He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

Night fell like a piece of velvet soaked in ink, slowly covering the entire courtyard. Oil lamps in each household lit up one after another, their dim yellow light filtering through the window paper and casting dappled shadows on the bluestone slabs. The air was filled with the aroma of dinner—mostly cornbread mixed with the bitter scent of wild vegetables, occasionally tinged with a faint fragrance of oil, wafting from He Yuyang's house.

He Daqing sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), puffing on his pipe. The embers in the pipe flickered, reflecting on his slightly tired face. Distinguished guests had come to the restaurant today, ordering a whole set of Tan family dishes. He had been busy from noon until evening, so tired that he could barely lift his arms. But the manager was pleased and gave him an extra whole, barely touched, braised duck to take home and improve his children's diet.

"Dad, try this." He Yuyang handed a torn duck leg to his father, his eyes smiling.

This braised duck was washed with spiritual spring water. Although we didn't dare stew it directly in the spring water, its unique refreshing quality still neutralized the greasiness of the braised meat, making the meat tender and the aroma even richer. He Yuzhu had already eaten until his mouth was full of oil, his little face flushed, and he said indistinctly, "Dad, this duck is so delicious! It's even more fragrant than the scraps of meat we had last time!"

Liu Yan sat to the side, watching her husband and sons eat happily, her face full of gentle smiles, while her hands kept peeling duck bones for He Daqing, putting the tenderest meat into his bowl: "Eat quickly, you've been working hard all day, replenish your strength."

He Daqing took the duck leg, took a big bite, and sighed with satisfaction: "Home-cooked meals are still the best." He looked at the braised duck on the table, then at the satisfied smiles on his wife and children's faces. A hint of relief flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly covered by a faint layer of worry.

He Yuyang witnessed all of this. He knew that his father's culinary skills were the pillar of the family. Tan Family Cuisine was an official cuisine from the late Qing Dynasty and early Republic of China, emphasizing the selection of fine ingredients, generous use of seasonings, and precise cooking time. It was known for its rich flavor and intricate process, requiring at least ten years of dedicated study to master its essence. His father was able to secure his position as head chef at the restaurant thanks to his authentic Tan Family Cuisine skills, earning a significantly higher salary than ordinary cooks. This allowed the family to barely have enough to eat each day and occasionally enjoy a taste of meat.

But in this chaotic world, this skill can be both the foundation for survival and the source of trouble.

The apprentices at the restaurant were jealous of his father's skills and tried to sabotage him openly and secretly; his colleagues were envious of his treatment and always looked for opportunities to find fault with him; even in this courtyard, countless eyes were fixed on the little "gifts" his father could bring back, their jealousy and greed like venomous snakes lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce and bite at any moment.

"Dad, your cooking is really delicious." He Yuyang said casually while gnawing on a duck wing, "Today I was playing in the yard and I heard Uncle Yan and Auntie San say, 'Brother He is really capable, he can eat meat every day.' The tone of their voices was strange."

He was telling the truth. When he went to the yard to fetch water that afternoon, he did hear Yan Bugui and his wife whispering inside the house. Yan Bugui's sour tone could be heard clearly even through the window.

He Daqing paused in his smoking, tapped his pipe on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), and said in a deep voice, "That's just how he is, all he sees is scheming."

"And Uncle Liu Haizhong," He Yuyang continued, her voice still childish but with an undeniable clarity, "He passed by our house today, stared at the window for a long time, and kept muttering, 'The cook is just different.' It didn't make me feel comfortable."

Upon hearing this, Liu Yan's expression changed slightly, and she put down the duck bone in her hand: "Yangyang, don't talk nonsense, your Uncle Liu isn't that kind of person..."

"Mom, I'm not making this up." He Yuyang looked up at his mother, his eyes devoid of childish joking, only filled with seriousness. "I really heard it. He also said, 'Why can a cook eat meat every day while we can only eat wild vegetables?'"

He Daqing's brows furrowed deeply. He put down his pipe, remained silent for a moment, and then slowly said, "That's just how the world is. There are so many people starving that they can't stand seeing others with meat in their pots; it's normal."

"But this isn't Dad's fault," He Yuzhu said, raising his head with a small piece of duck meat still dangling from his mouth. "Dad earns his money honestly and legally!"

"Zhu Zi is right," He Yuyang chimed in, turning his gaze to his father. "Dad's skills are real, and the food you earn is clean and honest. Why should you have to depend on others? But..."

He paused deliberately, looked into his father's eyes, and said, word by word, "It's just that the bigger the tree, the more the wind will blow. Our family has meat every day, and others will be envious and inevitably cause trouble for us. Just like Aunt Jia snatching the scraps of meat the other day, there might be even more trouble in the future."

He Daqing's heart sank. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about this, but he always felt that since they were all neighbors, they would see each other all the time, and as long as he did his best and didn't offend anyone, they could live in peace. But his son's words were like a key, unlocking a door in his heart that he had never dared to push open—in chaotic times, people's hearts are unpredictable, how could there be so much "peace and quiet"?

He recalled how an apprentice at the restaurant, out of jealousy of another chef's skills, had deliberately put sand in the dishes, causing the chef to be fired by the manager and almost losing his job; he remembered the staring look in Jia Zhangshi's eyes when he brought things back; he remembered Liu Haizhong's sour tone every time he saw him; he remembered Yan Bugui always "coincidentally" appearing in the courtyard when he came home... These details, which he had previously overlooked, now connected like an invisible net, making it hard for him to breathe.

"Father, I think..." He Yuyang's voice was soft, yet carried a maturity beyond his years, "Let's bring back fewer things in the future. If the manager gives you something nice, find a place near the restaurant to hide it, or simply exchange it for silver dollars or copper coins and bring it home slowly. If you really have to bring food, bring something that won't attract attention, like cornbread or pickled vegetables, and hide it in your clothes so no one can see it."

Seeing his father's surprised look, he continued, "With Mom and me at home, we won't go hungry. Let's hide the good stuff and eat it slowly when no one's around. That way, we'll be safe and it'll prevent others from coveting it and causing trouble for our family. Your cooking skills are our livelihood; don't let this little bit of food become a source of trouble."

The words "root of trouble" struck He Daqing's heart like a stone.

He stared blankly at his son. He Yuyang was only eight years old, his small, thin body wrapped in a faded white shirt, his face still bearing the innocence of childhood. Yet, the calmness and clarity in his eyes surpassed that of many adults. This was hardly like a child; he seemed more like an adult who had weathered storms, possessing a keen understanding of human nature and the ways of the world.

Was I too negligent? When did my usually quiet eldest son start to think about the safety of the family?

Liu Yan was also stunned. She opened her mouth, wanting to say, "Children shouldn't think so much," but looking at her son's serious face and her husband's solemn expression, she swallowed her words. Yangyang was right. These past few days, Jia Zhangshi's nitpicking was just because she was jealous of the scraps of meat at home. What if bringing things back caused even bigger trouble?

He Yuzhu looked at his brother, seemingly understanding but not quite. Although he didn't quite grasp the meaning of "root of trouble," he felt his brother made sense and nodded vigorously: "That's right! Dad, let's hide the good food and not let Grandma Jia and the others see it!"

He Daqing remained silent for a long time, so long that the oil in the lamp burned down, and the dim yellow light grew dimmer. He picked up his pipe, wanting to take another puff, but found that the cigarette had gone out. He put down the pipe, reached out, and gently touched He Yuyang's head. His fingertips touched his son's soft hair, yet he seemed to feel a heavy weight of strength.

"Yangyang is right." He finally spoke, his voice slightly hoarse but unusually firm, "It's because your father wanted you to eat well that he oversimplified things. In chaotic times, stability is more important than anything else."

He looked at Liu Yan and said, "From now on, I will try not to bring food back. If the shopkeeper gives me something as a reward, I will exchange it for money to avoid attracting attention."

Liu Yan nodded, her eyes welling up with tears: "It's good that you know what's going on, don't make yourself suffer."

"I'm fine." He Daqing smiled, a hint of relief in his smile. "As long as you three are safe and sound, what does it matter if I suffer a little?"

He then looked at He Yuyang, his eyes filled with complex emotions—gratification, heartache, and a barely perceptible hint of inquiry: "Yangyang, who taught you these words?"

He Yuyang had already prepared his explanation. He lowered his head, playing with the duck bone in his hand, and said in a muffled voice, "Last time when Aunt Jia snatched the scraps of meat, I thought that if we hadn't brought any scraps of meat back, she wouldn't have bothered our family. Later, I overheard the old men in the yard chatting and they said, 'It's not the thief you should be afraid of, it's the thief who's eyeing you.' I think they're right."

This reason was reasonable, both from a child's perspective and explaining why he would have such thoughts. He Daqing indeed no longer doubted him, but simply sighed, "It's because your father didn't protect you well, making you, a child, worry about all this."

"Dad, I'm the eldest in the family." He Yuyang raised his head, his eyes sparkling. "It's my duty to protect Mom and my younger brother, and to share your burdens."

He Daqing felt a pang of sadness mixed with warmth in his heart, as if something had struck him. He gently rubbed his son's head, saying nothing more, but the determination in his eyes deepened—for the sake of this family, for the sake of his sensible son, he had to be more cautious and careful.

After dinner, He Daqing carefully wrapped up the remaining braised duck and hid it deep inside the stove hole, covering it with several pieces of rags to make it extremely inconspicuous. Liu Yan was clearing away the dishes, watching her husband's actions, a relieved smile on her lips.

He Yuzhu was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open, dozing off in his mother's arms, muttering, "We still have to eat duck tomorrow." He Yuyang helped his mother wipe the table, his gaze sweeping across the courtyard. He saw the light still on in the central courtyard, and Yi Zhonghai's figure flickering on the window paper, seemingly doing something. The light in the west wing was also on, and the faint sound of abacus beads clinking could be heard, presumably Yan Bugui plotting something again.

"Mom, I'm going to get some water." He Yuyang picked up the kettle and went out of the house.

The courtyard was quiet at night, with only the rustling of leaves in the wind and the occasional barking of a dog in the distance. He walked to the well in the courtyard, deliberately slowing his movements as he drew water, while carefully listening to the sounds around him.

"...The aroma of that braised duck could be smelled through the wall. Was He Daqing doing this on purpose?" It was the voice of the third aunt, low but clear enough.

"Hmph, he's just a cook. He thinks he's something just because he has a little money." Yan Bugui's voice was laced with sarcasm. "Just wait and see. The tallest tree in the forest catches the most wind. He'll be crying sooner or later."

"Keep your voice down! Someone's hearing you!"

"So what if I heard? Did I say something wrong? His family is the only ones in the whole compound who eat meat every day, no wonder they're hated..."

The rest of the conversation became increasingly vague. After fetching the water, He Yuyang turned and went back into the house, his face expressionless, but in his heart he was even more certain that today's decision was right. Yan Bugui's jealousy, Jia Zhangshi's greed, Yi Zhonghai's scheming, Liu Haizhong's sourness... these were all time bombs buried in the courtyard, which could be ignited by the slightest spark, and the "meat" that his father brought back was the most dangerous spark.

Back inside, he poured water into the vat and saw his father sitting under the lamp, carefully sharpening a rusty kitchen knife with a small knife. The blade gleamed coldly, reflecting his focused face.

"Dad, why are you sharpening the knife?" He Yuyang asked curiously.

"The restaurant is making 'Braised Shark Fin' tomorrow. We need to use a sharp knife to prepare the shark fin, otherwise it will fall apart easily," He Daqing said without looking up, his tone carrying a sense of awe for culinary arts. "Tan family cuisine emphasizes 'exquisite food preparation and meticulous cooking.' Knife skills, cooking time, and seasoning—the slightest mistake won't do. When I was learning the craft from my master, I spent three years just practicing my knife skills. The shredded meat I could cut was so fine it could be threaded through a needle, and the sliced ​​fish was so thin it was translucent..."

When talking about his craft, He Daqing became much more talkative, and his eyes shone with a light, as if those tedious practices and strict requirements were badges of honor to be proud of.

"Dad, your cooking is so good, can you teach me in the future?" He Yuyang suddenly asked.

He Daqing paused for a moment, then looked up at his son: "You want to learn to cook?"

"Yes." He Yuyang nodded. "If I learn it, I can help Dad with chores in the future, and I can also cook delicious food for Mom and my younger brother."

More importantly, he knew that although He Yuzhu was a good cook in the original story, he hadn't learned all of his father's skills, especially the essence of Tan family cuisine. If he could learn his father's skills, he would not only have another skill to make a living, but he could also ensure that the craft was truly passed down and become a more solid support for the family.

Looking at his son's earnest face, He Daqing remained silent for a moment, then smiled: "Alright, when you're a little older, Dad will teach you. But learning a trade is tough; you'll have to be able to endure it."

"I can hold on!" He Yuyang nodded vigorously.

Liu Yan walked over and said with a smile, "Alright, stop chatting. It's getting late. Let the kids go to bed early." She looked at her husband and son, her eyes filled with happiness—her husband was a skilled cook, and her son was sensible and filial. Even if life was a little tough and tiring, it was all worth it.

Lying in bed, He Yuyang didn't fall asleep immediately. He circulated his basic internal energy, and the warm current in his dantian was stronger than it had been a few days ago, flowing slowly through his meridians and bringing waves of comfortable warmth. He could feel that his senses were becoming increasingly sharp; he could hear even the slightest footsteps in the courtyard clearly.

He remembered his father's focused expression as he sharpened his knife, the gleam in his eyes when he spoke of Tan family cuisine, and the undisguised worry in his father's eyes. His father's craft was a source of pride, but also a burden; his livelihood, but also a potential source of trouble. In this turbulent era, preserving this craft and protecting this family was incredibly difficult.

But he will not give up.

He has memories of the future, so he knows who is sincere and who is deceitful; he has a sign-in system, so he can gain new skills and resources every day; he has a spiritual spring space, so he can grow enough food to nourish his family's health; and he also has increasingly refined internal energy, so he can protect himself and his family.

All of this is what gives him the means to fight against fate.

"Father, Mother, Brother..." he murmured to himself, "Don't worry, with me here, our family will definitely be safe and sound, and life will get better and better."

Moonlight streamed through the window cracks, casting a long, thin shadow on the floor. He Yuyang opened his eyes, staring at the shadow with a determined look.

He will learn his father's craft; he will resolve the family's hidden worries. He will protect this family.

As night deepened, the lights in the courtyard were extinguished one by one, leaving only silence enveloping everything. But beneath this silence, in the heart of an eight-year-old child, a net to protect their home was being quietly woven, strong and intricate.