Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

"Okay, Mom. Take it easy, don't tire yourself out." Wei Chen replied, carefully wrapped the thick scarf his mother had knitted around his neck, pushed his slightly worn bicycle, and joined the flow of people going to work in the alley.

The steel rolling mill, this behemoth, exuded a relaxed atmosphere unlike any other at the year's end. The roar of the machines seemed to have subsided, carrying the weary sighs of someone who had completed their mission. At the entrances of the various workshops, workers gathered in twos and threes, most of their faces beaming with relaxed smiles, and their conversations invariably revolved around "Chinese New Year," "benefits," and "New Year's Eve dinner."

Wei Chen's office had already entered a "pre-holiday" state. All the reports, summaries, and plans before the New Year had been filed, and the desk was tidied up. Several colleagues were holding enamel mugs, gathered around a red-hot cast iron stove, with a few golden-brown cornbread slices baking on the stove lid, emitting an enticing aroma.

"Hey, Wei Chen's here!" It was Old Zhang, a veteran in the office, known for his cheerful demeanor. "Sorry, sorry, something came up on the way and I was held up." Wei Chen smiled, putting down his canvas bag and casually draping his scarf over the back of his chair. The office was warm and cozy, the fireplace dispelling the chill outside.

"It's alright! We've finished all our work anyway, today's just a roll call before we get our day off!" The young clerk, Xiao Li, chimed in with a grin. "Wei Chen, our factory really went all out this year! One pound of pork for everyone! Genuine, high-quality fat! Lately, people from other factories have been envious of us." As Xiao Li spoke, he exaggeratedly gestured with his ring finger, eliciting laughter and agreement from everyone.

"That's right!" Accountant Sister Liu adjusted her glasses and exclaimed, "My husband works in a textile factory, and this year they only gave out two jin of wheat flour and one jin of brown sugar, not a single speck of meat! Our steel rolling mill, the factory of our workers, is so much more reliable!"

"That's right! Just look at how well our factory is doing!" Old Zhang said proudly. "I heard we exceeded our sales target this year. This meat is our reward for a year's hard work! My wife and kids will be so happy when I go home!"

The atmosphere in the office was relaxed and enthusiastic, filled with anticipation for the upcoming holiday and satisfaction with the "hard currency" benefits.

Wei Chen listened with a smile, occasionally interjecting a word or two. He was calm and collected; the pork didn't hold much appeal for him, but being part of this collective atmosphere and experiencing the simple joy of ordinary workers was a rare experience.

He noticed that the glint in people's eyes when they talked about welfare was so similar to the glint in his mother's eyes when she saw the lard last night—it was a longing and cherishing of a real source of oil in an era of scarcity.

Meanwhile, in the largest workshop of the steel rolling mill, the atmosphere was subtly tense yet expectant. Today was the day that Yi Zhonghai, Jia Dongxu, and their workshop team would receive their wages and benefits.

Inside the enormous workshop, although most of the machines were shut down, the pungent smell of machine oil, metal, and sweat remained strong. Workers stood in long lines, the queue winding from the accounting office in the corner of the workshop all the way to the massive gantry crane. A buzz of discussion filled the air, the conversation inevitably revolving around the money and meat they were about to receive.

Yi Zhonghai, an eighth-level fitter, a technical expert, and also the "oldest man" in the workshop, naturally stood at the front of the line. He was wearing faded but clean work clothes, his hands behind his back, his back straight, his face with his usual composure, his gaze calmly sweeping over the line and the workshop, giving him a sense of "an anchor of stability".

But the occasional, barely perceptible hint of weariness that flashed deep in his eyes betrayed the difficulty this "moral exemplar" faced in maintaining his dignity. The elderly woman's medical expenses remained a constant weight on his mind.

Jia Dongxu stood close to Yi Zhonghai, his face a mixture of excitement and anxiety. He wasn't short, but he always had a habit of hunching his back slightly, his eyes darting around, revealing a shrewdness that lacked composure.

He kept standing on tiptoe, peering ahead, rubbing his hands together, and muttering to himself, "Master, do you think this year's wages will be paid on time? And will they skimp on the weight of the meat as a perk? I've heard that some factories give out meat with so little fat it's practically paper..."

Yi Zhonghai frowned almost imperceptibly and said in a deep voice, "Dongxu, be steady! Since the factory said they'd send it out, they won't go wrong. Just wait in line."

"Yes, yes, Master is right." Jia Dongxu nodded and bowed hurriedly, but the eagerness in his eyes did not diminish at all. He watched expectantly as the people in front of him walked to the accountant's small window one by one, and received the small, folded kraft paper envelope and a piece of pork wrapped in oil paper tied with hemp rope.

Whenever he saw someone holding a thick, black 10-pound bag of pork or weighing a piece of pork that looked fatty, his Adam's apple would involuntarily bob up and down.

The line moved slowly forward. Finally, it was Yi Zhonghai's turn. The accountant clearly recognized this level-eight master craftsman, and said with a respectful smile, "Master Yi, here you go." He handed over a bill that was noticeably thicker than the others', as well as a piece of pork that was tied squarely with hemp rope, the oil paper revealing the tempting outline of its fat.

"Thank you." Yi Zhonghai calmly accepted the letter, without opening it on the spot. He simply put the envelope into his inner pocket and then steadily picked up the heavy piece of meat. As he turned around, Jia Dongxu's gaze seemed glued to the envelope and the meat.

It was Jia Dongxu's turn. The accountant's smile faded slightly as he formally handed over a thin envelope and a piece of pork that was noticeably smaller than Yi Zhonghai's and looked rather flimsy in its oil paper wrapping: "Jia Dongxu, first-class fitter, 31 yuan. One jin of welfare meat, take it and sign."

"Okay, sure!" Jia Dongxu replied hastily, taking the package. The few banknotes felt light and thin in his hand. He eagerly opened the envelope and pulled out the pay slips inside.

A narrow strip of paper with a form printed on it clearly states: Name: Jia Dongxu Employee ID: XXX Job Type: Level 1 Fitter Basic Salary: 31.00 yuan Additional Salary: 0.00 yuan Gross Salary: 31.00 yuan Deductions: None Net Pay: 31.00 yuan

The number "31.00" pierced Jia Dongxu's eyes like a needle. He subconsciously turned his head to look at his master, Yi Zhonghai, beside him.

Yi Zhonghai was playing with the thick piece of meat in his hand, his fingers intentionally or unintentionally pinching the thick layer of fat, making a soft, ticklish "plop" sound.

Jia Dongxu's gaze swept over Yi Zhonghai's bulging inner pocket, as if he could see through it to the thick stack of banknotes inside—it was his master Yi Zhonghai's pay slip, with the number "93.47" printed on it.

Ninety-three yuan and forty-seven cents! That's more than three times his salary! A strong sense of bitterness and resentment instantly overwhelmed Jia Dongxu's expectations while he was queuing.

The piece of meat in his hand, weighing a pound, seemed to have lost its appeal. Thirty-one yuan! That's enough to feed four people! Although his mother, Jia Zhangshi, was registered in the countryside and could get some grain, what good was that little bit?

They still need his thirty-one yuan to buy grain, vegetables, oil, salt, soy sauce, and vinegar! His wife, Qin Huairu, is getting bigger every day, and she's about to give birth, adding another mouth to feed! And then there are the medical expenses, cloth coupons, cotton coupons... which one doesn't cost money? Which one isn't a financial strain?

"Sigh..." A deliberately drawn-out, sorrowful sigh escaped Jia Dongxu's throat. His head drooped, his shoulders slumped even more, and he looked like a wilted eggplant.

Yi Zhonghai naturally heard the sigh and saw his apprentice's face darken instantly. He understood, but remained outwardly calm, simply carrying the meat and gesturing for Jia Dongxu to walk out of the workshop together.

"What's wrong, Dongxu? You're still unhappy after receiving the money and meat?" Yi Zhonghai asked knowingly, his tone carrying the concern of an elder.

"Master..." Jia Dongxu cried, his voice trembling with tears, "You have no idea how difficult things are for me! Look at my payslip!"

He practically shoved the thin piece of paper in front of Yi Zhonghai's eyes. "Thirty-one yuan! Just this thirty-one yuan! I have to support four people! My mother is old and in poor health, and my wife, Huai Ru, as you know, is pregnant and about to give birth. That's another mouth to feed!"

"At home, the oil bottle is almost empty, the salt jar is nearly empty, and we can't even afford any decent New Year's goods! How are we supposed to live like this?!" He became more and more agitated as he spoke, and his voice rose a few decibels, attracting the attention of several coworkers passing by.

Yi Zhonghai listened, his face showing appropriate sympathy and understanding, but he knew exactly what was going on. He was tired of Jia Dongxu's "poverty lament." He knew that Jia Dongxu's family wasn't exactly well-off, but it wasn't nearly as dire as Jia Dongxu was claiming.

Jia Zhangshi cleverly kept her household registration in the countryside, which meant she could still get a small share of grain every year; in those days, grain was more precious than money. Qin Huairu, although unemployed, was diligent and managed the household quite well.

Jia Dongxu's "complaints" were purely a habitual act, his aim being nothing more than to squeeze some benefits out of his master, this "highly respected" elder in the courtyard. He simply wanted some free food, a loan, or help solve some kind of problem.

"Sigh, it's not easy for anyone," Yi Zhonghai sighed deeply, his tone heavy, as if he felt the same way. "These days, who isn't tightening their belt? Look at me, my salary is a bit higher than yours."

He patted his bulging pockets, a gesture tinged with a helpless self-deprecation. "But you know how frail you are, an old lady like me. You're constantly on the go. And those Western medicines are so expensive! The cost of medicine every month is a huge expense. This money just flows away like water, you can't hold onto it." He cleverly shifted the focus, drawing the pressure onto himself, and never mentioned any specific figures.