Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

The woman stared intently at He Yuzhu, her gaze sharp as a knife: "I heard you've given Director Zhang gifts several times—cigarettes and alcohol, right? What are you after? What were the standards of hospitality before? Think it through before you speak."

He Yuzhu didn't dodge or evade: "Two packs of cigarettes and a bottle of wine are the rules for visiting relatives after I recognized Peng Mei as my older sister. The standard of hospitality? It's nailed to the wall, written in black and white. I wouldn't dare to change a single punctuation mark."

After finishing their meal, the people left with normal expressions, their bowls clean, and not a single complaint escaped their lips. Clearly, this meal was no different from any other they had eaten elsewhere.

Before leaving, the woman paused, turned back and gave He Yuzhu a deep look—there was no anger in her eyes, but rather it was as if she had turned the page on an old grievance, waiting to settle the score later.

They went around the entire factory: the logistics department checked the ledgers, the workshops checked the shift schedules, the propaganda department asked about the wall posters, the finance department reconciled the accounts, and even the old lady sweeping the yard was stopped and questioned for the time it takes to smoke a cigarette.

You Zhengya was summoned to the administrative office and held there for an hour before being released. The directors, however, showed no sign of panic – the rules were in place, their actions were impeccable, what was there to fear from the slightest disturbance?

The investigation team arrived again at dinner time. The same as always: cornbread, steamed buns, and four vegetable dishes. This time, Ma Hua didn't even bring a kettle; he simply pointed to the hot water bucket by the door and said, "Help yourself."

Director Zhang had stood up for him and cleared his name, yet these people turned around and investigated Director Zhang? Ma Hua's heart was burning with excitement, and he held the food bowl firmly, but his enthusiasm had long since cooled.

After cleaning up the stove, the workers turned and left without waiting for them to swallow their last bite of food.

When He Yuzhu stepped into the courtyard, he saw Yan Bugui squatting at the door, fiddling with the transistor radio he had just brought back. The antenna was crooked, and the crackling sound was intermittent.

He Yuzhu knew perfectly well that calling him "Third Uncle" again would be tantamount to slapping him in the face.

He took a few steps closer, his tone extremely soft: "Teacher Yan, are you feeling better?"

Yesterday, He Yuzhu was dragged off the stage with mud smeared on his face, but he didn't even show his face. Yan Bugui remembers it clearly.

He looked up and smiled, his smile dry: "Much better. You go about your business, don't delay cooking for Yushui."

When Yu Shui saw him today, he didn't give him a hard time. Instead, he smiled and called him "Teacher Yan." But there was an awkwardness hidden in that smile—yesterday he was the third uncle in the courtyard who could shake the ground with a stomp of his foot, but today everyone walks around him, and the spittle behind his back could be pickled vegetables.

Although Liu Haizhong wasn't caught on the spot, he was restless, feeling as if his chair was covered in thorns. He couldn't swallow this insult and was unwilling to just be a bystander watching the spectacle.

He Yuzhu had no time to mock him. His own kang (heated brick bed) was warm and cozy, and he could lie down comfortably. Why did he have to come and poke at the lungs of a wilted eggplant?

He nodded: "Then please rest more and take care of yourself."

After saying that, he walked towards the central court.

As he passed the pond, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye—five finger marks were clearly visible on Jia Zhangshi's left cheek, the bruises still lingering. She didn't make a sound, but simply huddled against the wall, twisting the hem of her apron with her hands.

He Yuzhu didn't even lift his eyelids and stepped straight into the house.

The neighbors quickly gathered around and asked, "Who hit him?"

She refused to utter a single word.

No one believed Qin Huairu was the one who did it—the girl spoke softly, was kind and gentle, and even smiled apologetically when the clothesline was misplaced. Everyone guessed that she had been slapped while fighting over cabbages at the market.

Actually, Qin Huairu didn't go home at all yesterday noon.

He didn't come in until the meeting ended at night.

Just as Jia Zhangshi opened her mouth to ask where Qin Huairu had gone, before the words even finished, she received a resounding slap across the face, leaving half of her cheek burning and swollen. Qin Huairu grabbed her arm, her voice low and harsh: "Stay home and take care of the children, eat, and shut up—nothing else is your business! If I don't give you a couple of slaps, you'll forget who you are!"

Qin Huairu stared at her reddened eyes and said, word by word, "I give you money and food every month, not to support an idle person, but to protect the only heir of the Jia family! If you let anything slip, I won't even bother sweeping the ashes on the stove in this house!"

Jia Zhangshi choked up, holding her breath, her eyes burning but she dared not blink, much less shed tears. When dinner was served, she stood by her side, arranging the bowls and chopsticks neatly, her spoon steady without a tremor as she scooped rice—she had only one thought in her mind: to raise Banggeng into a person, and swallow the rest back down.

"You're not allowed to touch the hidden grain, not even with your own fingers." Qin Huairu peeled back the oil paper, revealing several pieces of meat with alternating layers of fat and lean. "That's our lifeline. No one is allowed to touch it until we run out of food! Also, if anything happens in this yard, just keep your eyes closed and your mouth shut. Anyone who gossips or tries to trip us up, I'll tell you everything when I get back. And one more thing—" Her gaze swept across Jia Zhangshi's face like a knife, "If I hear you teaching the children to steal, you'd better think twice before you breathe in this house!"

After saying that, she stuffed the meat into Jia Zhangshi's hands: "Everyone will be at work tomorrow, so you secretly stew this to nourish the child, and you can eat some too. Also, buy a few big bones that you don't have ration coupons for, and make a thick soup—I'm not going to feed a sickly, useless person. The nutritious food will go first to you, otherwise, if you collapse one day, who will take care of the child for you?"

Madam Jia nodded vigorously, her palms sweating as she clutched the meat in her hands. Ever since Qin Huairu lifted the pot lid and took the keys, the household had a new leader. She had long seen through it all: disobey? She might really be shoved into a freight car back to her hometown; fall ill? She might not even be able to get out of bed before being dragged away. Now, the meat in her bowl was the thickest, the cornbread the fluffiest—not a favor, but the price to survive.

She dared not complain, for fear of another slap, and for fear that Qin Huairu would walk away—without this pillar of support, the Jia family's business would be doomed.

……

He Yuzhu had just wiped the stove clean when an old man pushed open the door and entered the house.

An old man said, "Shazhu, I have to go back to Liujia Village to visit relatives tomorrow. My luggage is heavy. Would you like to come with me?"

He Yuzhu waved his hand: "No way. The investigation team just left today, and they'll be staking out the factory gate again tomorrow. Do you think I can ask for leave? They'll immediately treat me like a thief!"

—We just finished questioning him yesterday, and now he's hiding and not working? Who would believe that? He Yuzhu will definitely be dragged to the general factory's administrative department for a chat, waiting for them to dig up old grievances.

The old man was puzzled, assuming it was just another routine visit like every year: asking about the saltiness of the food and listening to the gossip of the family.

An old man said, "What went wrong? Tell me your heart."

He Yuzhu smiled wryly: "It's really nothing serious, just a surprise hygiene inspection of the canteen to see if we cook the dishes cleanly and if we're fooling the workers."

What's the point of saying anything? Even if it reaches the factory manager's ears, it's useless. The investigation team isn't here for a casual chat; who's going to listen to personal relationships with them?

An old man said, "Come on, let's go to my house for a couple of drinks!"

He Yuzhu sneered inwardly: You think you can get me drunk and trick me into talking? Your two ounces of strong liquor wouldn't even make me dizzy, even if you gave me three more jars!

But he still got up and followed him out—if he didn't go, the old man would surely become paranoid, thinking the sky had really fallen.

As soon as I stepped into Uncle Da's house, I saw a bunch of kids rolling around on the kang (a heated brick bed): Fangfang and Jiye, the two little firecrackers, were riding on He Yushui and making a ruckus.

Fangfang held up a half-eaten steamed bun, barely bigger than a finger, and offered it to her with her head tilted back: "Sister, try some! If you give me some, I'll be your best friend!"

He Yushui covered her mouth and shook her head, "I'm really full, I can't swallow another grain..."

Ji Ye went even further, grabbing a piece of braised meat and shoving it into her mouth: "Sister loves me the most! From now on, you can have half of my meat!"

He Yushui almost rolled her eyes – these days, if the two kids have a piece of candy in their pocket or a piece of meat left in their bowl, they'll run straight to her.

As He Yuzhu entered the room, he casually unwrapped two fruit candies, popped one into He Yushui's mouth, and turned around to shove the other into the hand of an older woman.

He Yushui stared at him expectantly, her eyes fixed on him: Brother, come and block him!

He Yuzhu turned and sat down at the table, clinking glasses with an old man: "Sir, what would you like to drink today?"

An old man casually asked, "Have Fangfang's mother and the old lady received their food yet?"

An older woman replied, "It was just delivered while it was still warm."

The old man nodded and asked no more questions.

After a few rounds of drinks, the old man figured He Yuzhu was starting to get tipsy—he usually never drank more than three ounces. Sure enough, once he started talking, he got straight to the point:

"Silly Zhu, what exactly were those people investigating today?"

He Yuzhu sighed inwardly: Sure enough, he couldn't hold it in.

He squinted, his tongue curling: "Oh... check... check if our stove is clean... see if we're just going through the motions when we cook..."

The old man pressed him for more questions, but he evaded them all with drunken ramblings, talking incoherently until he himself sounded genuinely drunk. The old man patted him on the shoulder, sighed, and personally helped him back into the house.

………………

As dawn broke, an old man had already tied his bundle tightly and was driving the bus straight towards Liujia Village.

When they arrived at the commune, by sheer coincidence, they ran into Liu Degui, who was driving an oxcart to run errands. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Liu Degui offered him a ride—otherwise, carrying dozens of kilograms of goods and wading through five or six miles of muddy roads in the snow would have been exhausting.

Everyone in the village knew that Liu Erdan's family had managed to get in touch with relatives in the city. A while ago, that "big brother" came to their door, bringing not only grain and cloth coupons, but also thick cotton-padded jackets for the children.

The captain knew the truth, but he gritted his teeth and didn't utter a word—if word got out that he couldn't even raise his own child and had to give him away to make a living, where would he put his face?

Therefore, the number of people in the entire village who truly know the inside story can be counted on one hand.

The brigade leader accompanied the old man, chatting slowly as they walked through the crunching snow into Liujia Village.

In the cold of the twelfth lunar month, with no work to be done in the fields, every household stayed indoors warming themselves by the fire.

When the old man stepped into Liu Erdan's courtyard, he felt a sense of relief even before he had unloaded the bundle on his shoulder: Liu Erdan looked rosy-cheeked, and the two children on the kang (a heated brick bed) were rolling around on the bed, laughing and revealing their gap-toothed faces.

Liu Erdan hurriedly came forward: "Big brother! You came all this way, but why did you carry so much stuff? If you do this again, I really won't dare to call you my brother!"