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

Wang Hanli reached out and patted him on the shoulder: "So that's how it is." His voice softened further. "That factory... my dad ordered it shut down?"

"Um."

"Shut down." Wang Hanli nodded, his expression frank. "Of course we have to shut it down. We'll resume work once the new authorization is granted. We can't afford to make a single mistake, and we can't rush it."

Looking at the fine lines around his second uncle's eyes, Wang Tingxuan recalled how his uncle would always teach him to read the English version of "Company Law" at the dinner table, and the doubts in his heart slowly dissipated.

The two discussed the follow-up arrangements—how to return the raw materials, how to resettle the workers, and how to seal the accounts. By the time Wang Tingxuan left, it was already dark.

He did not go to the Administration for Industry and Commerce to cancel the registration.

Thinking that the new authorization is coming soon, if I cancel the license first, I will have to go through the procedures again later, which will be time-consuming and laborious, and will only cause problems.

The factory has indeed closed.

But three days later, late one night, the back door of the suburban factory quietly opened, and several tarpaulin-covered trucks silently drove in. The workshop lights came on, and the machines started humming again, only this time the "Dadi" sign was no longer displayed; instead, it bore the sign of another small workshop under a different name.

What Wang Hanli wanted was never money itself.

What he wanted was for Wang Hancheng's hat to stay firmly on his head—as long as his elder brother was still in power, this place in Shanghai would be a chessboard where he and Qi Zhendong could move sideways.

Last time they were reported, wasn't it all suppressed by Wang Hancheng with just a few words? Nothing happened, not even a ripple.

Neither he nor Qi Zhendong expected that the opponent they encountered this time was not afraid of that hat at all.

-

"Hey, Comrade Tingxi, we meet again?"

Li Guoshu sat with his legs crossed in the leather chair in the refrigerator factory director's office. When he saw Wang Tingxi push the door open and enter, his eyes crinkled into slits with a smile.

Wang Tingxi paused, her smile instantly freezing: "What...it's you again?"

She came to the TV station today to do a special interview. Her task list only said "Shanghai Refrigerator Factory", without even mentioning the factory manager's name.

And yet, it was him again.

The events of that drunken night were like a thorn stuck in her memory—in her daze, someone supported her waist, someone whispered in her ear, and someone tightened their grip on her fingers while she was still half-conscious… Looking back, she realized that she had struggled, but all her strength seemed to have been drained away.

After that, she blocked all his contact methods, and even avoided mentioning "Boss Li" when her colleagues did.

The world loves to play jokes. If you can't avoid it, you'll just run into it.

"I'm in charge here, so of course it's me." Li Guoshu stood up, speaking as he walked towards her, his right hand naturally extended.

Wang Tingxi lifted her eyelids and rolled her eyes very slightly, as if sighing or feeling helpless, before extending her hand—slender, with slightly cool fingertips, and a faint blue vein on her wrist bone.

Li Guoshu's grip was light, but he didn't immediately loosen his hold: "It's fate that brought us together from afar. Tonight, it's my treat at the Holiday Inn. Would you do me the honor?"

Wang Tingxi's mind went blank as the details of that night resurfaced: his collar was slightly open, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and an old watch on his wrist ticked away, the sound of the ticking mixed with the smell of alcohol reaching his ears...

She quickly withdrew her hand, her fingertips twitching, and said in a clear and crisp voice, "Sorry, I have an appointment tonight and can't get away."

Li Guoshu wasn't annoyed. Instead, he smiled, turned his head, and winked at Gu Aiye, the factory director who had been standing next to him.

Gu Aiye immediately stepped forward, smiling politely: "Comrade Wang, you are our guest. We have already booked a private room at the Holiday Inn. We've invited not only you, but also several of your colleagues from the station, and your direct supervisor, Director Zhang. We've already informed them in advance—if you don't come, it would seem like our factory is lacking in manners."

Wang Tingxi's eyelashes trembled.

Director Zhang...that's her immediate supervisor.

Within the system, once such a "collective invitation" is made public, refusing is not a matter of politeness, but a matter of attitude.

She glanced at Li Guoshu—he was looking at her with a smile, his eyes open and honest, even a little innocent.

She pursed her lips, then finally nodded: "Okay. Seven o'clock, Holiday Inn."

The interview then began.

When Wang Tingxi heard Li Guoshu say that the refrigerator factory had provided more than 1,200 jobs in Shanghai and that its annual tax payment had more than doubled compared to the previous year, her pen paused, almost tearing the interview notebook.

This number is definitely a benchmark among all industrial enterprises in the city.

To her even greater surprise, Li Guoshu put down his thermos, smiled, and said, "Next, we plan to acquire a plot of land in the western suburbs to build the second phase of our factory. Once it's operational, it will create at least another 800 jobs, and tax revenue will increase by another 30%."

He spoke casually, as naturally as if he were asking, "What should we eat tonight?"

Wang Tingxi lowered her head to take notes, the pen scratching softly. Suddenly, she felt that this person didn't seem so repulsive after all.

If we only consider ability and spirit, setting aside the scheming that takes people by surprise and the frivolous thoughts hidden beneath the smile, Wang Tingxi truly admires Li Guoshu.

I did interviews in the morning, and had lunch at the factory canteen. The photographer snapped a few pictures of the food: piled high with white rice, two meat dishes, two vegetable dishes, and a bowl of hot soup, glistening with oil, the vegetables fresh and crisp, even the rim of the soup bowl gleaming with a warm, homely glow. It was just as good as, if not better than, the canteens in government offices, perhaps even more substantial.

In the afternoon, we moved to film the production line—how refrigerators are transformed from parts into complete units, how screws are tightened, how wiring is securely connected, and how the condenser tubes are bent into a standard arc. Wang Tingxi stood in front of the camera the whole time, a smile on her lips, holding a microphone in her hand. She would ask Li Guoshu about technical parameters, and then squat down to chat with the welder about his years of service. Her voice was clear and bright, and her eyes were focused, like a magnet that attracted people.

We finished work at five o'clock. Everyone packed up their equipment, checked the supplies, and walked towards the Holiday Inn, chatting and laughing.

This factory is quite large, equipped with five cars, all ordered from the Hong Kong Automobile Factory, with gleaming bodies and steering wheels that still carry the salty smell of the sea breeze.

Upon entering the restaurant, Li Guoshu and Lingdao exchanged compliments, one praising Li Guoshu's foresight and the other his discerning eye. Several rounds of drinks followed. Lingdao, maintaining his composure, excused himself halfway through the meal. Before leaving, he pulled Wang Tingxi aside and whispered, "Little Wang, make sure you keep an eye on Li Guoshu's connections. Our station's schedule is tight; you'd better keep a close eye on their factory's investment intentions."

Wang Tingxi had no choice but to stay and sit with Li Guoshu until the very end.

The factory manager and several workshop foremen, having already received a hint, took turns offering toasts, one after another, their words dripping with sarcasm: "Reporter Wang, you're a young and promising talent!" "Your presence is an honor to our factory!" "Just one more drink, just one more, that's all our friendship is about!"

She knew perfectly well that Li Guoshu was up to no good again. But in front of everyone at the table, not raising her glass would be a loss of face, so she forced herself to drink it. In the end, she decided to act more convincingly: her eyelids became heavy, her fingers went limp, her words became slurred, and she almost slid off her chair.

He was faking his drunkenness, but he really did drink. Keeping a degree of sobriety for self-defense is enough.

Li Guoshu indeed helped her back to her room.

"Sigh..." He half-supported, half-carried her towards the elevator, muttering, "How do people become like this without even realizing it?"

"He's still young, he lacks willpower, he lacks willpower..."

He only dared to say these words to himself. If it were any other girl, he wouldn't even dare to let her in the door—only with Wang Tingxi could he feel at ease.

After entering the room, he gently placed her on the bed. His hand paused as soon as it touched the zipper of her coat, then slowly moved down.

As he was unbuttoning the second button, Wang Tingxi suddenly opened her eyes, her gaze sharp as a knife, fixed directly on his face.

Li Guoshu's hand trembled, and he immediately withdrew it, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Snapped!"

A sharp slap landed on his left cheek, burning hot.

"You filthy scoundrel!" Her voice wasn't loud, but it was like ice shards hitting the ground.

He panicked and took a half step back, flailing his arms and legs: "I...I saw you were really drunk, and I was worried you wouldn't sleep well, so I wanted to help you take off your coat to loosen up! I really didn't mean anything by it! You have to believe me!"

He had already lost face, and even his forced composure had shattered.

"Believe you? Didn't you say you'd only take off your coat?" She yanked up the front of her coat, which had slipped down to her chest, and pointed at the exposed bra strap with a sneer. "Is my bra sewn to my coat? Or are you blind and just touching wherever you want?"

After he finished yelling, he straightened his clothes himself and buttoned them back up one by one.

"That...that coat was too tight, I...my hand slipped..."

He couldn't continue making things up. Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and the base of his neck was flushed red.

"Bastard! Pervert! Disgusting scum!"

"I'm going to sue you tomorrow!"

She raised her hand and pointed at his nose again, her fingertips trembling with anger—she didn't even bother to come up with an excuse, deliberately adding fuel to the fire when his temper was at its peak!

"No, no, no! I was wrong! I was really wrong!" He took a half-step forward anxiously, but dared not touch her. "Please forgive me this time!"

……

"Who got you out of the police station last time? You repay kindness with enmity, aren't you afraid of being struck by lightning?"

She had only spoken out of anger and immediately took back her words. Besides, Li Guoshu was now a "star entrepreneur" in the province, and the station had already given instructions: this person was not to be touched.

She stared at him for a few seconds before coldly saying, "Remember this—if there's a next time, I won't tell anyone, but I'll turn around and leave. You'll never see me again in this lifetime."

"I know! I know!" he replied repeatedly, beads of sweat trickling down his temples.

She swayed, then shuffled towards the door, using the wall for support. The aftereffects of the liquor kicked in; she saw stars, and her head felt heavy, as if it were submerged in lukewarm water.

"Let me take you back to your dorm. It's so late, it's not safe for a girl to walk alone at night." He stepped forward, his tone extremely soft, trying to quietly cover up his earlier embarrassment.

She didn't say anything, she just nodded.

He drove her there himself. On the way, she fell fast asleep in the passenger seat, her breathing even and long, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as the streetlights passed by. When they arrived at the dormitory building, he used "I'm her boyfriend" as an excuse to get past the security guard and entered smoothly. As he went upstairs, the back of his hand intentionally brushed against her waist, his fingertips tentatively moving up half an inch before quickly withdrawing—she didn't react at all.

He put her on the bed, stood for a moment, and his Adam's apple bobbed again.

The sensation from the stairs was still on my fingertips—the person had truly passed out.

But her words from earlier that day, "If there's a next time, don't even think about seeing me again in this lifetime," still echoed in my ears.

He hesitated for half a minute, then finally spoke, his voice dry: "Tingxi... if you sleep in so many clothes, you'll definitely be stiff all over tomorrow morning. I'll loosen your muscles and joints, give you a couple of massages and then leave. I really won't touch anything else."

Before he finished speaking, his hand had already reached out.