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

"Come on, Dad, let's lift it together."

On the eastern shore of Shichahai Lake, in front of a detached old villa with a garden, Li Jing'an parked his car steadily in the courtyard. He called his father to get out of the car, and the two of them worked together to lift a heavy box out of the trunk.

"Jing'an, what... what is this? And what is this place for? Whose house is it?" Li's father looked around, stunned and speechless, his eyes full of doubt. There was a spacious garden in front and a magnificent three-story Western-style house behind.

"Hey Dad, I bought this place at the beginning of the year. I was worried about the consequences, so I haven't moved in yet. Please don't tell anyone else, you know how things are these days."

"What? You bought it?" Mr. Li was so shocked he could barely speak. "You... good heavens! Aren't these all houses that used to belong to powerful warlords?"

"More or less."

"Where did you get so much money?"

"Hey Dad, why are you making such a fuss? Since you bought it, it means I have the ability. Hurry up and carry it to the garden."

Li Jing'an urged his father on, and the two of them carried the boxes through the garden. Deep inside the garden, they discovered a hidden entrance to a cave. Li Jing'an gestured for his father to put the boxes down. They made several trips back and forth, carrying down a total of four small boxes.

"Hey, you're saying these warlords used to live in cellars too? Just like us ordinary folks," Li's father couldn't help but exclaim.

"What? Dad? This isn't a cellar, it's an air-raid shelter they dug themselves." Li Jing'an was both amused and exasperated by his father's words.

"Well, these rich and powerful people are so precious that they even dig air-raid shelters for their own homes."

"Alright, Dad, stop looking. We still have to go back. The car can't hold everything; we have another load of stuff to haul." The reason Li Jing'an drove a car instead of a truck was because trucks are too conspicuous, inconvenient to get in and out of, and easily attract attention.

Li Jing'an bought this house at the beginning of the year from a Chinese man with the money he made from trading grain. The Chinese man was quite prescient; sensing something was wrong, he hurriedly disposed of his assets and fled, allowing Li Jing'an to snatch it up. Li Jing'an noticed there was a small air-raid shelter here, and he planned to hide all the valuables he had confiscated during this period there. He planned to seal the entrance with cement and plant flowers on top to cover up the traces, using it as start-up capital after the reform and opening up.

After the second truckload of goods arrived and were properly settled, Li's father, panting heavily, said, "Jing'an, this is my first time in a place like this. Open the door and let me have a good look around."

"Alright, there's not much to see anyway. It's all old furniture, nothing of value." Since his father insisted, Li Jing'an had no choice but to agree.

This was a standard Beiyang-era building, a three-story Western-style house of over 400 square meters, plus a 500-square-meter garden. Li Jing'an acted decisively because of its scarcity. He knew that if he didn't acquire it quickly, it would soon be nationalized, and obtaining it again would be incredibly difficult. His plan was to collect all the rare items on the market and store them in his cellar. Afterward, he planned to arrange for Liu Haizhong to become the captain of the Nanluoguxiang Street Workers' Propaganda Team. The Workers' Propaganda Team was dispatched by the factory and, although nominally under the jurisdiction of the Street Revolutionary Committee, was actually beyond the control of the local authorities. With Xu Damao in the factory and Liu Haizhong in the street, they could have complete control of the area.

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.

"Come on! Move everything out! Search high and low, find it all!"

In a courtyard in Dongcheng, Liu Haizhong was yelling at the police officers who were ransacking the place. In the courtyard, a family huddled together timidly, with a small number of "old" items that had been confiscated in front of them.

"Don't try to play tricks on me!" Liu Haizhong, hands on his hips, glared and demanded, "Confess now! Did you hide those old 'Four Olds' items?"

"Comrade, really, we don't have any... These are all the things we have at home. The things people said before were just nonsense," the man replied timidly.

"You're talking nonsense! Let me tell you, if you don't hand over the stuff today, your whole family won't have a good life! I'm taking you away right now, and then it won't be as simple as whether you want to or not! Don't push your luck!" Liu Haizhong continued to threaten.

Just then, Master Zhao rushed in from outside. He glanced at the things on the ground, then put on a smiling face and walked over to Liu Haizhong's side. He said to the family, "Old Wang, why are you doing this? Don't you know the current policies? Hiding these things is just asking for trouble, courting death! Take my advice and tell us where you hid them!"

"I don't have anything, I really don't! My family are all honest people, what do we have to do with the Four Olds?" the man called Old Wang insisted.

Master Zhao's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a cold laugh: "Old Wang, this is pointless. We're all in the same business; I know your family's background inside and out. You can't hide it from anyone. If you know what's good for you, hand it over now, and I might plead for you and lessen your mistake. If you're stubborn, don't blame us for being impolite!"

Seeing the family remain silent, Liu Haizhong waved his hand dismissively: "Go! Take them all to the factory and give them a good 'talking around' to wake them up! Don't let the younger ones off the hook either!"

"No! Father! Mother!" The courtyard was filled with cries and screams.

"Old Zhao, don't be polite with them. Take them to the steel rolling mill and see what I can do. We have a hundred ways to make them talk!" Liu Haizhong said smugly. "I even found someone from outside who supposedly spent time in the torture chambers of the old society. I guarantee he'll teach them a lesson."

"My dear Lao Liu, the most important thing for us is to collect the goods. Director Li specifically instructed us that we absolutely cannot let anyone die," Master Zhao quickly advised.

"Hey, Lao Zhao, don't worry, I know what I'm doing. These guys will be scared out of their wits as soon as they show their weapons. There's no need to go all out, no one will get killed." Liu Haizhong said dismissively.

"Okay, as long as you keep it in mind, don't ruin Director Li's important plans." Master Zhao nodded.

"By the way, where's the next place?" Liu Haizhong asked.

"The next person is a university professor who has a lot of calligraphy and paintings. I know he has a flower and bird painting by Emperor Huizong of Song, Zhao Ji. Director Li will definitely like it. Let's go directly to his house."

"Alright, you decide. As long as Director Li is happy. Let's go!" Liu Haizhong shouted, and several young men immediately surrounded the two of them as they headed towards their next target.

Meanwhile, the scene in the interrogation room of the steel rolling mill was quite different.

"Tell me the truth! Don't try to bluff your way out! Tell me how you suppressed the working class and acted as a mouthpiece for capitalist roaders!" Xu Damao slammed his fist on the table, glaring at Qian, the former head of the propaganda department, across from him.

"I didn't, Damao... You can't do this to me! I used to treat you really well! When others reported you for taking bribes and demanding favors, I always turned a blind eye..."

"You're talking nonsense! Shut up!" Xu Damao interrupted sharply. "Trying to label me? Trying to smear me? I think you're resisting the organization! You're asking for a beating, aren't you? Come on, let's loosen up this capitalist roader's muscles!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than two young men behind him rolled up their sleeves, ready to step forward. Seeing this, Section Chief Qian quickly begged for mercy: "No, no, no! I'll tell you, okay? What do you want me to say?"

"Hmph, you won't shed a tear until you see the coffin, you're such a spineless coward." Xu Damao sneered. "Give me a pen! Write! Write down how you acted as the mouthpiece of the capitalist roaders in the factory and suppressed the workers' speech! Write clearly who ordered you to do it, and who your accomplices are!"

He paused, his tone growing increasingly sinister: "And most importantly—write about how you suppressed the promotion of outstanding workers! How you ran a one-man show, monopolized power? Why did you turn a blind eye to my past excellence and hard work? Why wasn't I promoted? Why were you preventing me from taking on a leadership position? Write all of this down!"