Courtyard House: Ten-year-old Master Zhu reorganizes the entire courtyard

In the dead of winter, the steel rolling mill workshop was as cold as an icebox.

No matter how strong the fire is, it can't warm people's hearts.

The machines roared, the workers' arms swung lifelessly, their faces numb. The hunger in their stomachs made them see stars.

"Have you heard? This month's salary is in legal tender again."

"Is it still the same number as last month?"

"Bullshit! The finance department says they'll deduct another 20%! Under the guise of supporting national development."

"To hell with construction! My whole family is going to starve!"

Several young workers were muttering curses in a corner, banging their wrenches loudly.

Yi Zhonghai stood in front of the fitter's bench, calipers measuring the parts, but his mind was already elsewhere.

He was a level eight worker, a pillar of the factory, and his salary was better than others. But in the past few months, his salary had shrunk dramatically, and his family's savings were about to run out.

Just then, the fat workshop foreman strolled over.

The director was new; he was a former adjutant in the Kuomintang army, knew nothing about technology, and did nothing but boss people around all day.

"Old Yi, busy?" The director asked, his hands behind his back, his woolen overcoat standing out starkly against the tattered cotton-padded jackets around him.

Yi Zhonghai put down the calipers: "Director."

"Let's talk in private," the director beckoned to him and led him into the office.

The stove in the office was burning brightly, making people feel sleepy. There was also a plate of peanuts and a bottle of Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor) on the table.

"Old Yi, have a seat." The director poured him a glass of wine, his face beaming with a smile. "You're a veteran in the factory, skilled, respected, and all the brothers admire you."

Yi Zhonghai neither sat down nor accepted the glass of wine: "Director, please speak frankly."

"Great!" The director slapped his thigh. "There are some troublemakers in the factory lately. You're a senior worker, so you have to set an example for me and keep an eye on things. If anyone dares to incite a strike, you tell me."

As he spoke, the director took a bulging envelope from his drawer and pushed it in front of Yi Zhonghai.

"This is a special allowance for you. As long as you keep an eye on these people, you'll get plenty of benefits in the future."

That envelope was very thick.

Yi Zhonghai stared at the envelope, his Adam's apple bobbing.

That's money; it can buy food and even life.

If he agrees and betrays a few of his coworkers, the money will be his.

In his mind, however, flashed He Yuzhu's eyes that night, and the greedy face of Section Chief Ma on the flyer.

What difference is there between myself and that guy surnamed Ma?

"Director," Yi Zhonghai said, his voice a little dry, without touching the envelope, "I'm just a laborer, I don't know anything about those things. The workers are just grumbling because they're starving, they're not going to cause trouble."

The smile on the director's face vanished instantly.

"Old Yi, you're refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit." His voice turned cold. "Going against the government is tantamount to colluding with the Communists! Think carefully, don't get yourself into trouble!"

Yi Zhonghai lowered his head, remained silent, and turned to leave the office.

Back in the workshop, a cold wind blew, and he shivered.

He didn't take the money, nor did he dare mention his plans for becoming the director to the workers.

He fears.

When he got home that evening, Yi Zhonghai silently drank his cornmeal porridge without saying a word.

An older woman noticed something was wrong with him: "Old Yi, what's wrong? Did something happen at the factory?"

Yi Zhonghai slammed his chopsticks on the table and sighed deeply, "Guihua, why is it so hard for a person to live?"

He told me what had happened at the factory.

After listening, the woman remained silent for a long time before pushing her bowl away.

"Old Yi, we're short of money, but you can't take this money." She stared at him. "That's money earned by selling your conscience. If you take it, how can you hold your head high in front of the neighbors and your apprentices?"

"Besides, what happened to that Section Chief Ma? What kind of person is Commissioner Li? If you associate with them, you'll get your comeuppance sooner or later."

Looking at his wife, Yi Zhonghai suddenly realized that this woman, who was usually quiet, was more assertive than him at this moment.

"I know..." Yi Zhonghai rubbed his face, "I'm just afraid... of losing my job."

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

He Yuzhu pushed the door open and came in, carrying a half-empty bottle of wine.

"Uncle Yi, would you like a couple of sips?"

Yi Zhonghai looked at him and gave a wry smile: "Zhu Zi, you have a good nose, you always come when something happens."

He Yuzhu sat down, poured himself a glass, and also filled Yi Zhonghai's glass.

"I've heard about what happened at the factory," he said, getting straight to the point.

Yi Zhonghai's hand trembled, spilling half a glass of wine: "How...how did you know?"

"In this city of Beijing, there are no secrets that stay hidden forever." He Yuzhu took a sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing from the spiciness. "Uncle Yi, did the director come to see you?"

Yi Zhonghai nodded, not daring to look him in the eye.

"You didn't take that money, did you?"

"……without."

"Alright." He Yuzhu put down his glass. "To this, I'll toast you."

"Uncle, a storm is brewing. You're caught in the middle, pleasing neither side. The foreman won't let you off the hook, and if the workers knew you were close to him, they'd consider you a traitor too."

"What should I do then?" Yi Zhonghai asked anxiously.

"Illness comes like a landslide, but recovery is like pulling silk from a cocoon." He Yuzhu pointed to Yi Zhonghai's leg, "Isn't your old rheumatism about to flare up?"

Yi Zhonghai was taken aback, then his eyes lit up.

hide.

If you can't afford to offend them, can't you at least avoid them?

"As long as you're not in the factory, the fire won't reach you. Once things calm down, you'll still be a level eight worker, and nobody can do without you."

He Yuzhu stood up and patted Yi Zhonghai on the shoulder.

"Uncle Yi, sometimes, not choosing is also a choice."

After seeing He Yuzhu off, Yi Zhonghai touched his knee.

Tomorrow, this leg will have to be "limping".

Outside the door, the cold wind was biting.

He Yuzhu glanced back at Yi Zhonghai's window, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Yi Zhonghai's position must be protected, but he cannot be used as a firefighter.

Without this easygoing person mediating and smoothing things over, the fire in the factory could burn even brighter.