Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Don't touch my parents!

"Has the Qing dynasty's child been born yet?"

"She's given birth, it's a girl." Li Guihua came out of the kitchen carrying steaming cornbread and a dish of blackened pickled vegetables, her voice as soft as a snowflake falling to the ground.

"Girl..." Yi Zhonghai's tone turned noticeably colder. He wiped his hands with the corner of his shirt, plopped down on the table, picked up the rough porcelain bowl, and his movements as he ate rice were perfunctory.

"Oh, right," he said, taking a few bites of rice, as if suddenly remembering something, "Old Xu's wife went to the factory today to ask you guys to deliver a message. Who exactly sent the message to the Qing Dynasty?"

"I don't know." Yi Zhonghai shook his head slightly, his chopsticks poking at the pickled vegetables at the bottom of his bowl, his tone tinged with impatience. "Anyway, I didn't go. It's chaotic outside, how could I dare to run around?"

"The restaurant where the Qing Dynasty worked was often monitored by my underlings. If I went there, I was sure I wouldn't come back."

"I see..." Li Guihua tightened her grip on the chopsticks, a hint of hesitation appearing on her face. She hesitated before speaking, "Then you should find some time another day to explain things clearly to Daqing, so that he doesn't become suspicious and distance himself from us."

"What's the big deal?" Yi Zhonghai waved his hand casually, without even raising his eyelids. "Da Qing is a sensible person, he'll definitely understand and won't overthink it."

Li Guihua sighed silently in her heart, swallowed the words that were about to come out, and remained silent.

"Even a kid like Zhu Zi dares to take responsibility, but you, a grown man, are making excuses and shirking your duties," she thought to herself, determined to visit the He family tomorrow.

We can't let them hold a grudge. Today, we almost suffered a tragedy that resulted in the deaths of both mother and child. If we owe them this favor, we don't know how we'll ever be able to repay it.

As soon as Xu Wangcai pushed open the door, his brows furrowed, his face darkened like a frozen lump of coal, and his tone carried undisguised reproach:

"Da Mao's mother, what's gotten into you today? Why are you getting involved in the He family's affairs?"

"Honey, do you think I'd go willingly?" Zhao Cuifeng retorted irritably, her eyes reddening, her pent-up grievances surging like a rising tide. "If I don't go, that old lady in the backyard could smash my skull with her cane!"

"Alright, alright, that's enough." Xu Wangcai raised his hand and pressed down on her shoulder, not wanting to hear any more of this trivial argument, his brows furrowing even more.

"Has He Daqing's wife given birth? Is it a boy or a girl?"

"It's a girl." Zhao Cuifeng slapped her thigh, perking up. "It almost caused two deaths! Let me tell you, we owe it all to that kid Zhuzi today—"

"That kid Zhu Zi?" Xu Damao poked his head out from the inner room, interrupting with a look of dissatisfaction. He thought he was the smartest and most promising kid in the whole compound. "Just based on his usual quiet, reserved demeanor?"

"How could it be fake!" Zhao Cuifeng rolled her eyes at her son, her tone resolute. "I saw it with my own eyes, how could I be mistaken?"

"How could I be wrong?" Zhao Cuifeng glared at her son, raising her hand as if to hit him. "Otherwise, the He family would already be hanging white banners and setting up mourning tents, preparing for the funeral!"

"Da Mao." Xu Wangcai narrowed his eyes, his voice low and serious as he stared at his son. "From now on, when you play with Zhu Zi, be more careful and keep a close eye on him."

"Look at the kind of people he usually associates with, lest he be led astray." He didn't believe for a second that He Yuzhu had the mind and courage to do so; he was sure that someone with expertise was guiding him behind the scenes.

"Understood, Dad," Xu Damao replied reluctantly, kicking a pebble at his feet with a disdainful look.

The house was warm and cozy, with a coal stove burning brightly in the corner, casting an orange glow throughout the room, creating a peaceful and serene atmosphere.

The casserole was placed on the coal stove, and the chicken soup was bubbling away. Fine bubbles rose to the surface of the milky white soup, and the rich aroma swirled around the room like a soft cloud.

Golden chicken fat floated gently on the soup noodles, trembling slightly from the steam. The aroma was so rich that it seemed to seep into one's bones, making one's mouth water.

Chen Shuxiang leaned against the pile of quilts at the head of the kang (heated brick bed), covered with a thick cotton quilt. Her face was still a little pale, but she forced herself to stay awake and whispered instructions to He Daqing:

"Go, fetch a bowl of chicken soup and take it to the old lady in the backyard."

"If it weren't for her today, you probably wouldn't have even seen your mother and me when you came back."

"Yes." He Daqing quickly responded, turned around and took a small, gleaming earthenware pot from the cupboard, his fingertips still warm from the kitchen.

He carefully scooped out most of the steaming chicken soup from the pot, slowly skimming off the surface oil with the ladle against the side of the pot. He then carefully selected a few pieces of tender, fall-off-the-bone chicken leg meat and put them in, the skin and meat soaked in the soup.

Then he turned around, quickened his pace and walked towards the old lady's house in the backyard, his shoes making a soft rustling sound as they rubbed against the snow.

"Knock knock—" A crisp knock sounded softly, particularly clear in the quiet courtyard.

"Who is it?" came the old lady's slow, leisurely voice from inside the house, carrying a sense of composure born of experience.

"It is I, Daqing." He Daqing stood outside the door, rubbing his hands which were numb with cold, and answered respectfully.

"The door isn't latched, just come in," the old lady's voice came again, with a hint of amusement at the end.

He Daqing gently pushed open the door and closed it behind him to prevent the cold wind from getting in. He saw the deaf old lady wrapped in a thick quilt, sitting upright on the kang (a heated brick bed), holding a string of Buddhist prayer beads in her hand, her expression peaceful and serene, like a silent Bodhisattva.

"Daqing, why aren't you guarding Shuxiang in the front room? What are you doing in the backyard?" The old lady looked up at him, her prayer beads spinning halfway between her fingers.

"I made a pot of chicken soup, and Shuxiang asked me to bring you a bowl to try." He Daqing smiled and took two steps forward, placing the earthenware pot on the kang table. "We are so grateful for your help today; our whole family will remember your kindness."

"This child is so thoughtful." The old lady's lips curved into a gentle smile, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes were filled with warmth. "It's only right to save it for Shuxiang to nourish her body. She just gave birth and is very weak and bloodless, so she needs to take good care of herself."

He Daqing pushed the earthenware pot towards the old lady, his tone full of gratitude. He paused slightly, lowered his voice, and asked cautiously:

"By the way, ma'am, who exactly went to the factory to call me back today?"

"Nobody went." The old woman looked up at him, her expression calm as she asked, her prayer beads slowing their spinning. "What's wrong? Why did you suddenly ask that?"

"No one went?" He Daqing was stunned. The color drained from his face, replaced by astonishment. "Everyone at the factory said someone sent a message..."