Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

I'd rather stay as far away from you as possible, you troublemaker.

Hong Jingqiu was indeed planning: first, she would use gentle words to get closer to him, and once they were familiar with each other, she would find an excuse to naturally drag him into the trap.

Making advances towards women? With this charge, He Yuzhu was immediately doomed—He Yushui dealt with him with ease. Although she had only been in this household for a few days, she was sharp-eyed and meticulous, knowing exactly who was weak and who was strong, who was afraid of whom, and who loved to gossip; Xu Damao had even revealed all his secrets to her.

Since he is her man's mortal enemy, he is a sword hanging over her head, and there is no room for ambiguity.

……

Running into these two today is the worst luck imaginable! They ruined my whole morning. They're like two jinxes, bringing bad luck to everyone.

He Yuzhu strode angrily toward the cafeteria, the snow crunching under his feet as if he were crushing ice shards.

Upon entering the canteen, he first turned on the tap to fill a thermos, then strolled around and surveyed the staff—now that there were more people, the work was actually much easier; when there were no catering duties, he didn't even have to touch the spatula.

Director Zhang also declared: Just manage the people and keep an eye on things; if there's a real need for reception, he'll handle it personally; on weekdays, go wherever the work is busy, don't be idle.

……

black market

Fifth Master lowered his voice: "It's that kid again today, coming to collect grain. His movements have been too blatant lately; my eyelids are twitching, I'm afraid we're in trouble. The moment he shows his face, the five of you spread out immediately and keep a close watch from a distance. Don't let him get surrounded! We just shipped nearly five thousand catties last month; if things go wrong, no one can cover it up! I've asked around at several grain stations—they can accept grain that isn't from Beijing, but you must be quick and efficient, understand?"

The group nodded in unison, their eyes revealing a fierce determination.

As long as I don't get caught red-handed, I'm not afraid of even the King of Heaven himself—want to convict me? Bring on the irrefutable evidence!

Before leaving get off work, He Yuzhu quietly sneaked to the grain storage point, dug out the grain, and then ran towards the pineapple.

After the transaction was completed, he went back to look for pineapples.

This was the sixth time he had sold grain. Since the space had been quietly expanded, he had the space robot sow a few more rows of corn seeds, and the yield had skyrocketed.

Holding 135 yuan in my hand, I was overjoyed; but Pineapple took 13.5 yuan of his commission and had to pay for two bottles of wine—my money shrank again, sigh!

As soon as Pineapple saw him enter, she immediately dragged an old wooden box out from under the bed, opened the lid with a clatter, and found two bottles of Moutai lying neatly inside, their mud seals gleaming.

He muttered to himself: Why is this guy buying Moutai? And old stamps and wild ginseng seedlings too? Has he lost his mind? But as long as the commission is good enough, he can find a wife, and even his in-laws will be taken care of!

He asked around everywhere about ginseng seedlings, but no one was willing to sell them; Moutai, on the other hand, was very lucrative—a regular bottle cost eight yuan, but the other party insisted on giving it to him for nine yuan; old stamps were given an extra ten cents each, those from the last two years were given an extra five cents, and military-specific stamps were given an extra twenty cents.

Pineapple almost blurted out, "Do you want a wife? Add one to the bill, and you can bring her home tonight!"

He could collect ten bottles of Moutai in a month. As for stamps, it depended on luck—sometimes ten, sometimes just one. This year's new stamps were practically nonexistent; you could buy them anywhere at the post office counter. Ginseng seedlings? He hadn't seen a single one.

He Yuzhu comes twice a month, and this is the second month already. The first transaction established the rule: only these few items will be accepted.

Why not touch antiques? He doesn't know anything about them. In those days, counterfeiting was more rampant than weaving cloth. If he really bought a bunch of fakes and then put them up for sale, he would be utterly humiliated!

After buying two bottles of Moutai, he studied them repeatedly for half a month, memorizing the anti-counterfeiting points on the bottle, the location of the batch number, and the sealing pattern. As for counterfeiting? Without equipment, a factory, or technicians, how could he possibly make one? He couldn't even blow up a bottle!

If it's freshly made Moutai, he won't even look at it—he'll refuse it outright. He's even less concerned about fake stamps; at worst, he'll only give Erxiong one cent per stamp, and he doesn't care if they're a mix of real and fake. If Pineapple dares to pull out hundreds of stamps at once, he himself won't believe it—that would be truly bizarre!

Just as He Yuzhu finished counting the money and was about to leave, Pineapple grabbed his sleeve: "Wild goats and wild boars, alive, do you want them?"

He Yuzhu didn't even turn his head: "No. If you can get some domesticated piglets, I might consider it."

Pineapple slapped his thigh: "I have to go to the countryside! I heard that the rural brigades collectively raise pigs and can't sell them. But if I 'snatch' a couple of piglets in the middle of the night... hehe, then the brigade won't be responsible for them anymore."

He Yuzhu sneered, "You dare bring a piglet on a bus? Getting to Libazhuang and ending up in jail would be faster than taking a bus."

Pineapple shrugged: "Then there's nothing I can do, but I'll definitely send you a message if I get any news."

He Yuzhu nodded, then turned and left.

Pineapple clicked her tongue as she watched his retreating figure: This guy must have connections to the highest levels; such a large amount of grain is coming and going so smoothly.

Little did he know that He Yuzhu had no powerful backing at all; he relied on his indomitable spirit and his own sense of justice.

……

Today, Liu Haizhong looked as wilted as a frostbitten eggplant, his anger burning inside, unable to even vent.

I fainted in the snow last night. When I woke up, I didn't remember anything, not even who carried me back.

When I opened my eyes, my wife and youngest son had just returned from the hospital. The three of them were eating in silence at the dinner table, the air so heavy it could have been pounded.

He couldn't hold it in any longer and went out to relieve himself. When he met people on the way, they didn't even look up, let alone call him "Second Uncle".

He was about to explode as soon as he stepped into the house. He grabbed an enamel mug and smashed it on the ground with a loud crash. His two young sons jumped in fright and dropped their chopsticks.

Liu Guangqi quickly stopped him: "Dad, please calm down! There are so many eyes watching us in the yard right now!"

Liu Haizhong felt a lump in his throat, his strength suddenly gave way, his shoulders slumped, and he let out a long sigh.

The second aunt was still lying in the hospital, completely unaware that a huge disturbance had taken place in the yard.

She pulled Liu Guangqi aside and asked, "Guangqi, what exactly happened yesterday?"

Liu Guangqi pieced together the story from fragments heard from others: "My dad... was forced to write a self-criticism, and he lost his position as the second uncle and his job as patrol captain; Yan Bugui got his face smeared with mud, and he lost his title as the third uncle; when I came back from the hospital yesterday, I saw my dad lying stiffly in the snow, with no one helping him up or asking about him..."

He carried Liu Guangfu on his back and ran to the hospital. On the way back, he saw his father lying paralyzed in the snow, like a frozen piece of wood.

Upon hearing this, Liu Haizhong was furious—he had been a pampered son-in-law for two or three years, yet not a single person lent a helping hand when he was in trouble!

He was happy when Yan Xi stepped down; but when he compared himself to Yan Xi, he realized that he was in a worse situation than Yan Xi—Yan Xi lost one hat, while he lost two!

From now on, will we fight Yan Xishan to the death?

He hated Liu Guangfu even more. If it weren't for this rebellious son causing trouble, he would have been a "big shot" long ago. Now, he can only keep his tail between his legs.

He raised his hand to slap someone, but his arm froze in mid-air—he suddenly remembered why he had been slapped, gritted his teeth, and swallowed his anger.

"Still eating? Eat my ass! From now on, all the housework is yours! Don't bother going to school anymore, I'm not supporting you!"

Liu Guangfu clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms, and secretly vowed: Just wait and see, one day I'll make you kneel and beg me!

The second brother, Liu Guangtian, didn't say a word, but the ruthlessness in his eyes was more chilling than the wind in the snow—if he couldn't beat him now, he would remember it and deal with it later when he had a better chance.

……

When the old man opened his eyes in the hospital, only his wife was there to keep him company. The room was empty, and even his coughs sounded particularly loud.

Yan Bugui gripped the broom handle, his knuckles white. He didn't even bother to brush the snowflakes that splashed onto his trouser legs. He could only hear the neighbors passing by either giving him sidelong glances or snorting a few sarcastic remarks in a low voice, like ice shards drilling into his ears. He choked up and almost turned around and ran back to the hospital to lie down.

The door slammed shut with a bang, making the paper windows vibrate.

At the dinner table, not a sound was heard as the bowls and chopsticks clattered. The child shoveled rice into his mouth, his eyelids drooping lower than the pot lid. Yan Bugui stared at the withered yellow cornbread in his bowl, feeling increasingly depressed. He simply picked up the old hen that Hong Jingqiu had given him, which was placed by the stove, but froze halfway through his hand—the feathers were still glossy, enough to make a pot of soup for the whole family for two meals.

He let out a long sigh, so loud that the rice container on the corner of the table shook.

The children dared not utter a sound. The news had already spread throughout the courtyard: the Yan family loved to stir up trouble and cause problems, and anyone who got involved with them was doomed. The younger children were shoved and prevented from playing at the alley entrance, while the older children were hit on the head on their way home from school, their school uniforms still bearing shoe prints.

……

At noon, before the steam from the canteen kitchen had dissipated, Director Zhang lifted the curtain and came in, his steps heavy as if he were stepping on a weight.

Director Zhang: "Xiao He, come out for a moment."

He Yuzhu wiped the sweat from his brow and followed him out the door.

Director Zhang lowered his voice: "The investigation team will be at the factory soon. Don't make the dishes fancy, keep them salty as usual, and keep your mouths shut."

He Yuzhu nodded: "Understood. Is it about Deputy Factory Director Li?"

Director Zhang's eyelids twitched: "That's right. He was transferred to the guesthouse, a promotion in name only, and he's resentful. He's probably done something shady. The old leaders gave us a heads-up, saying they'd be there for a few days, specifically to check on things like extravagance and favoritism. We'll just fire whatever we're supposed to, according to the factory's official documents. Even a little bit of extravagance could get you blamed."

He Yuzhu: "Understood."

Just past noon, a dozen or so unfamiliar faces entered the kitchen, each carrying a hard-covered notebook, their pens gleaming, and their faces as stiff as frozen dough.

He Yuzhu gestured with his chin toward Ma Hua: "Make double portions of every dish and send them to the reception room. Two cornbread buns and one steamed bun per person, the standard is the same as the factory leaders'."

He no longer cooks separately in his own kitchen; he stews everything in a large pot until it's piping hot and evenly cooked—so that people don't have to dip the tip of their chopsticks in some oil and write it into their reports later.

Ma Hua returned with the dishes, rubbing his hands together, and asked, "Chef, would you like another bowl of hot soup?"

He Yuzhu waved his hand: "Just bring in a kettle of boiling water."

MCA complied, placed the kettle on the table, and turned to leave.

As the investigation was nearing its end, a man and a woman from the investigation team strolled out and approached each of the kitchen staff, asking: How do you usually receive guests? What have you given Director Zhang? Have you ever given him anything in private?

The workers shook their heads: "The standards are posted on the wall. We just do whatever Director Zhang says. Give gifts? Our whole family relies on our wages to buy grain and coal; we wouldn't dare to have any improper thoughts!"