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

Within two days, Li Guokui handed Sun Qiang two letters of introduction stamped with a red seal. The two men, carrying canvas bags and dry rations, squeezed onto a green train and swayed southward.

In Qingyan County, a year has passed.

Zeng Minzhi tried every means at her disposal: the soft approach was to promise a house, household registration, and guaranteed admission for her children; the hard approach was to directly "have tea" with the leaders of Tian Tian's father's workplace, not saying it outright but making it clear that if Li Guoxin did not divorce, the Tian family of three would not be able to keep their jobs tomorrow.

But Tian Tian refused to budge.

It wasn't that she wasn't afraid; it was that she had calculated things accurately: if she went to jail, Li Guoxin's political background check would be ruined; if something really happened to her, the Li family would immediately turn against her; but as long as she was alive, standing, and smiling as she handed over a photo of her child, Zeng Minzhi would have to bow her head.

Let's just drag it out.

Zeng Minzhi had considered even more ruthless methods—such as using the pretext of disciplinary inspection to investigate her accounts, or having the police station conduct a "routine inquiry." But when she thought of the scar left by Tian Tian's wrist-cutting in the detention center, she swallowed the thought back.

Once a person is willing to risk their life, it becomes their strongest bargaining chip.

Zeng Minzhi ultimately didn't go that far. She compromised: Li Guoxin was allowed to visit the child once a month on the fifth day of the month for two hours at a small pavilion in the backyard of the county nursery, with someone arranged by Zeng Minzhi to "accompany" him.

Tian Tian didn't make a fuss or thank her. She simply took the thin "Visit Permit Form," her fingertips tracing the edge of the stamp, and smiled gently, like a cat that had just had its fur groomed.

She knew perfectly well that after the long hair incident, Zeng Minzhi had personally visited her, but hadn't dared to touch a single hair on her head—not out of pity, but out of fear of a complete falling out. She feared ruining Li Guoxin's future and disgracing the entire Li family.

Therefore, Tian Tian's victory was not due to Zeng Minzhi, but to Li Guoxin's silence and indulgence.

And Li Guoxin? He was the one who truly had it all—on one hand, a cadre family recognized by the organization; on the other, a living, breathing connection with his child's biological mother. He was stable on both ends, warm on both ends, and even his sighs carried a hint of smugness.

When talking about Li Guoxin, one cannot avoid mentioning Li Guoqing.

On this day, his term of office was completed and he was to be transferred. He was to depart for Beijing the day after tomorrow.

Huang Xirou knelt on the bedroom carpet, looking up at Li Guoqing who had just extinguished his cigarette. Her hands were folded in front of her knees, and her voice was so soft it could melt water: "Master, when you return to the capital, can you take me with you? I'd like to make you tea, iron your shirts, and collect your documents..."

Li Guoqing exhaled a puff of white mist, glanced at her, and slowly nodded: "Hmm... Since you have asked so sincerely, then—Master will grant your request."

He was already addicted to it. He liked the way she humbly submitted, and he loved hearing the word "master" slip from her lips, light yet resilient, like a taut thread.

Three days later, Huang Xirou stood at the exit of Beijing West Railway Station, the wind ruffling her newly permed wavy hair. She took a deep breath and murmured, "Beijing, I'm back."

This time, she joined the district tax bureau as a section chief, a position equivalent to a division chief.

Li Guoqing was also transferred here and appointed as the deputy director of the district bureau, at the deputy division level.

There are quite a few people with the surname Li in the bureau. Li Guoqing alone has four sisters who work as clerks in various departments. The bureau chief is his elder brother Li Guodian, the eldest son of Wen Keyi. Born in 1942, he is thirty-eight years old this year. He is stern and doesn't smile. He doesn't even let anyone touch the lid of his teacup during meetings.

Huang Xirou first met Li Guodian outside the director's office while waiting for him to sign the transfer order. Her palms were slightly sweaty as she gripped the order—it turned out she had climbed not just one tree, but an entire forest.

Let's talk about Sun Qiang and Lü Wei.

Shenzhen has long been a special economic zone, and its slogan is: "Time is money, efficiency is life." But while this is a golden rule for Hong Kong businessmen, it is often just empty talk for mainlanders.

The two men, armed with a letter of introduction from the county, a feasibility report stamped with the official seal, and a bank credit certificate, queued seven times at the investment promotion office window. Their materials were revised five times, and even the printing paper was changed three times – yet they were still turned away with the phrase, "Please provide further explanation."

The officials weren't making things difficult; they were just busy.

They were busy dining with Hong Kong businessmen, signing letters of intent for land deals, and reviewing foreign investment filing forms overnight. Those Hong Kong businessmen, impeccably dressed in suits and carrying briefcases, could get straight to the director's office just by giving their names; what about these two? They even had to queue up for the photocopying machine and pay 50 cents per copy.

What's even more coincidental is that seven or eight out of ten of those Hong Kong businessmen are surnamed Li.

Li Zhenbang, Li Zhiyuan, Li Shaotang… different names, but the same clan. Land approval? Stamped on the same day; factory construction? Green channel; tax consultation? The deputy director personally receives them.

Ordinary people can only wait.

"Dude, did it get done yet?"

The two walked out of the office building dejectedly, and a group of locals, also clutching documents, surrounded them at the door and asked them questions.

Lü Wei smiled wryly: "They're asking me to submit more materials again, saying it's because I don't understand the policy properly."

"Hey!" A man in blue overalls slapped his thigh. "Look over there!" He gestured towards the glass door—three men who looked like Hong Kong businessmen were walking out arm in arm, clutching bright red land use approval documents. "They only submitted three sheets of paper, got stamped, and it was done in twenty minutes! We submitted half a foot of paper, and we're stuck at 'pending review'!"

A buzz of discussion erupted from the crowd.

"Ouch—" a sudden shout rang out.

Three middle-aged men in Zhongshan suits walked out of the hall, holding up document bags and shouting, "Approved! The land has been approved!"

The man in overalls grabbed one of the men's sleeves: "Brother, teach me how to do it!"

The man looked around, lowered his voice, and uttered only two words: "Relationship."

The surroundings fell silent instantly.

Sun Qiang and Lü Wei exchanged a glance, their eyes suddenly lighting up—that's right! We have that too!

The two turned and ran, their heels clattering loudly on the concrete.

Back at the guesthouse, I grabbed a public phone and dialed.

"Li Guojiang! We've arrived in Shenzhen, but the land approval hasn't come through; it's all stuck at the investment promotion office!"

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by Li Guojiang's calm voice: "Don't worry. I'll find someone right away."

He hung up the phone and turned to walk towards the textile factory director's office.

Pushing open the door, I saw the factory manager blowing on the hot tea in the enamel mug.

Li Guojiang cut to the chase: "Brother, our family is in Shenzhen. Do we have anyone who can speak on our behalf?"

The factory manager didn't even lift his eyelids: "Your brother-in-law, Jingqiu's brother-in-law, is in charge of investment promotion over there. He was just promoted to deputy director, in charge of land use approvals."

Li Guojiang felt relieved and smiled: "Oh, that's perfect—two of my friends want to set up a factory here. They have all the materials and permits, all they need is a key."

The factory manager then looked up, put down the jar, wiped his mouth, and said, "Then you'd better make a call quickly. Don't keep them waiting."

Li Guoyu nodded, saying nothing more. The situation has changed, and the policy direction has quietly shifted. If Li Guojiang, this old codger who has been lying low for many years, were to finally stand up, it wouldn't be a bad thing—at least he would have room to stand tall in the future.

"I'll give you your brother-in-law's contact information. Just call him. He only needs to say one word, and his people will take care of everything. Leave your two friends' matters to them."

"Okay, thank you, Guoyu-ge!"

Li Guojiang hung up the phone and immediately dialed his brother-in-law's number. After listening, the person on the other end simply said, "I understand," and then turned to call over a clerk surnamed Liu in the office, giving him a few brief instructions.

A few minutes later, Li Guojiang called Sun Qiang and Lü Wei again: "Go to the government office and find Liu Sheng. Just say that Guojiang introduced him—he is in full charge."

Less than sixty minutes later, Sun Qiang and Lü Wei were standing outside the office building again.

"Oh? Comrade Sun, Comrade Lü, you're here again?" The elderly comrade at the door was taken aback, wiping the sweat from his brow. "It's been almost an hour, and you're still here? Don't you get hot in the sun?"

Indeed—the lobby was deserted, the windows were quiet, and there was absolutely no such thing as "filling in" or "cutting in line." Everyone knows that getting approvals isn't about camping out; it's about genuine trust and getting a response.

"I just went out and made a few phone calls. I'll try my luck when I get back," Lü Wei replied with a smile, his tone frank and undisguised.

The implication was clear to everyone: the connections had been made, but whether it would work out depended on whether the higher-ups would give the green light. Back then, using personal connections wasn't shameful, and pulling strings wasn't illegal. As long as the plan was sound and the direction was right, everyone knew who had the strongest backing and whose words carried weight. Reporting someone? Nobody would be that foolish—there were plenty of reasons: the project aligned with the special economic zone's positioning, the design met foreign trade needs, the raw material supply was guaranteed… every single one could be corroborated by official documents.

"Then let's go in." Sun Qiang nodded towards the door and led Lü Wei inside.

Following Li Guojiang's instructions, the two found Liu Sheng in the office on the east side of the second floor. Having already received direct instructions from above, Liu Sheng immediately rose to offer them seats, made tea, and served water, his smile genuine and unpretentious. Without a word, he immediately designated a plot of land—right next to the east square of the train station, with convenient vehicle access, complete water and electricity connections, and even the surrounding roads were paved—a truly prime location. The paperwork was processed flawlessly: filling out forms, verification, stamping, and signing—nothing went wrong. Finally, Liu Sheng added, "Wait two minutes."

He rushed to the office of the higher-level leader with the materials, and completed the signing and stamping within three minutes; when he returned, he had two original copies of the approval documents with bright red seals and pen signatures. One copy for each person, delivered on the spot.

"Goodness... Guojiang's connections are incredibly powerful!" Sun Qiang's hand trembled slightly as he gripped the thin sheet of paper. "Only two hours! I haven't even finished my cigarette, and the land has already been approved?"

Lü Wei grinned, rubbing the edges of the paper with his fingertips: "Who would have thought? A clerk in blue overalls, carrying an enamel mug, could actually create such a huge mess! I'm impressed, truly impressed!"

The two men clutched the approval document and went out under the blazing sun.

The elderly man at the door came up to us, craning his neck: "Is it done yet? Has the land been approved?"

Sun Qiang didn't answer, but simply tossed the document forward, the corner of the paper trembling slightly in the wind: "Look."

All eyes turned to them. Some clicked their tongues, some nodded, and others subconsciously touched the crumpled application forms in their pockets. But no one asked for help—favors aren't like tap water, readily available; once used, they're gone. They couldn't offer an equal return, and they knew Li Guojiang had already made an exception. They could only wait until he finished dealing with the Hong Kong businessmen, then take their turn, waiting in line.

Taking a step back is better than standing still.