He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The north wind swirled the remaining snow through the alley, rattling the window paper. He Yuyang was helping her mother air out the winter clothes. The patched fabrics gleamed with an old sheen in the dim sunlight, but Liu Yan had washed them clean and meticulously stitched them, revealing her carefulness in managing daily life.

"Yangyang, do you think we can sew a couple more stitches on this cuff?" Liu Yan held up a dark blue cotton-padded jacket, her fingertips holding a silver needle, her eyes showing a hint of uncertainty. Since becoming pregnant, her eyesight had deteriorated, and her embroidery work had slowed down.

He Yuyang took the cotton-padded coat and looked at the worn-out cuffs: "Mom, let me do it. You rest and don't tire yourself out." He picked up the needle and thread, his fingers moving nimbly. Although the stitches were not as fine as his mother's, they were still solid. He learned this skill from his senior brother at the martial arts school. Wearing out clothes while practicing martial arts was common, so mending had become an essential skill.

A series of creaking footsteps came from outside the courtyard gate, followed by Yan Bugui's signature, calculating laugh: "Is Yu Yang home?"

He Yuyang looked up and saw Yan Bugui standing at the door, wearing a drab cotton robe, holding an abacus in his hand, tapping his knuckles lightly on the frame, his eyes scanning the yard before finally landing on the cotton-padded coat in He Yuyang's hand.

"Uncle Yan, is something the matter?" He Yuyang put down her needlework and got up to let him in.

"It's nothing, I was just passing by and dropped by." Yan Bugui squeezed into the courtyard, but his eyes were fixed on the pile of freshly chopped firewood in the corner of the wall. It was the firewood that He Yuyang had brought back from the martial arts school yesterday. Zhou Zhengguo had specially asked his apprentice to deliver it, saying that it was "leftover from practicing martial arts and it would be a pity to throw it away."

"Your family lives a very comfortable life," Yan Bugui said, rubbing his hands together, his words carrying a hidden meaning. "Unlike my family, the three boys fight every day, our clothes get torn and no one mends them, and we're never enough firewood." He paused, then suddenly raised his voice, "Speaking of which, Yuyang, you learned your skills from Master Zhou, right? I heard Master Zhou's martial arts school is booming now, and the students not only get to practice their skills but also go out with their master to 'travel' and earn some pocket money?"

Liu Yan heard this from inside the house and frowned slightly. This Yan Bugui was a well-known "shrewd swindler" in the alley, who could stretch every penny to its limit. He always spoke to the neighbors with a calculating air about him. His sudden visit today was definitely not a good thing.

He Yuyang was also aware of the situation and said calmly, "Our master taught us martial arts to improve our health, not to make money. Besides, in this world, it's not easy to just live a peaceful life, let alone think about anything else."

"Hey, you can't say that." Yan Bugui took two steps closer and lowered his voice. "Look how chaotic it is outside these days. The Japanese are constantly checking houses, and even thugs dare to come and cause trouble. If someone knew a few kung fu moves, who would dare to bully them? My eldest son is thirteen this year, right at the age when he's growing. I was thinking... could I talk to Master Zhou and have him go to a martial arts school to train?"

He Yuyang understood. This was Yan Bugui's real purpose—he wanted his son to become a martial arts apprentice, but he was reluctant to spend money on gifts, so he wanted to take advantage of the neighborhood's relationship to get a better deal.

"Uncle Yan, there are rules for accepting apprentices at the martial arts school," He Yuyang said frankly. "The master has to personally assess them; their character and aptitude have to be suitable. Besides, the tuition isn't cheap; it costs two jin of cornmeal per month. I'm afraid your family of three children can't afford that."

These words struck a nerve with Yan Bugui. He was most averse to spending money, and immediately felt embarrassed: "Rules are rules, but people are flexible. You have a good relationship with Master Zhou; put in a good word for him, and maybe he'll make an exception. We're all from the same alley; helping each other out is only natural."

"This isn't about helping out," He Yuyang shook his head. "When a master teaches an apprentice, it's all about sincerity. If you can't even afford the tuition, how can you be sincere in learning skills? Please don't make things difficult for me."

Yan Bugui's face darkened completely, and the abacus beads clattered as he gripped them. He had thought He Yuyang would be easy to talk to because of his young age, but he hadn't expected her to be so unyielding. His eyes darted around, and he put on a smiling face again: "That's true, I didn't think it through. But speaking of which, Yuyang, you're a capable person. You've managed the household so well at such a young age, even Master Zhou thinks highly of you. Look at our alley, who isn't struggling financially? If you have any ways to make money, you should think of the neighbors."

"A way to make money?" He Yuyang feigned ignorance. "What way could I possibly have? I just rely on my dad's meager wages at the grain shop; it's barely enough to eat."

"Don't keep it a secret." Yan Bugui chuckled, his eyes glancing at the pile of firewood. "The other day, the grain shop lost some grain, and Manager Huang was frantic, but your family acted like nothing happened. Plus, Master Zhou keeps bringing things over. There must be something going on. Don't keep it from us; teach everyone a few tricks, and life will be easier for everyone, right?"

His words, seemingly asking for "guidance," were actually an implication that the He family "had problems," and he wanted to force He Yuyang to offer some benefits.

He Yuyang sneered inwardly, but remained outwardly calm: "Uncle Yan is joking. The grain shop losing grain is their business, what does it have to do with our family? The master delivered firewood because I helped the martial arts school repair the wooden dummy, and it was payment for that. In this chaotic world, we should be grateful to live a peaceful life, how dare we think about 'making money'? I advise you not to think about these things, or you'll bring trouble upon yourself."

"What are you saying!" Yan Bugui's voice suddenly rose. "I kindly asked you for advice, and you're lecturing me? So your family benefits from Master Zhou, while you just watch the neighbors go hungry? What kind of logic is that!"

His voice was so loud that several families passing by in the alley poked their heads out to look. Aunt Wang, who lived next door, stood at her doorway carrying a laundry basin and asked, "Brother Yan, what's going on? What are you arguing about with Yu Yang?"

"Aunt Wang, you've come at the perfect time!" Yan Bugui exclaimed, pointing at He Yuyang as if he'd found an outlet for his anger. "Ask him if he's hiding a way to make money from everyone! Who in our alley isn't short of food? He's doing just that, living comfortably while everyone else is suffering!"

Aunt Wang was an honest woman, and she frowned upon hearing this: "Yu Yang isn't that kind of kid, is he? Besides, whatever skills he has are his own abilities; why should he have to teach them to others?"

"You can't say that!" Another neighbor, Old Zhang, chimed in. His son had been forced into hard labor by the Japanese a couple of days ago, and he was worried about how to get him out. "We all live in the same alley, it's only right to help each other out. If Yu Yang really has a way, please help Old Zhang out, I'll kowtow to you for it!"

Suddenly, several neighbors gathered around, chiming in with their opinions. Some said they were running out of food, others said their child was sick and they couldn't afford medicine. They all turned their gaze to He Yuyang, filled with expectation, but also with a sense of inevitable pressure.

Looking at the scene before him, He Yuyang knew perfectly well that this was all orchestrated by Yan Bugui. He himself hadn't gained any advantage, so he wanted to incite the neighbors to put pressure on him. If he didn't agree, he would be branded as "selfish and greedy"; if he did agree, not only would he not be able to come up with a "way to make money," but he might also be entangled in endless trouble.

"Dear uncles and aunties," He Yuyang raised her voice so everyone could hear, "I know life is tough for everyone. Who isn't? My dad works himself to the bone at the grain store every day, just enough to buy a few pounds of cornmeal; my mom is pregnant and can't even afford a piece of brown sugar. The reason our family is relatively stable isn't because we have any connections, but because we know how to 'seek stability'—we don't touch what we shouldn't touch, we don't ask what we shouldn't ask, we just keep to our own little life and don't cause trouble."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over everyone: "Uncle Yan said I have a way to make money, that's too kind of me. If I really did, would I let my mother wear a patched cotton-padded coat? If I really did, would my younger brother not even have a decent toy? In this world, just surviving is hard enough, don't think about taking shortcuts. If we really go hungry, my family has some food, and we'll share it with everyone, no problem; but as for 'making money,' I'm sorry, I really can't help you."

These words were quite true, and Aunt Wang nodded first: "Yu Yang is right. Everyone has a hard life. There are no shortcuts. Brother Yan, please don't make things difficult for the child."

The other neighbors also felt it was pointless; the family didn't seem particularly wealthy, and it didn't seem like they were hiding anything. Grandpa Zhang sighed, shook his head, and left; the few neighbors who had agreed also dispersed sheepishly.

Seeing that no one was speaking up for him, Yan Bugui's face turned pale and then red. He glared at He Yuyang and said, "Fine! You think you're so great? We'll see!" After saying that, he turned around and left, the abacus beads clattering as he swung them around, as if venting his anger.

The courtyard finally quieted down. Liu Yan came out of the house, holding a thick coat, and draped it over He Yuyang's shoulders: "We really owe you a lot just now. That Yan Bugui has such crooked thoughts."

"Mom, it's alright." He Yuyang helped her tidy her hair. "He just wanted to take advantage of her, and he held a grudge when he didn't get what he wanted. Just ignore him."

Despite saying that, he became more wary. Yan Bugui was a vengeful man, and he certainly wouldn't let this matter rest. He might join forces with Jia Zhangshi and the others to cause trouble again at any time.

Sure enough, within two days, rumors began to circulate in the alley. Some said that the He family had "climbed the social ladder by marrying into the martial arts school and forgotten their roots," that He Yuyang was "so young yet so cunning and secretive," and that some even said the He family "had ties with the Japanese, otherwise how come the grain shop got away with losing grain without any consequences?"

It's obvious that Yan Bugui spread these rumors. He didn't dare to cause trouble openly, so he secretly tried to ruin the He family's reputation.

He Yuzhu was furious and wanted to argue with Yan Bugui, but He Yuyang stopped him: "Arguing with him will only play into his hands. He just wants the neighbors to laugh at our family. The more we pay attention to him, the smuger he will be."

"So we just let him talk nonsense?" He Yuzhu clenched his fists, indignant.

"Of course not." He Yuyang looked at the alley entrance, where Yan Bugui was squatting against the wall, gesturing to a few old men, occasionally glancing towards the He family's house. "Isn't he trying to make everyone think our family is 'keeping things to themselves'? Then let's be 'generous'."

That afternoon, He Yuyang carried two jin of cornmeal and knocked on Wang Dama's door. Wang Dama's son was fighting on the front lines, and she lived alone, struggling to make ends meet.

"Auntie, my mother steamed some cornbread and brought you two over." He Yuyang handed over the cornbread. "I know you're short on food, so please take these first. We can talk about it if you need more."

Grandma Wang was stunned, her hands trembling as she took the cornmeal: "Yu Yang...you child, how can you do this..."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," He Yuyang smiled. "We're neighbors, it's only right that we help each other out. You even helped my mother carry water a while ago, we remember that kindness."

After leaving Aunt Wang's house, he went to Uncle Zhang's house and handed him a packet of herbs he had "taken" from his spatial storage—it was for treating bruises and sprains, and it would come in handy. Uncle Zhang held his hand, his eyes reddening: "Good boy, I misunderstood you..."

After walking around the neighborhood for a while, although it didn't cost much, it gradually helped to restore the balance in the neighbors' hearts. Aunt Wang told everyone she met that the He family was "benevolent and righteous," and Uncle Zhang also helped to clarify that "the He family is a respectable family." Gradually, no one believed the gossip that Yan Bugui had spread.

That evening, He Yuyang went to take out the trash and bumped into Yan Bugui. Yan had just finished speaking with Jia Zhangshi, and upon seeing He Yuyang, immediately put on a forced smile: "Yuyang, what are you busy with?"

"Taking out the trash," He Yuyang replied casually, not intending to chat with him any further.

"I heard you delivered grain to Aunt Wang?" Yan Bugui took two steps closer, his voice sarcastic. "That's quite generous. But speaking of which, where did you get so much grain? It's not...ill-gotten, is it?"

He Yuyang stopped and turned to look at him, her eyes as cold as ice: "Uncle Yan, what do you mean by that? My family's grain was earned by my father with his hard-earned money, honestly and fairly. But you, always scheming and plotting, aren't you afraid of getting yourself into trouble? The other day, when the Japanese raided your house, they found quite a few copper coins. Was that money obtained cleanly?"

Yan Bugui's face turned pale instantly. He had indeed hidden some money, which he had earned by secretly reselling grain. He thought no one knew about it, but he didn't expect He Yuyang to know.

"You...you're talking nonsense!" Yan Bugui shouted, his voice stern but his heart filled with fear.

"Whether I'm lying or not, you know in your heart." He Yuyang looked at him. "From now on, watch your mouth and stop making things up. Otherwise, if I accidentally let 'certain things' slip and the Japanese hear it, don't blame me for not warning you."

After saying that, he stopped looking at Yan Bugui and turned to leave. Behind him came the sound of abacus beads falling to the ground, accompanied by Yan Bugui's furious growl, but he dared not chase after him.

When he got home, He Yuzhu noticed that he looked unwell and asked, "Brother, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing." He Yuyang picked up a wooden stick from the corner of the wall, walked into the yard, and practiced his skills for a while.

The stick whistled through the air. His movements were more forceful than usual, as if he were venting all the pent-up frustration in his heart. Life in this alley was like the winter wind; it looked calm on the surface, but it concealed countless hidden thorns, and if you weren't careful, you would be pricked all over.

Yan Bugui's scheming, Jia Zhangshi's greed, Yi Zhonghai's ruthlessness, and those eyes hidden in the shadows... all of this reminded him that he could not afford to be complacent in the slightest.

Liu Yan stood at the door, watching her son's retreating figure, and sighed softly. She didn't understand the intricacies of life, but she knew her son carried a heavy burden on his shoulders. She turned and went back inside, reheating the porridge that was warming on the stove—no matter how chaotic things were outside, a bowl of hot porridge at home always brought a sense of warmth.

As night deepened, the lights in the alleyway came on one by one, casting blurry shadows on the snow with their dim yellow glow. He Yuyang finished his practice, beads of sweat forming on his forehead that quickly frosted in the cold wind. He looked up at the sky; the stars were completely obscured by dark clouds, not a single ray of light visible.

But he knew in his heart that light wasn't necessarily in the sky. Sometimes, it was in his own hands, in the smiles of his family, and in the eyes of those who needed protection. As long as he held on tight, it wouldn't go out.

He turned and went back into the house. The wooden door creaked shut, keeping the cold wind and scheming outside at bay. Inside, the aroma of porridge filled the air.