Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

"Sharp-tongued? How much did he actually donate?" He Yuzhu didn't even lift his eyelids. "A twenty-year-old lad, still relying on his father for support? I've been supporting my family since I was sixteen—my dad sends money home every month, but I'm the one who started the stove, I'm the one who brews the medicine, and I even sewed the straps of my schoolbag for rainy days by hand. And Yan Jiecheng? The stove's smoking, and he's still inside wiping his glasses?"

Yan Bugui's face turned ashen instantly, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He understood: if he didn't pay up real money today, his son's reputation would be reduced to ashes—he would be a disgrace to his neighbors when it came to hiring, matchmaking, and being mentioned in the neighborhood. He would be nailed to the pillar of shame for the rest of his life.

A series of thoughts flashed through his mind, and he gritted his teeth. His chest felt heavy and suffocating, as if it were stuffed with a wad of soaked cotton, making it almost impossible to breathe...

"Jie Cheng... Jie Cheng will definitely contribute! He personally donated ten catties of iron!"

"Teacher Yan," He Yuzhu said with a slight smile, "is it the Yan family who will pay ten jin, or will Yan Jiecheng pay ten jin himself?"

"Ten pounds, you have to pay for it yourself!"

"That was great! You're a real man!" He Yuzhu laughed loudly, turned around and went back to Lou Xiao'e's side, not looking back at her again.

Forcing the Yan family to hand over twenty catties of iron at once would be enough to make the old Kou family feel the pinch for years. How could an ordinary family possibly save up that much? Even if Yan Bugui was meticulous and collected iron wherever he could find it, he would at most have seven or eight catties of old iron stockpiled at home—now that the entire alley has been searched, and even the door knockers have been pried bare, who would have any iron left? The rivets on the broken bed frame had long been pried off, and the hinges on the dilapidated cabinet had been scraped so badly that the copper was exposed.

For the Yan family, the twelve-pound shortfall was harder than climbing to heaven.

After He Yuzhu left, Liu Haizhong cleared his throat and spoke again: "Does anyone have anything to say? No? Then let's proceed as agreed... Alright, meeting adjourned!"

Who dares to utter a word? The moment someone dares to speak out against it, they are immediately made a target for dragging the team down.

However, some secretly resented He Yuzhu, but they were ranked lower—Liu Haizhong was always number one. After the people in the courtyard dispersed, many families locked their doors and muttered under their breath, "Liu Haizhong is a heartless bastard, a spendthrift and disgraceful man!"

Actually, the neighborhood committee's original wording was quite flexible: the five-jin iron pot was an initiative, not a strict order. Poor households that couldn't even afford pots and pans were naturally exempt; two households could share an iron pot, agreeing beforehand who would start cooking and who would toss the food, so it wouldn't cause any delays; there were also several other flexible remedial methods…

But Liu Haizhong didn't mention it at all, and he twisted "donate as much as possible five catties" into "every family must pay five catties".

Lou Xiao'e frowned as soon as she entered the house: "Yuzhu, where did we get so much iron? If we donate it all, what will we use to chop vegetables and stew meat?"

"Don't worry." He Yuzhu bent down and opened the cabinet. With a clatter, more than a dozen kitchen knives slid into his palm—various sizes, their blades gleaming with a cold, eerie blue light; they were clearly high-quality items. On the surface, they were taken from the cabinet, but in reality, they were taken from his personal storage space.

These knives were German-made goods he bought in Hong Kong Island years ago. The shopkeeper boasted about them, saying that every Michelin chef had a set. On a whim, he bought the whole set and brought it home.

Only after using it did I realize that it was all show and no substance: the lightest weighed four ounces, the heaviest nearly one pound and two ounces, totaling a mere twelve pounds. Add a few old screws and two sections of sheet metal chimney, and it steadily reached fifteen pounds.

Lou Xiao'e stared at the knives and sighed, "Such good stuff, it's such a waste to donate it..."

"Good? It's just shiny." He Yuzhu casually picked up a knife, flicked his wrist, and the tip of the knife drew a cold arc. "Besides looking intimidating, it's slippery when slicing ginger and vibrates when chopping bones. In terms of ease of use, it's not as good as our old cleaver. I'll make my own set later—consider these as adding fuel to the steel furnace."

He Yuzhu clearly remembers this nationwide steelmaking campaign: once the storm started, the most damaging things were yet to come...

In the early 1960s, things gradually became a little easier. In the years before that, he, the chef, couldn't even find an iron pot in his home, and he had to make do with a rough earthenware pot for cooking.

In his past life, Yi Zhonghai coaxed him with a few words, and he not only handed over all the ironware in his family to the public, but also helped the Jia family next door to contribute as well—as a result, he ended up with no lunchboxes, no teacups, and not even a pot to boil water.

He Yuzhu is no longer blind. He possesses the skills of a chief mechanical engineer, and he understands the ins and outs of steelmaking perfectly well.

Steelmaking is a real, hard-earned skill. Outsiders who tinker around with it will only waste raw materials, burn all the coal, and end up with a pile of brittle, easily broken, and soft waste that can't be twisted.

Those kitchen knives, iron pots, and scrap iron can't even get into the blast furnace—to give scrap steel a new lease on life, we have to work hard on sorting to pull out all the copper, nickel, chromium, and tin mixed in; we also have to break through the impurity removal process and leave the old technology far behind.

Only in this way can scrap iron and steel be truly recycled and reused!

He Yuzhu was planning to put in all his effort to hone his steelmaking skills to perfection.

Perhaps with the help of this system, we can really come up with an efficient recycling method—turning rusty old iron blocks back into shiny and sturdy new steel without wasting a single bit of it.

"What's wrong, Yuzhu?"

"It's alright, take a rest."

"Nonsense, what time is it? Sit on the edge of the bed, I'll make you a basin of hot water to soak your feet."

Lou Xiao'e gently pushed He Yuzhu and turned to fetch the thermos. He had spent most of the day showing them around and carrying the two of them back and forth. Although he didn't say he was tired, her heart had already melted.

What about He Yushui? After getting Lou Xiao'e's bicycle, she rode it wildly all day, then collapsed into bed as soon as she got home. On the first day of school, she was able to ride her bike, a watch on her wrist, looking very proud of herself—her report card showed her she was second in the entire school, and Sha Zhu, without saying a word, picked out a women's watch for her, delicate and stylish, probably the only one of its kind in the whole school.

While the He family's house was warm and cozy, the courtyard seemed to be covered in a layer of dust.

Most people gritted their teeth and cursed Liu Haizhong: This second uncle is really unreasonable. He demands ten pounds of iron with every word. What do ordinary people have to rely on?

Inside the Jia family's house, Qin Huairu, having overheard the news of the meeting in the courtyard, immediately turned to Jia Dongxu and asked, "Dongxu, what are we going to do? We only have a pot, a teacup, and a lunchbox; we can't find any other ironware..."

"What should we do? We won't give it to them! At worst, we'll just scrap metal and hand it over. Do they really think they'd dare smash our own pot?"

Jia Dongxu rubbed his temples in annoyance—his family's meager iron had long been secretly exchanged for grain coupons by Jia Zhangshi, and what remained were only the rations for food, water, and daily necessities.

They talk a big game, but when it comes to actually selling everything they own, they can't even manage half a pound, let alone ten.

Qin Huairu whispered a reminder: "Dongxu, if you don't give him face now, what if he casually mentions at the factory that you were just promoted back to level three fitter, what if..."

Jia Dongxu's expression changed instantly.

That hits the nail on the head. If he's branded as a "burden on the country," wouldn't he face reassignment, demotion, or being sidelined?

Liu Haizhong really did it!

Qin Huairu then tentatively asked, "Doesn't your factory have a lot of scrapped parts piled up? Could you talk to your superiors and buy a few?"

"We don't sell our products to individuals!" Jia Dongxu waved his hand, but his eyes darkened slightly, like a pebble thrown into a deep pool, ripples of shadow. "Alright, that's enough. I'll think about it some more."

"You!!"

As soon as the meeting ended, Yan Bugui grabbed a broom and rushed home. He was about to teach Yan Jiecheng a lesson as soon as he entered the door—that kid had been too talkative and provoked He Yuzhu today, causing the Yan family to spend an extra thirty or forty yuan to buy scrap metal to wipe their butts!

"Dad, why are you hitting me!"

Seeing the situation was turning against him, Yan Jiecheng took off running around the octagonal table. Yan Bugui chased after him for a long time, his arms aching, but he still couldn't catch a glimpse of his clothes. Just as he was getting desperate, the Third Aunt rushed in upon hearing the commotion and grabbed Yan Bugui's wrist: "Let's talk this out!"

Yan Bugui, panting heavily, pointed his finger directly at them: "You're a complete scoundrel! Just because you said a few extra words, our family has wasted thirty or forty yuan!"

"What does this have to do with me...?"

Before he could finish speaking, seeing the old man's eyebrows furrow again, Yan Jie immediately changed his tune: "Besides, isn't the whole hospital supposed to donate ten pounds of iron as a separate contribution? Why should I donate an extra ten pounds? Can't I refuse?"

"Not donating? Do you even want to hold your head up high in the future? Are you planning to work odd jobs your whole life and never even be able to get married?"

Yan Bugui was so angry that his chest felt tight. He pointed at his son and shook his head: He hadn't learned any of his shrewdness, but had instead perfected his stupidity to the extreme—he almost got himself into trouble because of a casual remark!

"You don't care about fame, and neither do your two younger brothers? Our family would normally only have to pay five jin at most, maybe not even an ounce, but you ran into He Yuzhu's wall, using his words as a ladder to jump into the pit yourself!"

"If our family really doesn't pay, we'll be labeled as 'unsupportive of the country' for life!"

After saying that, Yan Bugui plopped down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed). Yan Jiecheng stood there stunned for a long time, cold sweat trickling down his back: "That idiot Zhu, his heart is too black..."

"If you don't flirt with him, how can he trick you into talking to you? You're the one who walked right into his trap!"

Yan Bugui glared at his son, clutching his chest, and turned to the third aunt: "His mother, go and bring out all the scrap metal we've collected, weigh it, and see how much we're short..."

Over the years, Yan Bugui has been incredibly frugal—even if he steps on a nail on the road, he'll grin and say, "Hey, I just picked up a piece of iron for free!"

Over the years, she collected a lot of odds and ends: a complete bicycle rim, several nicked scissors, and iron filings the size of a fingernail, broken screws, old sheet metal... The three women brought them out and weighed them; they weighed eight pounds and three ounces.

If we're talking about just one family, this amount of iron should be enough to get by—just say a few kind words to Liu Haizhong, and maybe hand over five jin and you'll be fine.

But they are still short eleven and seven jin, which is no small amount for the Yan family.

Yan Bugui frowned, staring at Yan Jiecheng, his voice as deep as a brick: "Boss, you're the one who started this mess, do you admit it?"