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

Qin Huairu gazed at the empty courtyard and sighed softly. She stacked the washed dishes, carried the basin, and returned to the Jia family home.

Inside the room, Jia Zhangshi was sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) sewing shoe soles. Seeing Qin Huairu enter, she looked up and asked, "Finished washing?"

"Hmm." Qin Huairu put the bowl in the cupboard, hesitated for a moment, and said, "Mom, I...I want to go to Li Jing'an's house."

Madam Jia paused, the needle in her hand still: "Why go to his house?"

"Ask about the job transfer." Qin Huairu lowered her eyelids. "Didn't he say he'd ask about the transfer for me last time? I want to go and ask about the progress."

Madam Jia stared at her daughter-in-law for a few seconds, then nodded. "We should ask. This is a big deal." She put down her shoe, thought for a moment, and then said, "Wouldn't it be bad to go empty-handed? Or... could we borrow some money from Sha Zhu or Uncle Yi and buy some things to take with us?"

"No need," Qin Huairu said softly. "I was just asking, there's no need to buy anything."

She left as soon as she finished speaking, not daring to look her mother-in-law in the eye.

Qin Huairu stood in front of Li Jing'an's door, took several deep breaths, and then raised her hand to gently knock.

No one answered from inside.

She waited a while and knocked again. Still, there was no response.

Just as she hesitated whether to leave, Li Jing'an's voice came from inside: "Come in."

The voice was calm, revealing no emotion.

Qin Huairu pushed open the door.

Li Jing'an stood at the doorway, holding a book in his hand. He glanced at her, said nothing, and turned to go inside.

Qin Huairu closed the door behind her and then bolted it from the inside. She did this very slowly, her fingers lingering on the rough wooden bolt for a moment before gently pushing it all the way in.

She followed him into the house. The living room was empty, and the bedroom door was ajar. She walked to the doorway and saw Li Jing'an reclining on the bed, still holding the book in his hand, his gaze fixed on her.

"What are you standing there for? Come in," Li Jing'an said.

Qin Huairu stepped over the threshold. The room was brightly lit; the curtains were wide open, and sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the area around the bed. There was a faint smell of smoke in the air, mixed with some other indescribable aroma.

"Can you really transfer me to another job?" she asked, her voice a little strained. "When can I get the transfer? And... can my job grade be raised along with it?"

Li Jing'an put the book aside and put his hands behind his head: "It'll definitely be a promotion. Your grade will also increase, from 27.5 yuan to 35 yuan." He paused, his gaze sweeping over her, "As for when... it depends on your performance. If you perform well, I'll process the paperwork for you tomorrow, and you can report to the guesthouse the day after tomorrow. You'll be able to receive a salary of 35 yuan this month."

"How should I behave?" she heard herself ask, her voice as soft as a mosquito's buzz.

Li Jing'an didn't answer, he just looked at her.

She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, "Could you close the curtains?"

"No," Li Jing'an said. "I want to take a good look at you."

The sunlight streaming through the window shone brightly on the bed, making it a very bright spot.

Li Jing'an placed his hands behind his head, watching with a leisurely air. His movements were stiff, awkward, and tense. This appearance, ironically, gave him an almost cruel pleasure.

He squinted, the two plump, white mounds in his vision swaying violently, like two scorching lamps, so bright that they made his head throb and he felt dizzy.

Two hours, or longer.

Qin Huairu sat on the edge of the bed, her back to Li Jing'an, and put her clothes back on one by one. Her movements were slow, her fingers trembled slightly, and she had to button them up several times before she could.

Li Jing'an lay on his side, one hand supporting his head, the other resting on her back, gently stroking it. His fingers traced the hollows of her spine, feeling the warmth of her skin.

"You did very well," he said, his voice tinged with a satisfied languor. "I'll arrange your transfer tomorrow. I guarantee you'll be working at the guesthouse the day after tomorrow."

Qin Huairu didn't say anything and continued buttoning her clothes.

"There's a bag of cornmeal on the cutting board in the east room. Take it home," Li Jing'an continued. "It'll be enough for you to eat for a few days."

The last button was fastened. Qin Huairu stood up and straightened her dress. She didn't turn around, walking straight towards the door.

Sure enough, there was a bag of cornmeal in the kitchen, bulging and probably weighing ten pounds. Qin Huairu carried it in her hand; it felt heavy.

Qin Huairu hurried back to the Jia family.

Inside the house, Jia Zhangshi was still sewing shoe soles. Seeing her daughter-in-law return, she looked up and asked, "Why did you take so long? What did he say?"

"The job transfer is done." Qin Huairu put the bag on the table, trying to keep her voice calm. "I'll be able to start working at the guesthouse in a few days, and my salary will be increased to thirty-five yuan."

Madam Jia's eyes lit up: "Really? That's wonderful!" She put down her work and leaned closer. "This is truly... truly a stroke of luck!"

Her gaze fell on the bulging bag: "What's this?"

"Cornmeal," Qin Huairu said. "Li Jing'an gave it to me."

Jia Zhangshi's smile froze for a moment. She carefully observed her daughter-in-law—Qin Huairu's—face flushed an unusually. Although her hair had been recombed, a few strands were still loose at her temples. The buttons were neatly fastened, but there seemed to be some wrinkles at the collar. And… Jia Zhangshi sniffed. Faintly, she seemed to smell an unfamiliar scent, mixed with the aroma of cornmeal, barely perceptible.

Qin Huairu felt uncomfortable under her mother-in-law's gaze. She avoided her eyes, picked up the bag, and said, "I'll go get ready. I'm in a good mood today, so I'll steam a pot of cornbread for dinner."

She turned and went into the kitchen, her heart pounding. Kneading dough, boiling water, steaming—every movement was mechanical and hurried. Steam rose, blurring her vision. She strained to hear what was happening outside—Jia Zhangshi remained silent, only the sound of thread being pulled back to sew shoe soles, one stitch after another.

Finally, the aroma of steamed cornbread filled the air. Qin Huairu lifted the lid of the pot, looking at the golden-brown cornbread, and her tense nerves relaxed slightly. Her mother-in-law didn't ask anything, didn't say anything—perhaps she hadn't noticed anything. She was just overthinking it.

Outside, Madam Jia stopped her needlework. She looked at the figure moving in the kitchen doorway, opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing, only letting out a soft sigh. The sigh was so faint it was quickly drowned out by the sounds of pots and pans clattering from the kitchen.

As evening approached, Li Jing'an reheated the half-eaten fish left over from lunch. The fish soup bubbled and steamed on the stove, filling the air with its aroma. He ladled out a bowl of rice and ate it with relish, enjoying the fish soup.

Through two walls, the faint sound of children's laughter could be heard. It was Bang Geng and his two younger sisters; their voices were clear and cheerful, especially distinct in the twilight.

"Mom! The cornbread smells so good!"

"I want two!"

"Me too!"

Then came Qin Huairu's gentle voice: "Eat slowly, don't choke. There's plenty for you today."

Li Jing'an picked up a piece of fish and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly. The fish was tender, and the broth was rich. Listening to the cheerful laughter next door, the corners of his mouth slowly turned up.