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

A month later.

Sun Xiaowang couldn't take it anymore. The interrogation room lights were blinding, and stacks of written records piled high. He finally blurted out the names of the police officers surnamed Zhang and Lin.

After investigation, both were expelled from the Party and dismissed from their posts, a case was filed, and they were sentenced to three years in prison. Those who knowingly break the law should be punished severely.

Han Gongzi didn't escape either—he was investigated in a separate case and convicted of both provoking trouble and indecent assault, and was also sentenced to three years.

Time waits for no one.

A year and a half has passed in the blink of an eye.

"Li Guohang!"

"arrive!!!"

"Wei Xiaogang!"

"arrive!!!"

"Kwong Tai-Niu!"

"arrive!!!"

The three of them stepped forward in unison, straightened their backs, and saluted the prison guards standing at the door.

"Pack your things and let's go. Also—"

The prison guard raised his chin, his voice not loud, but each word clear and distinct: "Don't come back again, understand?"

"yes!!!"

The corridor inside the iron gate was empty, and footsteps echoed.

"Sigh, I wonder who's coming to pick me up?"

"My dad will definitely come. He called the day before yesterday to say he'd stewed a whole old hen and was waiting for me."

"My dad? He'd grab a carrying pole if he saw me! It's normal that he's not coming. If my brother or sister showed up, I'd be laughing in my sleep."

Wei Xiaogang and Kuang Daniu walked and talked, looking up at Li Guohang walking ahead.

"Air China, what about you? Is someone picking you up?"

Li Guohang rubbed the corner of his clothes and smiled wryly: "This matter... is not dignified after all. At most, my brother and sister will come to pick me up. My wife has two kids, and it's a long way away, so it's inconvenient."

"Um!"

The two nodded, but didn't say anything, only responding softly.

"What do you plan to do after you get out?" Wei Xiaogang asked.

"Let's fix bicycles. Set up a stall. The skills are still there," Kuang Daniu said.

"My wife lets me stay home and take care of the kids while she goes to work at the factory," Li Guohang said flatly and shamelessly. "A person who's been to jail, what's the point of saving face? He threw it all in the ditch long ago."

Upon hearing this, Wei Xiaogang and Kuang Daniu didn't laugh; instead, they both paused for a moment, then nodded. Kuang Daniu even patted him on the shoulder: "Reliable, that's good."

Wei Xiaogang scratched his head: "I'm thinking of getting some needles, thread, thimbles, buttons and stuff, and carrying them on a shoulder pole, going from village to village."

"Be careful," Kuang Daniu said in a low voice, "Don't let people think you're a petty thief."

"Who cares about trinket that costs a penny or two? Besides, I specifically go to the mountain valleys and the edges of old forests—the people there are honest; they avoid people in uniform, so why would they dare to report me?"

As they were talking, three groups of people were already standing outside the iron gate.

Each group consisted of one person, standing on the far left, wearing a faded blue cotton shirt, hands in their pockets, quietly watching the gate.

In the middle was a group of three, two men and one woman. The woman was holding a swaddled baby in her arms, and the men were carrying a thermos.

The outermost group, more than twenty in total, were all tall, with broad shoulders and backs. They stood loosely, yet formed a wall. Fortunately, they were all wearing clean shirts and leather shoes; otherwise, given their physiques, the patrol officers would probably have stopped them and questioned them twice.

The two prison guards at the door kept glancing sideways—their imposing aura alone was enough to make it hard to breathe.

Even the family members who came to pick up Wei Xiaogang and Kuang Daniu couldn't help but glance over there a few more times, and subconsciously took half a step to the side, both curious and a little scared.

Seventeen

I really don't know who this person is, that so many people came to pick them up when they were released from prison.

With a clang, the iron gate was pushed open, and the rusted hinges groaned dully.

"Here it comes!"

From the Li family, a bright-eyed girl who had just turned nineteen called out, her voice crisp and clear, like dew just dripping from the eaves.

The three people inside walked out side by side, looked up, and were all stunned.

"Xiao Gang—!"

"Big Ox—!"

The two calls were barely out of their mouths before they were drowned out by the clamor of voices.

"Brother—!" (ten times)

"Air China—!" (Nine times)

"Uncle Air China—!" (sixth tone)

More than twenty mouths opened their mouths at once, and the sound waves rushed straight to the top of the sycamore tree at the alley entrance, making the branches and leaves tremble slightly.

The warmth of their long-awaited reunion on Wei Xiaogang and Kuang Daniu's faces froze instantly. They turned to look and saw the Li family members, young and old, standing on half the street: an old lady with a cane, a middle-aged woman carrying a thermos, a primary school student waving a red ribbon on tiptoe, and a woman holding a baby, coaxing and laughing... Then they looked down behind them—just the two of them, both carrying tattered old cloth bags, not even managing to utter a loud word.

They looked at each other, their lips twitching, their hearts pounding with anxiety.

Didn't we agree that your brother and sister would bring a child to pick you up?

This isn't just picking up people, it's welcoming the county magistrate back to his hometown!

"Father, Mother, I'm out."

In the embroidery room, Li Guohang stood in the center of the main room with his hands hanging down, his voice low, and he dared not look his father in the eye.

After all, he had committed a crime and failed his father's years of teachings, and even his backbone felt shorter.

"Okay, it's good that you're out. From now on, stay grounded and don't get involved in anything that could easily get you burned, understand?"

Li Wenguo sat in the rattan chair, his tone flat, neither angry nor gentle, like holding a bowl of freshly cooled tea, neither too hot nor too cold, just right.

He's long since stopped being angry about what happened to his son two years ago—he's already gotten over his anger, and now he feels more heartache than anger.

"It's good that you're back, it's good that you're back..."

His mother, Xiuxiu, took the canvas bag from his hand, her fingertips gently brushing against the back of his hand, her voice softening: "Air China, you must have suffered in there, right?"

They are my own flesh and blood, and just looking at them makes my heart clench.

"Hehe, not bad."

He scratched the back of his head and grinned, "Xiao Cong and the others took good care of me, vying to do all the work, leaving me idle. If it weren't for my naturally picky eating habits, I'd probably be quite chubby."

"So... I'll really stay home and take care of the kids from now on?" he asked tentatively, his brows furrowing slightly.

What will the neighbors think if word gets out that a man in his early thirties is constantly preoccupied with diapers and baby formula? How will his former colleagues greet him?

"Yes. You've been in jail before, the government's doors are locked this time." Li Wenguo paused, his gaze steady. "Let me tell you something: the policy will definitely change within five years. Business will be allowed then, legal, open, and regulated. I'll pave the way for you; you just need to learn and do it."

"I'll take a few books on business principles back with me later and flip through them."

He understood perfectly well—this son was stubborn and ambitious; forcing him to stay home would only make him sick sooner or later. It was better to give him something to look forward to and extinguish the flames of ambition.

"That's right!" Xiu Xiu chimed in, wiping her hands on her apron, her eyes gleaming. "You know what kind of business your Sister Xu and Sister Dong are doing in Hong Kong, don't you? Trillions at a time, their ledgers are thick enough to be used as pillows!"

She paused, her voice softening but becoming even more earnest: "Your father is right. The mainland is ten times wider and a hundred feet deeper than Hong Kong. The storm hasn't started yet, but the eye of the storm is right there. As long as you can reach out and put down roots, and grow—you will definitely not be inferior to them."

Trillions?

Li Guohang's Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes widened, a surge of heat rushed up from his chest, and his ears burned.

Li Wenguo didn't stop him; instead, he nodded—it was a hundred times better to provoke this kind of spirit than to kneel down and admit fault.

"Your mother is absolutely right. By then, I'll provide you with the platform and support. As long as you're willing to put in the effort, making a fortune of hundreds of millions won't be difficult at all."

"Right now... take advantage of these two years of relative leisure to have a few more babies. Once things get busy again, there won't even be time to put them to sleep."

"Uh-huh!"

Li Guohang nodded vigorously, as if trying to nail those words into his bones, then turned around, picked up the hardcover books on the table, and went out the door.

When I got back to my own courtyard, it was already dark.

Song Xiaoqin laid out a table of dishes: the braised pork was glistening with oil, the stir-fried pea shoots were vibrant green, and the steamed egg custard lay trembling in a blue and white porcelain bowl, still piping hot.

For the past two years, she has visited him in prison every month without fail, rain or shine. The couple speaks through the glass, using more gestures than tears, which has transformed their initial awkwardness into a tacit understanding.

At the dinner table, Li Guohang repeated his father's words verbatim: "Read books first, take care of the children, and wait for the wind to come."

Song Xiaoqin placed a piece of meat into his bowl with her chopsticks, without asking any questions. She knew that her father-in-law, Li Wenguo, was no ordinary man; he didn't talk much, but every word he uttered hit the nail on the head. If he said there would be a turning point in five years, then it was most likely true.

What she didn't expect was that the money her husband earned later wasn't just shocking—it made her dizzy from counting the zeros.

At nine o'clock in the evening, the child was fast asleep, and the small blanket was kicked to his feet.

After holding back for two whole years, Li Guohang pulled Song Xiaoqin into his arms, his forehead pressed against hers, saying nothing, letting his actions speak for themselves. Only when the night was so dark that it was impossible to see any further, and the hands of the clock on the wall quietly moved past eleven o'clock, did he finally release his grip, panting, and wrap his sweaty wife in a thin blanket.

Qingyan County.

Four years later, Li Guoxin has risen to the position of deputy secretary of the county party committee.

He was born in 1943 and is now thirty-five years old. If he can endure another four years, he will be able to govern a region and take charge of a city, just like his elder brother Li Guohua. He is young, and his future is bright.

That evening, Zeng Minzhi, seven months pregnant, took the shirt her husband had just taken off and prepared to take it to the laundry. She was always meticulous, and after marrying into the Li family, she treated housework like homework: before collecting the laundry, she would carefully search every pocket—afraid of missing a receipt, an official seal, or even half a note.

But tonight, her fingertips touched the left breast pocket of her shirt and felt a soft, black hair about seven or eight centimeters long.

She paused for a moment, then remained silent. Her husband looked perfectly normal; his collar was clean, his cuffs didn't smell of any unfamiliar perfume, and he only wore his usual soap scent. She pulled out a strand of hair, tucked it into her small notebook, closed it, and continued washing clothes.

Two weeks later, the same shirt, the same spot—yet another one.

"Why is it happening again?"

She didn't ask, but simply turned the notebook to another page and gently placed it inside.

Two weeks later, just after dinner, Li Guoxin got up and said he had to go to a meeting in the county. Zeng Minzhi's hand slipped, and half a glass of cold water spilled on the front of his shirt, the water stain quickly spreading into a dark patch.

"Oh dear, quickly change into something clean!" She hurriedly handed over a freshly washed and ironed shirt, the cuffs still warm from the sun.

Two hours later, Li Guoxin came out of the shower and draped his clothes on the back of a chair. Zeng Minzhi immediately took them and reached her fingers directly into her breast pocket—

That single strand of black hair lay quietly deep within the folds, like a silent coded message.

Her fingers froze, and her face instantly drained of color.

"What happened?"

"He...is having an affair?"

The thought had just crossed her mind when she forcefully suppressed it.