Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

Lou Xiao'e: "Okay!"

She had just sat cross-legged on the kang (a heated brick bed) when she began to recount how she met He Yuzhu, the day they bumped into each other at the factory gate, and the time they struck up a conversation while borrowing a book… As He Yushui listened, her heart warmed slightly: it turned out her brother wasn't a blockhead; he had a bellyful of spring in his heart, just waiting for the right person to lift the lid. All these years, she had been so busy watching him cook, fix doors and windows, that she hadn't even noticed the flowers blooming in his heart.

When He Yuzhu pushed open the courtyard gate, the sky was just beginning to turn bluish-gray.

He Yushui came out of the house to greet him, her voice clear and bright: "Brother, someone's been waiting for you for ages!"

As soon as he stepped across the threshold, he saw Lou Xiao'e sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), her eyes still damp, like rice paper crumpled by the wind.

"Xiao'e?" His throat tightened. "Who made you cry?"

She bit her lower lip, her voice soft yet steady: "My family doesn't want me anymore. They tore up my household registration book, crossed out my name, and even took away my dishes."

He Yuzhu didn't ask any questions, but simply reached out and pulled the cotton-padded coat on her shoulders: "You rest here with my sister for now. I'll ask the factory for leave this afternoon, and get the certificate the day after tomorrow; tomorrow morning I'll go to Director Zhang to get you a transfer order—from Xinhua Bookstore, I'll transfer you to our factory to sweep the floors."

He Yushui was initially skeptical, but after hearing her brother's confident words, she truly believed that this was her future sister-in-law. However, she then remembered her brother's often-repeated saying: "Smiles can be faked, words can be fabricated, but you have to verify a person yourself." She secretly glanced at Lou Xiao'e, but didn't say anything, and simply stirred the fire a little brighter.

He Yuzhu turned around and lifted the pot lid: "Are you hungry? The steamed buns are ready, and I'll heat up the vegetables so we can eat. I'll make you braised pork for dinner, with a perfect balance of lean and fat, it'll melt in your mouth."

Lou Xiao'e looked at his fingertips stained with stove ash and the oil stains on his apron, and suddenly her nose tingled with emotion—with such a simple yet honest person by her side, no matter how hard life got, the sky wouldn't fall.

He quickly heated up the dishes, then casually stuffed the steamed white flour buns He Yushui had made into Lou Xiao'e's hands: "Here, hold them tight yourself. Do you expect me to coax you to eat them spoonful by spoonful like I did with Fangfang?"

He Yushui stood there, stunned, forgetting to put down her chopsticks—was this still the same brother who, even when she had a fever, found it troublesome and insisted that she pour herself water? She almost dropped her steamed bun on the ground.

He Yuzhu glanced at her sideways: "What are you looking at? When you were little, you'd kick off the covers and cry in the middle of the night, and I'd hold you and comfort you. And when you wet the bed, I had to hide it from Mom... Hurry up and eat, or the braised pork will get cold!"

He Yushui paused, then smiled. Yes, her brother had carried her to school since she was little, taken her scoldings for her, and insisted on washing her smelly socks—this man couldn't be wrong.

……

As soon as he arrived at work in the afternoon, He Yuzhu went straight to Director Zhang's office. Without even knocking, he poked half his body in and said, "Director, could you please write me a note? My girlfriend wants to be transferred to our factory to sweep the floors."

Director Zhang was drinking tea when he nearly choked on a mouthful of water: "What? You're giving up a secure job at the bookstore to sweep floors? Have you lost your mind?"

Little did he know that the women sweeping the floors in the factory had husbands who died in the Korean War and sons who sacrificed their lives on the border. The factory had made a special exception for them to do this job—the wages were meager, but the food ration coupons were substantial. More importantly, behind them stood a group of upright and supportive family members of veterans. What He Yuzhu was after wasn't those few kilograms of food ration coupons, but this weighty sense of security.

Director Zhang rubbed his temples: "Alright, alright, I'll go to the cafeteria and call someone right away. Who's willing to give up a seat so her relative can fill in at the bookstore? When Comrade Lou comes to our factory—the union is recruiting—we'll give priority to her family!"

It was almost time to leave work when Director Zhang strolled into the personnel department and slapped the transfer order stamped with a red seal into He Yuzhu's hand.

Clutching the note, He Yuzhu strode briskly towards the black market butcher shop. Halfway there, he suddenly spotted a familiar figure—Qin Huairu, carrying a bamboo basket, approaching the stall. Their eyes met briefly, then quickly looked away, like two clouds brushing past each other, neither stopping.

She was carrying three pounds of meat and two large bags of coarse grains on her back; her extravagance was conspicuous throughout the entire alley. He Yuzhu wondered: Where did the money come from? Had the subsidies run out? Had the donations been exhausted? But then he thought—what did it have to do with him? She was living a respectable life, which made things easier for him, saving him the trouble of blocking her door every day to borrow money.

Meat on the black market costs two cents more and doesn't require a ticket. He Yuzhu couldn't figure out how they got it, but being able to buy meat was a blessing from heaven.

He handed over the money: "One jin, one yuan and one jiao."

The butcher scoffed, "At 80 cents a pound, you think we're ripping off honest people?"

A nearby waiter quickly pulled him aside, saying, "Don't argue with this blind man, you'll delay our business!"

He Yuzhu didn't argue. He picked up the steelyard and weighed himself—it was one jin and one liang. His face immediately burned, but luckily no one recognized him.

The black market values ​​quiet; even arguments are conducted in hushed tones, with a few muffled exchanges quickly fading away.

He had barely stepped out of the shop when he bumped into Liu Lan hurrying past with an oil paper package. He Yuzhu didn't even lift his eyelids—see you at the cafeteria tomorrow morning, why bother with small talk in this sensitive time?

He gripped the transfer order tightly and rushed back to the courtyard house.

When he handed the note to Lou Xiao'e, he said solemnly, "From now on, you'll be sweeping the floor in the factory, standing at the very front of the workers. Your salary will be the lowest level for a regular worker. The work won't be heavy, but you'll have to get along well with those older women—ask what you should ask, and keep your ears shut about what you shouldn't hear."

This position is both formal and temporary: it pays the salary of a temporary worker but enjoys the food rations and housing benefits of a permanent worker, like a wedge stuck in a crack, neither side is off.

"After I serve the braised pork, let's go see Grandma together."

Lou Xiao'e smiled and nodded: "You go ahead and do your work, the stove can't do without you."

He immediately rolled up his sleeves, chopped firewood, started a fire, and stir-fried the food. The aroma of soy sauce mixed with the caramel color filled the kitchen.

The food was served, and the two of them carried their bowls and chopsticks to the old lady's room in the backyard.

Pushing open the door, He Yuzhu's voice was bright and clear: "Grandma, your granddaughter-in-law has come to kowtow to you!"

The old lady squinted at Lou Xiao'e, then grabbed her hand and said, "Good child, your hands are warm and your eyes are bright, so your heart must be open and honest too—Yuzhu, you must cherish her like a precious gem."

Lou Xiao'e's ears were bright red, her head was down, and her fingers were twisting the hem of her clothes.

He Yuzhu ladled the braised pork into a blue-and-white porcelain bowl: "Try it, it's tender and not greasy."

The old lady waved her hand: "You go back first, let me talk to my granddaughter-in-law. She'll eat here today; I don't have a big appetite, it'll be enough for her."

He Yuzhu turned and left, feeling quite at ease—his grandmother had spent half her life observing people and was best at reading their hearts. But he trusted Lou Xiao'e more than he trusted himself: this girl's heart was clearer than well water and softer than cotton wool.

He returned to the house, finished the last bite of his meal, and it was already completely dark, with a slender crescent moon hanging from the eaves.

At this moment, Qin Huairu carried a heavy bag of sorghum rice and stepped firmly into the courtyard.

He Yuzhu's heart lit up—it really was her! Last time he bumped into her at the East Black Market Grain Station, where she was carrying an empty basket and pretending to work. This time, she was seen hurrying around in the back alley of the West Black Market Supply and Marketing Cooperative, with coupons in her pocket and a heavy load on her shoulder. This was no ordinary walk. She was clearly doing her job at the perfect time.

He didn't bother to investigate further and turned to head straight for the old lady's house, as bringing Lou Xiao'e back was the priority.

Pushing open the door, I saw the old lady laughing so hard she was doubled over, her eyes crinkling with deep wrinkles. Sometime later, He Yushui had also slipped in, sitting on the edge of the kang (heated brick bed) peeling melon seeds, scattering white kernels all over the floor. The old lady had long since figured Lou Xiao'e out—two hours of casual conversation, every word a trap, every sentence a veiled barb, yet Lou Xiao'e remained calm and composed, answering clearly and comprehensively, neither interrupting nor hiding her true abilities, firmly holding her ground under the watchful eye of this old fox.

A few days ago, Xu Damao brought Hong Jingqiu to visit. After seeing them off, the old lady said to He Yuzhu, "Jingqiu isn't a bad person, but she's soft-hearted. She depends entirely on who her husband leads her—if she's with a good person, she'll warm the stove; if she's with a bad person, she'll even help hand him the knife."

Judging from the way the old lady's eyebrows were raised, Lou Xiao'e must have really caught her eye.

……

Ru Family of Qinhuai

Jia Zhangshi leaned forward and lowered her voice: "A woman came at noon today, riding a bicycle with a bedding roll tied to the back seat. She went straight to Sha Zhu's house. What's her background?"

Qin Huairu didn't even lift her eyelids: "Don't ask too many questions about Sha Zhu. He acts like the wind passing through the treetops, leaving no trace or sound. The more you think about it, the more confused you'll become. Just treat him like the neighbor who's just passing by. Nod when you should nod, chat when you should chat, but don't ask anything else."

Madam Jia probed again, "Did you buy meat again today?"

Qin Huairu simply responded with a "Mm." After a pause, her voice deepened, "You know how things are at home. Don't pry into anything else."

Jia Zhangshi immediately and deftly lifted the cellar cover, stuffed the bag of grain underneath, turned around, picked up a cleaver, and chopped the pork belly in a few quick strokes. The oil in the pan was heated, and the scallions were sautéed until fragrant.

Qin Huairu gazed at the flickering flames in the stove, thinking to herself: Has Sha Zhu decided on someone? But it has nothing to do with her. It's strange that he stared at her twice at the black market without yelling, stopping her, or questioning her.

It seems he gained real benefits over there, but... what was he after?

She thought back carefully: he hadn't bought any new clothes, hadn't changed his enamel mug, and even his cigarettes were still the cheapest "Made Brand." The only exception was a piece of lean and fatty rib meat he bought today... Could it be that he traded something for it? What did he trade it for?

The thought had barely crossed her mind when she shook her head and dismissed it—who cares, it doesn't affect her livelihood anyway.

Jia Zhangshi felt as at ease as if she had a ball of cotton in her heart. Now she had a thousand or so catties of coarse grains stored in the cellar, and another two hundred catties of fine flour stored in the cupboard. Ever since Qin Huairu started bringing back grains every day without anyone noticing, she secretly took out seventy yuan to supplement her income, and worked day and night to make shoe soles, selling each stitch to earn money to buy grain.

As she watched the cellar fill up, she grew increasingly impressed—what other woman could be so resourceful and capable? Ten men combined might not have her courage and skill. Where did the money come from? She didn't ask. As long as there was no shortage of rice in her bowl, she was content with that.

Just as she brought the stewed braised pork to the table, Madam Jia Zhang, wiping her apron, hesitated and said, "Huai Ru, why don't we take a break? We have enough food stored up for at least half a year."