He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

Once the Lesser Heat arrives, the sky becomes like a giant, closed steamer, even the wind is hot. The leaves of the old locust trees in the alley are curled up by the sun, but the area under the trees is more lively than usual—men squat on the ground smoking pipes, and women gather together on small stools to sew shoe soles, all talking about the same thing: the summer harvest.

The wheat in the fields was mostly golden; it would be ready for harvest in another ten days or so. In those days, grain was more precious than gold, and every family hoped to harvest a good amount. But as happy as they were, worries were also plentiful—was the sickle sharp enough? Was the threshing yoke still sturdy? Would their stored grain last until the new wheat harvest? These questions weighed heavily on their minds, adding to the anxiety of the sweltering weather.

In the He family courtyard, He Daqing was squatting beside the whetstone, laboriously sharpening an old sickle. This sickle was bought from a secondhand market a couple of years ago; the blade was long dull, and it made a "scratching" sound when being sharpened, with sparks flying to the ground and quickly being swept away by the hot air.

"Dad, let me help you." He Yuyang carried a bowl of cold water over and placed it on a stone next to him. He then picked up another whetstone, dipped it in water, and began to rub it on the blade.

"You're still young, this work is heavy." He Daqing said without looking up, but loosened his grip a little. "Wait until you're a couple more years older, then I'll teach you how to harvest wheat. That'll be real skill."

"Hmm," He Yuyang replied, but her eyes darted toward the alley entrance—Xu's mother was carrying a bamboo basket and walking slowly toward them, with several round things peeking out of the basket that looked like eggs.

His heart skipped a beat. This Mrs. Xu never came unless she needed something. If she came at this time, it was most likely to be to borrow something.

Sure enough, as soon as Madam Xu entered the courtyard, she beamed with a smile, her voice sickeningly sweet: "Brother Daqing, busy at work?"

He Daqing straightened up and wiped his sweat: "Oh, it's Sister Xu. What's up?"

"It's nothing serious." Xu's mother put the basket on the stone table, lifted the cloth to reveal four eggs, white and fresh-looking. "Isn't the summer harvest coming soon? The sickle at home chipped a hole when we were chopping firewood the other day, so I was thinking of borrowing yours. Look, these were just laid by our chickens, to help my daughter recover."

As she spoke, she reached for the sickle that He Daqing had placed beside her, her eyes showing a hint of urgency.

He Yuyang quickly pulled the sickle closer to his chest and said with a smile, "Aunt Xu, you've come at a bad time. This sickle was just found, and it's badly rusted. My dad spent all morning sharpening it, but the blade is still dull. I'm afraid it won't be able to cut the wheat. Don't let it delay your summer harvest."

Mother Xu's hand froze in mid-air, her smile fading slightly: "So what if it's rusted? Just sharpen it again, won't it? Brother Daqing is skilled enough to sharpen a sickle well?"

"It's not that I don't want to lend it," He Daqing frowned and continued, "This sickle is really no good. It got dull last year when we were harvesting beans. I was hoping to make do with it this year, but it looks like that's unlikely. If Sister Xu needs it urgently, why don't you go to the market and see if you can find a good one?"

He was only half telling the truth. The sickle was indeed old, but with a little sharpening, it would still be enough for harvesting wheat. It was just that the Xu family's character was questionable—he'd borrowed their carrying pole before, and it returned with a broken piece; he'd borrowed their sieve, and it was riddled with holes. Who knew what kind of sickle it would return this time?

Mrs. Xu's face darkened completely. She glanced at He Yuyang and said with a hint of bitterness, "Yangyang is such a clever child. Is he afraid I'll break the sickle? It's just a broken sickle. Why is he treating it like a treasure?"

"Sister-in-law Xu, you're too kind." He Yuyang still had a smile on her face, but her tone was neither too soft nor too hard. "The summer harvest is a big deal and can't be delayed. If we miss harvesting the wheat because the sickle is not working well, we can't bear the responsibility. You should take these eggs back. My mother is much better now and doesn't need them."

He pushed the eggs towards Xu's mother, his meaning clear: he wouldn't lend anything, nor would he accept any gifts.

Looking at the four eggs and then at He Daqing's resolute expression, Xu's mother knew that further arguing was pointless. She simply pulled a long face, picked up the basket, and left: "Fine, your things are precious, I won't lend them to you, okay? You're incredibly stingy!"

As she reached the courtyard gate, she turned back and added sarcastically, "I hope your sickle lasts until the summer harvest, so you don't have to beg others to borrow one!"

"Let her be." He Daqing shook his head, watching her retreating figure. "Borrowing things is fine, but why be so prickly? Who can stand that?"

"Father did the right thing." He Yuyang handed the sickle to his father. "The more you go along with this kind of person, the more she will take advantage of you."

Liu Yan came out of the house. She had heard the conversation in the yard and whispered, "This Sister Xu is probably holding a grudge again."

"It's better to hold a grudge than to have things ruined." He Daqing picked up the whetstone again. "We don't cause trouble, but we can't let others bully us either."

Not long after Xu's mother left, footsteps sounded again at the courtyard gate. This time it was Yan Bugui. He was wearing a faded blue cloth jacket, holding a tattered palm-leaf fan, and had a shrewd smile on his face. As soon as he entered, he bowed to Liu Yan and said, "Sister-in-law, busy at work?"

"It's Brother Yan! Come in and sit down." Liu Yan quickly moved a stool over. "Da Qing, pour Brother Yan a bowl of water."

Yan Bugui didn't stand on ceremony. He plopped down, took a sip of cold water, and then slowly said, "The summer harvest is just around the corner. The work in the fields is heavy, but our food supply is almost gone. My wife was telling me yesterday that there are less than three catties of millet left in the rice jar, and we're afraid it won't last until the new wheat harvest."

He sighed, glancing at the He family's stove: "Sister-in-law, could you lend me two jin of millet first? I'll pay you back half a jin more after the autumn harvest, I promise."

Liu Yan was taken aback, feeling troubled. Yan Bugui was a notoriously shrewd man who could stretch every penny. Normally, it would be difficult to even borrow a needle from him, so why would he take the initiative to ask for grain today?

She looked at He Yuyang with a questioning look in her eyes.

He Yuyang winked at his mother and said with a smile, "Uncle Yan, it's not that we don't want to lend you the money, it's just that we're really strapped for cash. My mother was counting the rice in the rice jar yesterday; the remaining millet mixed with cornmeal is only enough to last until the summer harvest. If we lend you the money, we'll be left with only thin porridge."

"Just two jin, that's not much." Yan Bugui persisted, leaning closer. "Your Daqing works at a restaurant, so he gets to eat some meat, a little less won't hurt. My three boys are at the age where they can eat a lot, they need to be well-fed at every meal..."

"Brother Yan, it's not that I don't want to help you," Liu Yan said apologetically. "We eat our food by the measure, not a single grain more or less. If there's any left over, I'll give you two or even three jin, let alone two."

Yan Bugui's face stiffened. He had assumed the He family was doing well and borrowing some millet wouldn't be a problem, but he hadn't expected such a decisive refusal. He squinted at Liu Yan, then looked at He Yuyang. Seeing that both mother and son looked sincere and didn't seem to be faking it, his plan backfired. He could only smile awkwardly and say, "That's true, no one has it easy. I'll go ask around at other places."

He stood up and "casually" glanced at the He family's stove. Seeing that the pot lid was clean and didn't look like it was hiding anything good, he left, fanning himself with a palm leaf fan.

Once Yan Bugui was out of sight, Liu Yan finally breathed a sigh of relief: "Thank goodness Yangyang reacted quickly, I didn't even know what to say."

"Mom, Uncle Yan is a shrewd man," He Yuyang explained. "He says he's borrowing it, but he may not really intend to pay it back. Think about it, the autumn harvest is still a long way off. He'll just find some excuse, like the new wheat yield was low, or he has a lot of expenses, and he'll probably get away with not paying back the millet. We don't want to end up doing all this work for two pounds of millet and getting nothing in return."

He Daqing nodded in agreement: "You're right. Yan Bugui is shrewd enough to know better than anyone else. He's willing to borrow money, so he doesn't intend to suffer any loss."

Liu Yan then realized what had happened and patted her chest in lingering fear: "If we had lent it, it would have been a real hassle."

After seeing Yan Bugui off, He Yuyang had an idea in mind. The wheat in the space had been harvested twice, and the milled flour filled two full bags, enough for the family to eat for a long time. In the past, he was afraid of attracting attention and dared not take it out, but now he could use the excuse of "a gift from the shopkeeper" to let his family improve their meals.

That evening, taking advantage of her parents' inattention, He Yuyang took out a small ladle of fine flour from her spatial storage, mixed it with cornmeal, added water, kneaded it well, and steamed a pot of cornbread. As soon as the dough rose, a faint aroma of wheat wafted out, much more fragrant than pure cornmeal.

"Mom, smell this, why does it smell so good?" He Yuzhu asked, sniffing the air as he leaned closer to the stove.

"I don't know either." Liu Yan lifted the pot lid, looked at the yellowish-white cornbread, and said in surprise, "Why has the cornmeal changed color?"

"I added some flour." He Yuyang walked in from outside, holding an empty paper package in her hand. "When Dad came back today, he brought this back for me. He said it was some old flour that the restaurant manager gave him. He was afraid it would spoil if left for too long, so he told us to steam it and eat it."

"The shopkeeper is doing me the honor?" Liu Yan was even more surprised.

"Well, Dad said that recently when the kitchen was cleaning out the storeroom, they found several bags of old flour. The manager thought it was good flour and it would be a waste to throw it away, so he distributed it to the workers." He Yuyang made up a lie without batting an eye. "Dad told me to come back and get some first, and he'll bring the rest after he gets off work tonight."

When He Daqing returned, he saw Liu Yan holding a cornbread bun and looking puzzled. He quickly chimed in with his son, "Yes, it was a gift from the shopkeeper. This bread has been sitting for two years. It doesn't look very white, but it tastes alright. I'm giving the kids a change of pace."

He picked up a cornbread, took a bite, and his eyes lit up: "Mmm, it's delicious! Much softer than pure cornmeal."

He Yuzhu also picked one up and took big bites, saying indistinctly, "Delicious! Even more fragrant than sugar-coated fritters!"

Liu Yan tasted it and found it to be quite good. The sweetness of the thin noodles mixed with the richness of the cornmeal made it taste much better than the usual cornbread. Watching her husband and son eat with relish, she felt a warm glow in her heart, but she muttered, "The shopkeeper is too kind; he even thought of sharing the noodles with us."

"Our dad's a veteran at the restaurant now, and the manager values ​​him highly," He Yuyang said with a smile. "Who knows, there might be some good things to come."

After that, He Yuyang added a little fine flour to the cornmeal every day, gradually increasing the proportion from one-tenth to one-third. The family gradually got used to the sweetness of the cornbread, but didn't think much of it, assuming it was just the good old flour the shopkeeper had given them.

Liu Yan's complexion is getting better and better, with a rosy blush on her cheeks, and she is not as tired from working anymore; He Yuzhu is growing even faster, and his old pants are too short; He Daqing is working more energetically at the restaurant, and the manager, seeing how hard he works, has given him a 50% raise.

That evening, He Yuyang was watering the vegetable patch in the backyard when she heard a conversation between Yan Bugui and Xu's mother coming from the front yard.

"...The cornbread from Old He's house smells really good lately. I wonder what kind of flour they use to make it." Xu's mother's voice was tinged with jealousy.

"It must be the Qing Dynasty getting their money's worth from the restaurant," Yan Bugui said shrewdly. "Didn't you see how Liu Yan looked? She's probably eating fine grains every day. She won't even lend us a little millet; she's getting more and more stingy."

"Who says otherwise? They wouldn't even lend me a sickle last time, were they afraid I'd break it? What's so precious about a broken sickle?" Xu's mother said indignantly.

He Yuyang remained silent, simply watering the cucumber vines. The spring water flowed down the vines into the soil, making the fine hairs on the leaves clearly visible. He knew that as his family's life improved, more and more people would become envious, and this little test before the summer harvest was merely an appetizer.

But he wasn't afraid. There was enough food in the space, silver coins to keep him safe, and his family members were getting stronger. As long as he was careful and maintained his livelihood, no matter how much undercurrents anyone stirred up, they wouldn't be able to disrupt the He family's peace.

The setting sun cast long shadows across the vegetable patch, where several small, vibrant green cucumbers hung from the vines, full of life. Looking at all this, He Yuyang felt a surge of confidence. The summer harvest was approaching, and with it came new hope. He would protect his home as he would this vegetable patch, ensuring that life would gradually improve in peace.