Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

Wei Ran perked up and began to vividly recount the "Legend of Big Yellow" she had heard from her brother: "...That time we caught the steel thief, it was Big Yellow! It has an incredibly keen nose! It could smell the thief from far away! It rushed out in a flash and pounced on the bad guy!"

And another thing! Catching that bad spy who hid the explosives! It was also Big Yellow! It smelled the gunpowder! It was amazing! My brother said that without Big Yellow, we couldn't have caught such a cunning bad guy! Big Yellow did a great job! That's why it became a police dog!" She spoke with great enthusiasm, gesturing with her little hands.

The children listened intently, frequently exclaiming "Wow!", "Amazing!", and "Big Yellow is so awesome!" They gathered around Big Yellow, wanting to touch it but hesitant, their eyes filled with awe and admiration.

Big Yellow seemed to enjoy being the center of attention, sitting even more upright, head slightly raised, looking gently at the little guys who admired it, its tail rhythmically sweeping the ground.

The golden rays of the setting sun bathed the small courtyard, seemingly silencing the hustle and bustle of the front yard, the scheming in the middle, and the resentment in the back. The children's innocent cheers and Da Huang's steady figure created the warmest and brightest corner of the twilight. Wei Ran's clear voice and the children's adoring eyes formed the most heartwarming and luminous corner of the evening.

In Xu Damao's small hut in the backyard, which reeked of medicine and mildew, the windows were tightly shut. But the children's excited chatter and Da Huang's occasional loud barks still pierced through like needles.

Wei Chen stood at the door of his little house, watching his younger sister surrounded by the children, her face beaming with joy, and watching Da Huang's fur gleaming golden in the setting sun and its steady figure. A warm smile touched his lips. He turned and went back inside. On the table, the envelope containing Da Huang's wages and ration coupons still lay quietly.

Wang Xiulan had recovered her senses and was carefully sorting and putting away the money and tickets, muttering to herself, "This money... I have to buy Da Huang something good... I can't mistreat this meritorious servant... I'll use these meat tickets to buy some bones tomorrow... and some pig liver..." The shock on her face had long been replaced by a simple sense of satisfaction from planning for her family (now including Da Huang).

Wei Chen didn't say anything. He walked to his desk and opened the drawer. Inside, the two medals and certificates still lay quietly. He glanced at them, his gaze calm and unwavering, then gently pushed the drawer back shut.

The noise outside was someone else's. Inside, under the lamplight, Mother was planning to use Da Huang's wages to improve their meals, while Little Sister's laughter echoed in the yard. The meritorious Da Huang basked in the children's adoration. He picked up a rough porcelain bowl from the table, walked to the small coal stove, and ladled out a full bowl of thick, piping hot cornmeal porridge.

The warmth, the reassurance, and the weighty protection within this small space have never changed. He lowered his head, blew on the steam, and took a deep slurp. The rough, warm texture soothed his stomach and calmed all the disturbances and noise of the outside world.

Time passed peacefully, two weeks went by quietly, and it was payday again.

Outside the finance department of the steel rolling mill, a large crowd gathered, their buzzing chatter mingling with the smell of cheap tobacco, fermenting in the slightly dry air of early summer.

On this day of the month, this place is always the liveliest spot. A long queue stretches out from the finance department entrance, like a restless snake, winding its way to the adjacent bulletin board.

The men, mostly dressed in faded or oil-stained work clothes, wore expectant glints on their faces, their fingers unconsciously fidgeting with the hems of their clothes or the seams of their trousers, their eyes occasionally glancing at the small door that opened and closed. The female workers, on the other hand, gathered in small groups, their voices clearer, their conversations revolving around daily necessities and their children at home, occasionally bursting into suppressed laughter, only to be quickly drowned out by a larger wave of noise.

"Zhu Zi! Over here!" Someone waved to He Yuzhu, who had just strolled over. The silly Zhu, with his perpetually messy hair, wearing a white apron splattered with oil, cloth shoes, and a half-smoked cigarette butt dangling from his mouth, wobbled over.

His small eyes gleamed, and his face wore the smug look of someone who was getting paid again. "Hey, get in line!" Sha Zhu casually cut in front of an acquaintance, drawing a few disgruntled murmurs from behind, but he didn't care. He just chuckled, "What's the rush? The money's not going to fly away."

When it was his turn, he shoved his employee ID and pay slip into the small window. The accountant inside was a middle-aged woman wearing glasses. Without looking up, she tapped her fingers on the abacus for a while, then counted out a few bills from the neatly stacked pile of banknotes next to her and pushed them out along with the receipts.

"He Yuzhu, salary 31.5 yuan, cook's allowance 2 yuan, total 33.5 yuan. Sign."

"Alright!" Sha Zhu responded loudly, grabbing the stack of money: three "big black ten" bills, one two-dollar bill, one one-dollar bill, and a fifty-cent coin.

He moistened his lips with saliva, quickly counted them, then picked up the receipts and examined them against the light to confirm they were correct. He then signed his name on the payroll with a flourish, pressing his finger heavily on the name as if stamping it.

He stuffed the money and tickets into the inside pocket of his work clothes, making it bulge. His smile widened, and he patted the pocket, gesturing with his chin to the people in line behind him: "Guys, take your time, I'm leaving now!" The bulging pocket and light steps exuded an air of "I'm rich now."

He was humming a little tune when he bumped into Xu Damao, who had just finished collecting money from another window. Xu Damao looked much better today than before. Although his complexion was still a bit sallow, the dejected feeling of being crushed by illness and resentment had faded, and his back was straighter again.

The bitter Chinese medicine he had taken wasn't for nothing. The doctor's ambiguous statement, "With proper care, it's possible to have a child," was like a faint match, rekindling the last glimmer of hope in his heart.

At that moment, he was holding a wad of bills that was noticeably thicker than Sha Zhu's, and he was slowly and methodically putting them into a brand-new leather wallet. The wallet didn't look cheap.

"Yo!" Xu Damao looked up and saw Sha Zhu. A mocking smile immediately curled at the corner of his mouth. His small eyes darted around Sha Zhu's bulging pockets, and he drawled, "Isn't this our Chef He? Finished collecting your money? Oh, this pocket... looks pretty heavy. Thirty... a little over?"

Sha Zhu's good mood was instantly punctured by this sarcastic tone, and his face darkened: "You little brat! Is it any of your business? It's cleaner than the money you spend on your medicine!"

"Hey! Silly Zhu, how dare you talk like that?" Xu Damao wasn't annoyed. Instead, he deliberately waved the money in his hand, which wasn't fully stuffed into his wallet yet. The crisp bills rustled as he showed off. "Whether they're clean or not, that depends on the amount!"

He took a step forward, lowered his voice, and said with a strong sense of superiority, "See? Level 2 projectionist, forty yuan! Eighteen days in the countryside this month, two mao a day subsidy, three yuan and six jiao! Forty-three yuan and six jiao in total!"

"Tsk tsk, Chef He, your arms are sore from tossing the wok, and you're covered in smoke and flames. This amount... is enough to buy a few pounds of good meat to replenish your body?" He deliberately emphasized "a few pounds of good meat," glancing at Sha Zhu with a mocking look.

Sha Zhu's face flushed red instantly, all the way down to his neck. He was a level nine chef, earning 33.5 yuan, which was considered respectable in the cafeteria. But compared to Xu Damao's 43.61 yuan, plus that ear-piercing "stirring the wok" and "smoky" sound, it was like being slapped in the face in public!

Especially since the feeling of being "worse than a dog" hadn't completely dissipated, both old and new grudges surged up at once. "Xu Damao! I'll fuck your grandpa!" Sha Zhu roared angrily, his eyes turning red, and swung his fist, as big as a vinegar pot, at Xu Damao's smug face.

Xu Damao was prepared. His sarcastic remarks were meant to provoke Sha Zhu into attacking so he could show off his newfound "power." Seeing the fist coming at him, he yelled "Mommy!" and nimbly ducked under Sha Zhu's arm, then took off running towards the factory gate, turning back to taunt him as he ran: "Can't hit me! You're making me angry!"

"Don't run, you little brat! I'll sew your lousy mouth shut today!" Sha Zhu was furious, and he gave chase. One ran incredibly fast, swearing vehemently; the other chased fiercely, his curses deafening.

The two of them, one after the other, darted through the crowd of people leaving the steel mill, drawing stares and sparking laughter and chatter.

"Hey, those two are at it again!" "Xu Damao's made a lot of money this month, no wonder he's so smug." "Shazhu too, his mouth is too foul, he deserves to be annoyed."

Yi Zhonghai stood in the line not far away, coldly watching the farce unfold. Beside him stood his apprentice, Jia Dongxu. Jia Dongxu craned his neck to watch Xu Damao's thick wad of cash disappear through the factory gate, then glanced at Sha Zhu's furious chase after him, his eyes filled with a complex mix of envy and a barely perceptible pang of sorrow.

He subconsciously touched his empty pockets. "Master..." It was their turn, and Jia Dongxu's voice was habitually listless and sorrowful.

Yi Zhonghai handed over his work badge expressionlessly. The accountant's voice came through clearly: "Yi Zhonghai, Level 7 Fitter, 93.47 yuan." A thick wad of money and receipts was handed over, which Yi Zhonghai accepted without even glancing at, and stuffed into his pocket.

"Jia Dongxu, Level 1 Fitter, thirty-one yuan." One twenty-yuan note, one ten-yuan note, and one one-yuan note. Three thin bills, along with a few grain and oil coupons.

Jia Dongxu carefully took the bill, rubbing his fingers on it. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. He then began to pour out his grievances to Yi Zhonghai: "Master... look at this... sigh, this little bit of money isn't even enough to fill a gap in our teeth when buying expensive grain. Five mouths to feed, Master! I'm the only one with an urban household registration. Who can get enough to eat with that ration?"

"You know Banggeng's grandma... she's picky about food, and she's always nagging about wanting some wheat flour. That kid Banggeng, he's always clamoring for meat, and he can't resist the smell of meat wafting from other people's houses... As his father... sigh!" He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumped, and his eyes glanced at Yi Zhonghai's bulging collar, the meaning of which couldn't be clearer.