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

Before she could finish speaking, Ye Xiuli slammed down her bowl, stood up, and said in a clear, low voice, "Everyone, think this through—this meat was taken out of Li Guozhui's mother's own pickling jar, and it was exchanged for food coupons that his father had saved by tightening his belt. It was sent to him to help him recover, not for the canteen!"

"Giving is a sign of consideration for living under the same roof; not giving is simply a matter of course."

"Now that they've voluntarily shared their spoils, you're complaining it's not enough? You're eating their meat and then picking and choosing, calling them stingy—how can you take advantage of someone and then turn around and accuse them of being petty?"

The room fell silent instantly. Some people lowered their heads to eat, some pretended to cough, and others silently withdrew their chopsticks that they had just reached out to them.

The meat deal is settled.

But in less than a month, the last few pieces of cured pork were also put into the pot, and not a single piece of pork crackling was left.

Although no one said it, they felt incredibly empty inside, and their steps felt light and unsteady, like walking on cotton.

Just at the beginning of the second month, the post office delivered another bulging sack of burlap, which landed heavily at Li Guozhui's feet. He opened it and saw that it was neatly packed with dried pork belly, hindquarters, and tendon meat, with a yellowed note underneath: "Xian'er, it's cold, smoke more, don't be stingy."

He was holding the piece of meat, lost in thought, when he heard the sound of leather shoes tapping on the ground from the alley entrance.

"Li Guoxian? That Section Chief Li from the security department?"

As Li Guoxian pushed his old-fashioned bicycle into the alley, he was blocked by three figures. The one who spoke was a young man in a camel-colored woolen overcoat, sunglasses perched on his nose, and a shiny Shanghai brand badge on his wrist. Behind him were two young men in work clothes, their hands in their pockets and their chins slightly raised.

Li Guoxian calmly parked the bicycle, took off his cotton gloves, and dusted off the handlebars. "Yes, I am Li Guoxian. What brings you here, Young Master Qian?"

He recognized the man—Qian Shaoyong, the only son of Qian Zhuangpeng, the factory manager of the textile factory. A while ago, he often loitered around the factory gate, waiting for the female technician with curly hair and a penchant for wearing blue cotton skirts to get off work. Li Guoxian assumed it was just a normal romance and turned a blind eye, ignoring it.

"Something wrong? Of course, it's good news." Qian Shaoyong smiled and took off his sunglasses, his eyes crinkling into a familiar smile.

"Oh? Tell me about it."

"Great!" He took a half step forward and lowered his voice. "The factory warehouse is piled up with more than ten tons of scraps, rags, yarn scraps, and cut-off pieces of cloth—nobody wants them, and the ledgers are almost completely blank."

Li Guoxian didn't answer, but just looked up at him.

Qian Shaoyong understood and smiled even more deeply: "Before my dad is transferred at the end of the month, he can cross off all the records for this batch of materials. You can open a back door at night, we'll take it away and sell it to the scrap yard. The security department will take 10% of the profits—that'll be at least 1,800 yuan."

He paused, made an "eight" gesture with his hand, and added, "Enough to buy a brand new Forever brand car, plus three new quilts."

In 1974, 1,800 could build three brick houses.

Li Guoxian just smiled, but his eyes didn't crinkle: "Young Master Qian, do you know? Moving materials from the factory, even a bundle of rags, is considered embezzlement of public funds. If it's verified, being shot wouldn't be unjust."

"Are you fucking deaf?" One of the henchmen suddenly stepped forward.

Another immediately chimed in, "Exactly! The debt's already been settled, so the stuff's basically just thrown in the trash—it doesn't matter who picks it up, right?"

Li Guoxian slowly folded the gloves and stuffed them into his cotton-padded coat pocket before raising his eyes: "I said those words, not something that popped into my head in a moment of passion. It's you two who are quick with your mouths, but your brains seem to be immature."

"you--!"

"Hey! Say less." Qian Shaoyong raised his hand to stop him, turned to stare at Li Guoxian, his tone softening but becoming more serious: "The debt is gone, so the property is no longer owned. When we move out, it's not called stealing or occupying, it's called 'scavenging.' You just need to open a door, you don't need to touch anything else, and two thousand yuan will be in your pocket by tomorrow morning."

He thought these words would move people's hearts.

But Li Guoxian was born in an old-style house in Shanghai. He had two older brothers, one working in investment banking in New York and the other in real estate in Hong Kong. The Hong Kong dollars they sent back each year were enough to feed his family for three years just from the interest alone. The deposit slips in his drawer had a lot more than "two thousand" in change.

He shook his head, his tone as flat as if he were talking about the weather: "I'm not getting involved in this. For Director Qian's sake, I'll pretend I didn't hear what you said today."

After saying that, he got on the bike, held the handlebars with his left hand, and rang the bike bell with his right hand. The three clear rings sounded like they were hitting someone's eardrums.

"Make way."

Qian Shaoyong didn't move, only narrowed his eyes: "Section Chief Li, you think it's too little? How about—30%? Name your price."

Qian Shaoyong's face darkened, his gaze hardening as he stared directly at Li Guoxian.

He subconsciously felt that this meant the price was too low.

After all, four thousand yuan is no small sum—the workers' monthly wages are only around thirty yuan right now, and everyone in the factory is envious.

Besides, Li Guoxian is Li Guowei's younger brother. Who is Li Guowei? The current acting factory director. With Qian Zhuangpeng gone, he's the most influential person in the factory. Since he's the son of a cadre, how could he not take advantage of the situation? He's just greedy and thinks this little bit isn't enough to satisfy his appetite.

"Who do you think you are? You dare to contradict Young Master Qian?"

"Kid, take my advice and just nod; don't nod? Hmph, you'll have a hard time from now on."

The two henchmen immediately stepped forward, one on the left and one on the right, their voices low but barbed.

Li Guoxian didn't respond, but slowly picked at his right ear, rubbed it between his fingertips, and casually flicked away a bit of dust.

"you--?!"

Both of them choked up, and their faces turned red.

Having worked in this line of work for seven or eight years, this was the first time someone had called me a "dog" to my face, especially in front of Qian Shaoyong. My anger surged to the top of my head, and my lips trembled for a long time, unable to utter a single word.

"That's enough!"

Qian Shaoyong slapped his thigh and shouted, ending the entire audience's conversation.

"Twenty percent! Exactly four thousand! Not a penny less!"

Back then, if an ordinary person could scrape together a four-figure sum in their bank account, they were considered "well-off"; five figures? The factory accountant would have to rub their eyes three times before flipping through the ledgers. Four thousand dollars was enough to buy a brand-new Forever brand bicycle, plus a Shanghai brand watch, and the remaining money could buy an enamel spittoon for my mother and two sets of Dacron fabric for my sister.

Not to mention, all it takes is opening two doors—the big iron gate and the warehouse iron gate—and turning the key; no one even needs to show their face. They get the money for free without breaking a sweat.

He stared at Li Guoxian, waiting for the words, "Okay, I'll do it."

As a result, Li Guoxian shook his head, a slight smirk playing on his lips, as if he had heard a terrible joke:

"Twenty percent? Fifty percent? Eighty percent? It's all mine, and I won't touch those two doors. It's not that I'm afraid, it's that I'm too lazy to get my hands dirty. Since you're Director Qian's son, I'll say one more thing: Don't even think about this again—if you really expose it, you'd better know who the gun will be pointed at."

Before the words were even finished, a Flying Pigeon bicycle, a classic 28-inch model, suddenly appeared from the alleyway, its bell ringing loudly and its wheels screeching over the gravel. The three of them had no choice but to jump to either side, their trouser legs nearly getting scraped by the rear wheel.

"Young Master Qian, the person is gone. What should we do now?"

The three stood there, their faces as black as the bottom of a pot that had been scorched in the stove.

"Pah! What a coward!" Qian Shaoyong spat. "It's a sure thing, and he can't even open the door. Has a donkey kicked his brain?"

That's all I can think of—I'm afraid of getting caught, afraid of being shot, afraid of going to jail. What else could it be but cowardice?

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, he's just out of his mind!" Xiao Guan quickly chimed in, then lowered his voice, "But... if he finds out about this, will he report us to the police station?"

He swallowed, his palms were a little damp.

"Report it? Of course there are risks." Qian Shaoyong narrowed his eyes. "This isn't just stealing a few kilograms of coal slag, it's over ten tons of scraps. If the accounts don't match, it'll be a big deal if they investigate. Let's stop for a while and wait until things calm down."

"Damn it!" He kicked an empty wine bottle by the roadside hard, shards of glass scattering everywhere. "I thought it was a sure thing, but this head of the security department had to interfere—remember this guy, steer clear of him from now on."

After that setback, I didn't contact Li Guoxian again for more than two months.

The batch of copper and aluminum scraps in the warehouse had been piled up in the west corner warehouse, covered in dust, untouched and unmentioned.

Li Guoxian gradually calmed down and simply let the matter fade away.

To everyone's surprise, the morning after Qian Zhuangpeng was transferred, Li Guowei rushed into the security office, clutching a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Guoxian! Someone has reported you!"

"They accused you of secretly transporting over ten tons of scrap materials from the warehouse and selling them to a scrap metal recycling station in the west of the city!"

Li Guoxian was stunned, slamming the enamel mug he was holding onto the table with a clatter: "What? Me? Selling?"

"Yes! The goods are gone! A whole dozen tons!"

"I didn't touch it! I have the key, the lock is intact, and I check the entry and exit log every day—" He suddenly stood up. "Let's go! To the storeroom right now!"

The two walked briskly through the factory area and pushed open the iron gate of the warehouse—

It was so empty inside that I could hear my own heartbeat.

The floor was swept clean, and the dust in the corners of the walls remained untouched. Only the area near the north wall had a few shallow drag marks on the cement floor, as if the tin roll had been forcibly dragged away.

Li Guoxian stared at the marks, then suddenly looked up and said, "Brother, I remember now. Two months ago, Qian Shaoyong came here. He stood right here at the door and asked me to open both doors so he could take the materials away and sell them for money. I didn't agree."

Li Guowei frowned: "He did it? And he's trying to pin it on you?"

"Hmm." Li Guoxian's voice was deep. "He didn't dare to do it openly, so he first smeared my name and then pushed the matter away."

Li Guowei didn't reply. He took out a small notebook next to the Red Lantern brand transistor radio from his pocket, flipped through a couple of pages, and said in a low voice, "Jingjiao from the branch office just called—the report has been submitted to the Economic Investigation Team, saying that 'Li Guoxian embezzled' 19675 yuan. Tianming's brother-in-law just stopped him and didn't pass it on. But he made it clear: the factory must be given an explanation within three days."

"I'm innocent!" Li Guoxian's voice was tense. "I really didn't do it!"

"I know." Li Guowei patted his shoulder, his tone steady, "But now, you're the head of the security department. You're in charge of the keys, you're in charge of the warehouse. People come and go during the day, but only you can enter at night. If anyone asks, you'll be the first one they blame."

He paused, then pulled a sheet of blue-lined paper from his pocket, his pen already dipped in ink. "I'll get you a disposal permit issued by the factory right away—stating that this batch of scraps, after deliberation by the factory management committee, will be handed over to the scrap yard for unified recycling, with a selling price of 19,675 yuan, all of which will be turned over to the finance department. Go home immediately to get the money and hand it over to the factory's finance department before 3 p.m. Once the money is in your account, the permit will take effect, and this matter will change from 'theft' to 'performing official duties'."

Li Guowei didn't say it outright—he was already the de facto factory director. Although Qian Zhuangpeng's transfer order hadn't been officially issued, he had the company seal, he led the meeting minutes, and everyone in the factory called him "Director Li."

"Okay! I'll go right now!" Li Guoxian turned around and rushed out, his pace twice as fast as when he came.

The weight on my heart finally lifted with a thud.