Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

Xu Damao's "honesty" was merely a form of lurking, a disguise. His narrow, shrewd eyes were like a venomous snake lurking in the shadows, constantly watching Sha Zhu's every move.

He observed when Sha Zhu left for work each day, when he returned, and whether he carried anything with him when he came back; he listened intently to the sounds from the central courtyard, noting who Sha Zhu was talking to, what he was saying, and whether he mentioned anything about the factory or anyone; he even secretly inquired about Sha Zhu's work in the canteen, whether he had made any mistakes, and what his relationship with the leaders was like.

He waited, patiently awaiting the perfect opportunity for revenge. He didn't want a petty fight, not just to let Sha Zhu get a few more insults or pay a small amount of money. What he wanted was to completely destroy He Yuzhu, ruin his job at the factory, tarnish his reputation in the compound, and make him utterly disgraced, never to rise again! He wanted revenge for that beating, those five yuan, and the deep-seated hatred for all his dignity being trampled upon!

Xu Damao, like a venomous snake lurking in a cold, dark crevice, poured all his patience and malice into secretly monitoring He Yuzhu—the "foolish Zhu" he hated most in his life.

The poisonous fire of revenge burned in his internal organs day and night. The public beating, the humiliation of five yuan, and the loss of face in front of everyone all had to be repaid with a price ten times worse than Sha Zhu's.

Knowing full well that a direct confrontation would only lead to humiliation, he turned all his energy to the shadows, carefully choosing "lifestyle" and "canteen accounts" as two seemingly sharp but actually effective tools.

However, reality was like a thick wall of cotton, causing him to repeatedly hit walls, leaving him powerless and frustrated to the point of chest pain.

Xu Damao was almost obsessed with monitoring Jia Dongxu's "lifestyle." He set his sights on the courtyard house; he had seen that Sha Zhu's gaze towards Jia Dongxu's wife, Qin Huairu, was strange!

Moreover, under Yi Zhonghai's influence, Sha Zhu did occasionally bring leftovers to the Jia family, and each time the Jia family would have Qin Huairu come to collect them. Xu Damao believed that Sha Zhu and Qin Huairu were definitely having an affair! He needed evidence!

Taking advantage of the relatively flexible working hours of film projectionists, Xu Damao would make up various excuses to sneak back to the courtyard house in advance, or simply wander around the middle and front courtyards, seemingly casually, but actually keeping a keen eye on things.

As evening fell, the setting sun cast a languid golden glow over the gray courtyard. Qin Huairu, carrying a chipped enamel basin or an empty lunchbox, hesitated before approaching the door of Sha Zhu's room. She rarely knocked; she usually stood at the doorway, her voice neither loud nor soft, deliberately maintained—neither overly pleading nor weak—calling, "Brother Zhu, are you home?"

Then, the door creaked open, and Sha Zhu's stubble-covered face, still bearing the smell of kitchen smoke, poked out. His tone was usually very impatient: "What now? When will your family's little troubles end?" But when his gaze swept over Qin Huairu's haggard face and the empty container, a subtle, almost imperceptible emotion, a mixture of sympathy and something else, would always emerge beneath that impatience.

What followed was the usual routine: Qin Huairu would say a few words in a humble tone, nothing more than "Bang Geng has had no appetite these past two days," "Xiao Dang is complaining of being hungry again," and "There's really no oil left at home," and so on.

Sha Zhu would frown and mutter a few curses, such as, "Where did Jia Dongxu's meager salary go?" or "Doesn't your old hag know how to save money?" But despite his curses, he would always turn around and go back into the house.

A moment later, the food is taken out—sometimes it's a half-eaten lunchbox filled with cabbage, potatoes, and a few pieces of meat, the oil already congealed; sometimes it's two or three cold, hard steamed buns made from a mixture of wheat and vegetables; if you're lucky, there might be a small piece of cooked meat wrapped in old newspaper, its original appearance unrecognizable, or a small piece of lard.

The handover was extremely brief, with almost no physical contact. Qin Huairu took the items, said softly, "Thank you, Brother Zhuzi," and immediately turned around and quickly walked back to her house. The whole process took no more than two minutes.

Her expression was calm, even somewhat numb, revealing no ambiguity or tearful gratitude, only a sense of embarrassment and exhaustion stemming from the necessity of survival. At this point, Qin Huairu hadn't yet turned to the dark side; being forced by her mother-in-law to come to a bachelor's house to ask for things, her face naturally wouldn't be pleasant!

After she left, Sha Zhu would usually stand at the door for a while, staring blankly as Qin Huairu's figure disappeared into the Jia family's gate. Then he would spit, whether cursing the Jia family or himself, and slam the door shut.

Xu Damao hid behind the moon gate or through the crack in his back window, his eyes almost bleeding from staring, but he didn't see any of the "shameful" scenes he had imagined. There were no flirtatious glances, no pulling or tugging, no secret flirtations, and no sneaking into the other person's house.

Thinking about it, it makes sense. After all, unlike in the TV series, Jia Dongxu is still alive and well, Qin Huairu doesn't have any particular thoughts, and even if Sha Zhu has some ideas in his heart, he doesn't dare to show them!

As for Madam Jia Zhang, that old woman with a fierce face and a mean gaze, she stood guard over the Jia family like a door god, occasionally lifting the curtain to sharply scan the central courtyard with her triangular eyes, especially when Qin Huairu returned from Sha Zhu's place. The wariness and scrutiny in her gaze made any possible ambiguity impossible to hide.

Xu Damao also tried to find clues during the day when Shazhu was at work. He would make excuses to go to the publicity department or other departments to "make contact for work," and would take a detour near the first canteen to observe through the glass window.

Sha Zhu, dressed in a greasy white coat, was seen wielding a large iron ladle in front of the steaming stove, shouting orders to the kitchen helpers. Occasionally, he would exchange a few vulgar jokes with the workers who came to get their meals. He would give the female workers who came to get their meals an extra half spoonful of food, except for a few he knew well. Most of the time, he treated them as business and did nothing special.

He even secretly followed Sha Zhu after get off work and found that the guy either went to the supply and marketing cooperative to buy bulk liquor, went to the alley entrance to watch people play chess, or went straight home. His life was so simple and boring.

"Damn it! Is this idiot some kind of turtle lately? His shell is so hard!" Xu Damao was once counting film reels in the film crew's warehouse. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. He couldn't help but kick the film box next to him, making a loud bang.

He had originally hoped to catch Sha Zhu and Qin Huairu having an affair, which would be a fatal blow and completely ruin Sha Zhu's reputation.

But now, aside from that meager amount of food assistance—which, in this difficult time, could even be explained as "neighborly mutual aid"—he can't find any substantial evidence against him. Is it just baseless slander?

The risk is too great. These days, the issue of "lifestyle" is strictly investigated and thoroughly examined. Without solid evidence, you might end up being accused of "falsely accusing a revolutionary comrade."

As for Xu Damao's other attack method, "the canteen accounts," it left him feeling like a dog trying to bite a hedgehog—completely unable to find a starting point. Sha Zhu was currently just a head chef, in charge of the stoves and a few assistant chefs and apprentices.

The canteen has dedicated purchasing staff who keep receipts for what vegetables they bring back each day, down to the weight; there are warehouse keepers; and an accountant is in charge of the accounts. The "profits" that Sha Zhu can access are nothing more than the scraps from the kitchen and the leftovers that can't be sold.

Xu Damao had also inquired about it in secret. Taking advantage of the opportunity to contact various workshops to arrange movie screenings, he casually chatted with some older workers or employees whose relatives worked in the canteen, steer the conversation toward canteen benefits.

"Speaking of our factory canteen, Chef He's cooking skills are unparalleled. He can even make a big pot of dishes smell delicious." Xu Damao handed him an "Economy" cigarette and lit it for him.

"That's right! Don't let Sha Zhu's simple appearance fool you, he's really good at cooking! And he's generous with the oil!" The other person took a satisfying sip and agreed. "However..." Xu Damao lowered his voice, adopting a candid tone, "I've heard that in the kitchen, if you're a little lenient, your family's life is much easier. Chef He... living alone, doesn't he ever send any money home?"

The other person often wore a knowing yet self-righteous expression: "Well, these days, which cafeteria doesn't operate like this? As long as it's not too outrageous, the management turns a blind eye. That guy, Sha Zhu, although he has a bad temper, seems quite well-behaved in this regard. It's like this in our cafeteria; occasionally we can take some leftovers home, mostly soup and water, and the management approves—it's considered a perk for working overtime! But if it's something better, we have to pay with meal tickets! Otherwise, Director Ma of the cafeteria wouldn't let us off the hook!"

After making several inquiries, Xu Damao's heart sank. It turned out that Sha Zhu was surprisingly "clean" when it came to the cafeteria's finances; or rather, Sha Zhu was still a work in progress, not yet the fully evolved version from the TV series!

The scraps he brought home were nothing in these difficult times; they could even be considered a form of "saving." To make a fuss about it would be virtually impossible unless one could obtain substantial evidence of his embezzlement of public funds, or unless Sha Zhu himself was foolish enough to incur public wrath.

The spring breeze still gently caressed the courtyard, turning the newly sprouted grass green in the cracks between the bricks at the corners of the walls, and also stirring up the poisonous thoughts lurking in the hearts of some people.

Beneath the seemingly peaceful daily life, a cold undercurrent targeting He Yuzhu has already begun to quietly surge, waiting for the moment to burst its banks and engulf everything. All of this is still concealed under the illusion of spring's revival, and apart from the instigator Xu Damao and perhaps some intuitive bystanders, no one has noticed it.

When Wei Chen got home from work that day, he went to check on his little vegetable garden as usual. The chives had already been harvested once, and new leaves were growing lush and green again; the scallions stood tall, and the garlic sprouts were pulling out tender green hearts. He nodded in satisfaction and was about to go inside when he caught sight of Qin Huairu struggling to wash a large basin of clothes by the sink in the middle courtyard. Her face was haggard, and her fingers were red from the cold. From Sha Zhu's house, he could faintly hear him humming a tune and chopping vegetables.