Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

If she were to sit idly by all day without lifting a finger, the gossip in the courtyard would surely spread like wildfire again—Lou Xiao'e knew this perfectly well.

"From now on, you'll have to take extra care of yourself, protect your belly, don't try to do heavy or tiring work, and if you need help, just ask me..."

The older woman gave Lou Xiao'e a long, detailed explanation, which she readily agreed to with a smile. As for whether or not to ask her for help, that was entirely up to her.

The two chatted about Yi Zhiliang while washing dishes, and couldn't help but smile at each other.

Jia Zhangshi, who was peeking through the window, was so angry that her teeth itched. She cursed everyone in a low voice, spitting out names and insults from all those who hadn't helped her family.

But as he cursed, his stomach started growling, and he couldn't take it anymore, so he had to climb off the kang (a heated brick bed), tear off a few coarse cornbread buns, and put them in the pot to steam.

As dusk fell, Qin Huairu led Banggeng and Xiaodang through the door. Before they could even stand properly, Jia Zhangshi, her brows furrowed and her voice booming, "Qin Huairu! Are you deliberately trying to starve your mother-in-law and your husband to death? What kind of time is this?!"

Qin Huairu didn't even lift her eyelids, ignoring everything else, and went straight to fetch water, urging the two children to wash their faces, rinse their mouths, and get ready for bed.

Seeing that she ignored her, Jia Zhangshi became even angrier and cursed even louder—there were no boxed lunches or stir-fried dishes today, and she and Jia Dongxu were only eating dry cornbread with pickled vegetables.

Jia Dongxu lay sprawled on the bed, staring at her with a dark expression: "Qin Huairu, why did you take so long to come back today?"

"The factory was rushing to meet a deadline, so I worked overtime."

Her tone was flat, revealing no emotion. As for bringing the children to eat at the factory, she only quietly told Banggeng and Xiaodang to keep quiet; even if it was discovered, it wouldn't matter, the meal tickets were in her hands, and no one could take them away.

The factory is doing well, and even the greenhouses are producing fresh vegetables. Factory Director Yang has given the frontline workers a lot more benefits—just the meal tickets alone, fifteen more per month. In the past, thirty tickets per person were barely enough for lunch; now, forty-five tickets are enough to cover both lunch and dinner.

"You'd better really be working overtime!" Jia Dongxu's face tightened, his features contorted. "If I catch you messing around at the factory, you'll be in big trouble!"

His suspicious yet fierce expression made Qin Huairu's heart sink. She wasn't just upset; she felt utterly disheartened—this man no longer trusted her, not even to the point of looking at her.

She gritted her teeth and retorted, "You don't believe me? Fine, then I'll stay home every day, never leaving your sight!"

"Qin Huairu, don't try that with me!" Madam Jia Zhang shouted, hands on her hips. "Once you've entered the Jia family, your flesh and blood belong to the Jia family! If you dare to be unchaste, I'll skin you alive in this courtyard, and then I'll go back to your Qin family village and tell every household about it!"

"mom!"

Qin Huairu suddenly raised her voice, which was crisp and sharp: "What shameful thing have I done? Explain yourself in front of the child!"

Jia Zhangshi was speechless for a moment, then gave an awkward hum: "Who knows if you'll be able to control yourself in the future..."

Although his words softened somewhat, his face remained long and he refused to back down.

Qin Huairu clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, and her gaze swept over the mother and son—ever since Jia Dongxu's leg was crippled, he seemed to have a completely different body.

After a long silence in the room, Jia Zhangshi finally relented, saying, "Alright, alright, just remember that from now on!"

After saying that, he turned around and moved towards the kang (a heated brick bed), lay down, covered himself with the quilt, and tried to avoid seeing it.

But Xiao Dang and Bang Geng had long refused to share a bed with her—it was too smelly. If these words came from Bang Geng's mouth, she would at most poke him on the forehead a couple of times; but if Xiao Dang said in his childish voice, "Grandma smells bad," she would definitely pinch him until he howled.

She didn't care how old Xiaodang was; on the contrary, she felt that girls should be disciplined from a young age, otherwise, once they got married, she wouldn't be able to discipline them anymore.

As night deepened, Qin Huairu also got into bed, but with her back to Jia Dongxu, leaving a large gap between them, as if she were sleeping with a stranger. His leg injury had long since healed, but he hadn't touched her even once more in bed.

Unless she actively offered herself up—but in the current situation, she would rather grit her teeth and swallow it than do such a shameful thing.

She lay there with her eyes open, not asleep. The questions she had asked Wang Aiying during the day were still echoing in her ears: How come other people live such a peaceful and fulfilling life?

If only I could be like Master Wang...

This is the third year that Yi Zhonghai has settled down at the construction site in Northwest China.

But the entire project was only less than 20% complete. Not long after the factory was finished, the team was transferred to build roads; in seven months, they managed to carve two tunnels through the mountainside and lay a long section of railway track.

The road had just opened to traffic when the next task was already on the agenda.

Supporting infrastructure development in the Northwest is not about building a factory and leaving, but about gradually strengthening the industrial backbone of this barren land.

With each completed project, a fire ignites in the workers' eyes, like climbing one treacherous peak after another—after one climb, there's always an even higher one, but they always believe that the summit is just ahead.

Yi Zhonghai, however, couldn't ignite that fire. As each project came to an end, he felt a ache in his bones and just wanted to return to Beijing to catch his breath.

His age is a factor, yet he still has to work incredibly hard every day, sweating profusely, and his body only gets weaker day by day. Especially for an experienced technician like him, many jobs can't be done without him.

But the family troubles remained a thorn in his side—especially since his aunt refused to listen to him and stubbornly refused to send the child away. This wasn't just a family matter; it was a matter of the head of the family having his face trampled underfoot. Such a big issue, yet Zhang Shufen dared to contradict him without uttering a word.

Ever since she replied so firmly in her last letter that she wouldn't send the child, Yi Zhonghai sent three more letters in succession, but they all disappeared without a trace. Now, the fire in his heart had completely burned to ashes.

In his eyes, the entire family depended on him; every penny Zhang Shufen spent was earned through his own hard work and dedication. He had swallowed his pride when she couldn't have children; but now, simply asking her to send the child away was like tearing out a piece of her heart—she absolutely refused!

Yi Zhonghai felt a tightness in his chest, his anger rising to his head, and several red, swollen blisters appeared on the corners of his mouth and forehead, causing pain and swelling.

This day is payday.

In the Northwest Aid Team, the seventh-level fitter not only receives a basic salary, but also an extra allowance—a total of 103 yuan per month.

The queue was incredibly long. Yi Zhonghai clutched his empty ticket stub, pondering the matter of the courtyard house the whole way. The courtyard was in complete chaos. While he was working outside, his heart was also in turmoil. The work in his hands was getting heavier and heavier, and he couldn't even get a good grip on the wrench.

When it was his turn, the accountant flipped through the notebook and read: "Master Yi Zhonghai, Level 7 fitter, basic salary 87 yuan, allowance 15.5 yuan, total 102.5 yuan. Master Yi, will you send money home again this time?"

"I won't send it; I'll keep it for myself."

"Okay, just sign it."

The accountant was slightly surprised—Yi Zhonghai had always sent eighty yuan back every month without fail, keeping two yuan for cigarettes. Most people in the team did the same: food coupons were scarce, cloth coupons were in short supply, and even soap was issued by voucher; sending money back home was the only way to feel secure. But since he didn't want to talk about it, he didn't say anything either.

Just as Yi Zhonghai finished signing his name, the accountant suddenly slapped his forehead: "Oh dear, I almost forgot! You have a letter; I kept it for you when you went to inspect the construction site the other day."

Before he could finish speaking, the letter was already in front of him. He glanced down at the address in the lower right corner of the envelope—Nanluoguxiang, Beijing—and recognized the handwriting so well he could trace it with his eyes closed.

A sudden warmth welled up in his heart, and he even fantasized that when he unfolded the letter, he would see the words "The child has been taken away by someone."

"Thanks, comrade!"

He smiled and took it, then turned and left, his steps quicker than usual. Back in his dorm, he didn't even have time to drink water; his hand trembled slightly as he tore open the envelope.

But after reading only three lines, blood rushed to his head, his vision went black, his body swayed, and he almost fell over.

"Master Yi? What's wrong?"

Old Zhao, who was wiping tools nearby, grabbed his arm.

"It's alright...it's alright..."

He forced a smile, but the smile froze on his face, his eyes twitched, and his lips drooped down, looking worse than crying.

Old Zhao frowned: "Are you really alright? What happened at home?"

"Sigh... My apprentice, Jia Dongxu, died in a workplace accident... Both of his legs... are gone."

His voice was weak, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Ten years—from the day Jia Dongxu entered the factory at the age of seventeen, he taught him step by step how to hold a file, how to read a vernier caliper, how to distinguish between dotted and solid lines on a drawing... Now his apprentice is almost thirty, and he should be able to take over shifts and retire, but he is now wasting his life at the lathe.

If he really goes back to the courtyard house, who will take care of him? Will they just abandon him? Wouldn't all the scenes of setting up an incense table at the gate, inviting neighbors to witness, and kowtowing and offering tea become a complete joke?

"So heavy... Sigh, at least you're alive. You can make a living by doing some odd jobs."

"Yes, Master Yi, as long as he's still alive, there's hope. The apprentice you trained is at least a level eight fitter..."

"That's right. A couple of days ago, our colleague Mr. Li was injured in a landslide. He broke one of his legs and just took the train back to the factory this morning."

"I heard that Master Li is quite lucky—he has a limp, but he can still stand by the machine tool, repair jigs, and train new apprentices. At least he hasn't lost his job."

Listening to this, Yi Zhonghai suddenly looked up and asked, "Xiao Zhang, is Master Li's leg... really beyond repair?"

Xiao Zhang, a fifth-level fitter, gestured to illustrate: "At that time, the mountain was seeping water, and the soil layer suddenly collapsed, cutting off half of the road! Everyone was stunned. It was only because Master Li shouted and directed the retreat that no one was killed. He himself was a step too slow and was hit in the groin by a rolling rock—he was saved, but his bones were crooked and his tendons were broken. He walks unsteadily and can no longer handle precision parts."

"I heard he went back to the factory?"

"Yeah, I haven't lost the skills, I just can't keep up with the pace. I'll go back to the old factory to do some light work and spend time with my wife and kids..."

"If it were me... I'd rather lose a leg than not stay in the team."

"I didn't say it was a blessing..."

Yi Zhonghai didn't reply, but stared at his outstretched palm, which was still covered in oil and iron filings.

He suddenly realized that one leg... wasn't so deadly after all.

Siheyuan.

"Xiao'e, are you home?"