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

At the entrance of the office on the third floor of the guesthouse, two men were pulling and tugging at each other, attracting frequent glances from the staff passing by in the corridor.

"Director Han, please take these things away, I really can't accept them!" Li Jing'an lowered his voice, but couldn't hide the anxiety in his tone. He gripped the door frame tightly with his left hand and pushed away the cloth bag that the other party was handing to him with his right hand.

The man called Factory Director Han was the head of a foundry from out of town. He was in his fifties, and his dark face was beaming with smiles: "Director Li, look at you, this is just some local produce from our area! It's not worth much. If you don't buy it, you're looking down on people from our small town!"

"It's not a matter of looking down on them, it's a matter of principle!" Li Jing'an was sweating profusely, cursing inwardly that this was the fifth one today. From morning until now, his office had been piled with five or six bags of so-called "local specialties".

As the two pushed and shoved, the bag came undone, and several thick scallions poked their heads out, still covered in fresh soil.

Taking the opportunity, Director Han shoved the cloth bag into Li Jing'an's arms, turned around and left, saying, "Director Li, you're busy. I'll come visit another day!"

"Director Han! Han..." Li Jing'an took two steps to catch up, but the other person had already run downstairs, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

Li Jing'an stood in the corridor, carrying the bag of scallions, looking at the empty stairwell, and sighed deeply. He carried the bag back to his office, locked the door behind him, and only then had time to examine the "spoils" of his morning's work.

In the corner of the office, there were already seven or eight bags and baskets piled up. He walked over and checked them one by one: a bag of sorghum flour, a bag of millet, a few yams still covered in soil, a handful of fresh bamboo shoots, and most surprisingly, two salted fish strung on straw ropes, their bodies coated with a thick layer of salt, glistening slightly in the autumn sun.

"They're treating this like a vegetable market..." Li Jing'an muttered under his breath, forcing a smile but failing to actually laugh.

He walked to the window and looked at the sparse figures in the courtyard below.

I don't know if it was Director Hu from Shandong or Director Chen from the Northeast who spread the word. Now, all the factory leaders from the metallurgical system who came to Beijing for the meeting know that Director Li from the Second Guesthouse has connections. That's why they all came today.

What infuriated Li Jing'an the most was that someone had spread the rumor that he was "an upright person who doesn't accept gifts but only local specialties." As a result, these people all came today carrying vegetables and grains, claiming they were "local specialties."

It was indeed fresh. Li Jing'an picked up a sweet potato and examined it; the skin was still damp, clearly indicating it had just been bought from the market that morning. The factory manager from the coastal city who delivered the salted fish probably bought it fresh from Qianmen Street as well.

"Ruining my reputation..." Li Jing'an shook his head, walked to his desk, sat down, and lit a cigarette.

Li Jing'an exhaled a wisp of smoke, cursing Mine Manager Hu and Factory Manager Chen several times in his mind.

The sound of a car passing by came from outside the window. Li Jing'an peeked out and saw another jeep parked in front of the guesthouse. His heart tightened; he knew someone else had arrived.

This can't go on. Li Jing'an strode to the door, opened it, and called downstairs, "Wang Caixia! Qin Huairu! Come up here!"

Before long, Wang Caixia and Qin Huairu arrived at the office.

"Brother Li, you were looking for us?" Wang Caixia asked.

Li Jing'an pointed to the pile of things in the corner: "You two take these things home. Remember, if anyone asks, say I was out on business today and wasn't at the guesthouse all day."

Qin Huairu's eyes lit up when she looked at the pile of vegetables and grains, but she quickly lowered her head again: "Brother Li, isn't this a bit inappropriate..."

"What's wrong with it? It'll just go bad here anyway." Li Jing'an waved his hand. "By the way, I'll keep those two salted fish, you can take the rest. And give some of those two bundles of green onions to the other waitresses too, to shut them up and stop them from talking nonsense."

Wang Caixia and Qin Huairu exchanged a glance and began to pack. Li Jing'an took a cloth bag from the drawer and put two salted fish inside. The fish were well-cured and wouldn't spoil; they could eat them for several days after they got home.

"Director Li, we'll head down now." Wang Caixia carried two bags of grain, while Qin Huairu held vegetables and a bundle of scallions.

"Go, and remember what I said," Li Jing'an instructed.

After the two left, Li Jing'an closed the door and leaned back in his chair, thinking for a moment. He definitely couldn't stay at the guesthouse any longer; he needed to find somewhere to hide. He suddenly remembered that he had promised Zhang Mingde, the head of the personnel department, to treat him to a meal, and decided to take this opportunity to go out.

He glanced at the clock on the wall; it was 10:30 AM. Li Jing'an got up, straightened his clothes, locked the salted fish in the closet, picked up his briefcase, and went out.

The hallway was quiet. He quickly went downstairs and left the guesthouse through the back door.

The autumn sunlight filtered through the leaves of the plane trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground.

Li Jing'an rode his bicycle through the alley, pondering how to treat everyone to lunch.

Zhang Mingde was an old acquaintance of his, and Old Chen from the finance department and Chief Gou from the security department were also people he could talk to. Oh, and he also needed to have Old Chen call on Captain Shen from the motorcade; that guy might come in handy later.

The bicycle bell jingled as Li Jing'an's figure gradually disappeared at the end of the alley. The window of the office on the third floor of the guesthouse was still open, and the wind rustled the documents on the desk. The corner was empty, with only a faint smell of scallions and salted fish lingering in the air.

In the distance, another jeep drove into the guesthouse compound. Two men carrying cloth bags got out of the car, looked up at the guesthouse building, straightened their collars, and strode inside.