He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The December wind swirled snowflakes, rustling against the paper windows of the courtyard house, as if urging people to store their winter provisions. He Yuyang squatted beside the woodpile in the corner of the courtyard, pretending to fiddle with a few dry branches, but his eyes were warily scanning his surroundings—Yan Bugui in the east wing was leaning on the windowsill, fiddling with an abacus; Yi Zhonghai in the middle courtyard had just left with a birdcage; and the west wing was quiet, so no one should be paying attention to this side.

He took a deep breath, and with a slight thought, the bag of freshly ground flour silently appeared in his arms. The bag was tightly sewn with coarse linen, and its fifty-pound weight made him sink slightly, but he held it firmly in his arms. This was the first batch of wheat harvested from his space; the grains were plump, and the flour ground from it was snow-white, with a faint wheat aroma, much finer than what could be bought in the market.

"Brother, what are you doing?" He Yuzhu's voice suddenly came from behind, startling He Yuyang.

He quickly stuffed the flour bag deeper into the woodpile, blocking it with a few thick, dry branches, then turned around and said with a smile, "Nothing much, just checking if there's enough firewood. Zhu Zi, keep an eye on things for me, don't let anyone else come over, I'll be right back."

He Yuzhu nodded as if he understood, then stood in front of the woodpile with his arms outstretched, like a little guard.

He Yuyang strode into the house. Liu Yan was sewing shoe soles. When she saw him come in, she looked up and asked, "What's wrong? Your face is all red from the cold."

"Mom, come with me for a moment, I have something to show you." He Yuyang held his mother's hand, his voice very low.

Liu Yan followed him into the inner room with a puzzled look. He Yuyang lifted the coarse cloth quilt covering the kang (a heated brick bed), revealing the kang hole underneath. This kang hole was specially deepened by He Daqing in the past to prevent the cold in winter. It was usually used to stuff old cotton wadding for warmth, but it was empty at the moment.

"Mom, give me a hand." He Yuyang turned and went out, and soon came back with the bag of flour. She carefully put it deep into the kang (a heated brick bed), stuffed the sides with old cotton wadding, and then laid a quilt on top. It looked no different from usual.

Liu Yan stared in disbelief: "Yangyang, where...where did this flour come from? So much of it!"

"Mother, don't ask." He Yuyang held his mother's hand, his eyes serious. "This is our lifeline. You know, this winter is colder than usual, and grain prices are changing every day. Who knows what might happen before spring?"

He recalled the famine years mentioned in the original story, and his heart tightened. In this era, food was life; only with grain in hand could one feel at ease. When the wheat in his space was harvested, he deliberately controlled the yield. Fifty catties wasn't much, but it was enough for his family of three to eat sparingly for more than a month, and it could be a lifesaver in a critical moment.

Liu Yan's expression also turned serious. She had experienced famine and knew what it was like to have no food—grass roots and tree bark were all dug up, and corpses lay everywhere; the thought of that scene sent chills down her spine. She touched the spot where the kang (heated brick bed) was located, her fingertips trembling slightly: "This...can this be hidden? There are too many people in the yard..."

"It can be hidden," He Yuyang said confidently. "Besides the three of us, no one knows this kang hole can be used to hide things. By the way, didn't Dad dig a cellar in the backyard before?"

Liu Yan paused for a moment, then nodded: "Yes, there is one. It was dug up when we first moved here. They said it was because they were afraid of food being stolen during the chaos of war. It has been empty ever since, and some junk has been piled up there."

"Great!" He Yuyang's eyes lit up. "Mom, tonight after Dad and Zhuzi go to sleep, let's divide this flour in half and hide it in the cellar. Hiding it in two places will be safer."

Looking at her son's earnest expression, Liu Yan felt a mix of bittersweet emotions and pride. This child was only eight years old, yet he was more thoughtful than most adults, even knowing to divide the grain storage into two locations. She reached out and touched He Yuyang's head, her voice choked with emotion, "Yangyang, how do you know so much?"

"I heard it from Uncle San." He Yuyang lowered his head, avoiding his mother's gaze. "Uncle San said that when he was a child, the villagers buried jars in the cellar and sewed flour into their mattresses to store grain, for fear of it being stolen. Mother, let's hide this grain well. We should eat whatever we normally eat, and we absolutely cannot touch it unless it's absolutely necessary."

He paused, then emphasized, "Especially, we can't let anyone in the compound know. Uncle Yan is shrewd, Aunt Xu loves to take advantage, and those who seem kind are capable of anything when food is scarce."

Liu Yan nodded, tears welling in her eyes. She understood this perfectly well. Yan Bugui's probing with the soy sauce, and the Xu family's blatant robbery of the cornbread, had shown her the true nature of people. This courtyard seemed harmonious on the surface, but everyone harbored their own agendas. If they were to reveal so much grain, it would likely be stolen and robbed overnight.

"Mother knows what's important." Liu Yan wiped away her tears. "Don't worry, Mother's keeping quiet."

That night, after He Daqing and He Yuzhu had fallen asleep, the mother and son quietly took an oil lamp covered with a cloth and went to the backyard. The backyard was piled with some discarded wood and broken jars, and the cellar was hidden under an old elm tree, covered with a large stone slab and some dry grass, so it was impossible to find without careful observation.

He Yuyang moved the stone slab, and a damp smell wafted out. The cellar wasn't deep, only about a meter high, and it was filled with old farm tools, covered in dust.

"Mom, help me move these things around." He Yuyang jumped down, moved the old farm tools to a corner, and cleared a space.

Liu Yan handed down the divided flour bags, which He Yuyang took and placed at the very back. He then covered them with several tattered burlap sacks to disguise them as miscellaneous items. The mother and son spent more than half an hour restoring the cellar to its original state, even arranging the dry grass on the stone slab exactly as before.

Back inside, Liu Yan's heart was pounding, and her palms were sweaty. She took He Yuyang's hand and whispered, "Yangyang, let your mother handle this from now on. You're still young, don't tire yourself out."

"Mom, I'm strong." He Yuyang smiled and shook her arm. "Besides, more people means more help. Mom, please don't tell Dad about this. He's straightforward, and I'm afraid he won't keep his mouth shut."

Although He Daqing was cautious, men can be careless sometimes. If he drank too much and let something slip, it would be troublesome. Liu Yan understood her son's meaning and nodded emphatically: "Mother knows, just the two of us know."

Over the next few days, He Yuyang took out some sweet potatoes and potatoes from her spatial storage several times, storing them in the same way as before. These were all durable grains; sweet potatoes buried in sand could last for two months, and potatoes stored in a cellar could last until spring, enough to deal with any emergencies.

That day, He Yuyang went to fetch water and overheard Aunt San and Yan Bugui chatting at the entrance of the alley. They said that the grain shops on the front street had raised prices again, with millet now selling for thirty wen a jin, and there was a purchase limit of two jin per person per visit.

"We can't live like this anymore," the third aunt sighed. "If prices keep rising like this, we'll run out of food before spring. My husband went to the black market yesterday and found that even coarse rice costs fifty coins, and it's old rice mixed with sand."

Yan Bugui fiddled with the abacus, his brow furrowed. "My family still has some grain stored up. If we eat sparingly, it should last until the first month of the lunar calendar. I'm just worried that things will be the same after spring... By the way, how's the He family? He Daqing works at the restaurant; surely he can get some benefits there?"

"What benefits are you trying to get?" The third aunt lowered her voice. "The day before yesterday, I saw Liu Yan go grocery shopping. She only bought a wilted cabbage and didn't even buy a drop of oil. I guess she's strapped for cash. Last time, Yangyang said that his family only had some coarse grain flour left."

He Yuyang walked past carrying a bucket of water, pretending not to hear, but secretly relieved. It seemed that his previous "hiding his strength" hadn't been in vain; everyone in the courtyard thought the He family was still struggling financially, and no one would dare to target them.

When he got home, he told Liu Yan what he had heard. Liu Yan's face darkened even more: "It's really gone up to thirty coins? That's more than half the price of last month... Yangyang, the grain you hid really saved our family's life."

She felt more and more that her eldest son was so sensible that it broke her heart. While other children were still thinking about eating candy and playing in the mud, he was already planning for the family's livelihood, even thinking so thoroughly about storing grain.

In the evening, He Daqing returned, looking rather unwell. As soon as he entered, he said, "The restaurant manager said there might be layoffs after the New Year, and everyone should tighten their belts. Also, the kitchen is running low on food; we might not even be able to take leftovers with us anymore."

Liu Yan's heart tightened, and she was about to speak when He Yuyang quietly tugged at her sleeve.

"Dad, it's alright," He Yuyang said with a smile. "We still have enough food stored at home, so we can eat as much as we need. If all else fails, Mom and I will go dig for wild vegetables; there will be plenty more in the spring."

He Daqing sighed and patted his son's head: "It's because your father is incompetent that you have to suffer along with him."

"Father, don't say that." He Yuyang shook his head. "You work hard to earn money at the restaurant, and Mother spins thread at home to save money. If Zhuzi and I spend less, we can still make ends meet."

At dinner, Liu Yan cooked sweet potato porridge with only a small amount of coarse grain flour, making it look very thin. He Yuzhu wasn't full and pouted, saying, "Mom, the porridge is too thin. I want more."

"Good boy, Zhuzi, Mom will steam some cornbread for you tomorrow." Liu Yan patted her youngest son's head tenderly and put a piece of dried radish on his plate. "Eat more vegetables."

He Yuyang saw this and felt a pang of bitterness. He had food stored in his spatial dimension, but he couldn't openly take it out; he could only watch helplessly as his family "suffered" along with him. But he knew this was the price he had to pay; in this chaotic world, stability was far more important than the desire for food.

At night, He Yuyang quietly entered the space. The wheat in the field was almost ripe, the lush green ears of wheat heavy and pleasing to the eye. In the vegetable garden next door, cabbages and radishes were growing vigorously, the soil irrigated by the spiritual spring water was very fertile, and even the air was filled with the fragrance of grain.

He walked to the cellar, and with a thought, he "saw" the flour and potatoes hidden inside. These grains lay quietly in the darkness, like sleeping hope, supporting his courage to face the future.

He knew this "preparation for war" was not over yet. Grain prices were still rising, the shadow of famine lingered, and the scheming within the courtyard never ceased. But he had the support of his space, the tacit cooperation of his mother, and, more importantly, the determination to protect his family.

As long as he has food in hand, he feels secure. No matter how cold this winter is, no matter how many difficulties lie ahead, he is confident that he can get through it with his family and wait for the day when spring arrives.

The next morning, He Yuyang went to the backyard to check the cellar as usual. He found that the hay on the stone slab had been blown about by the wind, so he quickly rearranged it. He squatted under the old elm tree, looking at the bare branches stretching towards the gray sky, and secretly vowed: he must make sure that these hidden grains are never needed—that would mean that his family would be safe and sound this winter and would successfully survive the famine.

The cold wind continued to blow, but He Yuyang's heart was warm. He knew that everything he had done was worthwhile. He was willing to endure any hardship, no matter how difficult or tiring it was, so that his mother would no longer have to worry about food, his younger brother could have enough to eat, and his father could work with peace of mind.

He stood up, brushed the dirt off his clothes, and walked home. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, casting a faint glow that illuminated the path beneath his feet and also the hope hidden in the shadows.