Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

As soon as Lou Xiao'e left the house, He Aijun immediately crawled out from under the bed, his dusty hair still covered with two strands of straw.

He looked up, his voice weak, "Grandma, I'll go back after Mom calms down..."

The old lady reached out and ruffled his messy head, sighing, "You little rascal, you know you'll get a beating but you still insist on jumping into the fire! Look at the second and third sons, they're quiet all day long, they even cover their mouths when they cough."

Just as the stove was lit, He Yuzhu pushed his two children through the gate.

He Aijun had barely peeked out when He Yuzhu grabbed his arm and dragged him into the house—a bamboo strip lashed his trouser leg with a sharp cracking sound.

"Get out and kneel down!" He Yuzhu's voice boomed, making the paper windows vibrate. "You like to fight, don't you? Then kneel outside and see what happens!"

After the children finished eating, Lou Xiao'e filled a bowl with hot porridge and brought it to the courtyard gate.

"Son, eat it while it's hot. If you misbehave again, your dad's hands won't let you off the hook."

He Aijun took the bowl, still kneeling, but his mouth was still defiant: "If someone hadn't been fanning the flames and deliberately provoking me, would my dad have been able to swing so hard?" Before he finished speaking, he lowered his head and slurped down his porridge.

Lou Xiao'e squatted down and gently patted his back: "Mom is doing this for your own good."

"For my own good?" He looked up, a grain of rice still clinging to his eyelashes. "Then you should stop him a bit, don't just keep yelling 'go easy on me,' like you're watching a show."

She was taken aback by his words, then began to list the incidents on her fingers: the time he knocked over the soy sauce jar, the time he tore the clothesline, and the time he kicked down half of the wall from the coal pile... She remembered how she had advised him, how she had held back with the bamboo stick, and how she had shielded him from three blows with her palms—each and every one of them was clearer than a book.

Over there, He Aidang was happily riding her older brother's little wooden horse when she suddenly saw He Aijun return. She immediately pulled on the "reins," her eyes darting away from her brother's gaze. But when she turned her head, she grinned at He Yubing, wiggling her hips and swaying her shoulders, which made her sister pout and wail. She ran straight to He Yuzhu's arms to complain.

He Yuzhu's temples throbbed—his little Louzi was only a year old, and when he cried, he looked like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on. You couldn't soothe him or hit him, and he always seemed to know when to wail when your head was already throbbing.

As soon as He Aijun was woken up, He Aidang slid off the wooden horse with a "whoosh," grabbed the horse's neck, and pushed it towards his older brother: "Here! Here you go!" After saying that, he took off running and buried his head in He Yuzhu's arms, as obedient as a puppy that had just taken a bath.

With a daughter hanging behind him, a toddler in his arms, and another little one clinging to his leg—it's a bittersweet feeling. No wonder He Aijun is always the first to be punished whenever something goes wrong. He gets the beating first, while his younger siblings watch with wide eyes, remembering: pushing someone means kneeling, snatching candy means standing in the corner, and talking back means copying "Quotations from Chairman Mao" ten times.

He Yuzhu breathed a sigh of relief after Lou Xiao'e took the fourth child away. She was pregnant again. If it weren't for the coarse grains, lard, and cured meat she had stored in her space last year, the meager rations from the factory would have been devoured by these mouths long ago—since the year before last, rice, flour, oil, and meat rations had all been reduced by 30% per person.

It was almost time for work. He Yuzhu pushed the bamboo cart carrying the second and third children ahead, while Lou Xiao'e carried the fourth child on her back and led the eldest child by the hand, chatting with He Aijun as they walked. "That kid has so many mischievous ideas, like bamboo shoots after a spring rain, but he just can't control himself."

"He choked me first!" He Aijun said, his neck stiff.

Lou Xiao'e raised her hand and slapped him twice on the buttocks: "You always have someone else start it? Is the word 'deserve to be beaten' written on your face? You look perfectly normal to me!"

He tilted his head back, his bright black eyes unblinking: "If your face doesn't deserve a beating, why do you always get beaten up?"

Lou Xiao'e almost burst out laughing: "If you don't cause trouble, who would want to hit you?"

"Anyway—" he paused, emphasizing each word, "I'm never the one who takes action."

"Want to be naughty again this afternoon?" She squinted. "I'll personally weave you a bramble wreath to wear on your head!"

After delivering the three, Lou Xiao'e casually hoisted the fourth one onto her back and turned to run towards the factory office—she was now in charge of filing documents and had so much free time that she could hear her own heartbeat.

When He Yuzhu stepped into the canteen, it was just dawn, and there were still more than ten minutes before work started. The kitchen was deserted, with only a few workers wiping tables in the corner. Ma Hua, with her sharp eyes, saw him come in and immediately made him a cup of strong tea and handed it to him.

"Master, you don't look well lately."

He Yuzhu took the cup, his gaze calm amidst the rising steam: "Efficient work, and a tight-lipped story. By the way, where's Liu Lan?"

……

The bell rang, and everyone was there.

He Yuzhu turned into the old canteen and immediately saw Liu Lan wiping the steamer.

"Liu Lan, come out for a moment."

The two walked to the sycamore tree in the back alley, where no one was around. He Yuzhu lowered his voice: "Don't go to the He family's place for at least six months. Unless your family is starving—we're short of food now, not life, unlike before."

Before he finished speaking, the situation at the factory changed drastically.

Factory Director Yang was holding a production meeting one day, but the next day he was ordered to clean the toilets and supervise the entire factory on a rotating basis. Qiao Weimin took over on the spot, the inspection team was established, Director Zhang was in charge of the team, and You Zhengya followed closely behind as the deputy.

The second strike was aimed at Lou Xiao'e.

She was summoned to the office for questioning for half a day, and then went to the original street office for further investigation. When she returned, she was awarded the "Advanced Youth of the Times" medal.

The afternoon was complete chaos—the canteen stoves were cold and the pots were empty, no one had time to cook, and the workers scattered to their homes. Just as they entered the gate, the courtyard was thrown into disarray by the red armbands. Someone had made a fuss, reporting that He Yuzhu's bicycle and sewing machine were both bought with money from the Lou family.

The leader, wearing a bright red armband, stood in front of He Yuzhu: "Comrade, please cooperate with the investigation. Some people have reported that these two items were purchased with funds from the Lou family."

He Yuzhu didn't move, but calmly said, "The bicycle ticket was issued by the factory, and the sewing machine was earned by Lou Xiao'e from her wages at the bookstore, penny by penny. We are workers, our hands are calloused, and the ledgers have our records; we can withstand scrutiny."

He watched them leave, neither arguing nor trying to stop them. He had locked away He Yushui's English books and philosophy notes deep inside his house the year she entered university; since the beginning of this year, apart from a Little Red Book and three old articles, there wasn't a single page of "miscellaneous books" in the house. All the fancy items—radio, old photo albums, enamel mugs with foreign characters—had either been burned, buried, or broken long ago.

Lou Xiao'e stood at the gate of the courtyard, looking at the mess on the ground, and finally understood why He Yuzhu insisted on making her give up that street-facing shop five years ago, why he burned all the bankbooks overnight, and why he forced He Yushui to tear out the foreign stamps tucked in her diary.

When He Yushui rushed into the house, her face was ashen, and her fingers were still trembling.

Luckily, her older brother insisted on giving her that copy of "Quotations from Chairman Mao," along with the enamel mug her sister-in-law stuffed into her bag—otherwise, she would probably be stuck in the disciplinary team today, undergoing a "complete transformation."

A week later, the factory gradually stabilized. Production didn't drop; in fact, it was significantly higher than the neighboring factories. Apart from a few people transferred to the farm, none of the middle and upper management positions remained unchanged. He Yuzhu was temporarily appointed as the deputy director of the canteen, while Director Zhang was transferred to the security department to take charge of public order.

Liu Songgui was promoted to squad leader, while He Yuzhu was put in charge of logistics and daily chores. He was assigned a tiny office—small but bright and clean, with an enamel mug on the desk.

The playground was much quieter. The children had all suddenly stopped coming, and even the cicadas' chirping sounded unusually desolate.

He Yuzhu squatted in the shade of the sycamore trees at the factory gate, waiting for Lou Xiao'e to get off work. From afar, he saw He Aijun looking like a burlap sack rolled into a mud puddle, his hair covered in mud, his trouser legs swishing with mud, and even his facial features almost obscured. Lou Xiao'e was chasing closely behind, her eyes red with anger, but with her little daughter on her back, no matter how fast she walked, she couldn't catch up with the little mudfish darting around. He Yuzhu darted forward and intercepted him, grabbing his elbow and pulling him back, scolding him in a low voice as they walked: "Slow down! If you fall flat on your face again, you'll break a bone!"

"You're not playing with mud, the mud is kneading you like dough!"

Lou Xiao'e caught up, panting, her hand raised halfway but then froze—afraid that a slap would turn her newly washed blue cotton jacket into a muddy mess. She stamped her feet and sighed, "I must have owed you eight hundred catties of sorghum in my past life to be dried up by you in this one!" He Yuzhu didn't say anything, but led the twins to his side. When the two children rushed to him, panting, he let go of He Aijun's hand: "Walk by yourselves! Don't be so lazy as to be carried!" Before he finished speaking, he was already pushing the stroller steadily ahead, with He Aijun following behind, his shoes scraping the ground and leaving two wet mud trails.

He wasn't beaten, nor did he utter a sound. Instead, he straightened his little body, looking completely unconcerned. When he stepped into the courtyard, He Yushui was sitting under the jujube tree mending socks. Looking up, he almost pricked his finger with the needle and thread in his hand—good heavens, he looked exactly like a mud monkey just dug out of the swamp!

"Whoa! Did you roll around in a toad pit?" She scooped He Yubing up, frowning as she stared at He Aijun. "You've gotten yourself into a dirtier mess than a pig-infested field!"

Lou Xiao'e, hands on her hips and panting heavily, exclaimed, "He won't stop until he's infuriated me!"

He Yubing clung to her aunt's shoulder and chimed in in a childish voice, "Brother and Steel Ball Bro were wrestling in the puddle, not playing in the mud!"

He Yushui shook her head and smiled bitterly, twisting the cotton thread between her fingers. She sighed, "She gets spanked every day, and her memory is as leaky as a sieve—there's really no one like her."

He Aidang peeked at his older brother from behind the wall, and when no one was looking, he quickly popped the fruit candy his aunt had given him into his mouth, flicked it with his tongue, and slid it into his cheek to hide it. He had already figured out the trick: if you don't share good things evenly, your older brother won't snatch them; but if you leave half, He Aijun will definitely pull it out and swallow it. So when the candy was half-cooked, he quietly spat it out and handed it over stickily.

He Yuzhu had witnessed this several times, and he frowned as he watched: Why does this kid always put food in his younger brother's mouth? He had taught him countless times that "you can't eat what others have eaten," but He Aijun was different. He wouldn't even lift an eyelid for other people's snacks, but he would stare at He Aidang's little bits of sugar crumbs, snatching them more eagerly than he would for candy cakes. He had tried hitting him, he had tried scolding him, but he was completely unresponsive.