Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

To get an excellent graduation certificate, you need to submit a decent thesis. How can you have the confidence to start writing when you haven't even thoroughly studied the books?

As soon as he turned the page, Yang Chengyi rushed into the Prince's Mansion, where a waiter led him straight to the lounge.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door. He heard a "Come in" response from inside before pushing the door open and entering.

"Uncle, I've finished my resignation at the factory and let my wife take over my position. Selling alcohol isn't making any money these days, so I'm thinking of changing careers and came here to hear your advice."

He Yuzhu glanced at him sideways: "You kid, you're a father of three, and you're still thinking about getting rich quick?"

Yang Chengyi scratched his head: "Uncle, look, Uncle Yi's family has already built five tiled houses. I also want to save more money so that I can buy a few rooms for my children and let them stand more securely."

He Yuzhu pondered for a moment, resting his chin on his hand: "How about making clothes? Fabric is readily available now, but sewing machines are in short supply. I can spare you five machines—two that my brother-in-law has hidden away, one for myself, and two more from Director Qiao. Find some idle young wives and girls in the neighborhood to help with the sewing, and ask Yubing to design a few new styles for you. It doesn't cost much, but it'll provide plenty of work."

Yang Chengyi's eyes lit up, then he lowered his voice and said, "Uncle, can you really get Wutai? Don't make me worry about it."

He Yuzhu scoffed, "Look at your guts! Who secretly runs a black market? It's all old stuff gathering dust in acquaintances' homes."

Yang Chengyi quickly smiled apologetically, "Then... how much is one?"

"Absolutely new, 100 yuan a unit, I'm not ripping you off. Just keep an eye out for places that have used machines for sale, even if they're broken down, don't worry, they can be repaired and still work. The path isn't in other people's mouths, it's in your own feet."

The two had been dealing with each other for over ten years, and He Yuzhu had never let him suffer in silence. As soon as these words were spoken, Yang Chengyi felt reassured—his two younger brothers' wives were currently free, and if he could get three or five neighboring girls involved, the business could be set up immediately.

……

The next morning, He Yuzhu hired a tractor and delivered five sewing machines to Yang Chengyi's house with a rumble. This guy had been doing this for ten years, bringing pork knuckles to his door every few days; when Lou Xiao'e was in postpartum confinement, he would always bring two fat hens, his generosity was almost conspicuous.

Liu Lan was the same; every time she gave birth, she would trek over mountains and valleys from Liu Village to find wild mushrooms, ginseng, and dried venison, going to great lengths to send them to the He family, fearing that their rice jar would run out. He Yuzhu always kept these acts of kindness in his heart and never forgot them.

If anyone really goes through a tough time in the future, he will definitely lend a helping hand—but for now, he needs to stabilize things in Dongli County first, and deal with the details when he gets back.

The tractor had just stopped at the entrance of the courtyard house when Yan Bugui, who was sitting in the sun, spotted five gleaming sewing machines. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets: "Who's so extravagant?" Then, upon closer inspection, he realized it was He Yuzhu's, and it suddenly seemed perfectly reasonable—he'd heard of the Prince's Mansion, and Jiye had even secretly mentioned that He Yuzhu was now a deputy director-level official; buying a few machines was nothing to him. But then he thought, "He's already moved out..."

He quickly came forward, all smiles: "Officer He, are you... moving back in? Welcome, welcome!"

He Yuzhu waved his hand: "Teacher Yan, I came to deliver the machine for Chengyi, I'm not staying here. How have you been lately?"

Yan Bugui grabbed his arm and dragged him into the yard. Outside, Yang Chengyi was yelling at his two younger brothers to unload the machine.

The old man stared at He Yuzhu, his eyes suddenly reddening: "Sigh... Zhuzi, don't laugh at me. This family has long since fallen apart. The children think I'm a straw man, they won't even let me in the door..."

He Yuzhu gently advised, "You need to take the initiative to win one back, treat him sincerely, blood is thicker than water, and over time, your anger will naturally subside."

Yan Bugui sighed, "They won't even open the door. I'm so ashamed, I have nowhere to hide my face..."

He Yuzhu paused for a moment, then said, "How about this—I'll make the trip for you? The house will belong to him in the future, and he can manage your retirement pension. I'll also help you find a cleaning job at the neighborhood office. After two or three years, your child will reconsider your efforts. From now on, be less calculating and more genuine, okay?"

Yan Bugui wiped his face, gripped He Yuzhu's hand tightly, and thanked him profusely, then begged him to personally come and mediate.

He Yuzhu didn't refuse and pulled Yan Bugui along, heading towards his youngest son Yan Jiekuang's house. This child had never been criticized or scolded by his father since he was a child, and he had been encouraged by his second brother to leave home together, so he had the least resentment towards his parents; his youngest daughter Yan Jiedi, although naive, didn't get involved too much.

Before leaving, He Yuzhu waved to Yang Chengyi: "Chengyi, I have something urgent to attend to. We'll talk later!" Then he followed Yan Bugui and headed straight for Yan Jiekuang's house without stopping.

Yan Jiekuang had just finished his wedding, and the family of three was living in a tiny house. When He Yuzhu pushed the door open, he was stunned for a moment; then, seeing his father Yan Bugui following behind, his face instantly darkened.

But he also knew that He Yuzhu was now a cadre, and his words and actions carried weight. He didn't chase him away, but silently gave his wife a look—she quickly boiled water and made tea, bringing over a steaming cup of jasmine tea, but her eyes swept over him like a gust of wind, not even glancing at Yan Bugui.

He Yuzhu helped Yan Bugui sit down and began to speak slowly and deliberately:

"Jie Kuang, I understand the anger in your heart. When you were little, the neighbors gossiped that your dad was useless and a burden to the whole family. It hurt you, and you held a grudge." He paused, his voice softening further. "But back then, who wasn't tightening their belt? Your dad was supporting six people on his own, working three shifts at the factory, and when he got home, he still had to repair pots and pans. When did he ever skimp on a single meal or a single piece of cloth for you?"

Yan Jiekuang lowered his head, his fingers unconsciously stroking the rim of the teacup, and did not respond.

He Yuzhu leaned forward slightly: "I heard you gritted your teeth and persevered after the family split. Sometimes in life, you get stuck on a single thought—one second you're disheartened, the next you might suddenly understand because of a word or a glance. Your mother often tiptoes to place boiled eggs at your door when you're out; your father always squats at the alley entrance pretending to smoke, just to catch a glimpse of his son… They're getting old, their legs aren't as strong as before, and their voices are getting softer. The three rooms in the house are empty, not because we're waiting for you to come back and fight over anything, but because we hope you'll come back and stay for a while. Don't wait until one day you open the door and there's only an empty chair inside, and then you remember who tremblingly served you that bowl of hot soup noodles."

Yan Bugui sat beside him, his eyes already brimming with tears, his Adam's apple bobbing several times. He didn't want to end up like the old lady, lying alone on the kang waiting to die—she had met He Yuzhu and Yi Zhonghai, which was a stroke of good fortune; he didn't have that blessing. He only hoped that his youngest son could lend a hand, so he would have something to look forward to in his old age. He hadn't considered Jie Kuang even a little bit, not even a little bit.

Yan Jiekuang's voice was a little hoarse: "Brother Zhu... let me think about it."

He Yuzhu immediately chimed in, "Now that you're a father yourself, you should understand what it's like, right? The old saying, 'You don't know the gratitude you owe your parents until you raise children,' isn't just a platitude; it's a truth etched in our blood. Give them a way out, and leave yourself a way out too, okay?"

Yan Bugui hurriedly interjected, his voice trembling: "I've already talked to Zhuzi! You two will manage all the retirement pensions. Your mother and I will go to the neighborhood office to sweep the streets and collect some bottles to exchange for money to buy milk powder, clothes, and other necessities for the child. Your mother even steamed your favorite red bean buns yesterday and has been keeping them in the steamer ever since."

Yan Jiekuang looked up and saw his father's temples streaked with frost. He then looked down at his son in his arms, who was babbling and grabbing at his little hands—his wet eyes suddenly reddened. He nodded heavily.

"Dad... you and Mom, please stop sweeping the streets. I just want you to stop being so stubborn and argumentative in the future."

"Okay! Dad will listen to you!" Yan Bugui slapped his thigh, as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "All those bad tempers of the past, I'll throw them all down the drain!"

He Yuzhu patted him on the shoulder with a smile: "Come on, let's go home. The door is open, and there are hot dishes waiting for you on the table."

Yan Jiekuang borrowed an old handcart nearby, piled pots, pans, and the child's small wooden bed onto it, and followed his father home with a creaking thud. Pushing open the courtyard gate, a table full of food was steaming—the braised pork was glistening with oil, the stir-fried spinach was fresh and green, the steamed fish was covered with tender ginger shreds, and even the wine glasses were warm in hot water.

The family sat down around the table, their bowls and chopsticks clinking gently, laughter filling the air.

Mother Yan picked up a piece of fish belly meat and put it into her grandson's bowl. Suddenly she sighed, "If only Jie Di could come back to visit more often..." She missed her daughter.

"I'll try to persuade her in a while," Yan Jiekuang said, wiping his mouth. "She trusts me."

Later, through He Yuzhu's introduction, Yan Bugui got a job as a sanitation worker at the street office. The elderly couple would collect recyclables while sweeping the streets, and they would give all the money they saved to their daughter to help with household expenses. After years of observing and reflecting on things, he finally realized: all the scheming and calculating would ultimately lead to losing the heart of one's own flesh and blood.

Liu Haizhong wasn't so lucky. He could only see Liu Guangqi three times a year, and Liu Guangtian simply cut off all contact with him, leaving him a truly destitute old widower.

On the day Liu Guangfu returned to the hospital to visit his second brother, Liu Haizhong and his wife gripped his arm tightly, their nails digging into his flesh. They cried and promised: "Your wife will have all the house keys, you can take any grain or cloth coupons you want, and we'll even put the stove key in your hand—we just beg them not to go back to the countryside."

When people get old, what they fear isn't poverty, but having no one to bring them water when they have a fever at night; it's falling and being bedridden, only to be noticed by the neighbors three days later… Last time, when Liu's mother fainted, if someone hadn't happened to pass by and knock on the door, she probably would have passed away. After this incident, Liu Haizhong finally woke up: all that talk about being the eldest son and grandson, about rules and propriety, was just a paper tiger to fool people. If he had been more open and honest with Guangtian and Guangqi earlier, how could he have ended up in this situation?

After several rounds of persuasion from Yi Zhonghai, Liu Guangfu finally agreed to stay. Liu Haizhong immediately resigned from his job, giving his position to his younger brother; nearing retirement age, he decided to stay home and take care of his grandson. Liu's mother and sister-in-law set up a small stall on the street corner, selling sweet cakes and roasted sweet potatoes, making a living amidst the smoke and fire—life was rough, but with a fire in the stove and voices under the eaves, that was enough.