Courtyard House: Starting with handing over the keys, the state helps me abuse birds.

Yan Bugui's hard-won breath deflated like a balloon punctured by a needle.

His hands were still gripping the edge of the wall tightly, half of his body hanging over the top, unable to move forward or backward.

He tried to let go, but below was a two-meter-high hard ground. If his old bones fell, he would really die here tonight. He tried to climb over, but the wall that was so close now seemed as insurmountable as an insurmountable chasm.

He just stood there, frozen, like a butterfly pinned to a specimen board, struggling in vain.

Xie Weihong just watched him.

There was even a faint smile on her face.

After an unknown amount of time, Yan Bugui finally regained his voice.

"You...how did you get...here..."

He couldn't get a complete sentence out.

Xie Weihong tilted her head slightly, as if she were thinking about a very simple question.

Then he said, "I'm here to use the restroom."

Yan Bugui was stunned.

Going to the toilet?

At the base of this wall? On the roof of this storage room? At 4:30 in the morning, when it's dark, windy, and there's not a soul in sight?

"You...you're talking nonsense!" Yan Bugui practically roared, his voice distorted with fear and anger. "Who...who would use the toilet against this wall!"

Xie Weihong did not answer.

He simply looked at Yan Bugui, the smile on his lips deepening.

"You..." Yan Bugui opened his mouth, wanting to say so much, to curse, to cry, to kneel down and beg for mercy. But in the end, only a low, almost imperceptible groan, like the final groan of a dying man, escaped his throat:

"What exactly... do you want...?"

Xie Weihong did not answer his question.

He spoke slowly, as if making small talk: "Teacher Yan, what about you? Why aren't you sleeping in your room in the middle of the night? What are you doing climbing over the wall?"

Yan Bugui froze.

"I..." His mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse, "I couldn't sleep, so I came out for some fresh air..."

"Does getting some ventilation require climbing over a wall?"

"I...I just wanted to look at the moon outside..."

"Teacher Yan, you can see the moon from inside the courtyard too."

"The moon was blocked by the trees in the courtyard..."

"After you finished looking at the moon, why did you climb back in from the outside? The moon is outside; you should have looked at it from the outside."

Yan Bugui was speechless.

Xie Weihong stopped talking.

He just watched Yan Bugui quietly, waiting for him to break down his own defense.

Yan Bugui felt like he was being roasted over a fire, every second was torture. He knew Xie Weihong didn't believe any of his excuses.

He knew how ridiculous he looked: a fifty-six-year-old man, covered in wounds, hanging on the wall like a quail being choked.

run.

He has to run.

While Xie Weihong was still sitting there, before he made a move, and while he still had a little strength left.

Yan Bugui abruptly released one hand, losing his balance and lurching towards the outside of the wall. He wanted to repeat his previous trick, fall over the wall, get up, and continue his escape. He didn't care how many bones he might break this time, or whether he would be able to walk tomorrow; he only cared about...

A hand grabbed the back of his collar.

The force was not great, it could even be described as gentle. But Yan Bugui felt as if he were being clamped by iron clamps, and he was completely unable to move.

Xie Weihong had somehow gotten up on the wall and was looking down at him.

"Teacher Yan," his voice remained calm, "climbing over the wall is dangerous. What if you get hurt?"

Before Yan Bugui could react, that hand lifted him up gently.

He was lifted off the wall like a little chick, and then...

Let go.

"Bang!"

Yan Bugui fell heavily onto the muddy ground inside the wall.

The fall nearly displaced his internal organs. His head hit the ground, stars flashed before his eyes, and his ears rang. His mouth was full of the taste of blood; he wanted to vomit, but nothing came out.

But all of this pales in comparison to the fear he felt at that moment.

He struggled to get up, his hands groping on the ground, trying to grab onto something for support.

Then he touched an oil paper package.

His money.

Yan Bugui almost instinctively clutched the oil paper package tightly in his hand and stuffed it into his pocket.

Xie Weihong squatted down and looked at him as if he were something very interesting.

Then he reached out his hand.

Yan Bugui tried desperately to shrink back, but there was a wall behind him, leaving him nowhere to retreat. He clutched the money even tighter, his ten fingers gripping the oil paper package like eagle claws, his nails digging into the paper and tearing cracks into the package.

"This is mine..." His voice had completely changed, a mixture of fear, anger, despair, and pleading, all blending together into a whimper that sounded inhuman. "You already have so much money... You took more than two thousand from me yesterday... This is the last one... This is my last one..."

As he spoke, tears began to fall.

He was fifty-six years old, but he was sobbing like a child, his face covered in snot and tears. He didn't bother to wipe it away, he just clutched the bag of money tightly, like a drowning man clinging to his last piece of driftwood.

Xie Weihong looked at him quietly.

Then, he gently pulled.

The money disappeared from Yan Bugui's hands.

Yan Bugui didn't even see how he did it. He only felt his fingers go empty, and the heavy oil paper package, still warm from his body, fell into Xie Weihong's hands as if by magic.

"No!"

Yan Bugui let out a heart-wrenching howl and lunged forward to try and snatch it back.

Xie Weihong simply turned to the side, and he missed, falling to the ground with his face buried in the mud.

He struggled to lift his head and saw Xie Weihong slowly unpacking the oil paper package, revealing stacks of neatly bundled banknotes inside.

Under the moonlight, the money gleamed with a bluish-gray luster.

Xie Weihong smiled sincerely, from the bottom of her heart.

"Teacher Yan," he said, his tone filled with genuine admiration, "your luck is truly unparalleled."

Yan Bugui stared at him blankly.

"I went out yesterday and found over two thousand yuan." Xie Weihong counted the money as if she were taking stock of her own harvest. "I went out again today and found over nine hundred more. You're not just going out for some fresh air, you're going out to pick up money."

He rewrapped the money and stood up.

"Teacher Yan, your honesty in returning lost money is truly touching." Xie Weihong looked down at him sincerely. "We just gave you a banner yesterday, and today you've found so much money and turned it in to the country. This awareness and this character are a role model for the entire college."

He paused, as if remembering something: "Oh right, did you hang up that banner from yesterday? If not, it's okay, I'll have Chief Duan send over a new one tomorrow. This time it can say 'Model of Honesty and Integrity'."

Yan Bugui knelt on the ground, head tilted back, mouth open, making a "hoarse" sound from his throat.

He was no longer able to speak.

His eyes were fixed on the bag of money in Xie Weihong's hand. It was his last hope, the nine hundred yuan he had retrieved after climbing over two walls, breaking three ribs, and running through most of Beijing.

It's gone now.

Everything is gone.

Xie Weihong tucked the money into her pocket, patted her clothes, and acted as if she had completed a routine chore.

"Teacher Yan, it's almost dawn, you should go back to your room and rest early," he said, his tone as gentle as if he were instructing an elder. "There's training tomorrow. But you've performed so well these past two days, you probably don't need to train. Just rest."

He turned around and walked towards the backyard without looking back.

The footsteps gradually faded into the distance.