Courtyard House: A Start with Black Gold Swallowing 100,000 Silver Dollars

"Director Li, hello!"

Sha Zhu, who is only a teenager, still has a bit of awkwardness. When he sees a big leader, he shrinks his shoulders, purses his lips, and doesn't know where to put his hands.

He was nothing like the seasoned man he became later, who even dared to talk back to the factory manager when he slammed his fist on the table.

"Hmm, these radish shreds are so fine and translucent, and so evenly. The knife skills show a family tradition of cooking—you've probably inherited all of your father's skills. You're sure to become a renowned chef in the future." Li Wenguo's eyebrows relaxed, and his smile was genuine.

"Hurry up and thank Factory Manager Li for praising you!"

He Daqing immediately put on a stern face and raised his voice, startling Sha Zhu.

"Thank you for the compliment, Factory Manager Li!"

Sha Zhu bowed and nodded hastily, his back bent more limp than a cooked noodle.

"Director Li, this is braised pig's trotters in a newly prepared sauce. Could you please take a look and tell me if the cooking time, saltiness, and aroma are all satisfactory?"

He Daqing was sweet-talking, his words were full of flattery and sycophancy, and he always said what the leaders wanted to hear.

A shiny black sedan drove along the country dirt road, its wheels kicking up a thin layer of dust. It slowly came to a stop at the village entrance, standing in front of a crooked mud wall—the house was low and dilapidated, the plaster peeling off to reveal the yellow mud beneath.

"Wow! It's a real car!"

"The metal shell that city dwellers ride in!"

"The person sitting inside must be a big shot, wearing leather shoes, a gold watch, and speaking with a Beijing accent!"

"..."

The villagers who gathered around craned their necks and pointed, their voices low but their eyes burning with desire.

Li Wenguo stepped out of the car, his light blue shirt crisp and new, his white suit jacket highlighting his sharp shoulders, and his coffee-colored leather shoes polished to a shine. The moment he landed, the buzzing in the room instantly fell silent, even coughs were swallowed back—everyone held their breath, timidly eyeing this man who seemed to have stepped out of a magazine.

Although the villagers are simple-minded, they know very well: this outfit, if you go around for miles around, makes him look like a born nobleman.

"Mr. Li, you've finally arrived! Please come in, please come in! My humble abode is so simple and unassuming, I really wouldn't dare disturb such a distinguished guest as you..."

At the entrance of the earthen house, Old Man Qin, dressed in a coarse cloth jacket that had been washed until it turned gray, stood straight and stiff, repeatedly rubbing his hands on the seams of his trousers, as if afraid of getting them covered in dust.

"Hehe, Brother Qin, don't be so polite! We're family, don't stand on ceremony."

Li Wenguo laughed heartily, his voice clear and unpretentious. He addressed Qin as "Brother Qin," though he was actually a few years older than Qin; however, Qin's face was deeply lined with wrinkles and his hair was white, making him seem like a generation older.

He came on behalf of his son to propose marriage.

Indeed, the middle-aged man rubbing his hands nervously in front of him was Qin Huairu's father.

"Oh my goodness—Brother Qin, you're really in luck! Mr. Li is a very respectable family in Beijing with impeccable credentials. If your daughter marries into the Li family, not only will she have no worries about food and clothing and her household registration be in the city, but everything else—schooling, medical care, housing—will be a breeze!"

Matchmaker Zhang jumped off the carriage carrying a red cloth bag, her words flying, each one penetrating to the heart.

The onlookers then realized: So this distinguished guest had come for someone's daughter!

Many people secretly pinched their thighs, wishing it had been their own gate that had shouted.

In the blink of an eye, Li Wenguo and Aunt Zhang had followed Old Man Qin into the house.

Haozi and Dayan stood on either side of the doorway, dressed in black suits, black trousers, and black leather shoes, standing as still as two javelins.

The room was bare, with only two bamboo chairs, a few rickety wooden stools, and an oil-stained dining table. Grass stalks sprouted from the cracks in the earthen walls, and the plaster was so brittle that it crumbled at the slightest touch—Li Wenguo raised his hand to steady the doorframe, but then pulled it back.

Given their poverty, it's no wonder that Qin Huairu was determined to marry into the city.

"Mr. Li, please have a seat! This chair is a bit old, but I just wiped it three times. You can use it without worry!"

Old Qin grabbed the corner of his clothes and vigorously wiped the only intact bamboo chair, his rough fingers scraping across the bamboo surface, afraid of getting Li Wenguo's clothes, which looked like they were worth half a year's work points, dirty.

Li Wenguo didn't refuse, and plopped down, his back ramrod straight, even more sturdy than the chair.

"Brother Qin, where is Miss Huairu? Please invite her out to meet us."

Aunt Zhang picked up her teacup, took a sip, and before she could finish speaking, she revealed the whole story.

Li Wenguo simply sat upright, his gaze calm, and did not interfere with anything else—this matter would be handled by Aunt Zhang to the very end.

"Okay! I'll go right now! She's in the back room, I'll call her right away!"

According to local custom, on the day of the marriage proposal, the girl must first avoid the situation, for good luck and to show respect.

As soon as Old Man Qin finished his shout, two girls came out from behind the house.

They put a lot of effort into dressing up: they applied osmanthus hair oil to their hair, curled the ends of their hair meticulously, buttoned their clothes to the very top, and even turned up their sleeves to reveal the snow-white lining—but in Li Wenguo's eyes, it was still glaringly tacky.

"Quick, call him Uncle Li!"

Old Qin was so anxious that he kept poking his daughter in the lower back, afraid that he might offend the important person by being impolite.

In his mind, Li Wenguo was no ordinary cadre—he was the kind of person even the commune secretary would personally make tea and offer cigarettes to. And look at his demeanor: his slicked-back hair was perfectly combed, his suit was impeccably tailored, and he wore a dark-patterned tie. He exuded a kind of spirit that city dwellers simply didn't have.

Qin Huairu looked up and her heart pounded.

Li Wenguo, in his early thirties, stood there like a drawn sword, cold, sharp, and undeniable. Her mind went blank for a moment; she even forgot to breathe.

It wasn't until her father urged her that she snapped back to reality, her ears burning hot. With her eyelashes lowered, she responded in a barely audible voice, "Hello, Mr. Li..."

But my heart was in turmoil:

Good heavens!

How can you stand there like a wooden statue in front of people?!

But... who made him stand so straight, smile so steadily, that even the folds in his sleeves looked like they were drawn on?

Thinking this, she looked up at Li Wenguo again.

His sharp yet not intimidating aura, his calm yet slightly wild masculinity, made her chest pound and her heart skip a beat.

Li Wenguo was also observing Qin Huairu discreetly.

She had a well-proportioned and delicate oval face, with skin as white as a freshly peeled lychee, glowing with a pinkish luster. What was most striking was that this girl had a slender figure, yet was also plump and full-figured, truly a "willow swaying in spring peach blossoms".

Even though she was wearing an old, faded cloth shirt, if she changed into a cheongsam and put on high heels, and stood in Liulichang, even the pictorial girls would probably have to take a step back.

The thought had barely formed when he felt a heat in his lower abdomen, his stomach tightened, and his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

Fuck!

That damn Iron Kidney Exercise is working its magic again!

He cursed himself inwardly for being so spineless.

After a moment's thought, he turned slightly to the side, leaned close to the matchmaker Zhang's ear, and whispered a few words.

Ah? ? ?

Aunt Zhang's eyes nearly popped out of her head; she froze, staring intently at Li Wenguo as if struck by lightning.

Did she hear me clearly?

Did this person just say—he wants to marry her?

Wasn't this a marriage arrangement for his fifth son? Or was he marrying her himself?

Goodness, he can't take his eyes off anyone, he even tries to steal his own son's wife?

Aunt Zhang rolled her eyes inwardly, feeling incredibly embarrassed, but then she thought—the wad of banknotes that person had stuffed into her sleeve was still burning hot...

"Well, Brother Qin, I have to apologize to you first."

Aunt Zhang chuckled awkwardly, her face displaying a mixture of apology and shrewdness.

Then, changing the subject, he said, "Last time, I must have misheard! It wasn't that the fifth young master of the Li family was looking for a wife; it was that Master Li himself wanted to remarry! And now, he's taken a liking to your daughter, Huai Ru. If you have no objections, how about we finalize the marriage while it's still going?"

"What?!"

"Mr. Li wants to marry my daughter, Huairu?"

"You...you must have confused them, right?"

Old Qin was stunned, his eyes widened, and his face showed disbelief.

This Mr. Li is at least in his forties, and his son is old enough to work in the fields. Now he's proposing marriage? Although he doesn't look like an old ox, the age difference is too huge—one is almost fifty, and the other is only in his early twenties. This marriage sounds really awkward.

But as Old Man Qin frowned and hesitated, Qin Huairu's heart pounded like a live sparrow in her chest.

Li Wenguo's upright posture, his unhurried demeanor, and the magnanimity he exuded in every gesture had already captivated her heart.

Not to mention he was the big boss of a steel rolling mill in the city, managing hundreds of people. Even the factory director had to show him respect. If she married him, she would never have to touch a hoe or step in the mud again in her life.

"I'm not mistaken, I just misremembered! My ears are getting old, they ring when the wind blows, and I tend to misunderstand what I'm being told."

Aunt Zhang completely absolved herself of any blame, then added sincerely, "Brother Qin, I'm so sorry!"

Old Qin glanced at Granny Zhang, then at Li Wenguo, who maintained a calm and composed demeanor with a slight smile. His throat went dry, and his voice faltered slightly: "This...this might not be appropriate, is it?"

He wasn't stupid—that whisper was clearly Li Wenguo's spur-of-the-moment idea, deliberately twisting the matchmaking process. He didn't trust Aunt Zhang, but he dared not offend the woman before him.

"What's wrong with it?"

Aunt Zhang immediately chimed in, her tone crisp and each word striking a chord: "Brother Qin, think about it. Master Li is the head of the steel rolling mill in Beijing, a national first-class model worker, and even leaders from the Ministry of Metallurgy personally shook hands with him to express their gratitude! For such a family to choose your daughter is an incredibly auspicious thing, what are you still hesitating about?"

These words, ostensibly flattering, are actually meant to belittle someone.

Old Qin was an honest farmer, how could he withstand such a force?

Sure enough, he shrugged and stammered, "But...but Master Li is not young after all, and besides, he has several sons at home...this...this age gap, isn't it a bit..."

The second half of the sentence was stuck in his throat, and he didn't dare to utter it. He only quietly changed his address to "Master Li," which had already slipped out.

Qin Huairu, who was sitting to the side, felt her heart tighten when she heard that her father was moving slowly.

Living a life of hardship in this poor mountain village, she was thoroughly fed up with cutting pig feed, feeding chickens, and taking care of the whole family. If this marriage fell through, she didn't know when she would have to wait another one.

Aunt Zhang glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, immediately concealing her anxiety, and her tone became even firmer: "Brother Qin, are you saying that Master Li is too old?"

Old Qin quickly lowered his eyelids, his fingers digging into the seam of his trousers, not daring to respond.

"Then look up and take a good look—how old does Master Li look?"

"Does it look like you—wrinkled skin, cracked hands, and unsteady gait?"

They stopped using the formal "you" and started asking questions directly.

"No, no, no, Mr. Li is very energetic and young!"

He looked to be in his early thirties, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and his eyes shone brightly as if they had been tempered by fire—the prime of a man's life.

"Since you're so young, why are you stopping me?"

"Or do you think—Mr. Li is not good enough for your daughter?"

These words effectively cornered the person.