Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

The old man is still in a daze, feeling a throbbing in his head: how could one meeting have brought down two "old men"?

The second uncle tried to speak to calm things down, but was immediately bombarded with spittle: "You just admitted your mistake and you want to take over? Dream on!" "Go sit quietly in the corner!" "Another offense? We'll carry you out!"

His legs buckled on the spot, and he collapsed to the ground. No one reached out to help him up, and no one even glanced at him.

Everyone knew perfectly well that this scourge should have been removed from the courtyard long ago—it almost shattered the "Civilized Courtyard" signboard.

The two incidents piled up, and the flames of anger flared even brighter than the stove, forcing Yan Bugui to bow his head. Someone grabbed his arm and dragged him off the chair; someone else picked up a handful of wet mud from the corner of the wall and slapped it hard across his face.

He gritted his teeth and forced himself to finish reading the self-criticism. When he got home, he developed a high fever, which didn't go down even after drinking three bowls of ginger soup.

The meeting ended, and the two "masters" fell from grace, but the people in the courtyard were not calmed down at all. Instead, they were like water that had just been boiled, bubbling and churning.

He Yuzhu leaned against the door frame, watching Hong Jingqiu without making a sound. A slight smile always lingered on her lips, but her eyes were like a taut bowstring. At the slightest disturbance, someone would step in to add fuel to the fire—as soon as her mood dipped, someone would immediately pour oil on it.

The methods were exactly the same as what the old lady had taught them. This is nothing; it's just the opening act.

How to deal with Yan Bugui in the future? Nobody knows. But the incident where Xu Damao was swindled out of 150 yuan is still fresh in everyone's minds.

Those who can weave this net will never let it go easily.

It all depends on whether Yan Bugui is willing to hand over the knife handle again. If he reveals any weakness again, his life will probably be more sour than a jar of pickled vegetables and more bitter than bile.

Today, he was merely being used as a pawn because of his greed for petty gains; once used, he was discarded, and his attitude towards others changed faster than turning the pages of a book.

If this lesson isn't profound enough, then they truly deserve it.

The old man waved his hand dismissively: "That's it! Go to work as usual tomorrow. Nobody is allowed to tell anyone about this—it's shameful!"

He Yuzhu stood up in response and followed Master Yi out of the courtyard.

Liu Haizhong lay sprawled on the ground, ignored by everyone. It wasn't until his eldest son, Liu Guangqi, rushed back from the hospital that he hoisted his father onto his shoulder and staggered home. Not even a neighbor offered a helping hand.

From now on, this courtyard will probably be a daily spectacle. A new troublemaker has arrived, seemingly gentle and kind on the surface, but with a heart as sharp as a needle coated in honey.

……

Hong Jingqiu appears refined and elegant, always smiling and greeting everyone more frequently than anyone else. Little did anyone know that her smile was not genuine, but rather a wolf in sheep's clothing, a true smiling tiger.

He is meticulous, skillful, and leaves no room for error, living like an iron turtle shell—unbreakable, ungraspable, and invincible.

However, this is not something he should worry about.

When He Yuzhu stepped into the house, He Yushui had just come home from school and hadn't taken off her schoolbag yet.

He Yushui blinked: "Brother, I heard that Second Uncle crippled his son?"

He Yuzhu unscrewed the enamel mug and blew away the foam: "This is not something you should be asking about. From now on, except for going to the old man's house and the old lady's house, avoid other places."

He Yushui was taken aback: "Brother, that sounds creepy... What does it mean?"

He Yuzhu raised his eyes, his tone calm: "Qin Huairu's limp is suspicious, Hong Jingqiu's smile is chilling, Liu Haizhong harbors resentment with nowhere to vent, and Yan Bugui is even more cunning—tell me, shouldn't you be careful?"

He Yushui: "The more you talk, the more confused I get. Why do I sound like the silly 'Yushui'?"

He Yuzhu: "When Qin Huairu was pretending to be lame, I saw her carrying grain home in the middle of the night for several days in a row—carrying sacks in the middle of the night? Isn't that a bit much? Hong Jingqiu had just used the Third Uncle as a tool, and in less than a day, she had him knocked to the ground, unable to get up; the Second Uncle was also taken down along with his entire family, rolling off the stage covered in dust. There's not a single easy person in this courtyard. From now on, don't stay out too late after school. If you really miss the last bus, just stay at a classmate's house for the night; you must be home before dark on weekdays, remember that?"

He Yushui: "Brother, if what you're saying is true, our courtyard house is even more dangerous than the Eastern Depot in the Forbidden City!"

He Yuzhu: "This is nothing. It's just a few grains of salt sprinkled before the feast begins. Who knows what tricks they might pull later—stay away from them, talk less, don't get too close. If you run into them, just smile, nod, and leave. If there's any trouble, come back and tell me immediately."

He Yushui: "Okay, I understand! I'm not going anywhere during the holiday; I'll just stay home and play with Fangfang and Jiye."

He Yuzhu shook his head inwardly: You don't even have half their cleverness. Those two little rascals, their eyes darting around like crazy, they only hang out with you for the few pieces of candy in your pocket. Once the candy's gone? Humph, they don't even lift an eyelid, they turn around and crawl into bed to snore.

Clutching half a wilted cucumber, he insists on trading it for candy; you refuse? Fine, he'll cling to you all over the yard, coaxing you all day long, his words dripping with honey.

If there's something good, give it to your parents first, and only give you half of what's left—is this really a child? I could believe even a single hair of theirs is the reincarnation of a mountain spirit.

Upon seeing the old lady, she was as affectionate as a granddaughter, calling her "Grandma, Grandma" in a clear and bright voice that made one's teeth ache with sweetness.

He Yushui, clutching a white steamed bun, ran to the old man's house again. No need to guess, she'd return with two dark, mushy cornbread buns. The leftover thin soup was pushed all into her hands: "Sister, drink this! Sister is the best! Sister is the prettiest!"

He Yuzhu didn't want to mess with these two rascals at all. The little bit of stuff he had on his kang (heated brick bed) couldn't withstand their casual tossing, smashing, or kicking—but the strange thing was, right under the old lady's nose, the two of them were as well-behaved as little children in a painting. Who would believe that? Who would believe that! If you can't afford to offend them, the best policy is to stay away.

Just then, an old man strolled over carrying a wine bottle.

An old man said, "Want a couple of drinks?"

He Yuzhu nodded and brought out two rough porcelain bowls.

After a few sips of wine, the old man smacked his lips and said, "This whole affair is murky; I can't see through it."

He Yuzhu: "Didn't you ask the old lady?"

An old man waved his hand: "I wouldn't dare disturb her, for fear of upsetting her."

He Yuzhu: "The old lady is very clear-headed. Just tell her what happened today, and I guarantee she'll understand everything perfectly."

An old man said, "Hey Sha Zhu, have you figured it out yet?"

He Yuzhu: "At Hong Jingqiu's place, it's probably Xu Damao who's gossiping—complaining about the old grudge of the Third Uncle cheating him out of 150 yuan years ago."

An old man said, "Tell me quickly, how exactly were you ripped off for that 150 yuan?"

He Yuzhu then explained the whole story in detail, but there was one thing he was unsure about: why did Xu Damao secretly remove the wheels from Uncle San's car?

After listening, the old man sighed deeply: "This Hong Jingqiu is no pushover. We'll have to be careful from now on."

He Yuzhu: "It takes skill to defend against her, but it's a fatal flaw if you can't find any leverage against her. Don't think you can use your seniority to pressure her—I'm afraid she might really go all out and target Jiye and Fangfang."

An old man nodded silently: "That's right. Once people lose their moral compass, what won't they do?"

Having made up his mind, the old man got up and left. His child was his lifeblood; he dared not gamble, nor could he afford to lose. He wouldn't wade into this mess; as the other families continued their squabbles, he would simply keep his gates tightly shut and live his peaceful life.

He Yuzhu also decided to stand by and watch—watching the show is effortless, but getting involved easily leads to getting covered in mud. When masters clash, it's either you die or I die; whoever has the better strategy can gracefully walk away.

……

After the old man finished his self-criticism, he trudged home dejectedly, his trouser legs, cuffs, and shoe uppers all covered in wet mud, as if he had been pulled out of a mud pit.

The three women panicked as soon as they lifted the curtain: "Honey! What's wrong? Don't scare me!"

The old man collapsed onto the bed, his jaw clenched, his face flushed red from the fever.

The three women touched their foreheads and found them burning hot. They immediately called their eldest son to carry them to the hospital.

Uncle Er wasn't so lucky. His son threw him onto the bed, turned and left without even offering him a glass of water, then lay down and fell fast asleep.

As Hong Jingqiu stepped into the house, Xu Damao was already rubbing his hands together to greet her, as respectful as if worshipping a Bodhisattva: "Wife! What you did today was simply divine! You've subdued both of your uncles! When are you going to deal with Sha Zhu? He used to stomp on my head all the time!"

Hong Jingqiu didn't even lift her eyelids: "Shazhu? Is he stupid? He's tough, quick-witted, and fiercely protective of his own—we need to think this through. He Yushui is his lifeline; they've relied on each other for over a decade. Anyone who dares to touch a hair on her head is like provoking a dragon's scales—it's a fight to the death."

Xu Damao was taken aback: "So... that's it? What about Uncle San's place?"

Hong Jingqiu sneered: "Living in the same courtyard, there are plenty of opportunities. Either don't do anything, or if you do, strike decisively; otherwise, you might end up biting the snake instead of killing it."

She paused, then stared at Xu Damao: "From now on, don't hang your head like your father has died in the yard—it's embarrassing. Don't get involved in Sha Zhu's affairs; and don't provoke He Yushui either. If she gets suspicious, we'll lose everything."

Xu Damao nodded hurriedly: "I'll listen to you, I'll listen to everything you say."

As dawn broke, He Yuzhu pushed open the door and came face to face with Qin Huairu, who was already fully prepared to leave.

His heart skipped a beat: this outfit—new jacket, new pants, new cloth shoes—was all expensive; she had just changed into the brand-new factory uniform two days ago, and logically she should have been too reluctant to wear it.

Qin Huairu looked up and smiled: "Good morning, silly Zhu, off to work?"

He Yuzhu smiled faintly and said, "Good morning, sister-in-law!"

After a few words, they went their separate ways.

Hong Jingqiu was squatting by the door cooking porridge when she heard the noise. She straightened up and greeted him with a smile, "Good morning, Master He! You look so energetic, much better looking than our Da Mao."

He Yuzhu didn't stop walking: "Sister is joking. Brother Damao is the real talent—if I don't leave now, I'll really be late."

That's too naive. Trying to hook me with a few sweet words? You'll need three more years of practice.

Do you also want to find a secluded place, ambush a few strong men, and stage a tragic drama of "being forced to lose one's virginity"?

If the original owner had actually believed that nonsense, crying and saying, "Da Mao treats me badly, he beats me every day," and then wiping away a couple of tears, praising me as "Master He is reliable and family-oriented. If I could entrust my life to him, I would die happy"—tsk, back then they could have sent me to jail for twenty years.