanishing.

He carefully wrapped the scroll in a cloth and tucked it into his bosom before leaning on his cane.

"Having obtained this divine artifact today, I am utterly satisfied and cannot wait to return and study it thoroughly! My young friend from Yuanchao, until we meet again! Remember my words, come visit often!"

Shen Molin nodded to He Yuanchao, then gave a slight nod to the respectful crowd around him, before leaning on his cane...

With her back straight, a sense of satisfaction and ease washed over her, she walked briskly through the crowd and headed into the distance.

The afterglow of the setting sun fell on his faded Zhongshan suit, as if draping him in a layer of golden light.

That slender figure carrying the priceless calligraphy was deeply imprinted in the hearts of every witness at that moment.

Qianmen Street was completely quiet.

Only the sound of the evening breeze blowing across the street remained.

Everyone was still immersed in the shocking scenes they had just witnessed and couldn't come back to their senses.

The gaze directed at He Yuanchao was filled with an indescribable awe, complexity, and... reverence.

Yan Jiecheng finally recovered from the immense shock and "heartache".

After regaining his composure, he rushed to He Yuanchao's side, grabbed He Yuanchao's arm, and his voice, trembling with emotion, was choked with sobs:

"Brother Yuanchao! My dear brother! Four hundred yuan... four hundred yuan!"

You...you only exchanged one dollar?! And...and even gave it away?!

He beat his chest and stamped his feet, heartbroken and indignant, as if he were the one who had lost the four hundred yuan.

He Yuanchao glanced at him, then slowly and methodically put away the writing brush, ink, paper, and inkstone on the bench, re-wrapped them in a kraft paper package, and tied them to the back seat of the bicycle.

He dusted off his hands, his tone as indifferent as if he were talking about someone else:

"Money? What is that? Old Shen's simple 'Come often' is worth a fortune."

He hopped onto the brand-new Forever 28 motorcycle, his long legs planted firmly on the ground. "What are you standing there for? Get on, let's go home."

Yan Jiecheng looked at He Yuanchao's calm and collected demeanor, and then at the still in awe-inspiring gazes around him, and suddenly felt a chill run down his spine!

Yup!

A professor from Tsinghua or Peking University!

A national treasure!

He became a close friend of Yuan Chao despite their age difference!

This relationship... isn't this relationship a million times more powerful than four hundred dollars?!

He instantly understood, and his face immediately plastered with an extremely obsequious smile, bowing and scraping.

"Yes, yes, yes! Brother Yuanchao is right! Old Shen's words are priceless! Priceless indeed!"

He scurried to the back of the bicycle, nimbly sat down sideways, and gripped the springs under the seat tightly with both hands, as if he were hugging the thickest thigh in the world.

"Brother Yuanchao, please ride slowly! Be careful!"

Yan Jiecheng's voice was filled with insatiable eagerness.

"You are truly... a literary star descended to earth! No! You are the reincarnation of the Sage of Calligraphy! The calligraphy you wrote... wow, even the old masters from Tsinghua and Peking Universities would kneel before you!"

I don't even want four hundred yuan! I only consider you my friend! What's this called? This is called... this is called...

He racked his brains for words, and finally managed to come up with a sentence:

"That's called having the power to swallow mountains and rivers! Treating money like dirt! Truly a divine being! For me, Yan Jiecheng, to be able to ride in your car... bah! To be able to ride in your car is truly the greatest blessing imaginable!"

He Yuanchao was too lazy to listen to his nagging. He pushed off with his foot, and the Forever 28 scooter sped forward, merging into the flow of people and vehicles returning home late.

The setting sun cast long shadows of them.

At the street corner, Lou Xiao'e remained standing quietly, watching He Yuanchao's tall and straight figure as he rode away on his bicycle, motionless for a long time.

The evening breeze stirred the hem of her light blue dress and ruffled a few strands of hair on her forehead.

Her heart, however, was more chaotic than the evening breeze.

The fingertips still retained the feel of the ten yuan from the cloth bag, cold and awkward.

But what surged within me was an unprecedented burning passion.

He Yuanchao...

This name, along with his focused profile as he wields his brush, evokes a powerful image.

His calm smile when faced with a huge sum of money, his composure when facing a titan, his carefree and detached attitude when generously gifting calligraphy...

Like a brand, it was deeply etched into her heart.

Father is right.

He truly is a hidden dragon.

But the brilliance of this hidden dragon was far more dazzling and captivating than she had imagined.

A blush, mixed with adoration, curiosity, and secret feelings, crept quietly onto her fair cheeks without her even noticing.

Siheyuan.

The Jia family of the Intermediate People's Court.

Behind that tattered curtain, a strong, almost cloying aroma of meat wafted through the air, completely out of place in this barren courtyard.

Under the dim light of an oil lamp, three generations of the Jia family sat around a small, broken table propped up with bricks.

Banggeng's leg, thickly cast in plaster, lay straight across the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), but this did not affect his swift and powerful movements with both hands.

His left hand gripped tightly the neck of a chicken, which had been gnawed down to a few scraps of meat and still attached to its long spine. Oily broth dripped from his wrist to his elbow.

With his right hand, he stuffed a large, juicy, trembling piece of chicken leg meat into his mouth, his cheeks bulging like a hamster hoarding food, making a satisfied and greedy "smack" sound.

"It smells good! It smells fucking good!"

Banggeng mumbled indistinctly, his oily face displaying a greedy and excited state ignited by the intense pleasure of meat after recovering from a long illness.

"Grandma, your chicken is the best! It's a hundred times better than the pig feed in Sha Zhu's lousy lunchbox!"

Xiao Dang and Huaihua, the two little ones, each held a chicken wing that had been gnawed into a pitted shape, their little faces covered in oil stains.

The young locust flower was having a hard time gnawing on it, so she simply slurped the bones up loudly, nodding vigorously in agreement with her older brother.

"Mmm! It smells even better than the meat Uncle Sha brought back!"

Jia Zhangshi sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed). Her old face, which looked like a dried orange peel, was now glowing red in the light of the oil lamp. Her triangular eyes were narrowed into slits, filled with smugness and ruthlessness.

She held a small piece of chicken rib in her hand, slowly tearing off the last bit of meat with her yellow teeth, occasionally sticking out her dark tongue to lick her greasy fingers.

"That's right! That useless idiot, Sha Zhu, didn't even bring back a fart today!"

Madam Jia spat, spittle and bits of meat flying onto the kang mat. "That filthy thing fell into the latrine, it stinks! Even if we brought his lunchbox back, we'd still find it dirty! Bah!"

She glanced sideways at Qin Huairu, who was sitting at the end of the kang (a heated brick bed), her face ashen and her eyes vacant. Her voice suddenly rose, carrying a venomous command: "Bang Geng'er, are you finished eating? Hurry up and finish!"

According to Grandma, that thing should be stuffed into the stove of the childless one!

Insert it deeper!

Even if he jumped into the Yellow River, he couldn't clear his name!

Upon hearing this, Banggeng threw the smooth chicken neck bone on the ground, wiped his greasy hands on his dirty pants, and...

His face instantly contorted with the same sinister ruthlessness and vengeful pleasure as his grandmother's.

"Don't worry, Grandma! I already stuffed it in! I even stuffed those few bloody hairs inside the stove hole! Hehe, let him make me lame! Let's see how he dies this time!"

Qin Huairu held a bowl of cornmeal porridge so thin you could see your reflection in it; her fingers were icy cold and trembling slightly.

Looking at the undisguised malice on her son's face and listening to her mother-in-law's blatant accusations, a chill ran from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.

She opened her mouth, her voice dry and hoarse like sandpaper scraping: "Mom...bang geng...is this...is this too much...?"

"Too much?!"

Madam Jia slammed her hand on the kang table, causing the missing leg table to wobble three times and the oil lamp flame to leap up suddenly.

"You jinx! You traitorous bastard! You feel sorry for that childless man? He almost caused my grandson to lose his leg!"

"What's wrong with eating one of his chickens? That's what he owes the Jia family! We're already letting him off easy by not making him pay with a leg!"

She glared fiercely at Qin Huairu, her triangular eyes filled with resentment and warning:

"You better keep your mouth shut during the meeting later! If you dare utter even a fart and ruin Bang Geng's plans, I'll tear your mouth apart!"

At the other end of the kang (a heated brick bed), Jia Dongxu lay sprawled, his murky, lifeless eyes fixed on Qin Huairu.

Upon hearing this, he emitted a strange "hoarse" sound from his throat, like a broken bellows being pulled, his eyes were so sinister they seemed to drip water, and a twisted arc appeared at the corner of his mouth:

"Listen...listen to your mother! You...shut up! That...that childless...serves them right!"

Qin Huairu suddenly lowered her head, looking at the murky paste in the bowl. She could no longer hold back her scalding tears, which fell into the bowl in large drops, instantly spreading a small patch of dark color.

Immense fear, resentment, and a bottomless despair, like cold vines, tightly bound her heart, almost suffocating her.

She knew that her family had been completely dragged into an abyss by her mother-in-law and son, and she no longer had the strength to struggle.

Madam Jia watched with satisfaction as her son and grandson shared a common hatred for the enemy. She then glanced at her daughter-in-law, who was crying silently, and a twisted, gleeful smile appeared on her face, as if she were about to get revenge.

She lowered her voice and instructed Banggeng and Xiaodanghuahua:

"You three, stay inside for now and don't go out! If anyone asks, just say you don't know! That chicken just grew wings and flew away! Understand?"

"Understand!"

Banggeng licked the oil from the corner of his mouth and answered decisively, his eyes flashing with a cruelty and excitement beyond his years.

Xiao Dang and Huaihua nodded in confusion.

"Good! Good grandson!"

The wrinkles on Jia Zhangshi's face were gathered together.

"Just wait and see! This time, let's see how that childless man turns the tables! Uncle One, Uncle Two, and that idiot Sha Zhu, they all have to help us! He Yuanchao, he's dead meat!"

……

The courtyard was now brightly lit and bustling with activity.

Everyone in charge of the household was called upon by Yi Zhonghai, the nominal "elder brother".

A few dim light bulbs were hung on the clothesline in the yard by bamboo poles. The light flickered and cast distorted shadows on people's faces, adding to the oppressive and restless atmosphere.

Xu Damao, the central figure in the incident, was now jumping up and down in the middle of the yard, cursing like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.