He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

Once the Grain in Ear solar term passes, the sun becomes so scorching it feels like it's going to melt you. The shade of the trees in the alley becomes the most precious spot. After school, children don't go home but gather under the locust trees to play with slingshots and roll iron hoops, their boisterous laughter almost drowning out the cicadas' chirping. He Yuzhu is squatting on the ground, holding a wooden top in his hand, whipping it around and around. The top is painted with patterns drawn by He Yuyang with charred twigs, and as it spins, it looks like a blurry firework, attracting several children to watch.

"Brother Zhu, can I play for a while?" A little girl with pigtails asked, looking up at her, clutching a piece of malt candy she had just stolen from home.

"No, this was made by my brother." He Yuzhu pulled the top closer to his chest, shaking his head like a rattle drum. This top was carved by He Yuyang from hardwood in his spatial storage. It was more durable than those bought outside, and it spun steadily and for a longer time. It was his recent treasure, and he wouldn't let go of it no matter who borrowed it.

He was eight years old, the age when he was very protective of his belongings. He was also naturally shy. Surrounded by a group of children wanting his toy, his face turned red. He tightened his grip on the whip, wanting to put the top away and go home. But before he could get up, his wrist was suddenly pulled, and the top fell to the ground with a "thud," where it was firmly stepped on by a foot wearing a small cloth shoe.

"What's so special about this piece of junk?" Xu Damao stood in front of him with his hands on his hips and a smug smile on his face. He was five years old this year, three years younger than He Yuzhu, but relying on his mother's usual indulgence, he always ran around recklessly in the alley, wanting to snatch and play with anything that looked good from anyone.

"Let go! That's my spinning top!" He Yuzhu was almost crying in distress. He tried to pick up the top, but Xu Damao shoved him hard, and he sat down on the ground with a "thud." The ground had just been watered by a sprinkler truck and was still muddy. His trouser leg was instantly smeared with a large black stain.

"Yours? Who saw it was yours?" Xu Damao picked up the top, wiped the mud off with his sleeve, stuffed it into his pocket, and deliberately stomped on He Yuzhu's hand. "What are you crying about? If you cry again, I'll throw it in the outhouse!"

He Yuzhu's eyes were red with pain, but she didn't dare to fight him for the food, so she could only sit on the ground and sob. The children around her didn't dare to make a sound when they saw that it was Xu Damao—everyone knew that this kid was not to be trifled with, otherwise his mother would stand at your doorstep and yell at you all afternoon.

"Xu Damao, give the spinning top back to my brother."

A cool voice came from behind the crowd. He Yuyang, carrying a bundle of freshly cut pig feed, stood under the locust tree, looking calmly at Xu Damao. He was nine years old this year, a head taller than Xu Damao, and had a sturdy build. Just standing there, he inexplicably exuded a sense of pressure.

Xu Damao felt a little intimidated by his gaze, but he still stubbornly insisted, "Why should I give it to you? I found it!"

"Found it?" He Yuyang took two steps forward, his gaze sweeping over He Yuzhu sitting on the ground, then landing on Xu Damao's muddy shoes. "I saw it all at the alley entrance just now. You snatched my brother's spinning top and pushed him over. Should I take you to ask Aunt Zhang now? She was just sewing shoe soles at the door."

Aunt Zhang was notoriously nosy, and Xu Damao was terrified of her. Hearing this, his arrogance immediately diminished, but he still gripped the spinning top tightly, refusing to let go, and stubbornly said, "I won't give it back! Go ahead and hit me if you dare!"

He Yuyang didn't get angry. He knew it was useless to reason with a five-year-old, and forcibly taking it would only give others grounds for criticism—Xu's mother was best at using the excuse of "the older child bullying the younger one." His gaze swept over the wall behind Xu Damao, where there was a pair of brand-new blue cloth shoes, with fine stitches, clearly made by Xu's mother for Xu Damao to wear for the holiday.

There's a puddle at the base of the wall, formed by rain a few days ago. It's mixed with mud, dark and dirty.

He Yuyang's lips curled up almost imperceptibly. He didn't look at Xu Damao again, but squatted down, helped He Yuzhu up, patted the mud off his trousers, and said softly, "Zhuzi, don't cry. We don't need the top anymore. I'll make you an even better one, twice the size of this one."

He Yuzhu nodded, sobbing, tears still streaming down her face, but she said understandingly, "Brother, I don't want it anymore, let's go home."

"Okay, let's go home." He Yuyang took his younger brother's hand and turned to leave. As he passed the wall, he seemed to trip over a pebble, his body swayed slightly, and his right foot "inadvertently" hooked to the side—his blue cloth shoes "whooshed" into a muddy puddle, the surface of the shoes instantly covered with black mud, and even the uppers of the shoes were soaked through.

The whole process was so fast that no one noticed. Even Xu Damao was still gloating over winning the spinning top and didn't even see that his new shoes had been ruined.

He Yuyang, holding He Yuzhu's hand, walked home without looking back. He Yuzhu was still crying softly, so he patted his younger brother's head and said, "Don't cry. I'll make you a bamboo dragonfly later. It's more fun than a spinning top."

"Really?" He Yuzhu raised her teary eyes.

"Really." He Yuyang nodded, but knew in his heart that this matter was not over.

Sure enough, less than half an hour later, Xu's mother's shrill voice came from the front yard: "Which heartless bastard threw our Da Mao's new shoes into the mud puddle! Come out and admit it if you dare! Don't hide in the shadows and do those underhanded things!"

Liu Yan was mending clothes inside when she heard the noise and hurried outside. She was immediately caught by Xu's mother in the yard. Xu's mother was holding a pair of soaking wet cloth shoes, black mud dripping from the surface. Pointing at Liu Yan's nose, she yelled, "Liu Yan! Was this done by your two little beasts? My Da Mao just stole a broken spinning top from him, is this some kind of revenge? I spent three nights making these shoes! Can you afford to pay for them?"

"Aunt Xu, what are you saying?" Liu Yan frowned, shielding He Yuyang and He Yuzhu, who had just come out of the house, behind her. "The children just got home, why would they throw your shoes? Don't start cursing without even knowing the facts."

"Without even knowing the facts?" Mrs. Xu spat on the ground. "Besides your family, who else would bother arguing with a five-year-old? My son, Da Mao, said it was your son, He Yuyang, who threatened him just now! It was definitely him!"

Startled, He Yuzhu shrank back behind Liu Yan, but He Yuyang stepped forward, looked up, and asked, "Aunt Xu, did you see me throw my shoe into the mud puddle?"

"I...I didn't see it, but it was definitely you!" Mrs. Xu choked on her words, then retorted sharply, "Who else could it be but you? Your brother had his spinning top stolen, and you held a grudge, so you took it out on Da Mao's shoes! Let me tell you, this isn't over until you buy me a new pair of shoes!"

"I'll pay for the shoes," He Yuyang said calmly, but with an undeniable air of authority. "But Aunt Xu has to make Xu Damao return the top he snatched from my brother. He stole it and then pushed my brother down. How do we settle this? Or should we go to the village headman right now and see whose child was in the wrong first?"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the neighbors who had gathered to watch the commotion, and raised his voice: "Just now under the locust tree, many people saw it. Xu Damao snatched my brother's spinning top and even stepped on his hand. My brother sat on the muddy ground crying for a long time. If Aunt Xu thinks this isn't a big deal, then I'll just throw my shoe in the mud puddle, and that'll even things out. Why should we have to pay for it?"

The neighbors already felt that the Xu family was too domineering, and after hearing He Yuyang's words, they immediately started gossiping.

"That's right, Da Mao needs to be disciplined. He's always stealing other people's things."

"He Yuzhu is such an honest kid. Who wouldn't feel sorry for him after being pushed down into the mud?"

"The Xu family is something else. Their own child stole something and they think they're in the right?"

Hearing the surrounding chatter, Xu's mother's face flushed red and then paled, but she still stubbornly retorted, "What's wrong with kids fighting over a toy? Is it necessary to throw someone's new shoes? Those shoes are made of fine cloth and are worth two pounds of millet!"

"Sister Xu, you can't say that," an older woman from the next courtyard spoke up. "The children are young and don't know any better; adults have to teach them. Da Mao was wrong to snatch things, and Yang Yang was wrong to throw shoes. Let's just let things slide."

"Why should we give in?" Mrs. Xu protested, hands on her hips, ready to storm into the yard. "I'm making them pay for my shoes today!"

"Sister-in-law Xu, what are you doing?"

Yi Zhonghai walked over, fanning himself with a palm-leaf fan, a gentle smile on his face, but his gaze swept over the entire courtyard. He had just returned from the woodworking factory and had heard Xu's mother's scolding as soon as he entered the alley, knowing it was another squabble between the children.

"Brother Yi, you've finally arrived!" Xu's mother, as if she'd found her pillar of support, pulled Yi Zhonghai aside and began to complain, "Look at that scoundrel from the He family! Just because Da Mao took his brother's broken spinning top, he threw Da Mao's new shoes into a mud puddle! I stayed up all night making these; you have to be my judge!"

Yi Zhonghai looked at He Yuyang and saw the boy standing there calmly, not flustered at all. He nodded inwardly—this kid was much more composed than his father. He then looked at He Yuzhu, who was sitting in Liu Yan's arms. The mud stains on his trousers were still there, and his eyes were red, clearly indicating that he had been wronged.

"Yangyang, from the Qing Dynasty, did you really throw these shoes away?" Yi Zhonghai asked gently, yet with a hint of authority.

He Yuyang didn't answer directly, but said, "Uncle Yi, it's true that my brother's spinning top was snatched by Xu Damao, and he was pushed into the mud. As for the shoes... I didn't see who threw them, and Aunt Xu didn't see me throw them either. Maybe the wind blew them in? Or maybe one of their dogs carried them in? There are plenty of stray dogs in the alley."

His words were watertight; he neither admitted nor completely denied them, and even shifted the possibility to "wind" and "dog," leaving Xu's mother with no way to find fault.

Yi Zhonghai understood. He'd lived most of his life; what hadn't he seen? He knew Xu Damao's personality well, and he'd witnessed He Yuyang's cleverness. It was obvious that Xu Damao had started the trouble first, and He Yuyang, protective of his brother, had only given him a lesson.

"Sister-in-law Xu," Yi Zhonghai put away his palm-leaf fan, his tone turning serious, "it's common for children to fight. Da Mao snatched Yu Zhu's toy and pushed him over; that was wrong of him. You need to have a good talk with him when you get back. As for these shoes... perhaps it really was an accident. After all, they were left under the wall, so it's possible something bumped into them."

He paused, then looked at He Yuyang: "Yangyang, you're the older brother. If you encounter something like this in the future, don't argue with a child. Go home and tell the adults first. If you're really angry, don't try to be clever, understand?"

This statement offended neither side, subtly pointing out that Xu's mother hadn't managed her son properly, while also implying that He Yuyang's act of throwing the shoe was wrong, without making any definitive statements.

Xu's mother wanted to argue, but seeing Yi Zhonghai's disapproving look and hearing the neighbors' advice, "That's right, let it go," she knew that continuing the argument would be pointless. She could only glare hatefully at He Yuyang and leave, muttering, "I'm so unlucky! To have run into such an ungrateful family!"

After Xu's mother had walked away and the neighbors had dispersed, Yi Zhonghai patted He Daqing on the shoulder—He Daqing had rushed back from the restaurant after hearing about the incident and hadn't had a chance to speak—"Daqing, the child is still young, teach him slowly. It's important to maintain harmony while living in the courtyard."

"Thank you, Brother Yi." He Daqing nodded repeatedly, but in his heart he felt a little more admiration for his son.

Back inside, Liu Yan quickly changed He Yuzhu's pants into a clean pair, then scolded He Yuyang: "You child, how can you argue with a five-year-old? If we really get caught red-handed, not only will we be in the wrong, but we'll also have to pay for the shoes. That would be such a loss!"

"Mom, I didn't just throw it." He Yuyang helped move the wet cloth shoes closer to the fire in the kitchen—the ones that Xu's mother had angrily thrown in the yard earlier. "I just tripped over them, and the shoes slid in by themselves."

"You still dare to talk back!" Liu Yan glared at him, but there wasn't much anger in her voice. She knew that her son was trying to protect his younger brother, but this method was too risky.

He Daqing sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), smoking his pipe, remaining silent for a long time. Only after the pipe had burned out did he speak: "Yangyang, Dad knows you're trying to protect Zhuzi. But your mother is right, don't take such risks in the future. If we get caught, even if we're in the right, we'll be in the wrong."

"I know, Dad." He Yuyang nodded. "I'm just so angry. Xu Damao has taken Zhuzi's things several times already, and Aunt Xu always protects him. If I let this go this time, he'll definitely bully Zhuzi even more in the future."

"We can't use that method," He Daqing frowned. "We don't cause trouble, but we can't be afraid of it either. Next time he tries to steal something, just beat him up—go easy on him, just enough to make him feel the pain. After you're done, Dad will talk to the Xu family. At worst, we'll apologize. It's better than sneaking around and giving them something to hold against us."

He Yuyang was stunned for a moment, not expecting his father to say that.

Liu Yan also became anxious: "How are you teaching your child? Does fighting solve anything?"

"Why not?" He Daqing snorted. "You have to be tough when dealing with the Xu family! The more you give in, the more they'll think you're easy to bully! Yangyang was right earlier, we have to let them know we're not to be trifled with!"

The couple started arguing back and forth. He Yuzhu was so scared that he didn't dare to speak. He tugged at He Yuyang's sleeve and asked, "Brother, do Dad and Mom argue?"

"No, it won't happen." He Yuyang patted his younger brother's head and pulled him outside. "I'll make you a bamboo dragonfly."

In a corner of the backyard lay a pile of broken bamboo strips, which He Daqing had collected from the restaurant, intending to use them for firewood. He Yuyang picked up a sturdy strip, shaved it into a spiral shape with a knife, and then secured it with a thin bamboo stick, thus creating a simple bamboo dragonfly.

"Here, try it out." He handed the bamboo dragonfly to He Yuzhu.

He Yuzhu imitated others, rubbing the bamboo stick in his palm, then gave it a sharp push. The bamboo dragonfly "buzzed" into the air, flying a short distance of about two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters). He immediately forgot his earlier grievance and clapped his hands, laughing, "Brother, it flew so high!"

"Do you like it?" He Yuyang sat down next to him, watching him run to pick up the bamboo dragonfly, and said softly, "Zhuzi, let me tell you, if anyone bullies you again, don't just cry. Crying won't solve anything."

He Yuzhu ran back, holding the bamboo dragonfly, and looked at him with a mixture of understanding and confusion.

"If you can't beat them, just run away first, then tell your brother or your father," He Yuyang said seriously, looking into his eyes. "But you can't let people think you're easy to bully, otherwise they'll keep bullying you. Remember, we don't go looking for trouble, but if others mess with us, we can't just let it go. We have to let them know that we're not to be trifled with."

He paused, then added, "However, try not to make the first move. If you fight someone like Xu Damao, his mother will definitely make a scene, which isn't worth it. We can think of other ways to make him realize his mistake without him being able to find fault with us. That's the smartest approach."

He Yuzhu nodded, seemingly understanding, but he kept his brother's words in mind. He ran off again with the bamboo dragonfly in hand, the sunlight shining on him, as if the unpleasantness from before had been blown away by the wind.

He Yuyang watched his younger brother's retreating figure, a sense of relief washing over him. He knew this was just the beginning; more friction and scheming would follow in this courtyard. He had to teach his brother to protect himself, and he himself had to become stronger to safeguard this family.

The setting sun cast long shadows on the backyard wall, and bamboo dragonflies flitted in the light and shadow like spinning hopes. He Yuyang stood up, patted the dirt off his clothes—it was time to water the vegetable patch. The bok choy had grown taller again, and he needed to quickly water it with some spiritual spring water so that they could harvest a second crop soon.

Life is like this bamboo dragonfly, seemingly swaying aimlessly, yet always managing to fly forward. As long as the family sticks together as one, no matter how difficult the obstacle, it can always be overcome.