Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

She had tried bird's nest, shark fin, abalone, sea cucumber, and shark fin, but pig skin? She had never eaten it before.

Sexual bliss comes quickly, but so does regret:

What a pity... such a flavor is probably hard to come by again.

etc--

What if I could come here to eat more often in the future?

The thought flashed through her mind, and her cheeks instantly burned.

Lou Xiao'e! What are you thinking about?

We've only met a few times? We haven't even exchanged ten sentences, so why are you going down that path?

So what if she's abducted? She'll get married sooner or later anyway, and marrying Sha Zhu doesn't seem so bad...

He is steady and reliable, and what's even more remarkable is that his hands can simmer the most ordinary ingredients into a divine flavor.

Unlike most girls of this era, Lou Xiao'e was quick-witted and had a broad perspective.

Once an idea pops into your head, it's like weeds sprouting from cracks in bricks, growing wildly and uncontrollably.

After the meal, Lou Xiao'e, as agreed, rolled up her sleeves and busied herself inside and out.

He Yuzhu quickly gathered the dishes and turned on the tap to rinse the utensils, the water gushing out loud.

The two worked together so well and naturally, as if they had long since made their lives as rhythmic as each other's breathing.

He escorted Lou Xiao'e to the dirt road at the village entrance, waving goodbye: "Take it easy on the road, don't rush—see you later!"

Lou Xiao'e smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners: "Silly Zhu, see you the day after tomorrow!"

At this moment, Xu Damao was curled up on a bench in the hospital emergency room, his teeth clenched so tightly that they were grinding together, his mind racing with calculations: how to make He Yuzhu suffer a major setback?

The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became—everything had been going wrong lately, it seemed like he was really being cursed by Sha Zhu.

The blind date had just fallen through when the woman's mother declared: "The Lou family doesn't recognize this marriage at all!"

I kindly went to the factory to show my face while they were showing a movie, but no one even spoke to me. It was so awkward that I wanted to dig my toes into the ground.

Last night, I sneaked back to the factory in the dark, and it was almost 3 a.m. when I was caught red-handed by three young men on patrol from the security department—they were swaying in the shadows, carrying sacks on their shoulders, looking just like thieves. They chased after me and shoved me around, but when they shone their flashlights on me, it was Xu Damao himself! It took a lot of explaining before they finally got away. After helping me carry the stuff into the warehouse, I finally breathed a sigh of relief, only to be caught in a sudden downpour and get soaked to the bone.

He Yuzhu watched Lou Xiao'e's figure disappear into the twilight before turning around and walking back.

With a girl around, he was too embarrassed to eat his fill and only ate half a meal.

Before leaving, he casually placed two thin steamed buns on a small stove to bake slowly until the crust was slightly charred and the inside was soft.

He pushed open the door and found the hearth empty. He stared at the ashes and a slight smile played on his lips.

"This is getting interesting...it's getting more and more interesting."

The thought had barely left her mind when she turned around and bolted the door shut, then slipped into the room in a flash.

Several fat pigs grunted and squealed in the pigpen, while chicks flapped their wings and scrambled for food. He kept moving his hands and feet: mixing feed, scattering food, adding water, and cleaning the trough.

Looking up again, the rice ears drooped low in the fields, and the corn cobs were plump and full, almost ripe.

From now on, when feeding pigs and raising chickens, we won't have to count the grain on our fingers anymore.

After finishing everything, I exited the space and gently exhaled.

...Another hot day has begun.

"System, check-in."

"Sign-in successful, reward 50 cents."

This stupid system has really taken stinginess to a whole new level—it used to at least give you a dollar, but now it's even worse, you get fifty cents and still have to give change!

He flashed into the space again, replenished the pig feed and chicken feed, and then got on his bicycle and headed to the factory.

The car was lent to He Yushui, which made things easier for her now, as she wasn't afraid of running into Qin Huairu on the way.

"Good morning, sister-in-law!" he greeted with a smile.

Qin Huairu was squatting in the courtyard rinsing her mouth when she mumbled a reply: "Morning..."

Foreign guests came to the factory today, and they killed an old hen, leaving half of it shiny and oily on the chopping board.

He Yuzhu, Liu Lan, and Ma Hua sat around the stove, dividing the dishes and laughing as they went, before leisurely strolling home.

By the time he wandered to the entrance of the alley, the sky had already turned a deep inky blue.

The house wasn't big, but in this day and age, it was considered quite respectable.

The stove was set up under a low shed at the entrance of the courtyard. He lifted the stove lid, and flames shot up with a "whoosh." He boiled water, took the pot off the stove, and stewed the chicken again.

He had very few seasonings at home, far less than what a canteen could provide, but he never minded – every little bit saved was a blessing.

He would still enjoy eating the leftover chicken that others had eaten.

For most people, being able to eat a little meat these days is a luxury akin to celebrating the Lunar New Year.

A few spices were tossed into the pot, and soon the rich aroma drifted out of the courtyard wall on the wind, carrying far and steady.

He glanced at the small clock in the corner—a treasure bought with twelve industrial coupons; the hands had already passed 7:30.

He filled a large bowl and carried it to the deaf old lady.

Speaking of this old lady, He Yuzhu has the utmost respect for her.

In the courtyard house, her words carried the most weight.

Her husband had traversed snow-capped mountains and grasslands, and her son had shed his blood in the Korean War. The whole family was loyal and brave, their very bones bearing the marks of time.

What's even more remarkable is that she has an excellent eye for people and is worldly-wise, yet she often pretends to be confused, and she is particularly open and honest with kind-hearted younger generations.

Although the original owner was honest to the point of being dull, everyone in the courtyard treated him as a errand boy they were used to ordering around, but the old lady treated him like her own grandson.

Therefore, whenever there is something hot to eat, a bowl of it must be shared first.

As Jia Zhangshi was munching on a cornbread bun, she suddenly paused, startled: "What's that taste?"

The pheasant suddenly raised its head, its nose twitching like a puppy that had caught the smell of meat.

At that age when they crave food, their noses are more sensitive than anyone else's.

Qin Huairu was still several days away from receiving her salary; after the news of the old man from the compound giving her a ride spread, Jia Zhangshi also began to be wary of her, secretly hiding all the medical expenses the factory had paid and her son's saved wages under the kang mat, and the whole family started eating coarse cornbread.

While keeping Qin Huairu under control, she also left herself a way out—she dared not gamble that her daughter-in-law would actually hand over her salary.

A small handful of locust flowers was taken from the ration and boiled into rice porridge, which surprisingly tasted sweet and warm.

But as soon as Grandma spoke, Banggeng immediately put down his chopsticks, tilted his little face up, and inhaled the aroma floating in the air.

The rice porridge was reserved for Huaihua; Qin Huai was too busy with work to care about such things.

Jia Zhangshi slammed her hand on the table, her face turning ashen: "Chicken soup! It's from that silly Zhu next door!"

"His stove burns so brightly that the aroma can waft through three households!"

"While we're drinking radish soup and eating cornbread, he's comfortably enjoying hot chicken soup all by himself!"

"Is he even human? Wei Guo carried bricks and rice for him back then, and he didn't even offer me a bowl of soup as a token of respect? Three children were growing up hungry, how could he possibly eat all that by himself? He deserves to be cut into a thousand pieces!"

The half-eaten cornbread in her hand suddenly became dry and choking.

She stopped eating the corn cob, darted out the door, stared intently at He Yuzhu's tightly closed door, then turned to look at Qin Huairu—but she was washing dishes with her head down, not even lifting her eyelids.

Banggeng had no choice but to turn back and look longingly at his grandmother.

Jia Zhangshi narrowed her eyes, a smile appearing on her face: "Bang Geng, would you like some chicken?"

Banggeng nodded vigorously.

"Little Dang, would you like some chicken soup?"

Xiao Dang responded crisply, "Yes!"

Madam Jia patted the two children's heads: "Go on, come back when you're full—but don't you dare run off after just two pieces of meat!"

In the backyard, He Yuzhu was handing over a bowl: "Grandma, I've made you a bowl of meat soup. Drink it while it's hot."

The old woman, leaning on her cane, feigned a stern face: "Call me Grandma! How many times is this?"

"Hey, Grandma, have a couple more sips," he replied with a smile.

After chatting with the old lady for a while, I squatted down to feed the two old hens in the backyard, said goodbye, and then turned back to the house.

Upon entering, the enamel pot on the table was nowhere to be seen.

The half-pot of chicken soup, which was intended for dinner, was completely devoured, pot and all.

He Yuzhu looked at the empty table and smiled again—the family next door really had a unique way of raising children.

When he first stepped into the courtyard, he was thinking: Qin Huairu's family has young children and lives a tight life. It's understandable that they come here occasionally to ask for food—after all, what you see on TV is just a drama, but what you see here is real life.

How old is Bang Geng? He can't even speak properly, how can he have any opinions?

But what about Jia Zhangshi and Qin Huairu? Two living, breathing adults, are they really just pretending to be ignorant?

And then—they took the pot away!

Half an hour ago.

Banggeng led Xiaodang into He Yuzhu's room, his eyes immediately drawn to the clay pot of chicken soup on the table, still steaming. He quickly scooped out two spoonfuls, one for himself and one for Xiaodang, then turned and scurried away.

back home.

Banggeng looked up at his little face: "Grandma, Uncle Shazhu isn't here!"

When Jia Zhangshi glanced at the oily soup in the children's bowls, her eyes immediately lit up: "They're not here? Bring the soup back, everyone can share it!"

The obedient dog ran back and brought the pot back.

Madam Jia reached in, scooped up a spoonful, blew on it twice, and gulped it down. Her face immediately lit up, and she smiled like a dried chrysanthemum. She grabbed the rice stick and said in a bright, clear voice, "Good stuff! You have to reach for it! If you don't grab it, take it, or fight for it, will it just jump into your bowl by itself?"

She didn't feel like she was stealing at all; on the contrary, she felt perfectly justified, her face full of smugness.

"Silly Zhu's a bachelor, and he's the cook in the canteen. He's well-fed and clothed, so what's wrong with us taking a bite of his soup? It's perfectly reasonable! Besides, our family is eating cornbread and pickled vegetables, while he makes chicken soup but never even shows up in our yard. Has he lost his conscience? Isn't that great?"

Grandma Zhang's words were as crisp as a sesame seed cake, popping out one after another.

And what about Bang Geng? He's only a little over five years old, his little face is full of innocent light, his eyes are bright and sparkling, he has no concept of right or wrong at all.

Qin Huairu stood to the side, her lips moved, but she ultimately remained silent. She neither stopped them, nor instructed them, nor did she push the pot of soup back.

Finally, he simply said, "After you've finished eating, take the pot back to them."

Banggeng, carrying the empty pot, ran to He Yuzhu's door, looked up, and shouted, "Uncle Shazhu, here's your pot back!"

He Yuzhu took the pot, his gaze sweeping heavily over the child's head. He didn't speak, but forced his anger deep into his throat.

He was pondering—how could he release this pent-up anger without hitting the children or touching the elderly?

These days, if you bully the old, weak, sick, or disabled, your neighbors will talk behind your back, the factory will put up big-character posters, and you might even get criticized and denounced.

But if we let some ignorant brat come and steal things every day, what will everyone in the compound think? What will everyone at the steel mill say?