He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

On the eve of the 20th of the twelfth lunar month, the snow fell even more heavily. Goose feather-like snowflakes drifted down from the leaden sky, and in less than half a day, the entire alley was completely covered. The icicles under the eaves were as thick as fingers, crystal clear, yet exuding a biting cold.

He Yuyang stood at the courtyard gate, gazing at the snow-covered rooftops in the alley, his brow slightly furrowed. The snow had fallen too quickly and too heavily; it was likely the roads would be blocked. He thought of Grandpa Wang at the west end of the alley—an elderly man living alone, his son having died in battle years ago, leaving him to survive by scavenging and relying on the charity of his neighbors. With the roads blocked by the heavy snow, his family's food supplies were probably already exhausted.

"Yangyang, what are you daydreaming about? Come in quickly, the meat soup your mother made is ready." He Daqing called out from inside the house, holding a piece of freshly grated cured meat in his hand—this was taken out of He Yuyang's space, saying it was "a New Year's gift from her great-aunt in the countryside".

"Yes, I'm here," He Yuyang replied, turning and entering the house.

A coal stove burned in the main room, making it warm and cozy. Liu Yan leaned against the kang (a heated brick bed), watching He Daqing cut meat, a smile on her lips: "Your dad is really generous today, saying he'll make us a meat soup so Yangyang and Zhuzi can have some nourishment."

He Yuzhu couldn't wait any longer. He circled the coal stove, sniffing the air, "Dad, when will it be ready? It smells so good!"

"Almost there, almost there, just another half an hour of stewing." He Daqing threw the chopped meat into the pot, splattering a string of oil droplets. "This meat is precious, it needs to stew for a while longer to become tender."

He Yuyang sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and tucked the blanket around his mother: "Mom, how are you feeling? Your stomach didn't hurt today, did it?"

"Much better," Liu Yan said with a smile, patting her belly. "Your little sister is being good; she knows it's almost Chinese New Year and isn't bothering me."

The family chatted and laughed, the meat soup on the coal stove bubbling and filling the house with its aroma, washing away the chill outside the window. He Yuyang drank the hot water, but his mind was still on Grandpa Wang, and the warmth he felt made him uneasy.

At dinner, He Yuzhu held a bowl of meat soup, eating with gusto, his mouth greasy: "Brother, this meat is so delicious! It's even better than the ones in restaurants!"

"Eat more if you like it." He Yuyang put a piece of meat in his bowl, but her eyes drifted to the window—the snow was still falling and showed no sign of stopping.

Night deepened, and the snow finally lessened a bit. The alley was quiet, save for the soft rustling of snowflakes falling to the ground. He Yuyang lay in bed, listening to the breathing of his parents and younger brother in the next room, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. He got up, put on his cotton-padded coat, and quietly slipped out of the house.

The snow in the yard was already above his knees. He trudged through the snow to the cellar door, lifted the lid, and crawled inside. By the dim light of an oil lamp, he took out two bags of millet from his storage space—he had prepared them beforehand. The bags were ordinary coarse cloth bags, still covered in dirt, looking like the grain stored by an ordinary family.

He hoisted the millet onto his shoulder, pushed open the courtyard gate, and headed towards the west end of the alley. Walking in the snow was difficult; every step required great effort. Before long, his cotton-padded coat was soaked with sweat, clinging coldly to his skin.

The gate to Grandpa Wang's yard was made of a few rotten planks nailed together; it opened with a gentle push. The yard was covered in snow, without a single footprint, so it seemed the old man hadn't left the house all day. The house was dark and completely silent; it was unclear whether he was asleep or…

He Yuyang's heart tightened, and he quickened his pace to the door. He placed the two bags of millet by the door and then took out a piece of paper from his pocket—it was written in charcoal pencil: "Neighbors help each other, don't worry." The writing was crooked and messy, deliberately imitating the old man's handwriting.

He slipped the note into the gap in the rice bag, gently knocked on the door, and then turned to leave. He didn't want the old man to know who had sent it; at a time like this, overly deliberate assistance might hurt the old man's pride.

On the way back, the snow started falling again. He Yuyang trudged through the snow, his steps uneven, but he felt much more relaxed. He remembered when he was a child, Grandpa Wang would often give him and Zhuzi candy. Although it was just a few pieces of fruit candy, it made them feel sweet for days. Now that he was able, it was only right that he help them out.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Grandpa Wang woke up. He touched the earthenware pot on the stove; it was empty—the last bit of cornmeal had been eaten the day before. He sighed, put on his patched cotton-padded coat, and prepared to go to the yard to chop some firewood and boil some water to warm himself up.

He was stunned as soon as he pushed open the door—there were two bags by the door, covered with a thin layer of snow, which looked like… bags of rice?

He staggered over and brushed the snow off with his frozen hands. Sure enough, there were two bags of millet! The bags were made of coarse cloth and were heavy. When he shook them, he could hear the millet sloshing around.

Grandpa Wang's hands trembled violently; he had never seen so much millet in his life. He remembered the heavy snow yesterday and how he had run out of food, and tears welled up in his eyes. He touched the rice bag and found the note. In the dim light of the day, he read, "Neighbors help each other, don't worry."

"Neighbor..." the old man murmured to himself, having roughly guessed who it was. Most of the families in the alley were too busy to take care of themselves, and the only ones who would have such a heart were probably the He family's children—He Daqing and his wife were kind people, and their two sons were sensible, especially the eldest son, He Yuyang, who always called him "Uncle Wang" and often helped him carry water.

Grandpa Wang, clutching the rice sack, bowed deeply in the direction of the He family's house. Snowflakes fell on his white hair, melting into droplets that trickled down his wrinkles, indistinguishable between snowmelt and tears. He didn't shout or make a sound, but silently dragged the rice sack into the house—he knew the grain delivery person didn't want anyone to know, and he had to keep this secret.

In the morning, He Yuyang went to take out the trash and bumped into Grandpa Wang shoveling snow at the door. The old man was wearing a cleaner cotton-padded coat, and his complexion looked much better. When he saw him, he grinned, revealing his few remaining teeth: "Yangyang, up so early?"

"Good morning, Uncle Wang." He Yuyang greeted him with a smile, his eyes casually glancing at the old man's door. Seeing that the doorway was clean and tidy, he understood what was going on.

"The snow is heavy, the roads are slippery, be careful walking," Grandpa Wang muttered. "Yesterday... I found some old rice, enough for me for the New Year. If your parents don't mind, why don't you come over for some porridge at lunchtime?"

"No, Uncle Wang," He Yuyang said with a smile, waving his hand. "My family made some meat soup. If you don't mind, I'll bring you a bowl."

"No, no," Grandpa Wang quickly waved his hand, but his eyes gleamed. "You eat, you eat, good children..."

Watching He Yuyang's retreating figure, Grandpa Wang touched the warm cornbread in his arms—he had steamed three of them with newly harvested millet, intending to give them to the He family, but fearing they wouldn't accept them. He sighed, clutching the cornbread tighter, silently vowing: when spring comes, he'll collect some scraps, exchange them for some money, and definitely repay this kindness.

The snow in the alley was gradually cleared, creating a path. Neighbors began visiting each other, exchanging New Year's gifts and auspicious greetings. Zhang the butcher received cornmeal from He Yuyang yesterday, and today he specially brought over a bowl of freshly cooked corn porridge, insisting that Liu Yan try it: "Auntie, you're pregnant, drink some of this to nourish your body."

Unable to refuse, Liu Yan took the drink, drank a sip, and said with a smile, "It's so delicious, even better than what we make ourselves."

"That's right, I added some alkali and cooked it until it was very soft." Butcher Zhang rubbed his hands, a little embarrassed. "A few days ago... we were so grateful to your family, otherwise my father and I really wouldn't know how to celebrate the New Year."

"Uncle Zhang, you're too kind. We're neighbors." He Yuyang handed him a piece of candy. "Here, have some for your child."

Butcher Zhang accepted the candy and left, thanking everyone profusely. Watching this scene, He Daqing remarked, "Neighbors are truly wonderful; when someone is in trouble, they lend a hand and everything gets through."

"That's right," Liu Yan said with a smile. "Just like Grandpa Wang, I told you yesterday that he might be out of food, but today I saw him shoveling snow and he was full of energy. I guess he has food at home."

He Yuyang didn't speak, only smiled. He knew that in this chaotic world, even the smallest bit of help could help someone get through the hardest days. Just like Old Wang and his men fighting on the front lines, the food and medicine he sent might have allowed a few soldiers to live a few more days and kill a few more chickens.

In the afternoon, He Yuyang went to the martial arts school to wish Zhou Zhengguo a Happy New Year. Zhou Zhengguo was wearing a newly made dark blue cotton robe and looked much better than before. When he saw him, he smiled and said, "Yangyang is here? Please sit down. I'll have your master's wife make you some tea."

"Master, I wish you a happy new year." He Yuyang handed over a cloth bag in his hand—it contained two catties of brown sugar and a piece of cured meat, both taken from his spatial storage. "It's just a small token of my appreciation, please don't find it offensive."

"You child, you're always so polite." Zhou Zhengguo took the cloth bag, opened it, and looked inside. A hint of warmth flashed in his eyes. "Your mother is pregnant, these things should be used to nourish her body."

"I still have some at home," He Yuyang said with a smile. "Master, how's Zhuzi's practice going lately?"

"Quite a step forward," Zhou Zhengguo nodded, his tone full of approval. "His stance is more stable now, and he's become more composed. This kid has potential, but he still needs to be nurtured."

The two chatted for a while, and then Zhou Zhengguo suddenly said, "Yangyang, I've heard about your father's situation. Don't worry, after the New Year, I'll ask someone to find your father a job as an accountant at a friend's grain shop. It's easy work, and the pay is good."

He Yuyang felt a warmth in her heart: "Thank you, Master."

"No need to thank me," Zhou Zhengguo waved his hand. "Your father is an honest man. It's their loss if the restaurant doesn't keep him. By the way, things might not be peaceful after the New Year, so your family should stock up on food and go out less."

He Yuyang was taken aback for a moment, then nodded: "I understand, thank you for reminding me." He knew that Zhou Zhengguo was well-informed and that he must not have said this casually.

When I returned from the martial arts school, it started snowing again. Lanterns lit up the alleyways, their dim light casting a soft glow on the snow. Smoke billowed from every chimney, and the occasional sound of firecrackers added a touch of festive cheer.

He Yuyang walked to the courtyard gate and saw Grandpa Wang standing there, holding a small cloth bag. Upon seeing him, Grandpa Wang quickly handed it over: "Yangyang, this is for your mother. I... I steamed a few cornbreads for her to try."

The cornbread in the cloth bag was still warm, emitting the delicate fragrance of millet. He Yuyang took it, feeling a warmth in her heart: "Thank you, Grandpa Wang."

"No need to thank me," Grandpa Wang said with a smile, "Come on in, it's getting chilly."

Upon entering the house, He Yuyang handed the cornbread to his mother: "Mom, this is from Uncle Wang, it's freshly steamed."

Liu Yan picked up a cornbread bun, took a bite, and her eyes lit up: "This millet is so pure, it tastes better than what we buy." She looked at He Yuyang and suddenly smiled, "You gave this to me, didn't you?"

He Yuyang was stunned: "Mom, how did you know?"

"You're a good kid, you're good at everything, but you can't keep things to yourself." Liu Yan patted his hand with a smile. "I was wondering why Grandpa Wang suddenly had grain, it turns out it was you who sent it. You did the right thing, it makes me feel at ease when I help others."

He Daqing smiled and said, "That makes sense. Now that we're doing better, it's only right that we help others out."

He Yuzhu, munching on a cornbread bun, mumbled, "Brother, I'll go give Grandpa Wang some candy tomorrow too!"

The whole family laughed. The meat soup on the coal stove was still bubbling away, making the room even warmer.

At night, He Yuyang lay in bed, listening to the sound of snow falling outside the window, feeling very calm. He remembered Grandpa Wang bowing, Zhou Zhengguo's words of advice, and the smiles of his parents and younger brother, and felt that all the hard work of the past year had been worthwhile.

The snow was still falling, but he knew that as long as there was warmth in his heart, even the coldest winter could be endured. Just like the families in this alley, although each had their own difficulties, by helping each other out, they could always find the courage and hope to survive in this chaotic world.

Tomorrow is the first day of the Lunar New Year. He Yuyang closed his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. He believed that next year would be even better.