Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

Consider it a friendship.

Saying this is tantamount to giving away three hundred yuan for free.

Those rosewood long tables, ebony armchairs, and carved canopy beds—just two of them could fetch dozens of yuan.

Keep them all? That would be a blatant display of sincerity.

He Yuzhu finally smiled: "Since Manager Huang is so agreeable, how can I hesitate? Okay, I'm a little short on cash right now, let's pay the deposit first, draw up a contract as proof, and settle the balance in a month to complete the transfer of ownership, how about that?"

He knew that Manager Huang was in a hurry to leave and couldn't be delayed.

Selling piecemeal over six months is too unpredictable; it's better to cut losses and exit the market decisively.

For him, this courtyard is not just an asset, but also the foundation for his future.

"No problem!" Manager Huang decided. "Then take the medicine with you first. Let's secure it now."

"Alright, let's get these treasures first."

He Yuzhu told He Yushui to take a walk in the front yard, while he and Manager Huang closed the door to do some serious business.

First, the medicinal herbs were handed over, then five hundred yuan was taken out and a contract was signed—the down payment was made first, and the remaining balance would be settled and the property transferred one month later.

But after the transfer of ownership, he still had to let Manager Huang stay for two more months so that he could have time to tidy up the new house.

This series of actions completely exposed his weaknesses.

He even took away the little living expenses that He Daqing had sent to He Yushui, leaving not a single penny.

But it doesn't matter. With his earning speed, it's just a matter of turning his life around.

A monthly salary of 87.5 yuan? No big deal.

If you take on a few more banquets after get off work, earning over 100 yuan a month is a piece of cake.

The He family had low expenses; raising He Yushui cost only about ten yuan a month. He often had more than enough of his own rationed grain, so he would take it to give to his master, Li Yuanguo.

After completing the transaction and leaving the Huang family, He Yuzhu, making sure no one was watching, quickly stuffed everything into his life-sustaining space. Turning to He Yushui, he casually said, "I've left the medicinal herbs at Manager Huang's house for now; I'll come back for them later."

It was still early when he looked up, a slight smile playing on his lips, and rode his bicycle with his sister straight to Donglaishun.

Three plates of mutton, a serving of hot pot vegetables, a dish of tofu, and a bowl of noodles were served steaming hot.

The pot was bubbling and boiling, the red oil was bubbling, and the aroma was so strong it filled the nostrils.

He Yushui ate only a quarter of it before feeling so full that she kept rubbing her stomach. The rest was devoured by He Yuzhu in a whirlwind.

To be honest, the hot pot broth at Donglaishun was nothing special to him.

If he were to personally prepare the soup base and add some secret ingredients, the aroma would be so enticing that it would keep the entire alley awake at night.

But nowadays, living in a courtyard house, even stir-frying a cabbage can attract neighbors to crane their necks to sniff it out. If you were to put on a hot pot feast, it would probably cause a "fragrance riot".

After wiping his mouth after the meal, He Yuzhu took out a bill, slapped it on the table, and coaxed his sister with a smile, "Before you go to junior high school, I'll bring you here to make two more new outfits."

One sentence immediately warmed He Yushui's heart.

All the awkwardness from before has been forgotten, and all the unpleasantness has vanished.

Now, if Qin Huairu wants to talk to her again? No way! She'll turn around and leave as soon as she sees her.

When I returned, it was almost eight o'clock, and Uncle Yan Bugui was preparing to lock the courtyard gate.

Seeing the brother and sister push the cart in, he subconsciously wanted to greet them, but He Yuzhu didn't even lift his eyelids. As soon as the cart was pushed through the door, it went straight to Zhongyuan.

The two families originally had a good relationship.

If you, Yan Laoxi, usually freeload or try to take advantage of others, he'll turn a blind eye. But even if you secretly inquire about your son's job, given his personality, he'll always point you in the right direction.

But last time they actually teamed up with Yi Zhonghai, using their status as three old men to bully him? Bah! Now they want to play the familiar card? He Yuzhu won't fall for that!

He walked past with a cold face, as if Yan Bugui were invisible.

He sneered inwardly: You're a big shot now, all high and mighty, but you've never tasted the bitterness of being despised by your children and having to collect scraps for a living.

Let's talk about bowing our heads when that day comes.

Feeling humiliated by this blatant disregard, Yan Bugui was furious.

After they were out of sight, he spat on the ground angrily: "Little brat, putting on airs now? Just wait and see, one day you'll be begging on your knees!"

But his nose betrayed him—the aroma of mutton from just now had made his insides tremble.

Since his falling out with the He family, he hasn't had a decent meal of meat.

Occasionally, they would buy a small amount of meat strips, and the six members of their family would share them, licking the oil off each other, not even wanting to throw away the soup.

Not to mention cooking skills.

His cooking skills are so poor that if he stews cabbage with some bits of fatty pork, he can at most call it "a little meaty." How can that compare to He Yuzhu's casual stir-fry, which can be so fragrant that it can be smelled three streets away?

"well……"

With a long sigh, Yan Bugui reluctantly closed the door and went back to his room. He lay on the kang (a heated brick bed) and tossed and turned, unable to sleep. His dreams were filled with the sound of hot pot bubbling.

The next morning, He Yuzhu went to work as usual.

He Yushui will be starting school in a few days. The procedures have been completed long ago. The school is located in the nearby middle school, less than a ten-minute walk away. It's quiet and convenient.

After returning home last night, he casually prepared fifty catties of tiger penis wine, sealed the jar, and waited for it to ripen.

It can be activated after 100 days; the longer it is aged, the stronger it becomes, and its medicinal effects double.

A bachelor making this? It's obviously for his future wife.

He also wants to settle down and start a family, but he hasn't met a suitable partner yet.

The few women I knew in my past life were either too young or never showed their faces.

The bride price still needs to be saved for several months. The money has just run out, so we need to take it easy.

Most importantly—he can't expect to have any free time before the end of the year.

Once the greenhouse project starts, he'll probably be spinning like a top at the steel rolling mill.

While others go home after get off work to drink tea and chat, he has to keep an eye on seedling cultivation, sowing, and composting, and can't let his guard down for even a moment.

The first thing I do when I arrive at the cafeteria in the morning is to check its hygiene.

This is his unwavering habit, and he implements it thoroughly in all three canteens, always making time to clean them no matter how busy he is.

The workers saw this and praised it highly: "Our factory canteen is truly exceptional. The bowls are so clean you can see your reflection, the stoves are so bright they shine, and we feel reassured about the food!"

After all, you can't be careless when it comes to food that goes into your mouth.

A clean environment is better than anything else.

Meanwhile, in the greenhouses, sowing has already begun and will be completed within half a month.

Next comes composting and fermentation, with steam rising and soil churning, an unseen growth storm is quietly brewing.

The momentum of the steel rolling mill can't even be described as "changing with each passing day"—it's practically soaring upwards like a rocket.

Orders are pouring in like snowflakes, and the new equipment approved by the Ministry of Industry is almost at the factory gate. Not to mention the engineers sent by the big brother, whose figures are almost in sight.

Without saying a word, Director Yang immediately convened a closed-door meeting, inviting only factory leaders, He Yuzhu, and key personnel from the technical department.

There was no fluff at the meeting, just one sentence: We must get the real skills out of Sharif!

Don't be fooled by the big brother's words of "comrades and brothers"; when it comes to core technologies, they are more vigilant than thieves.

But this time, Sharif, who was sent, turned out to be a breakthrough point—he wasn't the kind of person who would stick to a secret, but rather a true foodie.

Back when I first arrived in Northeast China, after eating a bowl of sweet and sour pork, I could draw up three new processes on blueprints.

This was no secret within the Ministry of Industry. Why did Li Huaide specifically request him to come to the steel rolling mill? Wasn't it because He Yuzhu was there?

Who is He Yuzhu? He's the number one ladle master in Beijing, so skilled at flipping the wok that he can make even a simple stir-fried potato dish taste like it contains dragon liver and phoenix marrow.

People like this are highly sought after, no matter where they are.

As soon as the task was assigned, He Yuzhu immediately approved it: "No problem!" The factory was ruthless enough to give Sharif a food allowance of ten yuan a day—you heard right, ten yuan a day! That's three hundred yuan a month, which is equivalent to the salary of a first-level chief engineer.

It's worth it! As long as you can master the technology, even twenty dollars is a bargain, let alone ten.

While things were bustling with activity at the top, some people below were seething with anger.

When Jia Dongxu got his lunch, his face turned green.

Lifting the lid of the lunchbox, half a box of cabbage was soaking in water, the broth was clear, and there wasn't a trace of minced meat.

This wasn't the first time; it happened for six whole days, every single meal.

The vegetables kept decreasing as he was served, while the soup kept increasing. He now relied entirely on Yi Zhonghai's provision of a small amount of dry rations to keep him going while he worked.

"Master..." He held the lunchbox, his face full of bitterness and resentment, and sidled up to Yi Zhonghai. "Shazhu went too far! You have to talk to the factory manager for me! Wasn't it you who stepped in last time that made him quiet down?"

Yi Zhonghai was wiping his wrench, not even looking up: "Did you provoke him again?"

That's a valid question.

With hundreds of employees in the factory, who in the kitchen doesn't eat and drink well? Only you, Jia Dongxu, are constantly being "shaken with the ladle"—the vegetables are all shaken off, the soup is left full, and meat? Dream on.

"I..." Jia Dongxu stammered for a long time before finally revealing the truth, "That day... Huairu took some leftovers from He Yushui, and Shazhu saw her..."

Yi Zhonghai paused, then suddenly looked up, his eyes piercing like knives.

"You sent your daughter to steal food from children?" The voice was low, but filled with anger.

He rolled his eyes inwardly: "Are you crazy with your gluttony? Trying to scheme against idiot Zhu's own sister? Do you think you're living too easy?"

No matter how angry he was, Jia Dongxu was still his apprentice.

For now, we can only manage by providing him with an extra meal each day, but he's not exactly well-off himself. So what if he's a level seven worker? He'll still feel weak in the legs if he's not full.

"I'll help you fight for the next couple of days," Yi Zhonghai said with a stern face, "but if you want to turn things around completely, you'll have to go and bow down to Sha Zhu yourself."

"What? Apologize to him?" Jia Dongxu almost jumped up. "He's just a cook, and an idiot at that. Me, a level three fitter, bowing down to him?"

"So you expect me to cook for you for the rest of your life?" Yi Zhonghai sneered. "Who's the master, you or me? Have you ever seen a disciple be served meals by his master every day? Where would I put my face if word got out?"

Jia Dongxu lost his temper, his face turning pale and then flushed.

How could he accept this?

Back then, who in the courtyard thought much of Sha Zhu? He was fat, glib, and his eyes darted around when he got married. Besides being able to flip a ladle, he was nothing special.

But now? He's transformed into the deputy director of the cafeteria, wielding a rice scoop and holding the power of life and death.

What frustrated him the most was that he, who was once the "winner in life" that everyone envied—a master of the seventh-level senior fitter, a beautiful wife like Qin Huairu, and a complete set of bicycles and sewing machines—was now being held by the throat by a "fool" and couldn't even get a full meal.