Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

The next day was a rest day. As dawn broke, the courtyard was much livelier than usual. The sounds of doors opening and closing, hushed conversations, and the rustling of packages being packed could be heard everywhere.

At the front gate of the Yan family's house, the third aunt was carrying a blue cloth bundle containing all the cash in the house, which she had sorted out overnight. Although Yan Bugui hadn't slept well all night because of the financial pain of having his gold bars confiscated, he was forcing himself to stay alert and prepare to deposit some more at the bank. He had only deposited four thousand yuan in cash last night; the rest he had to deposit after sorting it out today. He instructed the third aunt, "Hold onto the bundle carefully and stay close to me. Don't say anything at the bank; listen to the staff."

In the Jia family compound at the Intermediate People's Court, Jia Zhangshi was publicly criticized by Director Wang last night. She was also heartbroken about the more than 1,000 yuan that had been exposed. Although it wouldn't be confiscated, she could no longer openly hide it under her pillow. She was so angry that she didn't sleep a wink all night, and her eyes were still swollen this morning. But she wasn't stupid; she knew it wasn't safe to keep the money at home. She took out the small cloth bag, counted the money inside several times, and finally, with a heavy heart, stuffed it into her bosom. He wouldn't be home anyway; she'd find somewhere else to hide it!

She doesn't trust others; it's safest to keep money in her own hands. What if someone else takes it away while she's keeping it?

Jia Dongxu looked dejected, while Qin Huairu silently held Xiaodang, watching with longing eyes. The thirty-odd yuan she had hidden had been taken away by Jia Zhangshi for "safekeeping" last night, and she felt empty inside.

In Liu Haizhong's backyard, his second aunt rummaged through drawers and cabinets, taking out the more than nine hundred yuan they had saved, which she wrapped in several layers of red cloth. Liu Haizhong, hands behind his back and with his belly sticking out, adopted a leader's air: "Hmm, Director Wang's instructions are timely and necessary! We must respond actively! Putting it in the bank is beneficial to the country and the people! Let's go!" He seemed to be going not to deposit money, but to complete a glorious political mission.

Sha Zhu clutched his last hundred or so yuan, feeling resentful, but seeing everyone else in the courtyard depositing their money, he muttered, "Fine, I'll follow the crowd and deposit it! Better to avoid attracting thieves!"

Xu Damao, clutching the two hundred-odd yuan he had at home, pondered, "Saving some is fine, at least I'll have some cash on hand... But who stole that old dog Yi's money?" His eyes darted around, still thinking about what happened last night.

Wei Chen accompanied his mother, Wang Xiulan, carrying 1,200 yuan wrapped in an old handkerchief and their household registration booklet, as they left the east courtyard. Da Huang was left at home to look after the house. The mother and son encountered the Liu Haizhong family, the Yan Bugui family, and many other residents who were also leaving. They nodded to each other, their eyes revealing a tacit sense of urgency and a mixture of apprehension and curiosity about the bank.

Stepping out of the courtyard gate, they discovered they weren't the only ones. Several other courtyards in Nanluoguxiang also had many people carrying packages, hurrying towards the same direction—the nearest branch of the People's Bank of China.

Clearly, news of the theft of a large sum of money from Yi Zhonghai's home, as well as Director Wang's large meeting last night to promote bank savings, had spread like wildfire throughout the nearby alleys.

"Have you heard? That level-eight worker in courtyard number 95 had over five thousand yuan stolen from his home!" "Over five thousand?! My God! Really?"

"It's absolutely true! The police went there! They found a lot of things!" "Oh my god, this is terrifying! My family's little bit of money..."

"That's right! Come on, let's go deposit it in the bank! Director Wang from the neighborhood said it's safe to deposit in the bank!" "Yes! Deposit it in the bank!"

On the way, similar conversations were heard constantly. Yi Zhonghai's tragedy, in an unexpected way, became the most powerful "GG" for the bank's savings business.

A long queue had already formed outside the savings bank. Men, women, and children were all there, each clutching their packages tightly, their faces showing tension, anticipation, and a touch of unease. The queue moved slowly, with the sounds of patient explanations from staff and the clatter of money being counted coming from inside.

"So many people..." Wang Xiulan nervously gripped the bundle in her hands. "It's okay, Mom, take your time in line," Wei Chen reassured her, his gaze sweeping over the queue.

He saw Yan Bugui ahead in line, craning his neck to look at the counter; Liu Haizhong's family was in another line, with his second uncle talking loudly with an old man next to him, promoting the benefits of saving money; Sha Zhu was leaning against the wall, looking impatient.

The queue was long and agonizing. People talked in hushed tones, their conversation revolving around the shocking case that had occurred in courtyard number 95 the previous night.

"Hey, do you think they can catch that thief?" "I doubt it! Not a single clue, it's like looking for a needle in a haystack!" "Master Yi's in real trouble now, all his life's work!" "You agree! That's why it's best to keep your money in the bank!"

"That Teacher Yan, what was he doing hiding those gold bars? Now look what happened, they've all been confiscated!" "That old woman from the Jia family is truly despicable, pretending to be poor to fool everyone..." "We can't just donate money to people so easily anymore..."

These whispers drifted on the wind to everyone's ears. If Yi Zhonghai were here, he would probably cough up blood again. Yan Bugui's face burned with embarrassment, but he could only pretend not to hear. Jia Zhangshi glared fiercely at those who were gossiping, muttering foul curses under her breath.

Finally, it was Wei Chen and Wang Xiulan's turn. The female staff member at the counter was very friendly: "Comrade, are you making a deposit? Fixed deposit or current account? Under whose name?"

Wang Xiulan looked at her son somewhat awkwardly. Wei Chen stepped forward and said gently, "Comrade, deposit for a fixed term, one year. Deposit it in my mother Wang Xiulan's name." As he spoke, he took the old handkerchief package from his mother's hand, opened it layer by layer, revealing neatly folded banknotes inside.

The staff skillfully counted the money, issued receipts, and had Wang Xiulan put her fingerprint on them. Wei Chen showed his mother each step carefully and explained softly, "Mom, look, this is the deposit slip. It has the amount, date, and your name on it. This is the seal. Keep it safe, and put it with your household registration book. You'll need this and the household registration book to withdraw money in the future."

Wang Xiulan took the thin deposit slip, which contained a "huge sum" of 1,200 yuan. Looking at her name, "Wang Xiulan," neatly written on it, and the bright red bank seal, a strange feeling suddenly welled up inside her. It was an unprecedented sense of security.

The money was in the national bank, with her name on it, and no one could steal it. She carefully folded the deposit slip, put it close to her body, let out a long sigh of relief, and a relieved smile appeared on her face.

"Chen'er, now Mom can rest easy." As she walked out of the savings bank, Wang Xiulan touched the spot on her chest where she kept her deposit slips and said with emotion.

Wei Chen smiled and said, "That's good. From now on, you'll be our family's 'Minister of Finance'."

The mother and son walked back chatting and laughing, brushing past others who had just finished depositing money and wore similarly relaxed expressions. Director Wang's on-site publicity campaign, using the Yi Zhonghai incident as a "negative example," was unexpectedly effective.

At least in this neighborhood, a small "savings rush" has been sparked. One wonders what Yi Zhonghai, bedridden with illness, would think if he knew his devastating losses had actually "boosted" the national savings business. Perhaps besides excruciating pain, he would also feel an indescribable irony.

Life in the courtyard house seemed to have gradually returned to a superficial calm following this "deposit frenzy." But the undercurrents never ceased.

Yi Zhonghai was truly "sick." He hadn't gone to work for several days in a row, his face was sallow, his eyes were sunken, and he was rapidly losing weight. His once straight back had become hunched. He no longer went to the Intermediate People's Court and rarely went out. Occasionally, he would come out to empty the spittoon, but he would keep his head down and walk back quickly, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone.

He would occasionally drag his weak body, supported by an older woman, or force himself to go to the police station to inquire about the progress of the case. Each time, he received Liu Fuguo's helpless and formulaic reply: "Master Yi, we have been working hard to investigate, but we haven't made any breakthroughs yet... Please wait patiently, we will notify you as soon as we have any news."

Time passed day by day, and hope, like sand slipping through fingers, grew ever fainter. The light in Yi Zhonghai's eyes gradually faded. That 5,300 yuan seemed to have truly sunk into the sea, leaving no trace.

He began to suffer from insomnia night after night. Staring at the empty roof, the scene from that morning replayed repeatedly in his mind, every detail causing him to grieve with remorse. If only... if only he had listened to his wife and deposited the money in the bank... But alas, there is no going back.

The immense loss and utter financial ruin shattered the "dignity of a seventh-grade worker" and the "respectability of an old man" that he had relied on. He became taciturn, irritable, and often inexplicably snapped at the older woman. When Jia Dongxu came to visit, he merely nodded blankly, no longer showing the warm care he once had for his apprentice, like a father to his son. His heart seemed to have died along with that money.

The Jia family has also become much more "low-key". Although Madam Jia is still mean-spirited, at least she no longer dares to wail in the central courtyard as she used to, saying "I can't live anymore".

The exposed thousand-plus yuan and gold ring acted like an invisible shackle, locking away her confidence to throw tantrums. She could no longer borrow salt from one neighbor and rice from another with the same self-righteousness as before.

Occasionally, when unsuspecting new neighbors try to help, the older residents will "kindly" remind them: "Her family? They've got a gold nugget hidden under her pillow!" Embarrassed, Jia Zhangshi can only glare fiercely and slam the door as she goes home.

The quality of food at home visibly declined. Banggeng had made several demands for meat, only to be scolded and rebuffed by Jia Zhangshi. Qin Huairu's life became even more difficult. After her secret stash of money was exposed, Jia Zhangshi kept a closer eye on her, frequently beating and scolding her, and placing even more chores on her shoulders. She could only swallow her bitterness, becoming increasingly cautious at the factory, and her pleading eyes towards Shazhu carried a deeper sense of helplessness and resentment.

Perhaps the family that changed the most was the Yan Bugui family in the front yard. The confiscation of the gold bars was like a huge piece of flesh being ripped from Yan Bugui's heart. In the days immediately following the incident, he was completely dejected, walking unsteadily as if he might collapse at any moment.

The three women even cried several times in private. But as time went by, and with the weekly "indoctrination" from the neighborhood office's "study sessions," Yan Bugui gradually recovered.