I feel right at home in the world of the courtyard house.

early morning.

Wang Defa was eating with his father at the table, chewing on a steamed bun, but his mind was preoccupied with the four hundred yuan. Wang's mother came out from the inner room, clutching a neatly folded handkerchief in her hand.

She walked to the table, slowly unfolded her handkerchief, revealing a stack of brand-new, neat banknotes inside. She then lowered her head and carefully counted them one by one, her mouth moving silently.

"Defa, here's all the money you wanted." After counting out the last bill, she gently pushed it in front of Wang Defa, her eyes filled with reluctance and worry. "Take it carefully, don't lose it, keep it safe."

Wang Defa reached out to take it, but Wang's mother's hand was still on the handkerchief, and she only let go after a second.

Mr. Wang put down his chopsticks, frowned, and said in an unhappy tone, "What are you nagging about? Defa is not an ignorant child. He is a government official now. Doesn't he understand the priorities better than you? This money is for doing important things, not for squandering. Stop nagging endlessly."

The Queen Mother awkwardly withdrew her hand, her lips twitching slightly, and her voice lowered: "I was just worried he might be careless..."

Wang Defa grabbed the money on the table, stuffed it into his pocket without even counting it. He looked up, his gaze sweeping over his parents' faces, and said in a deep voice, "Dad, Mom, don't worry. With this four hundred yuan, I can go back to the factory and try to get some work done. My future will definitely be much brighter than it is now."

His heart raced slightly as he spoke, but his face remained confident. In truth, there was no leader, no connections; it was all a lie. But the words were already out, and he could only stubbornly persist.

"Good lad! I knew you'd amount to something!" Mr. Wang's face lit up with joy, his eyes shining. He leaned forward slightly. "You've only been at the guesthouse for a few days, and you've already made connections with some influential leaders? Don't worry, if you need more money, just ask the family. I'll borrow it myself, but I won't let your important matter be delayed."

As he spoke, Mr. Wang waved his hand, as if he could already see his son sitting in the factory office.

Wang Defa nodded slightly, saying nothing more. He dared not say more, afraid of revealing his lie. The day before, he had lied to his parents, saying that he had connections and could transfer from the guesthouse to the factory for just four hundred yuan. His parents believed him without a doubt—how could a college student son lie?

"I understand, Dad. Just you wait and see. Once I'm transferred to the factory, with my abilities, I'll definitely make a name for myself in no time." Wang Defa nodded vigorously, as if trying to convince his parents, or perhaps himself.

Mr. and Mrs. Wang looked at their son with satisfaction and their eyes were full of expectation.

Wang Defa hurriedly finished his rice, wiped his mouth, picked up his briefcase hanging on the wall by the door, and walked out. The moment the door closed behind him, the confidence on his face instantly crumbled, replaced by a hint of guilt and unease. But he quickly straightened his back again—the arrow was on the bowstring, and he had no choice but to release it.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The inner lounge of the guesthouse director's office.

With a soft "click," a kerosene lighter flickered and lit a cigarette. The cigarette was held by a pair of slender, pale hands, clearly belonging to a woman. She brought it to her lips, took a light inhale, and slowly exhaled a puff of pale smoke, which dissipated slowly in the dim light.

Song Yun left the cigarette on the edge of the bed, snuggled closer to Li Jing'an, and let the thin blanket slip down to her waist. Her face was still flushed.

"Brother Li, you're amazing... You have so many tricks up your sleeve." She said softly to Li Jing'an, who was resting with his eyes closed, with a satisfied smile.

Li Jing'an opened his eyes, turned his head to look at her, and smirked: "What's wrong? Haven't you ever had a proper meal before?"

Song Yun suddenly leaned forward and gave him a big kiss on the cheek with a crisp "pop," then giggled and murmured, "Brother Li, only today do I truly understand what a man is and what a woman is." Her eyes curved into crescent moons, and her voice was sickeningly sweet.

"You did well too, your self-criticism was very insightful. I can see that you understand your mistakes very well." Li Jing'an paused, raising an eyebrow with a half-smile. "There's just one thing—you made a little too much noise. Are you like this at home too?"

"How could that be!" Song Yun playfully punched him. "How can my husband compare to Brother Li! He's so quiet, you can't even get a fart out of him, he's like a block of wood." She snuggled closer to him, her voice soft and sweet, "It's because you're so amazing, I just couldn't control myself..."

Li Jing'an raised his hand and gently stroked her hair: "Okay, from now on, follow me well, and I won't treat you badly. What you lacked before, I will slowly give you from now on."

Song Yun's eyes lit up, and she immediately pledged her loyalty: "Brother Li, don't worry, I'll do anything you ask me to do from now on. I'm yours now." She spoke urgently, as if afraid he would change his mind.

Li Jing'an pinched her twice more, making Song Yun groan softly, a sound that was both painful and coquettish. He chuckled, his laughter full of smugness.

Song Yun took two deep drags of her cigarette, stubbed it out hard in the ashtray, and lay down on Li Jing'an, saying softly, "Brother Li, I still have something to apologize for..." Her fingers slid down his chest.

Li Jing'an's expression changed slightly, and he raised his hand to stop him: "Next time, let's let it go this time."

Before she could finish speaking, Song Yun had already slid down like a snake.

Li Jing'an leaned back on the pillow, closed his eyes, and let out a muffled sigh, whether it was of enjoyment or helplessness, it was hard to tell.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"Minister, you've arrived!"

Standing at the entrance of the guesthouse, Li Jing'an saw the black sedan approaching from afar, immediately straightened his back, and adjusted his collar.

The car came to a stop, and the minister stepped out with a smile: "I'm not late, am I?"

"Look at what you're saying. Without you, how could this match even begin? Everyone's waiting for you," Li Jing'an said, while turning to the side and gesturing for them to proceed.

The minister chuckled, patted him on the shoulder, his gaze lingering on his face before suddenly shifting to one of confusion. His brow furrowed slightly. "Jing'an, you don't look well. Your lips are pale, and your complexion is yellowish. Are you ill?"

Li Jing'an's heart skipped a beat. But he remained outwardly calm, instead puffing out his chest and explaining righteously, "Thank you for your concern, Minister. It's just that there's been a lot going on at the institute lately, and I haven't had much rest. It's nothing serious."

"Work is work, but you can't let your health suffer." The minister patted his arm earnestly. "You can do work anytime, but if you ruin your health, that will be a real problem."

"I also want to contribute more to the organization and the country, and do my part." Li Jing'an said with a serious face and a firm gaze, as if he were truly dedicating himself to the country.

The minister sighed softly and patted his arm again, this time with a bit more force: "Good, I've seen everything you've done. Don't worry, the organization won't let you work so hard or give so little for nothing." As the minister said this, he looked at him meaningfully.

Li Jing'an immediately feigned a flattered expression and bowed slightly: "Minister, if you say that, I feel ashamed. I've always looked up to you as a role model. You're so busy with your affairs, yet you still took the time to come to our little guesthouse to guide the competition. What is my little bit of tiredness compared to that?" He was modest on the surface, but his heart was churning like boiling water: This is going to remove the "Deputy" title from my head!

The minister felt comforted and sighed deeply. His eyes revealed the sentiment that "Jing'an understands me." He patted Li Jing'an on the shoulder again, looking as if he had finally met a kindred spirit after a long and arduous journey.

Li Jing'an quickly stepped aside to lead the way, then suddenly remembered something and asked casually, "Minister, why isn't the secretary here?"

"Hey, what's the point of having him here?" The minister waved his hand, a hint of impatience flashing across his face. "He's been with me for years, and he hasn't improved at all." The minister didn't finish his sentence, but the disgust on his face said it all. He always felt that his secretary couldn't quite grasp his intentions, unlike Li Jing'an, who was so capable.

As the minister walked, he thought to himself: Li Jing'an has a father-in-law who is a leader in the municipal party committee, yet he is neither arrogant nor impatient, and he keeps his position very upright. This is rare.

Upon entering the banquet hall, the waiters participating in the competition had already changed into their uniform sportswear and were lined up neatly, waiting. The minister, seeing this, instantly transformed, a warm smile spreading across his face as he quickly passed Li Jing'an—his pace so fast Li Jing'an almost couldn't react.

The minister took the initiative to shake hands with each of the waiters, tightly wrapping his hands around each athlete's hands, and gently reminding them: "Thank you for your hard work," "Be careful," "The competition is secondary," "Friendship comes first," before reluctantly letting go.

After shaking hands with everyone, the minister turned around, a smile still warm on his face, and said to Li Jing'an, "Jing'an, look at the spirit of these eight athletes today, they're no worse than last time." The minister nodded with satisfaction.

"Look at what you're saying," Li Jing'an quickly stepped forward and sat down next to the minister, leaning slightly towards him and lowering his voice so that the minister could hear him clearly, "Our athletes at the guesthouse know that you're watching the game live, and they all want to show their best side."

The minister's eyes lit up, a smile playing on his lips, and he urged impatiently, "Ah, great! Let's get started! Show us what you've got!"

Li Jing'an smiled slightly, stood up, straightened his collar, cleared his throat, and announced loudly, "The competition begins!"