Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

Things are different now. The cellar is piled high with stacks of grain, heavy with a sense of security; even if she no longer sells pastries on the black market, the money she saved recently, which she can exchange for food there, will last her for quite some time. Not to mention that she still goes to the black market every few days, continues her business as usual, and stands taller and taller every day.

After washing up, Liu Lan wrapped herself in a thick quilt and got onto the kang (heated brick bed), falling into a deep sleep the moment her body touched the pillow. Meanwhile, her sister-in-law was still busy under the lamp—kneading dough, chopping vegetables, and proofing steamed buns, preparing everything before she got off work the next day. Waiting for her to come back before starting? That would be a chaotic mess, with everything happening in disarray.

Liu Hong and his wife, carrying the New Year's goods distributed by the factory, plus a basket of New Year's goods they had snapped up at the supply and marketing cooperative in the city a few days earlier, attracted a crowd of people as soon as they stepped into the entrance of Liu Family Village.

Returning home in glory is like wearing fine clothes at night. This saying couldn't be more fitting for Liu Hong. The brand-new blue work clothes he was wearing were bought for him by Liu Lan, and the cuffs still gleamed with the luster of unremoved seams.

Many families in the village were struggling to even afford coarse grains. Seeing others carrying wheat flour, noodles, brown sugar, and canned goods into their homes, they felt a pang of envy, but outwardly they would greet them with smiles and say, "Oh, Brother Quan, you've really made it through!"—the unspoken message being: Now that we eat marketable grain and have a secure job, surely we won't be turned away if we ask to borrow three or five yuan in the future?

Some people even came directly to my door to ask, "Brother Quan, are factories in the city still hiring?"

For the first time in his life, Liu Dequan couldn't stop smiling. His son was promising, his daughter was sensible, he was beaming with pride, and his spine straightened a bit.

Only Liu Erdan's family wasn't envious. Before the New Year, Yi Zhonghai came again, carrying ten yuan. Liu Erdan's family reciprocated with a pound of cured pork and half a pound of dried wild mushrooms. Their lives had steadily caught up with the brigade leader's family's lively and bustling atmosphere.

……

When He Yuzhu stepped into the courtyard, Lou Xiao'e was wiping the stove: "Someone came to borrow money today, and I told them that all the money was under your control."

He Yuzhu frowned. The hardest time for Yang Chunfa's family in the courtyard was over. In previous years, Yi Zhonghai would always send some rice or noodles or a few dollars in the twelfth lunar month, but this year he had quietly stopped.

After Yang Chunfa's wife left, leaving behind three children, his elderly parents also passed away one after the other. His wife used to be lazy, so he could only make ends meet with temporary jobs. The factory had long wanted to lay him off, but they only kept him on because his father had helped him out years ago. Since the successive deaths of his loved ones, he seemed to have transformed—getting up earlier than the chickens and working harder than an ox. But how could his meager salary possibly support three children who were not yet grown up?

He Yuzhu had already planned his plan, but he couldn't get away from it.

……

He set his sights on Yang Chunfa's eldest son—the boy was fifteen years old, not in school, unemployed, and currently stuck in the awkward position of "not being able to do anything." But this kid had been watched by him since he was a child, and he was tight-lipped, honest, and had a tenacious spirit in his eyes that refused to admit defeat.

He Yuzhu turned to Lou Xiao'e and said, "Xiao'e, take two jin of flour, half a jin of pork belly, and five yuan. I'll send them to Yang Chun."

There are no eternal friends in this world, only relationships where you are useful to each other. The key is not how poor you are, but whether you have value that others will remember.

The worst thing is never being short of money, but being unwanted by everyone—living alone, growing old quietly, and having no one hear your sigh.

He Yuzhu carried the things into the Yang family's courtyard.

Yang Chunfa, rubbing his chapped hands, came up to him: "Zhuzi! I really don't know how to thank you... Don't worry, I'll definitely repay you in the spring!"

He Yuzhu waved his hand: "Brother Yangzi, it's the New Year, don't mention this. We're all neighbors who see each other all the time, everyone has their difficulties. I'm going back first, don't see me off, just let Xiaoyi walk with me for a few steps." — "Yangzi" is a nickname that Yan Bugui casually gave him when he was a child. He has been calling him that for decades, and he is more familiar with it than with his real name.

Yang Chunfa had three sons, whose names were chosen by the old man: Yang Chengyi, Yang Chenghong, and Yang Chengqiang. What was the significance of their names? He Yuzhu hadn't inquired about the details. His own name, however, was given by his mother, who hoped he would sprout like a spring bud and grow into a flourishing tree. The seeds had indeed multiplied, but they were about to wither in the soil.

Yang Chengyi silently followed He Yuzhu out of the courtyard.

As they walked, He Yuzhu asked, "Do you want to take on some of your father's burdens?"

Yang Chengyi looked up at him, his eyes full of hesitation. Ever since his grandparents and mother passed away one after another, the people in the courtyard didn't even bother to greet them when they saw their family; only Yi Zhonghai came once last year, but he slammed his fist on the table halfway through the conversation and left in a huff.

He Yuzhu's voice wasn't loud, but every word was firm: "I know you're a tough guy. I have a task for you—sell a pound, earn a dime. Think it over, and come to my house tomorrow night. Don't tell anyone about this, not even your father."

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned and left.

Since they stopped selling grain regularly, the wine brewed by the space robot had been piling up, almost overflowing the house. He Yuzhu had long planned to have Yang Chengyi help sell it—the price was the same as the dried melon wine, but no grain coupons were needed. They wouldn't go to the black market, but would instead go to scrap yards to find empty bottles, wash them, fill them with wine, and carry them away. How to hawk the wine and where to sell it was up to Yang Chengyi. If they got caught? They'd just say their father had bought it and was short on cash, so they were secretly taking some to exchange for snacks. They'd carry two bottles at a time, slowly building up regular customers; once they were established, they could deliver to designated locations—that would be much safer.

We've already prepared all the excuses for him. The first time, we'll give him twenty catties of wine on credit. Once he earns some money, we'll settle the account with him.

Passing by Qin Huairu's house, a rich aroma wafted into his nostrils—the smell of stewed meat, fatty yet not greasy, making his throat tighten. Ever since her leg healed and she returned to work, she's had a meaty meal every two weeks. He Yuzhu has always trusted his nose.

She used to secretly start cooking at 11 p.m. every night, just because his house was so close. As soon as the stove was lit and the pot lid was lifted, the aroma would waft over three walls.

It seems that the technician Xiao'e mentioned had started slipping money into her hands two months ago.

He Yuzhu was lost in thought when a clear voice came from behind him: "Brother! What are you daydreaming about? Time to eat!"

It turned out that while he was out, Lou Xiao'e had already carried the old lady on her back. The old lady muttered, "I can still walk by myself," while holding onto Lou Xiao'e's hand tightly.

Lou Xiao'e smiled and helped her steady: "Grandma, I've never met my real grandma, but from the first time I called you that, you've been my real grandma."

The old lady's eyes welled up with tears, and she patted the back of her hand: "Silly girl, from now on, you are my own granddaughter."

He Yuzhu quickly brought over a bowl of steaming hot dumplings: "Grandma! Eat them while they're hot, otherwise the wrappers will harden and be hard to chew. After you finish eating, let Xiao'e keep you company and chat."

The old lady feigned annoyance: "You're so quick to talk!"

Before she finished speaking, she laughed out loud, moved to the table next to Lou Xiao'e and He Yushui, and ate with relish, bite after bite.

Early this morning, Qin Huairu carried a grain bag and distributed relief grain to each household, allocating three jin to each household. The thirty jin of grain were gone in the blink of an eye.

At the dinner table, He Yushui casually brought up this matter.

He Yuzhu became more and more confused as he listened—what exactly was Qin Huairu after this time?

The next day, as soon as I entered the factory, before the machines even started running, the noise of people had already started.

I worked for three hours in the morning when the loudspeaker suddenly blared, announcing from the publicity department: the cafeteria is opening for meat!

In an instant, the cafeteria erupted into a bubbling, boiling atmosphere, like a kettle of boiling water.

Everyone lined up without prior arrangement, their voices louder than the last, shouting about what they would stew, braise, or stir-fry for dinner.

I kept my voice down, afraid that the wind would carry it away and the neighbors wouldn't be able to hear me, and I would feel suffocated instead.

With everyone chiming in, the entire canteen transformed into a bustling crossroads during the year-end rush.

Lou Xiao'e didn't join in the fun. She leaned against the window and waited quietly until the line dispersed before going forward to collect her meat.

Once she got the meat, she felt relieved—she could go home with Sha Zhu.

The twenty-four long lines were completed in less than an hour.

He Yuzhu casually stuffed the food box into Lou Xiao'e's arms.

Pushing their old-fashioned bicycles, the two of them slowly strolled out of the courtyard gate.

With her on the back seat, we drove through the thin snow and into the courtyard.

The courtyard was already bustling with activity: children wearing brand-new cotton-padded jackets and trousers were running and rolling around in the snow; those without new clothes were squatting by the wall, gazing longingly, their little hands red with cold but refusing to move.

Banggeng was pulling Xiaodang to build a snowman. Both of them were wrapped in brand-new blue cotton-padded jackets, with even the buttons shining.

He caught a glimpse of Xu Damao pushing open the door and immediately jumped over, calling out "Uncle Xu" in a clear voice, and even tiptoed to pat his arm—both of them lacked a pillar of support in their lives, and he was truly fond of him from the bottom of his heart.

Xu Damao shook his head with a wry smile, took out two jiao (0.2 yuan) and stuffed it into his palm. He then turned around and quickly left the courtyard, presumably heading to his parents' house to celebrate the New Year.

As they passed each other, He Yuzhu caught a glimpse of the gray emptiness in his eyes—he hadn't seen a trace of his wife during the Lunar New Year.

Lou Xiao'e, linking arms with He Yuzhu, laughed, "Zhuzi, hurry up and start the fire to cook! I'll go to the backyard and carry the old lady here so our family can stay up all night!"

He Yuzhu nodded: "The road is slippery, so watch your step."

Seeing her excitedly running to the backyard, He Yuzhu quickly lifted the lid of the steamer, took out the several main dishes he had prepared yesterday, and put them in the pot to heat up.

"Rain!" he shouted into the house. "Did you buy the firecrackers? We'll light them in a bit!"

He Yushui was pressing the sewing machine, making a "clack-clack" sound, without even looking up: "It's on the edge of the kang (heated brick bed)!"

Lou Xiao'e carried the old lady steadily onto the heated kang (a traditional heated brick bed), then squatted down to help her take off her old cotton shoes and put on thick new cotton slippers.

"Grandma, look how warm this kang (heated brick bed) is! We'll start eating as soon as it crackles!"

The old lady's eyes crinkled with laughter: "Silly moth, I've told you eight hundred times, Grandma can move it herself!"

The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law sat side by side on the kang (a heated brick bed), chatting away about everyday things.

Suddenly, a loud "bang" rang out outside the courtyard. A group of children, like startled sparrows, rushed over and rummaged through the scraps of paper for the dud that hadn't exploded.

He Yuzhu carried the steaming plates of food onto the kang table—in this freezing weather, having a kang table was a lifesaver; the plates wouldn't get cold even when placed on it.

"Rain!" he called out loudly, "Stop fussing around, come and eat on the kang!"