Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

The words were like knives, slicing through without any mercy, almost stabbing Jiang Shouqin in the face.

Factory Director Yang's expression tightened, and he quickly interjected, "He Yuzhu, don't be hasty, Deputy Factory Director Jiang really didn't mean that..."

"Alright then, Director Yang, please ask him to explain himself clearly—what exactly does he mean? I'm not very educated and can't understand roundabout ways, Deputy Director Jiang, please break it down for me and explain it clearly!"

He Yuzhu refused to accept any leniency; if anyone dared to offend him, he would deliberately drive the nail deeper and louder.

"Jia Dongxu and I? We're practically strangers, just neighbors separated by a wall. It's working hours now, and the steel mill's logistics department is so sprawling, with mountains of big and small issues piling up. And you're asking me to drop everything to visit someone in the hospital? Sending a logistics director who's in charge of the warehouse and procurement to get involved in something that's going on on the production line?"

"Which official document in the factory states this rule? Deputy Factory Director Jiang, please read it to me—what is a regulation? What is a gesture? Should I bow and scrape? Or kneel and serve tea? If this delays the allocation of steel or the workers' dinner, will you take the blame? Or will I?"

His voice was loud and clear, and with the office door wide open, every word he spoke carried into the corridor, making everyone in the purchasing department and warehouse team prick up their ears.

There were quite a few people on this floor. The purchasing department was right next to him, and the warehouse staff's desks were only three steps away from him.

Once these words spread, it was as if they had publicly torn each other apart—He Yuzhu and Jiang Shouqin were now completely at odds.

Factory Director Yang's brow twitched slightly, and he quickly tried to smooth things over: "Director He, it's a real misunderstanding! Deputy Factory Director Jiang just speaks too quickly and didn't choose his words correctly... Deputy Factory Director Jiang, let's go, we still have a few things to oversee this afternoon."

Before he could finish speaking, he grabbed Jiang Shouqin's arm and half-pulled, half-persuaded him out the door.

But in his heart, he couldn't help but wonder: He Yuzhu was being too unreasonable. No matter how inappropriate Jiang Shouqin's words were, he was still the second-highest-ranking leader in the factory; if he dared to talk back like this today, would he still be willing to back down if he encountered difficulties in the future?

Just as they turned the corner of the stairs, Jiang Shouqin finally couldn't hold back any longer and vented his anger on Factory Director Yang: "Factory Director, did you see that? I was just offering a casual piece of advice, and he turned around and bit me, not even respecting the hierarchy between superiors and subordinates..."

Factory Director Yang sighed and didn't respond. He was annoyed by He Yuzhu, but he couldn't touch him—He had powerful connections, steady hands, and a quick mind. Taking action against him would only damage the factory's vitality. He could only say gently, "Forget it, Deputy Factory Director Jiang, it's normal for capable people to have a fiery temper. Let's go to the hospital first and settle Jia Dongxu's matter as soon as possible."

"Just because you're capable doesn't mean you can run rampant with the rules or disregard your superiors."

Jiang Shouqin gritted his teeth, his heart sinking: This matter would spread throughout the entire factory in less than three days—how much prestige would the deputy factory director have left after being humiliated by him?

Seeing that Director Yang had no intention of supporting him, he kept this in mind: the position of deputy director was not just for show.

After Jiang Shouqin left, He Yuzhu continued working at his desk as usual. But the way the people in the logistics department looked at him changed—even the deputy factory director was rendered speechless by him in public. If it were them, they would probably have been scolded and huddled in a corner wiping away tears.

When he was distributing meal tickets in the afternoon, he happened to bump into Director Zhang of the workshop and casually asked about how the factory was dealing with Jia Dongxu.

"Ugh, don't even mention Director He!" Director Zhang slapped his thigh. "I never realized Jia Dongxu was such a shameless scoundrel! He's got no shame whatsoever!"

"He's turning the tables, completely absolving himself of responsibility. Everyone knows it was because he violated regulations by standing on the machine tool that the accident happened. Now he's blaming the factory, and even threatened to block the factory gate during the company dinner to protest his innocence—bah! What injustice does he have?"

He Yuzhu raised an eyebrow: "What conditions did he propose?"

"The factory agreed to pay him six months' wages and let one of his family members take over the job. This is already an exceptional favor..." Director Zhang sighed. "He had no objection to the compensation, but he insisted on one point—that when his wife takes over the job, it should be calculated based on his original length of service, and he should still receive the disability allowance, instead of starting as an apprentice."

"That's going too far," He Yuzhu sneered. "What has he done? What merits has he made? He just reached out for nothing, and now the factory expects to fawn over him?"

Director Zhang shook his head: "That's right! Factory Director Yang was so angry that he didn't say a word for a long time. In the end, Qin Huairu's husband took a step back, crying and begging for mercy, while the woman knelt and kowtowed at the hospital. Factory Director Yang couldn't save face and finally relented."

He Yuzhu knew perfectly well: one played the good cop, and the other the bad cop; they were working together quite well.

"I heard that Jia Dongxu's wife will be coming to the factory in a few days to buy some food, and she'll officially start working there after the New Year. Director He, she's mentioned it to me more than once, saying she knows you very well..."

He Yuzhu scoffed, "Ha, luckily I made it clear this morning—I have no dealings with the Jia family. Once you're involved with them, you can't get rid of them, they're like a leech."

He made no attempt to avoid bringing this up, and Director Zhang knew perfectly well: Jia Dongxu was punished by being forced to clean toilets for three months back then, wasn't that because he had angered him?

"Alright, Director Zhang, I'll head back now."

He pushed the cart out the door, pedaled, and headed straight for the courtyard house.

He Yuzhu truly hadn't expected Jia Dongxu to have his accident a year earlier than anticipated; even more unexpected was that he had survived. But the days to come would likely be even harder to endure than in his previous life—unless Jia Dongxu was willing to take action.

It's a leg that's been amputated, not a hand. You can still make cardboard boxes while lying down, one box at a time. If you're quick and efficient, you can easily make a hundred a day. That's more than twenty yuan a month, more than enough to supplement your household income.

However, the job of pasting paper boxes in Beijing was in high demand. Even though the neighborhood committee could only allocate a maximum of seven or eight hundred boxes to Jia Dongxu's family because of his leg problems, it was still an extra income of seven or eight yuan, which was almost enough for a fitter to get a raise.

This matter has absolutely nothing to do with He Yuzhu. Right now, he's preoccupied with factory matters, visiting his daughter every few days and occasionally stopping by Bai Danyu's place.

Even if Jia Dongxu were really gone, He Yuzhu wouldn't kowtow to him.

In the days leading up to the dinner, the factory repeatedly emphasized and increased pressure at all levels, and managed to get through the year-end smoothly. If another accident had occurred, Director Yang would have had to personally go to the Ministry of Industry with a written apology to admit his mistake.

On the day of the competition, the steel rolling mill was bustling with activity: the football match was in full swing, the wrestling was filled with deafening shouts, and even the singing competition was underway—the whole factory was filled with laughter and joy.

Several canteen workers also joined in the fun and signed up for wrestling, but none of them made it past the second round. They were all knocked to the ground by the strong and muscular guys from the security department. They had their eyes on the ten loaves of bread for the champion and were determined to take first place.

They also wanted to drag He Yuzhu into the fray, but he waved his hand, showing he had no interest in it at all—a logistics director like him had no need to compete with young people, and he didn't care about the word "good at fighting."

The lively atmosphere lasted until noon, when a clear voice came from the factory's loudspeaker: "Dear workers and leaders, lunch has been prepared in all three canteens. The food is plentiful and delicious. Please take your meal tickets and lunch boxes and go to the canteens in batches and in an orderly manner."

As soon as the words were spoken, everyone's stomachs started rumbling, and they all grabbed their tickets and boxes, heading to their respective designated canteens.

To prevent people from crowding into only one canteen for convenience, meal tickets are specially printed according to canteen number to ensure that the three kitchens are equally distributed.

After all, many people still think the food in the No. 1 canteen is delicious—because He Yuzhu has been cooking there for many years, and the dishes cooked in large pots are shiny, fragrant, and full of flavor.

As soon as the lunch bell rang, the aroma of the food wafted into their noses, making those in line behind them drool with envy.

Four meat dishes and four vegetable dishes—this was almost like a banquet at a restaurant. Although each person only had two tickets, there were always ways to get a few more. Some bachelors took their meals and started eating on the spot. As soon as they took their first bite, they couldn't help but exclaim, "This tastes amazing! It must have been cooked by Director He himself!" As soon as he said this, everyone's eyes lit up.

Those with families packed their food carefully. This time, the factory provided an open supply, with two tickets per person and a fixed amount of 1.2 jin (0.6 kg). The three canteens prepared a total of over 10,000 jin (5,000 kg) of vegetables, keeping the cooks extremely busy.

Qin Huairu was also in line today. She didn't participate in any of the factory's competitions; she was just there to get her meal with her ticket.

As soon as she entered the cafeteria, she spotted He Yuzhu chatting and laughing with the security guards, maintaining order while handing out water and towels. She wanted to go over and say something, but she was afraid he would give her a cold look in front of everyone and embarrass her, so she suppressed the thought.

Although they were neighbors who saw each other all the time, Qin Huairu had never actually tasted He Yuzhu's cooking. Years ago, when he was still an apprentice, he was always cheerful and talkative with her, but ever since He Daqing left, his attitude towards her had turned as cold as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him.

This was the first time she could properly eat a meal cooked by him. Just smelling the aroma of the food filling the room made her smack her lips, and her mouth watered.

When it was her turn, Qin Huairu deftly handed over two banquet tickets.

Ma Hua glanced up and, having never seen such a dignified and capable woman before, took the ticket and asked, "Ma'am, two meat dishes and two vegetable dishes, which would you like?"

"Braised chicken pieces, braised pork belly, plus potato slices and braised eggplant!"

She glanced around the windows and immediately made a decision—all the dishes were hearty and juicy; the four-happiness meatballs looked tempting, but two meatballs wouldn't even be enough to fill a family's teeth.

Ma Hua quickly prepared the food and, while handing the lunchbox back, noticed that she still had an empty bowl in her hand. She casually reminded her, "The free soup is in that big bucket over there; just help yourself."

Qin Huairu weighed the four lunchboxes in her hand; the portions were exactly the same. She smiled and winked at Ma Hua, "Little chef, could you scoop me an extra spoonful?"

"No, no, one ticket is six taels, not a tael more, not a tael less. If you don't believe me, weigh it right here on the scale. If it's less, I'll make up the difference immediately. But if it's more—I really wouldn't dare."

Ma Hua waved his hand repeatedly, his tone resolute. This rule was established by his master, and he respected and upheld it. Even though the woman in front of him had a gentle demeanor, he would never dare to cross the line.

Upon hearing this, Qin Huairu glanced at the gleaming scale beside her and understood the situation, so she stopped mentioning the weighing.

After filling a box with hot soup, she carefully carried the five lunchboxes and walked steadily back home.