Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

Before long, Grandma Li from the backyard also arrived, leaning on her cane, her steps unsteady. The old woman didn't say much, but simply stuffed a handkerchief, washed to a faded color but folded neatly, into Wang Xiulan's hand. Inside were some neatly folded small bills and a few yellowed ration coupons.

"Xiulan... we don't have anything valuable at home, but this little bit... can be used to buy a piece of cloth for the child and make a new dress..." The old woman's voice was aged but sincere, with a hint of embarrassment.

Wang Xiulan's eyes instantly welled up with tears, and she repeatedly refused, saying, "Aunt Li, this is unacceptable! Please keep it..." In the end, Wei Chen stepped forward and symbolically accepted part of the money.

Grandma Li was happy to see that Wei Chen had accepted the money. She leaned on her cane and slowly made her way back home. Her back looked a little hunched in the night, but it also exuded a sense of ease.

Wei Chen genuinely wanted to help these two families. Aunt Liu was a widow and her child, and Grandma Li was all alone and destitute; both were rare kind-hearted people in the neighborhood, and he had helped them both openly and secretly in the past. This meat was both a token of gratitude and a way of repaying that kindness.

Night, like thick ink, completely soaked into the courtyard. To save electricity, everyone turned off their lights early, either snuggling into bed to keep warm or doing chores by the dim light of a kerosene lamp.

However, an undercurrent, more hidden than the darkness of night, was quietly surging in the silence. The warm yellow glow from the window of the east courtyard, and the faint, complex aroma of food that seemed to have seeped into the bricks and stones and drifted into dreams with the wind, were like the serpent tempting Eve in the Garden of Eden, constantly tantalizing every stomach tormented by bland food and every heart yearning for abundance.

Face is fragile and vulnerable in the face of extreme scarcity. When the enticing aroma of meat wafts from other people's kitchens, while one's own pot contains only thin porridge so clear you can see your reflection, much of the initial reserve, observation, and even envy begins to quietly shift.

A tacit idea began to take root in the minds of some neighbors: it's definitely not going to work out in the open; Wei Chen isn't stupid, nor is he a pushover.

But... what if we could exchange something we have at home, something we could use, in private? We don't need much, just a couple of ounces or a pound, so that the dumpling filling for the New Year's Eve dinner would have a little bit of oil, and so that the children's bowls would have a few pieces of meat floating on top of them?

With the Lunar New Year fast approaching, anxiety has reached its peak. Almost every household in the courtyard is worrying about their New Year's Eve dinner. Except for employees working in good companies like the steel mill who can get a pound of meat, those working in poorer factories are lucky to get two ounces of meat coupons. Most families are counting on their meager rations and racking their brains to make sure their New Year's Eve dinner table has more "contents".

The first person to come knocking was Old Wu, the boiler operator who lived in the west wing of the front yard. Old Wu was in his fifties, a little hunched over, and taciturn. He was a veteran worker in the boiler room of the steel rolling mill, having spent his entire life operating boilers. He was honest, simple, and unassuming.

When he knocked on the door, his face was full of embarrassment and awkwardness, his rough hands fiddling with the patched corner of his clothes. "Is...is Comrade Wei Chen home?" Old Wu's voice was dry. "I...I wanted to ask if you...have any extra meat? I...I'll trade something for it!"

As if he had made a great decision, he took out a small cloth bag from his pocket, opened it, and inside was half a bag of golden millet, which he estimated to weigh three or four pounds, and a small jar of pickled vegetables he had made himself.

"I live alone, and during the New Year... I'd like to eat something oily." Old Wu's eyes held a cautious expectation, as well as a hint of barely perceptible shame.

He lived alone, without children, and lived an extremely frugal life. This little bit of millet and pickled vegetables was probably his most valuable "assets".

Looking at the honest old man who had lived an honest life, Wei Chen felt a pang of tenderness. He took the cloth bag and nodded, "Master Wu, you're too kind. I'll keep two jin of millet, and you can take the pickled vegetables home to eat with your rice. I'll cut you a piece of meat, with both lean and fatty parts, so you can make some dumplings and stew some vegetables—that should be enough for you."

Old Wu was stunned. He had thought he would be lucky to get a few ounces of fat to render into lard. When Wei Chen handed him a piece of wild boar meat weighing a pound and a half (he had given him extra) wrapped in oil paper, the old man's hands trembled slightly. He thanked him repeatedly, and his eyes even reddened.

"Thank you... thank you, Comrade Wei Chen! I... I promise I won't tell! If anyone asks, I'll just say I got a bargain at the ghost market!" He stammered, clutching the meat, his back hunched, and quickly disappeared into the dim night.

The second person to arrive was Liu Erzhuang, a fitter from the east wing of the backyard. Liu Erzhuang was a level-two fitter at the steel rolling mill, with solid skills and an honest character. He had an elderly and ailing mother, a frail wife, and a daughter who had just turned six.

The one pound of meat the factory provided was a drop in the ocean for a family of four like this. Liu Erzhuang was an honest, simple man, not good with words. After entering the door, he hesitated for a long time, his face turning red, before finally rubbing his hands and saying, "Brother Weichen, I... I know this isn't the proper way. But my mother is old and has bad teeth, so she craves soft meat; my wife is weak and needs to eat more; and the children are still young, with the New Year just around the corner..."

He pulled a cloth bag from his pocket, inside which was half a bag of flour, weighing about three or four pounds, and two brand-new soap coupons. "This flour is what I've saved up, and the coupons were issued by the factory... Look, can you exchange it for some? Any kind of meat will do, as long as it has some oil."

Wei Chen could see the embarrassment and expectation in the man's eyes. He accepted the flour and a soap coupon, and pushed the other one back: "Brother Liu, I'll keep the flour, but you can take the soap coupon home; you'll need it."

Then, he packed a full two pounds of wild boar meat, plus a small piece with more fat. "The fat can be rendered into lard, and the cracklings are delicious stir-fried with cabbage. The lean meat can be stewed for the elderly and children. We can also chop it up and make dumplings when we get home."

Looking at the heavy oil paper package in his hand, Liu Erzhuang was too excited to speak, only nodding heavily, his eyes reddening. "Brother Wei Chen, this favor... I, Liu Erzhuang, will remember it! Don't worry, I know the rules!" He looked deeply at Wei Chen, his eyes filled with gratitude and a promise between men.

Zhang Dashan, from the east room in the front yard, arrived a little later. He was a senior worker in the third workshop of the steel rolling mill, in his thirties, skilled, upright, and well-regarded in the yard. He had three children: a ten-year-old daughter and two sons, one six and the other four, both at the age where they were eating and growing. The pressure he faced was considerable.

Zhang Dashan wasn't as embarrassed as the previous two, but he still had a worried look on his face. The "bargaining chips" he brought were a small jar of precious sesame oil (he didn't know where he had gotten it from) and two pairs of brand-new, well-stitched cotton shoes, which were obviously made by his wife.

"Wei Chen, to be honest, we have a lot of kids at home, and the little bit of meat the factory gives out is really not enough. The kids are really craving it... Could you exchange this sesame oil and shoes for some of that? So the kids can have a little meat for the New Year."

Wei Chen looked at the finely crafted cotton shoes, which were the perfect size for him and his sister. Sesame oil was also a wonderful seasoning. He nodded, "Master Zhang, I'll accept the cotton shoes and sesame oil. I can't give you too much meat; there are too many eyes in the yard. Take these two and a half pounds of wild boar meat back with you. Render the fat into oil, and give the lean meat to the children to enjoy. Add some cabbage when you make dumplings, and you can make more."

Zhang Dashan breathed a sigh of relief, took the meat, and said sincerely, "Wei Chen, thank you. I appreciate your kindness. If there's anything you need in the workshop in the future, just let me know." These words carried more weight than any guarantee.

Similar scenes played out repeatedly behind the gate of the east courtyard over the next two days. The people who came came from all walks of life, but they all had one thing in common: they were ordinary residents who were not outstanding but certainly not bad either, but were forced to put aside their pride by the year-end and scarcity.

They brought a variety of things: eggs, refined grains, coarse grains, homemade pickles, receipts they couldn't bear to use, and even handmade cotton hats and gloves... The value varied, but they all represented urgency and sincerity.

Wei Chen and Wang Xiulan developed a tacit division of labor. Wang Xiulan was responsible for the initial reception and pleasantries, assessing the visitor's character and whether they had any past conflicts with their family. Wei Chen, on the other hand, would listen from the inner room, or appear when appropriate, and ultimately make the final decision.

Their principles were clear and firm. First, they politely declined to serve the Jia family, Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong's family and their close associates, as well as those who had had obvious conflicts with their families and had extremely poor reputations (such as "Quick-Talker"). They used excuses such as "the meat is just enough for our own consumption" and "we can't speculate and profiteer."

Wang Xiulan would politely but firmly keep people out of the door, giving them no chance to cause trouble.

Secondly, for families with decent character who are genuinely in need, the exchange is agreed upon, but Wei Chen's side will clearly offer a discount in terms of value.

He didn't care about the material things; what he cared about was the reciprocal relationship under the guise of "exchange," and the gratitude and potential "taking sides" that the other party would feel as a result. This was more stable than simple charity and avoided the hidden danger of "a little kindness breeds resentment."

Finally, and ironcladly: secrecy. To everyone who received the meat, Wei Chen would reiterate in a calm yet unquestionable tone upon delivery: "Take your things safe, and don't tell anyone. If anyone asks, say you traded it at the ghost market, or that a relative from the countryside brought it. If I find out from anyone who let it slip," he would pause, his gaze sweeping over the person, "don't ever come to this door again."

No one would joke about this hard-won meat. Everyone swore to keep it a secret. They knew this wasn't just about securing their hopes for the New Year; it was about gaining a secret and reliable supply route. Everyone knew Wei Chen was a skilled hunter and his family had no shortage of meat. Anyone who leaked this information would become the enemy of everyone in the compound who was short of meat.

Thus, a peculiar yet highly efficient "circulation network" began to operate silently within the courtyard house.

What Wei Chen's family gave up was a relatively surplus of meat reserves. In return, besides those odds and ends, many of which were carefully categorized and collected by Wang Xiulan, either for daily use or to be sent back to her grandfather and uncles in her hometown, the most important thing was a kind of quietly accumulated, extensive and secret "debt of gratitude" and prestige.

Those families who received the meat, though they all gave the same story to the outside world, knew exactly what they were doing. In their minds, the name Wei Chen was closely associated with "ability," "generosity," and "reliability."