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

Twenty thousand yuan is enough for a death sentence.

If it's truly unclear or difficult to prove, a single bullet can nail someone to the charge of "embezzling public funds."

The two brothers went their separate ways.

Li Guoxian rode his bicycle home to get money, while Li Guowei returned to his office to draft and stamp documents.

At the same moment, deep in a narrow alley in the east of the city, in a small courtyard with blue bricks, the smell of alcohol was strong.

Qian Shaoyong crossed his legs, raised his glass, and swirled it: "Come on, bottoms up!"

Xiao Guan tilted his head back and gulped it down, wiped his mouth, and chuckled, "Young Master Qian, Li Guoxian is completely finished this time, isn't he?"

"Heh." Qian Shaoyong sneered, the wine reflecting the light seeping in through the window cracks. "He himself said it—more than ten tons of government supplies, sold for nearly 20,000 yuan. If he's not executed, it would be a disservice to that Type 54 rifle."

He set down his cup and tapped his fingertips lightly on the edge of the table.

"Those who go against me never end well."

"Young Master Qian, this is a considerable sum of over ten thousand. No matter how stubborn that kid is, there's no way he'll get the money out of him—do you really think the higher-ups will believe he's innocent?"

Another subordinate lowered his voice, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Even if it's eventually proven that he didn't embezzle the money, he can't get rid of the label of dereliction of duty." Qian Shaoyong picked up his teacup, blew on the foam, and said slowly, "He was in charge of the warehouse. With so much stuff going missing, how could the factory not hold him accountable? He might not be executed, but a few years in prison is a certainty."

He came from a privileged background and knew the ropes: things could be done without leaving a trace, but someone had to take responsibility—and the most reliable person to take responsibility was always the one who stood in the open and held the key in his hand.

The two subordinates didn't say anything, only nodded slightly.

Qian Shaoyong put down his cup, tapped his fingertips twice on the edge of the table, and asked in an even lower voice, "Is everything settled with the cripple?"

The cripple was a pawn that Xiao Guan specifically designated for Qian Shaoyong to handle personally—to bribe the security guard on night watch at the textile factory, smuggle over ten tons of scrap fabric to the black market, and then conveniently deliver a letter reporting Li Guoxian. The whole affair was meticulously planned, and the three of them remained completely clean, not even a speck of mud on their shoes.

"He left a long time ago, went back to his hometown in the countryside, and will never show his face again."

Even if the winds blow one day, Xiao Guan will step up and take all the blame. Qian Shaoyong's name won't even appear in the case files.

"Okay, come on, fill it up." He smiled and raised his glass, the glass clinking together with a crisp sound.

……

Two hours later.

Li Guowei handed the approval document to Li Guoxian, who then paid 19,360 yuan in cash into the factory's finance department without missing a penny.

The two men, carrying the approval document and the receipt stamped with the red seal, walked into the gate of the Industrial Safety Branch one after the other.

"Brother Guowei! Brother Guoxian!"

As soon as they stepped into the courtyard, Li Guolei came up to them, greeting them as he led them toward the director's office.

He took the materials, first went to the archives to check the original records, and then went to the petition office to retrieve the original complaint form—with such a large sum of assets involved, no one dared to close the case based on a piece of paper.

"That's how it happened." Li Guowei sat opposite Duan Tianming and explained the whole story clearly.

After listening, Duan Tianming unconsciously rubbed the rim of his teacup with his fingers, his brows furrowing: "This is difficult... You've already gone through the proper procedures. It's written in black and white that this batch of scraps is waste material that the factory entrusted Li Guoxian to handle. If we really find evidence that Qian Shaoyong sold the goods, it will only confirm that you've falsified the documents—the paperwork looks complete, but it's all empty shells."

Upon hearing this, Li Guoxian's eyelids twitched, and he immediately replied, "Brother Tianming, you don't need to worry about this. I'll take care of it."

Having suffered such a huge loss in silence, he had been holding back a lot of anger. He had been restrained by Li Guowei earlier, who said he would ask his brother-in-law's opinion first; but now, hearing Duan Tianming say this, he breathed a sigh of relief—it suited him perfectly.

"What do you want to 'do'?" Duan Tianming looked up at him, his tone turning serious. "Let me remind you, this isn't the old society anymore. You should forget about things like punching people or blocking doors in the middle of the night."

He feared that Li Guoxian might impulsively hire someone to drag Qian Shaoyong into an alley and beat him up, only to end up getting himself involved.

Li Guoxian's lips tightened, his voice low but sounding like it was being ground out between clenched teeth: "Ten years ago, I might have actually gone to his door with a brick. Now? I want him to walk in himself, still in his prison uniform."

Duan Tianming paused for two seconds, then nodded: "Come to my house for dinner tonight. How you proceed, when you proceed, and to what extent—you'll have to get past me first. What I want to see isn't a snap of the hammer in the heat of the moment, but a case that's set in stone."

Li Guoxian didn't argue further, only replying, "Okay."

"Also, don't bother your father-in-law with this," Duan Tianming added. "He's getting old and can't handle these complicated matters."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Li Wenguo was squatting at the kitchen door of the old-fashioned tenement building where the Feng family lived, talking to Feng's father about the children.

"We agreed that your daughter would be given a formal position, and once the baby is a month old, she would have to be returned to the Li family." Li Wenguo sat on a small stool, his face not looking too good. His gaze swept over nineteen-year-old Feng Linlin—she was holding a baby boy who had just turned thirty days old, her wrists as thin as newly sprouted reeds.

Mr. Feng, in his early forties, wore a faded blue work uniform and was slightly hunched over. As he spoke, he kept his hand on his daughter's shoulder: "This child is my daughter's, and she has the right to raise her."

He paused, then added, "She made the decision herself; as her father, I can only follow her lead."

These words sounded firm, but in his heart he was calculating something else entirely: his grandson was fair-skinned, with two dimples when he smiled, and his elderly mother held him every day, never letting go; although his son had two daughters, he had no grandson, and his hopes for old age had long since been quietly shifted to this child. Besides, the "support allowance" the Li family gave him each month was more than three months' salary.

"No." Li Wenguo interrupted him, his voice not loud, but as straight as if measured by an iron ruler, "The child's surname is Li, he is a member of the Li family, so he must return to the Li family."

Feng Linlin hugged the child tighter, her face slightly pale: "Uncle Li... please, let the child stay with me. He's still breastfeeding and can't be separated from his mother."

"Don't worry about that." Li Wenguo stood up, dusted off his trousers, and said, "I'll find him the best daycare center and hire an experienced nanny. His food, clothing, and everything else will be up to the standards for children of cadres."

Mr. Feng couldn't help but interject, "Mr. Li, the baby is only a month old and hasn't been weaned yet. How can his body withstand being separated from his mother at this time?"

"I told you, I'll hire the people and provide the milk, so you can rest assured." Li Wenguo's tone remained unyielding.

Feng Linlin bit her lower lip, her eyes reddening: "Then... what exactly do you want in order for you to leave the child with us?"

Li Wenguo didn't answer, but just looked at her quietly. After a few seconds, he asked, "And what about you? What do you want in return for the child to be returned to the Li family?"

Mr. Feng and his daughter were speechless for a moment.

They had thought they could stall and wear down the Li family until they gave in. But the other party was determined and wouldn't even leave room for negotiation.

The standoff continued until the sun was setting. Finally, Li Wenguo got up, picked up his old leather bag from the corner, and said, "The post will be removed tomorrow. I already spoke to the factory's personnel department this morning."

Mr. Feng's expression changed, and Feng Linlin's hand holding the child trembled.

A moment later, she lowered her head and gently placed the swaddled baby into Li Wenguo's arms.

Li Wenguo caught the child steadily, glanced down at the child's sleeping face, and turned to leave.

In the stairwell, his footsteps were very light, yet each step made one's heart tighten.

Chapter VII

The letter of understanding had already been written and stamped, leaving the Feng family with no more leverage to exert pressure.

In the end, amidst the heart-wrenching cries of female student Feng Linlin, Li Wenguo remained unmoved, picked up the swaddled baby boy, and turned to leave.

He didn't stop Feng Linlin from visiting—she could come whenever she wanted, without restrictions, without questioning, and without even a time limit.

This little bit of leeway is a small measure of dignity.

Immediately afterward, without a moment's rest, he sent the child to his daughter-in-law Song Xiaoqin's home.

Song Xiaoqin was pretty and gentle, with a solid upbringing: her father was a section chief in his workplace, and her mother taught Chinese at a middle school. When Li Guohang got into trouble, she was six months pregnant, the baby's movements just beginning to show, yet her husband was already involved with Feng Linlin. This situation would be unbearable for anyone, but Li Wenguo didn't have time to argue right or wrong; he acted swiftly—Song's father was transferred to the position of department head, and Song's mother was promoted to vice-principal. These two appointments carried significant weight, needing no further explanation.

What else could Song Xiaoqin say? She simply responded softly, lowered her head to smooth the hem of her clothes, and continued to wait for her husband to come home.

"Xiaoqin," Li Wenguo said, sitting on the sofa, his voice slow and gentle, as if afraid of startling a child who had just woken up, "this child isn't yours, but he's of the Li family bloodline. Now that I've brought him here, he's your son from now on. You don't need to worry about his biological mother, and I won't allow him to acknowledge her."

He paused, then added, "It's only natural for an old man like me to cover for my son."

Xiaoqin was only six months postpartum, and she still had warm breast milk in her breasts, just right to feed her one-month-old baby boy.

"Don't worry, Dad." She took the child, her arms firmly supporting the back of his neck, her voice soft but resolute, "I treat him like a piece of my own flesh and blood."

Looking down closely, she saw the baby's relaxed eyebrows, slightly upturned nose, and pursed lips, just like her six-month-old daughter. Her heart softened, but a bittersweet feeling welled up inside her—her daughter was a girl, but this was a son; would she love him more when he arrived? Or perhaps… she was still thinking about that girl in the blue dress who always lingered outside the hospital?

But then the thought crossed my mind, and I suppressed it again: I can just have another one. As long as I take good care of myself, if the second child is also a son, the family will be complete.

"Put your work aside for now and take good care of the child. If you need anything, Aunt Zhang and Uncle Wang upstairs can lend a hand. You can go back to work when Air China resumes service."

After giving his instructions, Li Wenguo got up and left.

Song Xiaoqin is currently on unpaid leave, married into the Li family, and has her own arrangements for her food, clothing, and daily necessities. She lives a relaxed life and can rest for as long as she wants.

As for Li Guohang—after a stint in jail, it'll be difficult to ever step through the doors of a government agency again. The organization won't accept him, and his file is on record. What's next? He'll wait for policies to loosen and then try his luck in business. With Li Wenguo watching the winds and building connections, he'll have no shortage of capital, connections, and information. Becoming the richest man wouldn't be an exaggeration, but building a substantial fortune wouldn't be difficult at all.

At the Construction Bureau, the personnel had already been reshuffled.