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

The next morning, just as the sky was beginning to lighten.

Lu Wanchan walked straight out the door, carrying a chipped kitchen knife. A faded blue cloth strip was still wrapped around the handle. Her lips were pale, her eyes were sunken, and her whole face was as stiff as a frozen sheet of dough.

Just then, Wang Hancheng was sitting in a wicker chair in the living room, a newspaper half-open in his hand, his gaze already drifting to the window. Hearing the door hinge creak, he abruptly looked up, strode over, and grabbed her wrist: "Wanchan! What are you doing?!"

"What for?" A hoarse laugh escaped her throat. "Your good second brother chopped up my son's entire life and fed it to the dogs—I'm going to chop him up today!"

The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a dull knife scraping against sheet metal, making one's eardrums vibrate.

She hadn't slept a wink last night, sitting there until dawn. Her son was only twenty-three, a recent technical school graduate, and had only been interning at the factory for three months when he was dragged into this case, becoming one of the "main culprits." Shanghai was bustling with activity, establishing a special economic zone and attracting foreign investment; countless young people were waiting to catch this wave—and what was the result? A summons pushed him through iron gates. The more she thought about it, the more her heart felt like it was locked with a rusty lock, impossible to open or break.

Wang Hancheng didn't loosen his grip, only lowering his voice: "Wanchan, someone like Wang Hanli will eventually face the court's judgment. Is it worth trading your life for his? Besides, Tingxuan isn't sentenced to death; he'll be out in a few years. If you fall, who will he turn to when he gets out?"

He paused, then added, "Tinghui is still in university, while Tingxi is only in the second year of junior high."

Lu Wanchan swayed, like a bamboo pole with its tendons removed, and sat down on the cement floor with a "thud". The place was bone-chillingly cold. She didn't cry, but just tilted her face up and let the tears stream down her face silently, leaving two small dark water stains on the floor.

-

"Oh……"

"Take care of one!"

"If Wang Tingwei knew this news, he'd probably be grinding his teeth to dust."

"Hahaha--"

In the office of Shuyu Real Estate Company, Li Jiayu had just hung up the phone when he leaned back in his leather swivel chair and clapped his hands three times.

Bringing down Wang Tingxuan is like removing the toughest bone from Wang Tingwei's left and right arms. That Shanghai princeling, who has always been arrogant and domineering, now that his factory has been shut down and he's been taken away, let's see how he'll still be able to bang on the table and order food at dinner parties.

As for what Wang Hancheng thought? He didn't care at all. This move was perfectly aboveboard—checking qualifications, retrieving records, and following procedures, without skipping a single step. Last time, he had already shown leniency, reminding them to quickly deregister the factory's legal representative information. But Wang Tingxuan didn't take it seriously, and even stamped the official seal frequently. Who could he blame?

"Hehe, I'd better tell Uncle right away."

"While we're at it, let's stop by his new shop for a bit."

At this moment, Li Guoshu was standing in a magnificent sales office on Binjiang Road, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, holding a red pen in his hand, and lightly drawing lines on the floor plan.

His neighborhood, Happiness Community, was featured on television, and he then took the opportunity to publish a full-page article about his bad luck in the Liberation Daily. Newspapers may be slow, but middle-aged people love to read them and trust them; most people who can afford to buy a house are also around this age.

Today we tried out the Hong Kong-style pre-sale model – collecting a deposit first, then taking a number to select an apartment. Unexpectedly, it was packed with people, a dark mass filling the entire street, even the old man at the shoe repair stall next door was standing on tiptoe to peek inside.

"Fellow villagers, don't push! After you've looked in front, pass the message so those behind can see too—please don't push! If one person trips, the whole area behind will collapse!"

The shop assistant shouted through a megaphone until his voice cracked.

Li Guoshu stood behind the glass counter, his palms slightly sweaty. The crowd was too dense; a slight mishap could lead to disaster. He made a silent resolution: next time he would rent a large hall with a revolving door, and install several barriers, one person per booth, as orderly as taking a number at a bank.

"Comrade, how much for this house?"

A middle-aged man in navy blue overalls pushed his way through the crowd, sweat beading on his forehead, but his eyes shone with an astonishing light. He stared at the model for a full ten minutes—the building faced the right direction, the windows faced south, there was a market downstairs, and the riverbank was just around the corner; evening strolls to listen to the waves, weekend fishing for whitebait—everything was perfect. His only concern was that it was a bit far from his workplace, but couldn't he just cycle an extra twenty minutes to get there?

"Sir, this is a 120-square-meter apartment, 600 yuan per square meter. The first 50 customers who place an order today will get a 10% discount!" the salesperson shouted back.

The middle-aged man quickly calculated: 120 times 600... 72,000!

He gasped, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

These days, "ten-thousand-yuan household" is still a rare term among neighbors. Seventy-two thousand? That's enough to buy three brand-new Forever brand bicycles, enough to send two children to university, and enough for a family of five to eat fine food for ten years! With an average salary of just over three hundred yuan, many people can't save up this much money even if they work until retirement.

"Are you crazy? Even robbing a bank wouldn't cost that much!"

"Who would dare write 72,000 in their bankbook?"

"Let's disperse, let's treat this like a monkey show!"

"Isn't this blatant robbery?!"

"Even those with ten thousand yuan in savings would have to squat in a corner and weep when they came!"

"laugh--"

Before the cursing had even subsided, most of the crowd had dispersed like the receding tide, leaving only a few people pacing back and forth. The air suddenly felt lighter, and even the breeze from the fan carried a slightly sweet scent.

But less than five minutes later, seven or eight more people poured in through the door—people in sharp suits, carrying briefcases, their wrists gleaming with gold watches…they were all bosses who dealt in hardware, wholesale fabrics, and ran transportation businesses. For them, 72,000 was just the profit from one deal; they might not make a sale for three years, but one sale would feed them for three.

"Comrade," a slightly chubby young man with a round face approached the counter, pointing to the model apartment, "what kind of bricks are used for the load-bearing walls of this building? Is the concrete grade sufficient?"

"Sir, you can rest assured—we use only national standard Grade A building materials, and the construction company is that long-established state-owned enterprise, their reputation speaks for itself. Even if people don't trust us, they can certainly trust [company name], right?"

The shop assistant spoke calmly and deliberately, with a smile on his face and a confident tone, like holding a bowl of warm, slow-cooked soup—not too hot, but with a perfectly clear and thorough explanation. The middle-aged man listened, his brow relaxed, and he nodded without asking any further questions.

When can we take possession of the house?

Another man in a gray jacket, with graying temples, spoke up, his fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of his clothes, his voice carrying a hint of probing and a touch of anticipation.

"You'll be able to move in by the end of this year. If you don't believe me, just take a look at the construction site anytime—the seven floors have already been poured, and the tower crane is still hoisting the steel bars. It'll be topped out in no time."

The shop assistant then unfolded a planning map, pointing to a few places: "Our community is built according to the standards of 'recreational communities' in Hong Kong: the buildings are spaced far apart, each building has a three-meter green belt with flowers in all four seasons; the underground garage has enough parking spaces, and there are even billiard tables on the ground; the rooftop is surrounded by windproof steel netting and has a dedicated badminton court; the gatehouse is manned 24 hours a day, with eight security guards on duty in four shifts, registering entry and exit, and reporting visitors. Even if a stray cat sneaks in, it will be stopped and questioned three times—a thief? He'd have to learn how to walk through walls first."

"In the future, a new bus stop will be built on the road at the main entrance of the community, with two stops directly to the train station."

As he spoke, he handed out brochures with floor plans to the people in the front row, his smile remaining gentle and without a trace of sales pitch.

The crowd below fell silent for a moment, then erupted in a buzz. Some people tiptoed forward, while others quietly tugged at the sleeves of those around them, their eyes shining as if they were witnessing the first rain after a long drought falling into a cracked field.

Back then, city dwellers either lived in apartment buildings allocated by government agencies or in their own enclosed courtyards. The stairwells were cluttered with miscellaneous items, the water pipes dripped all year round, and if the security window rattled at night, you'd have to fumble for a stick in the dark... Cleanliness, quietness, and being taken care of—these three words were luxuries that most people couldn't find on their household registration or pay slips.

"Is it really a 10% discount if I buy now?"

A young man wearing glasses raised his hand and asked a question, his voice a little strained.

As soon as he finished speaking, a short queue had already formed in front of the counter.

Before noon, over fifty units had been reserved, accounting for 10% of the total units. Many people rushed to the construction site with their receipts—they saw with their own eyes that the main structure had been completed up to the seventeenth floor (originally said to be seven floors, but that was a typo; the construction had already progressed ahead of schedule), the weld sparks on the exposed rebar were still warm, and the concrete curing membrane was still glistening with moisture. Relieved, they returned in the afternoon with over eighty more orders. In one day, nearly a quarter of the units had been sold.

Li Guoshu stood quietly behind the glass door, watching until the crowd dispersed, then beckoned to a shop assistant: "Make sure you remember the addresses of all the buyers today, don't miss a single one."

By evening, the list was compiled, and over 90% of the names listed were street names within the city: Xijiekou, Wutong Lane, Hongmian Road... all within a 15-minute walk of the project.

He ran his fingertips along the edge of the list, already making plans in his mind: the neighboring Hongjiang District and Beian New District hadn't had a single brick moved yet—the people there were living in old-style public housing, hoping for elevators and that their children wouldn't have to squeeze onto three buses to get to school anymore.

Even more substantial is the accounting: 120 sets sold, bringing in 8.93 million. Land acquisition, exploration, temporary construction, foundation piling... the money is more than enough.

Just as I was pondering this, Li Jiayu pushed open the door and came in, the hem of his trench coat still stained with the neon lights from the disco entrance.

"Uncle, I heard that a quarter of it has already been sold before the roof is even finished?" He grinned, his eyebrows raised high, his eyes shining. "You're really something!"

"Take it! You must take it!" Li Guoshu shoved the report into his hand. "This time, don't take ten mu, take twenty mu—the buildings must be densely packed, the supporting facilities must be complete, and people must live comfortably so that we can earn money with peace of mind."

Ten acres of land, twelve buildings, about five hundred households; twenty acres of land, twenty-three buildings, over a thousand units. Costs nearly double, but the premium per unit increases significantly. Add to that the hidden revenue from parking spaces, property management, and commercial podiums, and profits will at least quadruple.

"Leave the land to me!" Li Jiayu patted his chest confidently. "I guarantee you'll get that 'golden piece of jade' in the east of the city—it's right next to the subway station to the south, a middle school to the north, and there's a 300-meter-long riverside green corridor to the east. Once the building is topped out, people will line up on their own without you even having to shout."

"Let's go," he suddenly turned around, put his arm around Li Guoshu's shoulder, "Let's go to the disco first—let's see if Wang Tingwei still dares to sit in his red velvet booth today."

Unfortunately, Wang Tingwei was nowhere to be seen. The moment his cousin Wang Tingxuan went in, he seemed to have a seizure, refusing to step into the disco again. What was he afraid of? He was afraid of running into Li Jiayu's gaze, afraid a waiter would bring him the wrong drink, afraid that even taking an extra breath would feel like a provocation.

Li Jiayu strolled over to the empty booth, picked up a crystal glass, and swirled it around. The remaining wine at the bottom of the glass reflected the overhead light, shattering into a cold glint.