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

The night outside the window gradually faded, like a canvas soaked in ink, slowly being pulled away from the eastern horizon by an invisible hand.

A pale, cool dawn spread across the horizon, and the thin light pierced through the morning mist, silently sprinkling onto the blue bricks and gray tiles, attempting to dispel the heavy twilight that shrouded the courtyard.

However, while the physical darkness receded, the psychological gloom grew even heavier.

Last night's violent earthquake, dubbed "Truth or Dare" but actually a "humanity trial," has only just begun to reveal its grotesque face in this small courtyard in a cruel and silent way.

The morning air no longer carries the familiar, vibrant atmosphere of the past, a mix of coal stove smoke, the sounds of brushing teeth and rinsing mouths, and the casual greetings between neighbors.

Instead, there was an eerie, oppressive, deathly silence, like the devastation left after a storm. Behind every door and window, it seemed, lurked a pair of prying eyes, yet no one was willing to be the first to break this suffocating silence.

In the middle courtyard, Yi Zhonghai's door was tightly closed, and the enamel plaque that read "Advanced Family" looked particularly glaring and ironic in the morning light.

Early in the morning, a neighbor living in the middle courtyard saw through the crack in the window that an old woman with red and swollen eyes walked out of the house with unsteady steps.

Her hair was disheveled, her face was sallow, and she looked as if she had aged ten years overnight.

She clutched an old-fashioned thermos tightly in her hand, the water inside sloshing about, making a hollow sound, just like her current state of mind.

She walked across the courtyard with a hunched back and faltering steps, her head bowed the entire time, seemingly unable and unwilling to bear any possible gaze. She was heading towards the neighborhood hospital.

The news spread like wildfire behind every window. This old man, who had been the "moral exemplar" of the courtyard for decades, accustomed to being respected and having his word spoken, had his mental bulwark completely shattered last night by Qin Huairu's poisoned words, "You old lecher, hypocrite," and He Yuanchao's chillingly sarcastic, "You dare call yourself worthy?" It's said that after being helped home by an older woman, he couldn't catch his breath and coughed up blood, splattering it on his white undershirt like withered plum blossoms blooming in the snow. He was completely ill, his body utterly broken.

Sha Zhu's house was equally desolate, even more so than Yi Zhonghai's.

The weathered wooden door was braced from the inside by a wooden stick, not only locked from the inside but also using this most primitive method. The gaps in the window were also sealed tightly with several greasy rags, as if to bury himself alive and completely isolate himself from this world that had caused him so much humiliation.

As neighbors tiptoed past, holding their breath, they could faintly hear suppressed, inhuman moans emanating from the stuffy house, like the whimpers of a wounded beast licking its wounds in its den. Then came a loud crash, followed by the crisp echo of shattering glass—the sound of a liquor bottle smashing against the concrete floor. The pungent smell of cheap liquor stubbornly seeped out from the cracks in the door and walls, a testament to the homeowner's downfall.

"A simp ends up with nothing"—this stark reality, like a rusty, dull knife, repeatedly cut into his heart. This pain was far more profound and unbearable than the humiliation of falling into the cesspool or the blow of losing his cafeteria job. Because this time, what was destroyed was the very pillar of his spirit, his self-righteous "loyalty" and "protection." He numbed his torn nerves with alcohol, and in this almost self-destructive way, he waged a silent, powerless, and utterly tragic protest.

At the eye of the storm—the Jia family—it was like a black hole reeking of decay, greedily devouring all the light and life that approached.

Qin Huairu did not sleep all night.

She had enormous dark circles under her eyes, and her gaze was as empty as two dry wells. At the crack of dawn, she got up, numbly filled a basin with icy well water, and threw in all the dirty clothes of her family. The icy water instantly seeped into her knuckles, bringing a sharp, stinging pain, but she seemed oblivious. She mechanically and forcefully scrubbed, the action less like washing clothes and more like venting, self-torture.

Last night, right here in the middle of this courtyard, in front of everyone, she laid bare her darkest, most sordid, and most despicable schemes. That feeling was a thousand times more humiliating than being stripped naked, tied to a pillar, and paraded through the streets. She had personally torn apart the mask of "kind widow" that she had painstakingly cultivated for years, revealing the greedy and selfish true face beneath.

She was now the real plague in the courtyard, a "poisonous woman" everyone avoided. She could feel the neighbors' gazes, even through the walls, piercing her like needles. She dared not go out, dared not make eye contact with anyone, dared not even look up at the sky. She could only numb her already battered and crumbling heart with this heavy, endless housework.

On the earthen bed in the inner room, the rice stalks had also withered.

His leg, thickly castred, lay across the kang (a heated brick bed) like a stiff wooden stick. The wounds on his face had scabbed over, turning an unsightly purplish-black, but even more unsightly was the expression on his face. His former arrogance, domineering nature, and haughtiness had vanished without a trace, leaving only a blank stare, shrouded in immense fear and humiliation.

He dared not get out of bed, dared not go outside, and dared not even approach the window. He was afraid of seeing the disdainful looks of his friends in the yard, afraid of hearing the whispers of those children calling him a "thief," a "bastard," and saying "like mother, like son." These words were like tiny knives, cutting into his tender self-esteem.

He didn't even dare look at his mother, who was silently washing clothes in the yard. He had overheard her the night before, in a fit of rage, pointing at him and screaming at everyone that she regretted giving birth to such a wretched child. Those words chilled and terrified him more than any beating or scolding. At such a young age, he couldn't fully comprehend the complexities and treachery of the adult world, but the loneliness of being rejected by his closest loved ones and abandoned by the whole world had already, like a cold, venomous snake, silently coiled around his heart, plunging him into a dark abyss.

In this oppressive atmosphere of gloom and silence, only the backyard and front yard dramatically revealed a strange "vitality".

In the backyard, from He Yuanchao's small house, the rich aroma of meat porridge wafted out without fail. It was made with leftover bone broth from the previous night, the rice grains bursting open, the meat fragrant and delicious. Then, the distinctive aroma of fried eggs boldly emerged, mingling with the porridge's fragrance, carried by the morning breeze, unceremoniously filling the entire yard. This warm and comforting aroma seemed to openly declare that the owner of the house lived a completely different life, enjoying a vastly different quality of life, compared to the lifeless others in the yard.

Meanwhile, in the front yard, from the home of Second Uncle Liu Haizhong, came his signature, bureaucratic lecturing voice, breaking the silence of the front yard.

"Cheer up, everyone! Who are you all trying to impress with those long faces?! The sky isn't falling!"

With his hands behind his back, Liu Haizhong, his potbelly—a culmination of years of hard work—paced back and forth in his already cramped living room. The floorboards creaked under his weight. Spittle flew as he delivered a passionate "morning address" to his dejected wife and two sons.

"Even if the sky falls, there are tall people to hold it up! What's the situation now? An old man has fallen! The deaf old lady is also weakened! Sha Zhu is crippled! The Jia family is in trouble! The sky over this courtyard now depends on me, Liu Haizhong, to hold it up! Do you understand?!"

He slammed his hand on the octagonal table, making the dark, round cornbread on it jump in fright.

"What is this?!" He stared wide-eyed, his voice rising with the intensity of someone discovering a new continent. "This is a test from the organization! It's the trust of the people! It's a historic opportunity for our Liu family, after decades of hard work, to finally hold our heads high and seize power!"

His eyes gleamed with an unprecedented, burning desire for power, a light that seemed to set him ablaze.

"From today onwards, you three, stand up straight! When you speak or act in the courtyard, you must act like the family members of the 'top leader'! Stop being so petty! Do you hear me?!"

The second aunt was startled by his sudden display of power and nodded repeatedly, instinctively, "I...I heard it..."

The two brothers, Liu Guangtian and Liu Guangfu, exchanged a furtive glance, both seeing barely suppressed excitement and anticipation in each other's eyes. Now that their father was the "top dog" in the compound, would their lives as "princelings" finally improve? Would they be able to act with impunity in the compound from now on?

Liu Haizhong surveyed his family's reactions with satisfaction, feeling that his life, now past fifty, had finally entered a glorious spring. He took a deep breath, as if he could already smell the fragrance of power.

The old man is down, Sha Zhu is crippled, the Jia family is utterly filthy, and even that old hag who relied on her age has been severely weakened. He counted on his fingers, who in this courtyard could still rival him? Who else?!

As for He Yuanchao in the backyard...

A flicker of apprehension flashed across Liu Haizhong's eyes; the kid's performance last night had indeed been terrifying. But this apprehension was quickly suppressed by his rapidly expanding ambition for power.

That kid's a tough one, a real pain! But what is he? A lone wolf, all alone! An unorganized and undisciplined lone wolf!

And what about myself? I represent the "organization" and the "collective"! As long as I have the "general trend" of the whole college in my hands, I can use the name of the "collective" to suppress him, use the shackles of "rules" to bind him, hold college-wide meetings for all matters big and small, vote by raising hands, and let the minority obey the majority, how could I not be afraid of not being able to control a little He Yuanchao?

It's a constant ebb and flow! Now is the moment when the power of the old man and his ilk has plummeted to its lowest point, while his own reputation (in his own mind) has reached its peak! It's the perfect opportunity for Liu Haizhong to win over people's hearts and establish a new order!

Let's do it! This is a golden opportunity!

Liu Haizhong, his belly protruding, strode out of the house with the air of a penguin on patrol. His first goal for the day was to "comfort" the remaining "wavering" households in the courtyard, to make them realize the situation and submit as soon as possible. Especially... that old schemer, Third Uncle Yan Bugui.

The Yan family at this moment.

Uncle Yan Bugui was holding a chipped, rough porcelain bowl, slurping down cornmeal porridge with a small dish of pickled vegetable shreds. He was drinking with great relish, his face revealing undisguised ease and pride.

Although the Yan family didn't gain any direct material benefits from last night's earth-shattering drama, seeing the downfall of their "arch-enemies"—the Jia family, who had been suppressing them for years—made them feel more comfortable than drinking iced plum juice on a sweltering summer day. They felt a sense of exhilaration from the inside out.

More importantly, his calculating mind keenly sensed that the power structure of this courtyard was about to undergo a complete transformation. Yan Bugui, as the first to see the situation clearly, "surrender" to He Yuanchao, and the "meritorious official" who provided "ammunition" (ideas for Truth or Dare) at a crucial moment, naturally saw his status rise. From now on, anyone in this courtyard who wanted to touch the Yan family would have to carefully consider the attitude of the master in the backyard.

Just as he was happily making plans, there was a knock on the door.

"Is Lao Yan home? It's me, Liu Haizhong, here to see you."

Liu Haizhong's official, affected voice rang out from outside the door.

Yan Bugui's heart skipped a beat, and his hand holding the bowl froze. He thought to himself: "This weasel is offering New Year's greetings to a chicken; he's up to no good. This guy just thinks he can be the boss, and he can't wait to start a faction."

He calmly finished the last sip of his porridge, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and then leisurely got up to open the door. As soon as the door opened, a warm yet slightly aloof smile spread across his face: "Oh, it's Second Uncle! Oh dear, please come in, please come in! What brings you here so early in the morning?"

Liu Haizhong, hands behind his back, belly protruding, swaggered in with an air of officialdom. His small eyes habitually scanned the Yan family's simple, shabby house, finally settling on Yan Bugui. He forced a friendly smile, as if a leader were showing concern for a subordinate.

"Old Yan, you saw what happened last night. The courtyard is leaderless now, and everyone is in a state of panic."

He sighed heavily, adopting a posture of concern for the country and its people, as if he had been entrusted with a critical mission. "The old man's health has failed him; he's no longer a reliable person. As the only remaining caretaker in the compound, I have an inescapable responsibility to hold this family together!"

"That's right, that's right, Second Uncle, you are so noble and virtuous, you've worked so hard." Yan Bugui nodded and bowed, flattering him with his words, but in his heart he was sneering: You? You think you can support this family? You'd be lucky if you didn't collapse the roof beams.

"But you know, I can't manage alone," Liu Haizhong said, his tone shifting abruptly, his true intentions revealed as he looked intently at Yan Bugui. "Old Yan, you're different. You're an educated man, one of the intellectuals in our institute, quick-witted, and insightful. From now on, I hope you can share my burdens and offer me more advice on matters concerning the institute. Let's work together, one handling external affairs, the other internal; one focusing on ideology, the other on culture, dividing the work to build our institute into a truly advanced and civilized institution! What do you think? Have you considered my suggestion?"

This is blatant courting!

He wanted to recruit Yan Bugui, this "cultured man," to be his "advisor," adding a touch of "culture" to his soon-to-be-established "new regime" and embellishing its facade.

Yan Bugui knew exactly what was going on, his mind racing. If he agreed, it would be like boarding Liu Haizhong's leaky boat, which would not only bring him no benefit but also offend He Yuanchao, the real "stabilizing force" in the backyard. That would be like picking up a sesame seed and losing a watermelon.

Would he be that stupid? Obviously not.

Yan Bugui's face immediately showed a troubled and fearful expression. He rubbed his hands together, waved them repeatedly, and shrank back slightly. "Oh, Second Uncle, you think too highly of me! I'm just a poor schoolteacher, I can't lift a finger, how would I know anything about management? My brain is only good for calculating tiny things like needles and threads or a few cents for coal briquettes. The important matters in the courtyard need a leader with your courage, prestige, and skill to steer! I'll just cheer you on from behind, I'll be a foot soldier! You point, I'll go! I'll just be a foot soldier!"

His words were perfectly succinct. He flattered Liu Haizhong to the skies, satisfying his vanity, while cleverly declining the invitation to "join the group," thus absolving himself of any responsibility and positioning himself as an insignificant "foot soldier."

Liu Haizhong's smile froze for a moment. Yan Bugui saw right through his scheme and cursed inwardly: "Old fox! You're asking for it!"

But he couldn't afford to lose his temper on the spot, after all, he was there to "respect and learn from the virtuous," and he couldn't afford to fall out with someone on his very first day of "ascension." He could only chuckle awkwardly, trying to save face: "Hehe, Old Yan, you're just too modest. Alright, then I'll come to you for advice if anything comes up in the future."

"Of course, of course, I'll be there whenever you call! Take care, Uncle!"

After seeing off the ambitious Liu Haizhong, Yan Bugui slammed the door shut, his smile vanishing instantly, replaced by undisguised disdain and a cold laugh.

"Hmph, trying to recruit me? To use me as a pawn? Dream on!"

He walked to the window, lifted a corner of the curtain, and watched as Liu Haizhong, with his large pregnant belly, walked towards the next house, his back to the person who went from house to house to "inspect" and "have heart-to-heart talks." He shook his head in disdain.

This Liu Haizhong is truly blinded by ambition and power; he's completely misjudged the true situation in this courtyard.

In this courtyard, who's in charge now? It's not your newly appointed second uncle, nor the fallen first uncle, nor the old lady who fainted.

Instead, it was that young man in the backyard who remained silent from beginning to end, yet could stir up trouble with a few words and make all those who plotted against him crumble to dust!

Yan Bugui knew very well that clinging to He Yuanchao's coattails was the only way for the Yan family to secure their livelihood and make a steady profit in this precarious courtyard.

……

Meanwhile, in the backyard.

He Yuanchao paid no attention to Liu Haizhong's farces, such as "the new king's ascension to the throne" and "recruiting soldiers and buying horses," and was even too lazy to think about them.

He leisurely finished his breakfast, washed the dishes, checked the tires on his bicycle as usual, and then rode off to the steel mill, enjoying the cool morning breeze. The wind and rain in the yard were, to him, nothing more than a play outside his window, over and done with once the curtain fell.

He had just arrived at the workshop and parked his car when he was stopped by Secretary Zhang from the factory office, who was panting heavily.

"Comrade Yuanchao, Comrade Yuanchao, we've finally waited for you." Secretary Zhang's tone was more polite and friendly than ever before, with a professional yet sincere smile on his face.

"Secretary Zhang, is something the matter?"

"Director Lou wants to see you and wants you to go to his office as soon as you arrive."

He Yuanchao nodded and followed Secretary Zhang to the deputy factory director's office on the second floor of the office building.

Lou Zhenhua stood by the window with his hands behind his back, his tall figure casting a long shadow in the morning light. He wasn't looking at the bustling factory below, but rather gazing into the distance, his expression seemingly solemn.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around and saw He Yuanchao enter. The seriousness on his face immediately melted away, and a gentle smile appeared on his face: "Yuanchao is here. Please sit down."

Unexpectedly, he personally picked up the thermos and poured He Yuanchao a steaming cup of tea. This gesture made Secretary Zhang, who had been seen to the door but hadn't dared to come in, jump, and her opinion of He Yuanchao rose several levels.

"Yuanchao, I heard last night that something happened in your department again?" Lou Zhenhua sat down behind his desk, crossed his hands on the table, and asked casually, but there was a clear sense of inquiry in his deep eyes.

He Yuanchao understood perfectly; Lou Xiao'e's mouth was faster than the gossiping old ladies in the courtyard. He picked up his teacup, blew on the steam, nodded, and calmly said, "It was just a minor neighborhood dispute; it's been resolved."

"All sorted out?" Lou Zhenhua smiled, a smile tinged with a deeper meaning. "I heard that you've managed to get both the highly respected old man and the even more respected deaf old woman in the compound into the hospital?"

"They brought it on themselves." He Yuanchao's answer was simple and direct, without any explanation or cover-up.

"Well said, 'He only got what he deserved!'" Lou Zhenhua showed no displeasure whatsoever; on the contrary, his eyes gleamed with even greater admiration. He even clapped his hands lightly twice. "Character! Skilled! Decisive! Excellent!"

What he admired was He Yuanchao's ruthlessness and decisiveness in the face of public opinion and authority.

He paused, leaned forward slightly, his smile vanished, and his tone became unusually serious: "Yuanchao, I've called you here today because there's something more important I want to hear your opinion on, and also... I'd like to ask for your help."