Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

When she returned to the courtyard house, the lunchbox was still slightly warm. Qin Huairu went straight into the old lady's house, smiling as she placed the box on the table: "Auntie, I got some dishes from the steel mill canteen, just to add some oil for you and Zhiliang; I'll keep some for myself to take to the hospital to look after Dongxu..."

Upon seeing the box full of glistening meat and vegetables, even the vegetables seemed to be gleaming, the older woman felt a little embarrassed: "Huairu, you should take this home and eat it! So much good food, you should nourish yourselves well for the New Year; after you finish eating, bring Banggeng and Xiaodang over, I'll watch them for you..."

"Auntie, you flatter me! It's just a few dishes. If it weren't for your help these past few days, the Jia family would be in complete chaos. Why don't you let Banggeng and Xiaodang come and eat here?"

Qin Huairu spoke softly, her eyes slightly red, and she spoke from the heart.

Upon hearing this, the middle-aged woman agreed without much hesitation: "What's the big deal about such a small matter? Let them come! You just focus on taking care of Dongxu. No matter how hard things get, they'll get through this."

In the past, even an older woman would frown upon a child who followed Jia Zhangshi; but after Jia Zhangshi left, Qin Huairu became extremely strict and disciplined the child perfectly—ultimately, she had both beaten him into submission and taught him to behave properly.

In addition, Qin Huairu often helped the older woman with laundry, sewing, and serving her tea and water, so the older woman was naturally willing to lend a hand and take care of her two children...

"Thank you, ma'am."

As soon as she finished speaking, Qin Huairu deftly lifted the lid of the lunchbox, scooped out a full spoonful of stewed radish and meat until it was tender, and then carefully stuffed in four golden cornbread buns. She turned around, picked up her cloth bag, and hurried to the hospital—Jia Dongxu was still lying in the hospital bed waiting for her.

The job was settled: she would start work at the beginning of the year, and although she would be an apprentice, her seniority would be maintained and her disability allowance would continue, earning a steady twenty-odd yuan a month. If Qin Huairu could pass the Level 2 technician exam in one go, her salary would immediately surpass Jia Dongxu's.

The steel rolling mill's year-end celebration didn't come to an end until evening.

After a hearty lunch in the canteen, we squeezed into the auditorium in the afternoon to watch a few lively factory-run shows. As dusk fell, the factory set up a screen to show a movie, with drums and gongs filling the air and a cacophony of voices, filling the last day before the end of the year to the brim.

Before leaving get off work, He Yuzhu made a special detour to the canteen and greenhouse, repeatedly reminding the staff on duty to keep a close eye on the doors and windows and check for any sources of fire, before heading home.

He hadn't even considered watching movies—he'd already watched countless domestic films over and over again, and back in the day, he'd binged over a dozen Hong Kong movies in one go.

He Yushui came over before dinner and said that she had made an appointment with a classmate to go to the factory to watch a movie, and had also brought half a pound of fried beans, saying that she wouldn't be coming back to eat them today; He Yuzhu knew what was going on: the factory's security department patrolled the area in three shifts every night, and there was not a single problem with security.

Pushing open the courtyard gate, Old Wang had already cut the timber according to the drawing and neatly stacked it in front of the He family's door.

He Yuzhu didn't take out any money, knowing that Lao Wang would definitely refuse, so he simply handed over a whole piece of cured pork with a good balance of fat and lean meat, weighing a pound and two ounces, worth three or four yuan.

Old Wang kept saying "No, you mustn't," but his hands honestly took it—unable to resist He Yuzhu's darkening eyes and hardening tone, he gave up after a couple of refusals.

As soon as Lao Wang left, He Yuzhu rolled up his sleeves and started carrying wood into the house to assemble a bed frame. Seeing this, Lou Xiao'e quickly tied on an apron, turned around, and went into the kitchen to start a fire and wash rice.

But just as the blue flames began to ignite in the stove, Liu Guangtian knocked loudly on the courtyard gate.

As soon as the door opened, he blurted out, "My dad wants a hospital-wide meeting at 7:30."

"Why?" He Yuzhu frowned.

Liu Guangtian shrugged: "I really don't know, that's what my dad said."

Now no one in the courtyard dares to call him "Silly Pillar" to his face anymore—even if they have doubts in their hearts, they will at most mutter a few words behind their backs.

The position of logistics director at the steel rolling mill is one that few in the courtyard can truly hold their own against. Xu Damao may curse fiercely, but he secretly hates it to the core. However, if anyone dares to say a word against him to his face, he will be sent to the farthest cooperative projection room the next day, where he will not only be shown films for half a month, but his film schedule will also be permanently fixed there for the next six months.

In terms of administrative rank, the logistics director is half a rank higher than the head of the publicity department.

Lou Xiao'e rubbed her hands and poked her body out of the kitchen: "What happened?"

"It's nothing, there's a meeting at the institute. I'll just go check it out after I finish eating." He Yuzhu waved his hand, took the enamel bowl from her hand, and the two of them sat down at the small table with their steaming food, eating and chatting. Lou Xiao'e picked up a piece of green vegetable with her chopsticks and said with a smile that Director Wang praised her a few days ago for her neat reports and efficient abacus work. Right now, they are short of a formal position, and it will most likely fall to her.

After finishing their meal, the two carried their small stools out of the courtyard gate. A group of people had already gathered in the central garden, and Liu Haizhong was directing his son to bring over a sturdy square table, the stool legs not yet properly positioned.

"Dear neighbors, the first thing to talk about today is Jia Dongxu's workplace injury..."

"To put it bluntly, the Jia family is in trouble—Dongxu had an accident in the workshop and is still in the hospital. Qin Huairu has to take care of him, and the two children are being looked after by an older woman."

"Our factory has been blaring safety warnings every day for the past few days, so I'll say it again: Production safety isn't just empty talk; it's our lifeline!"

As soon as Liu Haizhong finished reading his opening remarks, someone in the audience chimed in:

"Second Uncle, stop reading the regulations. I can even recite the punctuation marks from memory!"

"Yes, Uncle, get to the point! I, the projectionist, have been forced to copy the safety rules three times; my arms are aching!"

Xu Damao couldn't help but chime in—the propaganda department had been mobilized in an emergency, and even he, a projectionist who usually slacked off, was dragged into putting up slogans and showing slides. What should have been a leisurely job had been turned into an assembly line.

Urged on by the others, Liu Haizhong's face stiffened slightly. He had been trying his best to imitate the dignified demeanor of the workshop director, but his speech was interrupted halfway through.

But he didn't try to deny it. Seeing everyone staring intently, he slammed his hand on the table and said, "Fine! Let's be honest—Qin Huairu came to us the other day, saying the hospital can't leave anyone behind, so the baby has to stay with that old lady for now..."

"But this middle-aged woman is taking care of three kids by herself, as well as a deaf old lady, and taking odd jobs from the neighborhood committee. It's really a bit overwhelming."

At this point, he deliberately paused, a slight smile playing on his lips—he had pondered for a while before changing "力不从心" to "力有不逮," feeling it sounded much more refined and indeed commanded respect.

"So I thought, we neighbors should lend a hand if we can: those with money should help with money, and those without spare money should help take care of the children and share the burden with this old lady..."

He changed the subject, glancing subtly at He Yuzhu, and continued, "I made a special trip to the neighborhood office to find out. This kind of mutual assistance is permitted by policy, so everyone can rest assured."

He Yuzhu turned his head and lowered his voice: "He really went to ask?"

Lou Xiao'e nodded: "He went yesterday afternoon. I didn't ask him in detail what he asked, but apart from that, I can't think of any other reason why he would make a special trip."

"That Fatty Liu has really learned his lesson," He Yuzhu thought to himself with a sneer. Yi Zhonghai had just been publicly reprimanded by Director Wang for making a proposal without authorization, so how could Liu Haizhong, who valued the title of "big boss in charge" so much, dare to easily give it up in his hands?

At this moment in the central garden, Liu Haizhong had already explained the whole story, and finally added, "This matter today was personally entrusted to me by Qin Huairu. She originally wanted to come back to attend the meeting, but Dongxu couldn't be left alone for a moment, so she had to be absent."

After saying that, he took half a step forward, took out a cloth bag and unfolded it: "I'll take the lead - thirty catties of cornmeal, two catties of wheat flour, and five yuan, to really help the Jia family."

As soon as Liu Haizhong finished speaking, everyone in the courtyard was stunned—thirty catties of cornmeal plus two catties of wheat flour, that was no small amount, enough for a city resident to eat for half a year.

If you buy it on the black market, you can't get it for less than four and a half dollars.

"Who else is willing to lend a helping hand to the Jia family? If you help them up today, everyone will lend a hand to you if you fall down tomorrow..."

Several people's eyelids twitched as soon as he said that. What do you mean, "falling down tomorrow"? That's just nonsense, utter rubbish!

Yan Bugui glanced at Liu Haizhong silently and sighed inwardly: Old Liu is still Old Liu, no knowledge, his words are like spitting out melon seed shells, all he does is talk fast.

But the Jia family's situation was truly heartbreaking. Qin Huairu knew best how to infuse people with bitterness—several times she squatted by the tap in the central garden, washing Jia Dongxu's dirty clothes while wiping away tears, water droplets mixed with tears falling down, even the clothesline seemed to be covered with a layer of mist.

"My rice jar is empty, I'll donate one yuan."

"Me too, we can't even afford to eat, we're just scraping together 70 cents."

There are very few people like Liu Haizhong who bring grain directly. With the end of the year approaching, grain prices are soaring faster than a rabbit; you can queue for ages at the black market and still not be able to get any.

He had made a special trip to the black market a few days earlier to buy those thirty jin of cornmeal; he also added two jin of wheat flour that he had saved up at home—not because he wanted to save money, but because he felt that spending money was too insignificant and couldn't live up to the reputation of his second uncle.

Once he took the lead, some people actually became interested as well.

They stuffed one or two coins into the tin box, making a clinking sound. Back then, food was more valuable than money, but ration coupons were strictly controlled, so even if you had money, you couldn't buy anything. People simply cashed out their money.

Even the stingiest Yan Bugui brought out five eggs and slipped in two crumpled banknotes—he wasn't trying to help the Jia family, but rather to save face for the Yan family. Donating quietly would be a waste of effort.

Those five eggs did have some effect: everyone looked at him with a hint of surprise in their eyes, but it was only fleeting.

When it was Xu Damao's turn, he announced in a loud voice, "Five yuan! Plus a string of dried mushrooms and a string of garlic cloves—New Year's goods brought back from the countryside. They're not worth much, but they'll give you the taste of the New Year!"

The item wasn't particularly valuable, but given the critical moment, everyone in the courtyard looked at him with a brighter gaze.

Xu Damao also loved this feeling of being highly regarded. Before the New Year, he frequently visited the countryside, where strings of dried goods hung under the eaves—cured meat, mushrooms, and chili peppers—the aroma of which filled half the alley when the wind blew—donating a couple of strings was as easy as plucking a hair.