Courtyard House: I, the eldest son of the Jia family, have returned from the battlefield.

I hope you two will keep the matters we discussed today in mind for now.

Zhang Shengli and Wang Xiuzhi, who came with him, agreed in unison and turned to leave.

After the person had gone far away, Jia Dongming focused his mind again, and a faint light, imperceptible to ordinary people, appeared in his eyes—Ye Quanwang had just come out of the dark room and was sitting alone at the table, pouring wine from a pot.

Without further delay, Jia Dongming hopped on his bicycle and headed to the scrap metal recycling station.

There is a narrow gatehouse next to the gray walls and iron gate.

As Jia Dongming approached, a weathered face peered out from the window: "Comrade, it's time to get off work. If you need anything, Mingtian, come over."

Jia Dongming stopped the car, took out a cigarette case from his pocket, and offered one to the owner: "Sir, I'd like to find some used books. Do you still have any in stock?"

The old man took the cigarette, shook his head, and said, "You're late."

Yesterday, the main station sent a truck to haul away all the old books and newspapers; not a single one was left.

Jia Dongming looked regretful: "What a coincidence."

"They're gone here, but maybe some other junkyards have them. Let's try our luck."

The old man gently advised.

"You're right."

Jia Dongming smiled, pushed the cart, and took his leave.

As he turned around, a sharp glint flashed in his eyes—when he offered the cigarette earlier, he had clearly seen the thick calluses on the other man's right hand, between his thumb and index finger, marks left from years of handling a gun. The calluses on the sides of the index finger were especially fresh, indicating that the man had not stopped practicing.

After leaving the scrap yard, Jia Dongming headed straight for Sesame Alley.

Courtyard No. 107 is hidden deep in a winding, narrow alley, with mottled doors and a quiet surrounding.

He paused and stared intently, his gaze penetrating the brick wall—the courtyard was overgrown with weeds, with only one house still offering shelter, the rest dilapidated.

Turning their gaze underground, they discovered a hidden passage in the middle of the dry well in the backyard, winding its way to a more distant location.

Jia Dongming followed the secret passage to the cart to investigate, and finally stopped outside an abandoned garden.

The underground scene gradually became clear in his eyes: in the secret room, supplies were piled up like hills, and firearms were neatly arranged.

Everything is engraved.

Jia Dongming quietly left the alley and drove towards Luogu Lane.

Halfway through the journey, a familiar figure suddenly appeared at the alley entrance in the twilight.

The wheels rolled over the road, kicking up a few withered leaves.

As Jia Dongming pedaled his bicycle, his gaze swept over the figure carrying a cloth bag on the sidewalk, and he couldn't help but squeeze the brakes.

It was Yu Li, Yan Bugui's daughter-in-law.

He parked the car beside her and greeted her with a smile, "Comrade Yu Li, where are we going?"

Yu Li turned her head and saw that it was Jia Dongming. A hint of surprise flashed across her face, and she then politely replied, "Director Jia."

I just came from my parents' house and am on my way back to Luogu Lane.

"What a coincidence, I'm going that way too."

Jia Dongming patted the back rack of the bicycle. "It's dusty on the road. How about I give you a ride? That way you won't get covered in dust."

Yu Li hesitated.

She glanced at the sky, then looked at the long road ahead, her fingers unconsciously clenching the opening of the cloth bag.

Finally, he shook his head: "No need to trouble you, it's just a short walk, I can get there on foot."

Jia Dongming laughed, his tone carrying an undeniable familiarity: "We're neighbors, why be so polite? Come on in, it'll be getting dark soon."

That was a well-considered statement, so Yu Li couldn't insist any further.

She pursed her lips, turned and sat in the back seat, her voice softening slightly: "Then... thank you for your trouble."

The car started moving again, wobbling a bit at first, but then it stabilized.

The early winter wind brushed against my face, carrying a dry and cold force.

As Jia Dongming pedaled his bicycle, he casually asked, "Have you been busy lately? Are things going well for you and Jie Cheng at work?"

After a moment of silence behind me, Yu Li’s voice came through, flat and devoid of emotion: “He’s still helping unload goods at the grain station, while I’m doing odd jobs on the street, like pasting cardboard boxes.”

The two of them together only make about ten yuan a month.

Jia Dongming: "Oh."

She made a sound, as if remembering something, and then said, "I overheard people in the courtyard chatting, saying that you still pay your families for food and rent every month? Is that true?"

These words were like flipping a switch.

Yu Li's voice suddenly tightened, and she tried her best to suppress it: "Yes... six yuan for the meal and three yuan for the room."

After receiving that small monthly allowance, there's hardly anything left.

She paused for a moment, as if mocking herself, "Who can blame me when there are so many people in the family, and Dad is the only one earning a salary?"

Jia Dongming gazed at the drab street scene ahead, his mind filled with a profound sense of unease.

Yan Bugui always complained about being poor, saying that his salary was 27.5 yuan and it was difficult to support six mouths.

If things really got that bad, given his opportunistic nature, he should have already gone to the neighborhood committee to ask for subsidies. Why would he stubbornly hold on? Everyone in the compound knows the reason for this.

But no one bothers to break through this barrier.

He followed Yu Li's words and offered a word of advice: "Uncle San has a heavy burden and is always calculating, because he is afraid of wronging the children."

As the younger generation, we should be more understanding.

"Understanding?"

Yu Li suddenly chuckled, but there was a chill in her voice. "Director Jia, it's not that I'm not understanding."

But some things, if you calculate them too clearly, become inhumane.

She spoke a little faster, "Last week, my younger sister came to visit me, and I invited her to stay for lunch."

My father actually told her to her face that she should pay extra for her meals, otherwise there would be no food for her.

"You tell me... is this acceptable? Because of this, I went back to my parents' house today, and my mother nagged me for ages, saying that as a married daughter, I've brought shame to my own family."

The wind whistled past my ears.

Jia Dongming was speechless for a moment.

Even an upright official finds it difficult to settle family disputes, let alone the messy accounts of the Yan family, entangled in daily necessities and calculations of kinship.

He finally just sighed, his voice mingling with the rolling wheels: "Everyone has their own difficulties."

Life just has to keep going.

Yu Li did not respond.

The bicycle carried the two silent figures as it turned into the deepening twilight of Luogu Lane.

The soft clatter of wheels rolling over the bluestone pavement gradually subsided at the entrance of Nanluoguxiang.

Upon seeing the familiar shadow of the old locust tree, Yu Li quickly grabbed the back seat of the car and said, "Director Jia, let's stop here. I'll walk back myself."

Jia Dongming braced himself on one foot against the frame, the twilight light just brushing across the watch face on his wrist.

He understood her intention to avoid suspicion, and smoothly pulled the car towards the mottled wall. Only after that light figure landed on the stone road did he raise a gentle smile: "Alright, then please be careful on the road."

The bicycle bell rang again, and the bicycle turned into the alleyway where the twilight was deep.

The golden afterglow of the setting sun was slowly streaming down from the roof tiles of the courtyard house. As Jia Dongming pushed his cart across the threshold, the wheels left two shallow wet marks on the ground—Yan Bugui was bending over and splashing water in front of his house, the water droplets scattering tiny rainbows in the light.

"Oh, Director Jia!"

Yan Bugui straightened up, still holding a green tin kettle in his hand. "I came back bathed in the glow of the setting sun today."

Jia Dongming's gaze swept over the pair of cloth shoes stained with mud, but a perfectly appropriate smile appeared on his face: "That's right, Third Uncle."

The documents in the office were piled up like a mountain; it was almost dark when I looked up.

As soon as the car entered the courtyard, two small figures darted out from under the eaves of the west wing. "Uncle!"

Xiao Dang spread her arms and pounced like a sparrow. Jia Dongming bent down, picked her up, and placed her steadily on the front beam of the car.

Turning to the slightly taller boy behind him, he asked, "Bang Geng, you've mastered math problems?"

The boy's cheerful expression froze instantly, his fingers unconsciously digging into the hem of his clothes: "...two more lines to go."

Jia Dongming didn't say anything, but simply reached out his broad palm and gently rubbed the child's soft hair.

This silent rebuke was heavier than any words. Bang Geng lowered his head, his voice muffled: "I, Mingtian, will definitely do my homework first."

The shadows under the eaves gradually deepened.

As Jia Dongming pushed the cart through the moon gate, he saw his mother sitting on a stool under the pomegranate tree, silver needles weaving between her aged fingers, and the fine stitches on the soles of her shoes growing inch by inch.

He parked the car and took Xiaodang out of the car: "Mom, if I haven't gotten home by dark in the future, please don't wait for the food in the pot."

Madam Jia raised her eyes, lightly tracing a needle tip along her temple: "What are you saying? Isn't the point of a family to gather around the table and eat together in a lively atmosphere?"

Despite saying that, he deftly put away the ball of hemp thread.

Jia Dongming didn't reply, and turned to walk to the newly opened wooden door at the base of the winter wall.

The door hinges creaked awkwardly as they turned, and in the narrow alley outside, the last rays of daylight were fading from the upturned corners of the opposite gable wall.

He stared at the chaotic gray-blue at the end of the alley and muttered to himself, "Mingtian needs to run a section of power line from the factory."

"Brother Dongming—"

Qin Huairu's voice drifted out from the threshold of the main room, carrying the warm aroma of food.

She lifted the blue-printed cloth curtain, a few specks of flour still clinging to her apron. "Master Lei sent word that Ming'er can tidy up those west wing rooms in the old courtyard."

Jia Dongming closed the door and walked back to the courtyard. Dusk had completely soaked into his shoulders and back: "It's fine."

Once it's habitable over there, I'll move my camphor wood chest there first.

The legs of the eight-immortal table are a bit wobbly; I'll go to the trust company on Sunday to take a look.

Just as I picked up my rice bowl, I heard scattered footsteps outside the courtyard gate.

Director Wang's voice pierced through the twilight: "Is Comrade Jia Dongming home?"

The chopsticks made a crisp sound as they lightly touched the rim of the bowl.

Jia Dongming got up and lifted the curtain, seeing Director Wang standing sideways in front of the screen wall, followed by a middle-aged man in a gray Zhongshan suit.

Further away, several neighbors were gathered in twos and threes by the hanging flower gate, and dim yellow light leaked from the window frames of their homes, casting swaying shadows at their feet.

"Oh, Director Wang."

Jia Dongming stepped across the threshold. "What brings you here?"

"Great news!"

Director Wang stepped forward half a step and pointed to his side, "This is Director Chen from Gulou Subdistrict. He's here specifically to get to know the young talents in our alley."

He then turned to the middle-aged man, his voice warm and familiar: "Old Chen, this is Comrade Jia Dongming, whom I often mention, the pillar of the security department of the Red Star Factory."

Jia Zhangshi had somehow appeared behind her son. She wiped her hands on her apron and suddenly spoke, her voice like a pebble thrown into still water: "Director Wang, my son Dongming was transferred to the Public Security Bureau last month to become the deputy branch chief, a division-level cadre."

The air went still for a moment.

A look of surprise flashed across Director Wang's face, then a wider smile spread across his face as he bowed slightly to Madam Jia: "Look how late I am with this information! I deserve to be punished."

Director Jia is young and promising; he's a source of pride for our entire alley.

The night breeze swept through the jujube tree in the corner of the courtyard, rustling the leaves.

The lights in the windows of each room seemed to brighten, and the figures standing in the shadows all took a half step forward in unison.

When Director Chen learned that the young man standing in front of him was actually a deputy director, a hint of surprise flashed across his face. He then smiled and turned to Jia Dongming: "Director Jia, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Have you ever heard of Mr. Gong Zhongming?

Upon hearing this name, Jia Dongming's heart skipped a beat—this was the very message that had been sent by the morning system.

He feigned surprise at the opportune moment: "Hello, Director Chen."

Mr. Gong is the respected elder of one of my comrades-in-arms.

You came all this way to see me, could it be about Elder Gong...?

Director Chen nodded solemnly: "A week ago, Mr. Gong was hit by a car at the intersection of Lou Street while trying to save a child who was jaywalking."

"Before he passed away, the old man said, 'Thank you for taking care of me all these years.'"

Therefore, he decided to leave you the courtyard house with shops at the entrance of Xiaojing Hutong on Dongda Street near Gulou.

Jia Dongming was stunned.

The system actually handed the courtyard over to him in this way.

Seeing that he remained silent for a long time, Director Chen assumed that the news was sudden and continued gently, "Director Jia, Mr. Gong passed away bravely, and our neighborhood committee has already taken care of his funeral arrangements, so we didn't rush to inform you."

If it's convenient for you, Mingri, could you come to the subdistrict office to complete the inheritance procedures?

Jia Dongming then came to his senses and bowed respectfully to Director Chen: "Thank you for your trouble, comrades from the street office."

I wonder where Elder Gong is buried? I'd like to go and pay my respects.

"The old man instructed before his death that his ashes be sent back to his hometown in Henan."

We've already sent someone to return it.

Director Chen replied.

Those inside the courtyard vaguely heard the phrase "a courtyard house with shops."

"inherit"

After a few words, there was a moment of silence, and then all sorts of eyes quietly gathered around—surprised and envious, weaving together a fine web.