Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

Many of those queuing ahead were former guards—standing upright, with sharp eyes and calloused hands; He Yuzhu could recognize them at a glance.

The steel rolling mill produced its first batch of 300 units: 20 units were awarded to outstanding employees, 100 units were delivered to the supply and marketing cooperative, and the remaining 180 units were sent directly to the Ministry of Industry. Subsequent batches were entirely at the factory's discretion; the selling price and profit were no longer their concern.

He Yuzhu didn't get involved in sales at all. After queuing up for the second time, he didn't even bother to step into the workshop—this thing had a very low barrier to entry; first- or second-level workers could handle a dozen or so parts and become proficient, ready to start working right away.

His current focus is entirely on daily life, but he's already planning his next project. Exporting hot water? Difficult. The factory is hoping to accumulate a batch and ask the foreign trade department to negotiate with White Bear, but this stuff is too easy to copy. Someone could buy a few dozen units, copy the blueprints, and the production line would be up and running.

He and Lou Xiao'e had discussed it and decided to postpone having children for two years—she was only eighteen, hadn't even had a chance to properly hold onto her high school diploma, and still had two months before leaving school. If they really wanted to have a child, they had to wait until her health was more stable.

But this couldn't be resolved by simply enduring it. Showering in a raincoat was sticky, so he simply dragged Lou Xiao'e along and coaxed her relentlessly, doing everything from cooking soup in the kitchen to sewing buttons and telling jokes to flirt with her in every way possible.

Lou Xiao'e's ears turned bright red at first, and she spat at him and ran away. But she couldn't resist his approaching her every day, sometimes rubbing against the back of her hand, sometimes pressing against her waist and rubbing for an hour or two. Finally, in a daze, she nodded in agreement.

With He Yuzhu's daily care, Lou Xiao'e's skin became increasingly moisturized, and a soft luster appeared around her eyes and brows. She walked with a light sway of her waist, and even the aunties passing by could tell that she had been pampered and carefully nurtured by a man.

Several kind-hearted young wives in the courtyard would often approach Lou Xiao'e and tease her, asking if she slept well at night and if her bed was warm. Lou Xiao'e would always purse her lips and shake her head, too shy to look up.

In the past few months, Xu Damao had been on three or four blind dates, all of which ended in failure. Either he thought the girls were plain-looking, or the girls would turn away and shake their heads as soon as they heard that he had nothing but a government bicycle.

When Mr. and Mrs. Xu were rejected twice, they gritted their teeth and stomped their feet, and finally bought a "Peony" brand radio—at least it was a big, impressive item.

Xu Damao immediately became smug: riding a government vehicle, a radio in his arms, he swaggered through the streets singing Peking Opera all the way. The money he had saved for the wedding was gradually running out, but at least he had managed to scrape together the money for the bride price and the wedding banquet.

At the end of June, Lou Xiao'e graduated from high school, and He Yushui also graduated from junior high school. In another month, she will be entering high school.

He Yuzhu chose a Sunday and took the two girls to explore Xidan, Beihai Park, and Liulichang, only returning home when dusk painted the brick walls of the hutongs red.

But as soon as they stepped into the courtyard, the three of them were stunned—the central garden was packed with people, and even the towels hanging on the clothesline were trampled and bent.

In the center of the courtyard stood an old wooden table, around which sat two people—Liu Haizhong and Yan Bugui.

This scene is exactly like a long-awaited college-wide meeting!

"Silly Zhu, everyone's here, just missing you! Get back to your usual spot!"

Liu Haizhong straightened his back, his voice carrying a long-lost air of authority. He raised his finger and pointed directly at He Yuzhu's usual spot, urging him to return to his place.

For him, this "second uncle," convening a large meeting was usually harder than climbing to heaven—there was always someone missing, or someone else was lacking; even if everyone was gathered, He Yuzhu was almost always absent. But today was different. The street office had just issued an order, giving him a legitimate reason to pressure people, and he could finally order He Yuzhu around openly and legitimately, which could be considered as gaining some influence in front of others.

"Liu Haizhong, what rank are you? What rank am I? A mere sixth-grade fitter, calling the canteen manager 'idiot'? Even putting aside our official positions, I am a national model worker and a representative of advanced producers! Do you think you have the right to address me by my first name?"

He Yuzhu held Lou Xiao'e's wrist, a slight smile playing on his lips. His tone was as cold as well water, yet every word he uttered hit the nail on the head.

Liu Haizhong is all talk and no action. Every time he goes to a meeting in the neighborhood, he only half understands the policy provisions. When he comes back and tries to retell them, they are full of loopholes and are very confusing. In the end, Yan Bugui has to break them down and explain them to him again.

"Our two families are completely unrelated, not even remotely related. At most, we're neighbors in the front and back yards of a courtyard house. The nickname 'Silly Zhu' is what my dad calls me—he's an elder in the He family, so I can't refute it; but now even my dad doesn't call me that anymore. I'd like to ask you: where does a courtyard house mediator get the audacity to give an elder a nickname?"

"You... how dare you! I am the second-in-command of this courtyard house!"

Liu Haizhong's face flushed red, his finger trembling as he pointed at He Yuzhu, his Adam's apple bobbing, his voice choked with anger. The title "Second Uncle" was what he valued most, but now, with He Yuzhu's gentle touch, it was as if his paper crown had cracked open on the spot—didn't that mean his title was so hollow it couldn't even withstand the wind?

Seeing this, Yan Bugui quickly stepped closer and whispered, "Second Uncle, important matters come first! The street office's instructions haven't been finished yet. Don't let this little bit of address delay the overall situation."

Hearing this, Liu Haizhong suppressed his anger, snorted heavily through his nose, and turned his face away, refusing to look at He Yuzhu again.

After he looked around and saw more than thirty people crowding the yard, a surge of excitement rose in his heart—if the factory could let him manage these dozens of people, then he would be considered an "official" in a way.

"Today's plenary meeting is to convey an important message: Right now, our industry must do everything in its power to 'catch up with and surpass Britain and the United States,' but this cannot be rushed or done recklessly..."

Upon hearing this, Yan Bugui immediately interjected to remind him: "Second Uncle, it means 'accomplished in one fell swoop,' which means that the matter is simple and easy and can be accomplished in a short time."

"I know! I just slipped up!"

Liu Hai was secretly puzzled: This old Yan, he had to show off his knowledge when he was seriously reading documents, without even considering that he was speaking on behalf of the street office!

"It can't be accomplished overnight—the country wants to produce steel, but where does the steel come from? Iron! But where does the iron come from?"

He paused deliberately, his gaze sweeping over the upturned faces, his smugness almost overflowing.

Only He Yuzhu was leaning against the wall yawning, his eyelids drooping lazily, which made Liu Haizhong feel a tightness in his chest—this man dared to be distracted when he was conveying important national affairs!

"So, yesterday I went to a meeting at the neighborhood committee, and the leader made it clear: if each household donates five kilograms of scrap iron, they can get a 'good' rating; but if they want to get an 'excellent courtyard house,' they have to increase it—ten kilograms per household!"

"Our institute had an 'Excellent' plaque years ago, but something went wrong and it was taken off. But this is a great opportunity to turn things around! As long as every household contributes ten kilograms, that plaque will definitely be put back on this year!"

He became more and more excited as he spoke, his face flushed – if he could really win back the "excellent courtyard house" title, wouldn't he be far superior to Yi Zhonghai?

He picked up what Yi Zhonghai lost himself! Just thinking about it makes my spine straighten up a bit.

But as soon as he finished speaking, the entire courtyard became so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The crowd looked at each other in astonishment.

These days, iron isn't something you can just assemble anywhere. The heaviest iron items in the house are nothing more than a pot, a kettle, a few teacups, and a few lunchboxes. A large iron pot weighs at most three or four pounds, and a thicker one barely weighs six pounds; the rest of the odds and ends add up to a maximum of two pounds.

Ironware is precious; buying a new pot costs more than three times as much as hiring a repairman to fix it—who doesn't patch up a leaky pot and keep using it?

Gathering five jin is already a lot of work, like scraping the bottom of a pot and turning over a chest; ten jin? Wouldn't that mean emptying the family's rice bowl?

So no one answered or responded.

Agree? From now on, he'll have to make do with enamel mugs even for a sip of hot water; Refusal? It's like slapping Liu Haizhong across the face in public—he has many sons, strong fists, and is a level six blacksmith; besides the He family, who dares to mess with him?

Seeing the awkward silence, Liu Haizhong grew anxious and quickly raised his voice: "What? Nobody's saying anything? If you're not saying anything, I'll take that as everyone agrees! By the end of the month, each household will have ten jin (5 kg) weighed and registered!"

"Second Uncle, someone has to take the lead," Yan Jiecheng suddenly interjected, his lips curling into a sneer and his eyes full of resentment. "In our compound, only Sha Zhu Guan has the highest rank. You'll have to talk to him first about this!"

He had just seen He Yuzhu returning from shopping with Lou Xiao'e and He Yushui when a wave of jealousy surged through him—why should he be carrying sacks and working hard to earn money on the weekend, while this "fool" who stole his house could be eating meat and shopping with his beautiful wife every day?

He Yuzhu's voice was cold and hard, his gaze sharp as a knife. He stared at Yan Jiecheng's flushed face, took a step forward, and said in a voice as deep as iron hitting a brick: "Yan Jiecheng, weren't you eager to know how much I donated? Fine, I'll lay it all out—I donated fifteen jin of scrap iron, plus the five jin I collected from the school with rainwater, making a total of twenty jin for the He family. And you? The country worked so hard to support you through high school, how many jin are you planning to give back?"

Yan Jiecheng was forced to take a half step back, his Adam's apple bobbing, his voice weak: "How much my family donates... is up to my dad to decide, I... I don't have the final say..."

"Fine! You're so eloquent in lecturing others, but when it comes to yourself, you cower in your shell like a quail? The country sent you to school, ensured your safe upbringing, and now, with sparks flying and the furnace blazing, you're hiding indoors counting grains of rice? With this kind of behavior, you expect the organization to assign you a job? Bah! I'll be the first to flip the table!"

He Yuzhu's words struck the ground with a resounding clang. Those around him found them all reasonable and didn't think much of it; but Yan Bugui's ears twitched, and his heart sank—oh no!

If this gets out, even if Jie Cheng had three mouths, he wouldn't be able to clear his name: When the national government issues a decree, you're going to cower? Will the Nanluoguxiang Subdistrict Office even give a nod? The clerks in the neighboring alleys and Qianmen Street will avoid you if they hear this! Temporary worker positions? He probably won't even get a spot cleaning toilets!

"Jiecheng! Shut up!" Yan Bugui's face tightened, and he cut him off sharply. He turned around, forced a smile, and cupped his hands towards He Yuzhu: "Zhuzi... Director He, the kid was just being cheeky and talking nonsense, please don't take it to heart..."