Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

Wang Xiulan held the thick stack of banknotes carefully wrapped in old newspapers and the transfer certificate stamped with a bright red seal. The paper under her fingers was stiff and real, carrying a weight that warmed her heart.

Under the dim light, her rough fingers traced the clear characters "Wei Ran" and "Third Year" on the certificate again and again, the ink under her fingertips seeming to carry warmth. She blinked hard to clear the blurry mist from her eyes, her throat felt choked up, and a hot sensation surged in her chest, almost bursting out.

"Mom?" Wei Ran looked up, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "This paper... means I can study in the city?"

"Yes! I was picked up from Hongxing Elementary School in the city and started third grade!" Wang Xiulan's voice had a heavy nasal tone, but it was unusually clear and firm.

She knelt down and carefully, as if handling a priceless treasure, gently placed the paper into her daughter's small palm. "Keep it safe, Ranran. This is the future your brother has secured for you! The teachers in the city are excellent; you must study hard and not let them down!"

Wei Ran immediately gripped it tightly, her face flushed with excitement, and nodded vigorously: "Yes! I'll keep it! I'm going to Hongxing Elementary School! I'll go to the same school as Sister Xiaocao, she's also in the third grade!" She was already looking forward to going to and from school with her new friend and doing homework together.

Seeing the joy in her daughter's eyes, Wang Xiulan felt a surge of warmth wash over her, dispelling the lingering bitterness in her heart. She stood up, clutching the heavy paper package along with her daughter's transfer certificate tightly to her chest, as if trying to warm this hard-won sense of security. She whispered to Wei Chen, who was clearing the dishes, "Chenzi, Mom will go and put these things away."

She turned and walked unsteadily toward her small east-wing bedroom. Closing the door shut out the sounds from the kitchen; the only sound in the cramped space was her slightly rapid breathing.

She groped her way to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and sat down. Without lighting a lamp, she used the faint daylight filtering through the window covered with Korean paper to peel back the old newspaper layer by layer.

A thick stack of banknotes, some new and some old, with a few brand-new "big black ten" notes standing out. The majority of the banknotes were small change and big bills with curled edges. They were neatly stacked and exuded the mixed smell of ink and countless people handling them.

The small stack of colorful coupons next to it, even in the dim light, still revealed the pale yellow of the grain coupons, the light green of the oil coupons, and the dark blue of the industrial coupons... Each one represented the most precious resource of that era.

Wang Xiulan's fingers trembled slightly as she carefully counted the money, then counted it again. Three hundred and seventy-five yuan! The number struck her heart like a hammer blow.

She had lived a frugal life her whole life, scrimping and saving every penny. She never imagined her family would suddenly possess such a huge sum of money! And those coupons! Twenty jin of national grain coupons! Five jin of oil coupons! Three industrial coupons! This was an unimaginable level of wealth!

She instinctively looked up at the window, then listened intently for any sounds outside the door. The courtyard wasn't quiet at night; faint voices drifted from Aunt Liu's house next door, and it seemed that Jia Zhangshi's signature loud voice in the middle courtyard was scolding Banggeng again. Her heart tightened; an almost instinctive alertness overwhelmed her initial elation. She couldn't let it slip! Absolutely no one could know!

She jumped up quickly and paced anxiously around the small bedroom. The stove hole? No, too dangerous when heating the stove. The brick grout in the corner? Too prone to dampness. Finally, her gaze fell on the thick old cotton quilt on the stove. She lifted a corner of the mat, feeling for the neatly pressed wheat straw underneath. She dug a small hole with her fingers, tightly wrapped the money and most of the tickets in several layers of thick oil paper, buried it deep inside, carefully spread and compacted the wheat straw, and finally laid the mat down, pressing it down firmly.

After doing all this, she felt a little more at ease. As for the crucial street acquisition certificate and Wei Ran's transfer certificate, she thought for a moment, then took out one of her old cotton-padded jackets from her sewing basket, neatly placed the certificates inside, and then put it in the cabinet. These certificates were also her daughter's "guidebook" to settle down in the city, and they had to be kept close to her body to ensure their safety.

Having safely concealed this substantial "family fortune," Wang Xiulan felt a long, silent sigh of relief. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted, or as if a drifting boat had finally found its safest anchor. She wiped the tears that had welled up in her eyes again, smiled into the darkness, a smile that conveyed a sense of peace, pride, and an unprecedented confidence.

Composing herself, Wang Xiulan returned to the kitchen. In the iron pot on the stove, stewed cabbage, vermicelli, and tofu was bubbling away, the rich broth glistening with oil and emitting a mouthwatering aroma. Beside her, the golden millet porridge in the small clay pot had also boiled, a thick layer of rice oil floating on top. The air was still filled with the smoky aroma of roasted potatoes.

"Mom, the millet porridge is about to boil over!" Wei Ran reminded her, standing in front of the stove and poking at the potatoes in the ashes with a small twig.

"Hey! Coming, coming!" Wang Xiulan responded, quickly lifting the lid of the clay pot and stirring it with a spoon. Steam billowed up, warming her face. She deftly picked up the damp cloth from the lid and placed the pot on a cooler brick counter. Her gaze swept over the cutting board, where there was still a small piece of kneaded dough. This was the last batch of steamed buns for the day.

At her son's request, she steamed several baskets of buns today. One of the baskets was specially made with a mixture of two types of dough, which was yellow and white in color and a little smaller in size. It was placed in the most conspicuous bamboo basket.

The rest were all real white steamed buns, snow-white and fluffy, each one like a chubby baby, carefully stored in a wicker basket covered with a clean white cloth and hidden at the bottom of the cupboard.

Wang Xiulan washed her hands and began kneading the dough again. The dough was repeatedly kneaded and slapped under her rough but strong hands, making muffled "plop" sounds.

She knew perfectly well that the mixed flour steamed buns were just a facade for outsiders. In the courtyard, with its many people and scrutinizing eyes, anyone eating white flour dumplings would be the subject of endless gossip. For her own family, a widow and her son, to suddenly eat white flour steamed buns every day would be unacceptable. It would inevitably attract envy and endless suspicion. Her son was right; feigning poverty was essential.

"My son is capable; he can hunt and has connections, so I don't have to worry about us going hungry," Wang Xiulan told herself as she kneaded the dough vigorously. "There's no need to be so hard on myself. Just pretend to be poor for the sake of others. My son is grown up and has his own opinions. As long as he's safe and sound, and I just need to be careful, that's enough."

Thinking of this, she subconsciously looked out the window. Her son, Wei Chen, was squatting against the south wall of the small courtyard, intently busy with something, using the light coming from inside the house and the beam of an old-fashioned flashlight in his hand.

Seeing that his mother had calmed down and resumed her busy work of steaming buns, Wei Chen picked up the shovel and trowel leaning against the corner of the wall and continued the small project he had been working on for three days—building a chicken coop.

At the foot of the south wall of the small courtyard, a small, waist-high chicken coop is taking shape. The base is built squarely and sturdily with broken bricks and yellow mud. A delicate roof frame is made of thin branches and bamboo strips, and a layer of thatch is carefully covered on top, which can not only provide shade and rain protection, but also ensure ventilation.

Wei Chen was squatting there, carefully filling the gaps between the bricks and the frame with mixed yellow mud, then smoothing and compacting it with a trowel. The lamplight and flashlight beams mingled, illuminating his focused profile, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

He had planned this chicken coop for a long time, and the location was excellent. It was right next to the south wall, making use of the corner space while being aesthetically pleasing and unobtrusive. Most importantly, it was quite a distance from their main house and east wing to the north, so as long as they cleaned the chicken droppings regularly and maintained good hygiene, the smell wouldn't drift over and affect their lives.

For three days, he used his time after get off work to build it from scratch, bit by bit. Now, looking at this small yet fully functional "building," a sense of accomplishment from creating it himself and being self-sufficient welled up inside him. This was not just about providing a home for the chickens his mother had brought, but more like planting a root of their own, full of life, in this small new home.

With the finishing touches complete, Wei Chen carefully inspected the work, confirming there were no gaps and the ceiling was sturdy enough. He straightened up, patted the dirt off his hands, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face.

"Brother! Is the chicken coop finished?" Wei Ran came over at some point, curiously peeking in.

"Okay, it's covered up." Wei Chen smiled and walked to the corner of the kitchen, where three listless chickens were tied with straw rope—a large rooster with a red comb and two speckled hens. These were the "family heirlooms" his mother had brought from their old home in the countryside. They had been tied up in the corner of the kitchen for three days, and their spirits were noticeably low.

Wei Chen untied the ropes and carefully carried them one by one into the newly built chicken coop. A layer of dry wheat straw had already been laid in the coop. The three chickens seemed a little lost when they suddenly had a little more space and smelled the earth and hay. They huddled in a corner and only started to move around tentatively after a while, scratching at the wheat straw with their claws and making soft "clucking" sounds.

"It's okay if they're a little listless, they'll get used to it in a couple of days," Wang Xiulan said, peeking into the steamer as she divided the kneaded dough into portions, shaped them into buns, and placed them into the last steaming basket. "Once it gets warmer in the spring, we'll let them lay eggs, and Ranran will have eggs to eat."

"Yes!" Wei Ran nodded vigorously, her eyes shining as she looked at the three chickens, as if she could already see the round eggs.

After arranging the last batch of steamed buns, Wang Xiulan closed the heavy cedar wood steamer lid. In the stove, Wei Ran thoughtfully added another handful of firewood, the flames licking the bottom of the pot, and steam quickly hissed out from the edge of the steamer again, carrying a rich, sweet aroma of new wheat.