He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The sound of Jia Zhangshi slamming the door and leaving was like a stone thrown into a calm water vat, creating ripples throughout the courtyard. The doors of the south room, north room, and east wing all quietly opened a crack, revealing pairs of peeping eyes. Only after confirming that Jia Zhangshi was really gone did they reluctantly close them again, leaving behind only a few faint whispers that drifted on the wind into He Yuyang's half-closed window.

"Mother, I'm hungry." He Yuzhu rubbed his red, tear-filled eyes and tugged at Liu Yan's sleeve. He had been so frightened by Jia Zhangshi and had been crying for so long that his stomach was empty.

Liu Yan then came to her senses, wiped away her tears, and forced herself to cheer up: "Mom will go heat up some cornbread for you." As she got up, her steps faltered, and she unconsciously pressed her lower back, her brows furrowing slightly—a ailment caused by years of hard work and malnutrition.

He Yuyang watched, his heart tightening. He remembered how Liu Yan's health had gradually deteriorated in the story, culminating in her near-collapse when she gave birth to He Yushui. No, he had to find a way to help her recover properly.

"Mother, let me help you start the fire." He followed Liu Yan's footsteps, his gaze sweeping over the kitchen.

It was called a kitchen, but it was really just a small shed next to the main house, with mud-plastered walls, a dark stove, a chipped iron pot on top, and a few pieces of dry firewood piled up next to it, looking very shabby. The water in the water vat was almost gone, with some bits of grass floating on the surface.

Liu Yan picked up a ladle, intending to add water to the pot, but found a hole in the bottom. She sighed, switched to a broken bowl, and slowly scooped water into the pot: "Yangyang, you mustn't tell anyone else what you just said to Jia Zhangshi, especially not your father... He'd be worried if he found out."

"I know, Mother." He Yuyang squatted in front of the stove, picked up the flint and struck it, sparks flew out and landed on the dry firewood. "I just couldn't stand seeing her bullying you and your brother." He replied verbally, but he knew perfectly well in his heart that this courtyard was a miniature world of martial arts, and he couldn't just hide from it. He had to figure out the "character map" here first.

The fire crackled and popped, casting flickering light on He Yuyang's face. While adding firewood, he glanced out of the courtyard.

This courtyard house is a typical old Beijing layout, with a square courtyard in the very center paved with bluestone slabs. Unfortunately, many parts of it are cracked and covered with moss. There are houses on the east, west, south, and north sides, housing seven or eight families. It's mealtime now, and smoke is billowing from each chimney, but the smoke is mostly thin and light, giving off a bland and unappetizing feel.

What first caught his attention was the home of Yi Zhonghai in the Intermediate People's Court.

A man in a dark blue long gown stood at the door, holding a pipe and smoking it intermittently. He was about thirty years old, with a square face and a steady demeanor in his eyes; he was none other than the young Master Yi Zhonghai. At this time, he was not yet the "hypocrite" who would later scheme to take care of Sha Zhu in his old age. He was an eighth-grade fitter in the factory, skilled and well-paid, and his prestige in the compound had already become apparent.

He couldn't have missed Jia Zhangshi's outburst earlier, yet he remained silent until now, when he leisurely strolled into the courtyard. His gaze casually swept over He Yuyang's house, a faint smile playing on his lips, as if he were pondering something.

"Brother Yi, busy?" Liu Haizhong from next door came out of the house, holding a book in his hand, deliberately showing off the cover—it was a well-worn copy of the Analects. He was two years younger than Yi Zhonghai, wearing a faded cloth shirt, but the cuffs were neatly rolled up, and his hair was combed meticulously, exuding a deliberately maintained "cultured" air.

"Just finished eating, came out for some fresh air." Yi Zhonghai tapped his pipe. "Brother Liu, are you reading again? You seem to be in a good mood."

"Hey, just looking around." Liu Haizhong chuckled, but his eyes involuntarily drifted towards He Yuyang's stove. "I heard it was quite lively in the yard earlier, what's going on?"

"What else could it be? The kids from the Jia and He families had a little tiff." Yi Zhonghai said casually, but tapped his finger on the pipe handle. "They're just kids, it's nothing serious."

"That's true." Liu Haizhong nodded, then changed the subject, "Speaking of which, He Daqing is really lucky to be the head chef at the restaurant, unlike us, who earn a meager fixed salary and barely make ends meet." When he said this, his voice was neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for the surrounding households to hear, and the envy and jealousy in their eyes were impossible to hide.

He Yuyang heard everything clearly in the kitchen and sneered inwardly—this Liu Haizhong had a typical "sour grapes" mentality. He pretended to be aloof on the surface, but in reality, he valued fame and fortune the most. No wonder he was single-mindedly trying to climb the social ladder, but could never quite succeed.

As he was thinking, a quarrel broke out from Yan Bugui's house in the west wing.

"You gave the eldest a half-eaten portion! How many times have I told you, food must be distributed according to the number of people, not a single grain can be missing!" A shrill female voice rang out; it was Third Aunt Yang Ruihua.

"What's all the fuss about? The child is growing, what's wrong with him eating a little more?" Yan Bugui's voice was low but urgent. "Quickly put the bowl away, don't let outsiders see!"

Then came a rustling sound. After a while, Yan Bugui pushed open the door, carrying an empty bowl, pretending to go to the well to fetch water. He was twenty-five years old, tall and thin, with small but quick-witted eyes that revealed a shrewdness. As he passed He Yuyang's house, he paused, glanced into the kitchen, and seeing He Yuyang staring at him, immediately smiled: "Yangyang is helping your mother tend the fire, isn't he? So thoughtful."

"Hello, Uncle Yan." He Yuyang returned the smile, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He clearly remembered that when Yan Bugui looked into the kitchen just now, his eyes circled around the edge of the pot. That look was no different from when Jia Zhangshi stared at the strip of cloth in He Yuzhu's hand—both were staring at "food".

After fetching water, Yan Bugui carried the bowl back. As he passed the courtyard, he greeted Yi Zhonghai and Liu Haizhong, but his eyes unconsciously glanced towards the alley entrance, as if he were waiting for someone.

He Yuyang understood—he was waiting for He Daqing.

Sure enough, not long after, footsteps came from the alley entrance, and a man in a clean short jacket walked in, carrying a cloth bag. It was He Yuyang's father, He Daqing. He was twenty-three years old, tall and straight, with a slightly tired face, but he was clean and tidy, and there were still some unwashed grease stains on his hands—the marks left by years of dealing with pots and pans.

"The Qing Dynasty is back?" Yi Zhonghai spoke first, a warm smile on his face. "You finished work quite early today."

"Well, the shopkeeper saw that I've been tired lately and told me to leave a little earlier." He Daqing smiled, but didn't stop walking, wanting to get home as soon as possible.

"Hey, Brother He, what good stuff have you brought?" Yan Bugui, with his sharp eyes, spotted the cloth bag in He Daqing's hand at a glance and quickly moved closer. "It smells delicious, is it the braised pork knuckle from the restaurant?"

He Daqing subconsciously hid the cloth bag behind his back and mumbled, "It's nothing, just some leftover pastries for the kids."

"Noodles and pastries? That's rare!" Liu Haizhong chimed in. "Brother He is really capable. It's good to be a head chef at a restaurant. You get to eat meat every day. Unlike us, we can hardly even get a bite of plain noodles."

He Daqing's smile faded a bit. After exchanging a few polite words, he tried to head home, but was blocked by Jia Zhangshi.

"He Daqing, you're finally back!" Jia Zhangshi appeared out of nowhere, standing with her hands on her hips at his door. "Your Zhuzi stole a strip of cloth from my Dongxu. Tell me, how do you want this settled?"

He Daqing was taken aback and looked into the house, where he saw Liu Yan come out with red eyes and recount what had just happened. After listening, he frowned, took out two copper coins from his pocket, and handed them to Jia Zhangshi: "Sister-in-law, it was Zhuzi's fault. Take this money; consider it compensation for Dongxu."

"That's more like it." Madam Jia took the copper coin, weighed it in her hand, and smiled with satisfaction. "Alright, since you're so sensible, I won't hold it against a child." After saying that, she swayed away, glancing at the cloth bag in He Daqing's hand before she left.

He Daqing breathed a sigh of relief, went into the house, and handed the cloth bag to Liu Yan: "Quickly give this to the child to eat. It's osmanthus cake that the shopkeeper gave him, and it's still warm."

Liu Yan took the cloth bag, her eyes reddening again: "Why did you bring things back again? Didn't I tell you not to bring anything? Look at all these people in the courtyard..."

"It's okay, just this once." He Daqing patted He Yuyang's head and then rubbed He Yuzhu's face. "What's wrong with Zhuzi today? How could he take other people's things?"

He Yuzhu lowered his head and whispered, "I want to make a purse for my mother..."

He Daqing sighed, stopped blaming him, and turned to He Yuyang: "Yangyang, I just heard from your mother that you argued with Jia Zhangshi on behalf of Zhuzi?"

"Yeah." He Yuyang nodded. "I was furious that she insulted you."

He Daqing paused for a moment, then smiled: "My son has grown up and knows how to protect his father." He patted He Yuyang's shoulder, his eyes full of relief, but he didn't notice the complex emotion in his son's eyes that was not that of a child.

At dinner, Liu Yan cut the osmanthus cake into small pieces, giving one piece each to He Yuyang and He Yuzhu, but she and He Daqing didn't eat a single bite. He Yuyang looked at the osmanthus cake in her hand, then at her parents' thin faces, and felt a pang of sadness.

He made an excuse to go to the yard to urinate, and when he came out of the house, he saw that the lights of Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and Yan Bugui's houses were all on, and he could vaguely hear them talking.

"...I think there's more than just pastries in He Daqing's bag, maybe even meat..." That was Yan Bugui's voice.

"Hmph, he's just a cook, what's with the attitude? He'll be in trouble sooner or later..." That was Liu Haizhong's voice.

"...His skills are not bad. If Zhuzi could learn a few tricks, he would have a way to make a living in the future..." Yi Zhonghai's voice was very low, but He Yuyang, who had just completed his internal energy cultivation, heard it clearly.

He Yuyang stood in the courtyard, a cool autumn breeze blowing by. He looked up at the sky; there were no stars, only a crescent moon, completely obscured by dark clouds.

This courtyard house, on the surface, is a place where neighbors live together like one big family. But in reality, it harbors countless eyes eyeing what others are eating, filled with jealousy, scheming, and greed. He Daqing's culinary skills are a tempting target, attracting not only open robbery from Jia Zhangshi but also underhanded schemes from Yi Zhonghai.

He touched the half-piece of osmanthus cake he had secretly hidden in his pocket, and made up his mind.

To survive in this courtyard house, to protect his parents and younger brother, being stubborn won't work; he needs real skills and the ability to hide them.

He glanced towards the east wing. Yan Bugui's light was still on, and his shadow, pacing back and forth, was imprinted on the window paper—he was probably still wondering what was in the cloth bag that He Daqing had brought back.

Looking around the central courtyard, the lights in Yi Zhonghai's house were on, and he could vaguely see what Yi Zhonghai was writing on a piece of paper—maybe he was figuring out how to get close to He Daqing so that Sha Zhu could learn his craft in the future.

And Liu Haizhong in the south room is probably still sighing over that copy of the Analects, secretly envying He Daqing's good fortune.

He Yuyang took a deep breath, turned around and went back into the house.

"Mom, I've finished eating and want to go to bed early," he said to Liu Yan.

"Okay, go to sleep early, you have to get up early tomorrow." Liu Yan patted his head, her eyes full of affection.

He Yuyang lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), while He Yuzhu was already asleep, snoring loudly. He closed his eyes, but he couldn't fall asleep. His mind was racing, going over every person he had met and every word he had spoken that day.

Yi Zhonghai's "hypocrisy," Liu Haizhong's "pedantry," Yan Bugui's "scheming," Jia Zhangshi's "greed"... and those eyes hiding behind doors and windows.

This is the "neighborhood" he will face in the future.

He quietly began to circulate the basic internal energy cultivation technique he had just acquired that day. A faint warm current flowed slowly through his dantian, easing his tense nerves. He then thought of the vast spiritual spring space, and the spring itself that emitted white steam.

With these things, he might still be able to change his fate.

"Father, Mother, Brother..." he murmured to himself, "Just wait, I will make sure you live a good life, and no one will dare to bully us."

The wind was still blowing outside the window, and the lights in the courtyard went out one by one, leaving only darkness and silence. But He Yuyang knew that beneath this silence, a turbulent undercurrent was surging.

He must adapt to this place as soon as possible and become stronger as soon as possible.

Because he is not only He Yuyang, but also the future pillar of this family.

As night deepened, He Yuyang finally fell into a deep sleep, but even as he slept, the corners of his mouth remained slightly pursed, carrying a firmness beyond his years.