Courtyard House: Drunk and tipsy, the whole courtyard exposed at the start.

At 11:30 a.m., the bell rang to signal the end of get out of class.

"—Clang clang clang clang clang—"

The old doorbell echoed in the hallway, like a stick poking a hornet's nest, instantly bringing the whole building to life.

"It's lunchtime, get out of class is over!"

"I'm starving! Go get some food!"

"Hey, hey, who's taking my lunchbox downstairs? I'm too lazy to run!"

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, and the stairs thumped loudly.

Zhang Dabiao sat by the window, squinting as he looked outside. The hallway was bustling with people; students participating in the competition rushed downstairs in twos and threes, some carrying lunchboxes, some holding enamel mugs, and a few clever ones even shouted from the windows, "Does the cafeteria still have braised pork? Save me a serving!"

"Dream on! Braised pork? The cafeteria only serves it once a week!"

Zhang Dabiao withdrew his gaze and scanned the classroom. Han Xiaomeng was taking a thin aluminum lunchbox out of her bag. Tang Min was next to her; her lunchbox was slightly larger, but it didn't look bulging either.

Han Xiaomeng walked over carrying a lunchbox and asked somewhat apologetically, "Comrade Zhang, aren't you going to the canteen? Do you want me to bring you some? The canteen's communal dishes are so-so, but they're cheap; you can get a full meal for just two cents."

She considered that Zhang Dabiao was a student from another school and it would be inconvenient for him to eat at their school cafeteria.

Zhang Dabiao waved his hand: "No need, Senior Han, we brought our own."

"Did you bring it?" Han Xiaomeng glanced at his backpack, then at the empty desk. "What did you bring?"

Zhang Dabiao smiled but offered no explanation.

Tang Min also came over, holding a warm lunchbox in his hands—he had warmed it on the coal stove. As soon as the lid was lifted, a smell of mixed grains wafted out. Zhang Dabiao glanced at it; it was cornbread buns with a chopstick of pickled vegetables, not a speck of oil in sight.

"Comrade Zhang, what exactly is in your backpack?" Tang Min asked curiously.

Zhang Dabiao stood up and put his schoolbag on the table.

"Come on, let me show you something."

He opened his schoolbag—

Han Xiaomeng peeked out and was stunned.

The first layer consists of two aluminum lunch boxes stacked together, the larger one on top of the smaller one, and tied tightly with cloth strips.

The second layer contained two more lunchboxes, square in shape and thicker than the two below.

On the third layer, there was a thermal container, military green in color, with the words "Resist America, Aid Korea, Protect Our Homes and Defend Our Country" printed on it. It looked quite heavy.

Han Xiaomeng's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets: "This...this is all food?"

Zhang Dabiao didn't answer, and began to take things out layer by layer, while Mu Wanqing untied them.

The first lunchbox—braised pork!

The glistening chunks of meat were neatly arranged, a deep reddish-brown color, with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, and the skin was translucent, gleaming enticingly in the midday sun. A rich, savory aroma burst forth, instantly drowning out the pungent smell of the coal stove in the classroom.

Han Xiaomeng's mouth opened into an "O" shape.

The second lunchbox was opened—it contained shredded pork with green peppers!

The green peppers are vibrant green, the shredded pork is tender and white, glistening with oil, and topped with a sprinkle of minced garlic. The aroma is even more overpowering than that of braised pork, wafting straight into your nose.

The third lunchbox—preserved fish and sausage!

The preserved fish is cut into sections, and the sausage is sliced. They are arranged neatly, with alternating red and white colors, and glossy with oil.

The fourth lunchbox—Mushroom and Chicken Stew!

The chicken is tender and juicy, and the shiitake mushrooms are soaked in the broth; it looks so delicious that it makes your mouth water.

The fifth one—tea eggs! A total of ten, braised to a dark reddish-brown color with fine cracks on the shells, clearly indicating they were well-seasoned.

The sixth dish is stir-fried green vegetables! They're vibrant green, refreshing, and help cut through the richness of the dish.

Finally, there was the insulated container. I unscrewed the lid—and there was white rice! The container was full, still steaming hot!

Han Xiaomeng has lost her ability to speak.

The cornbread in Tang Min's hand hung in mid-air, unmoved for a long time.

Zhang Dabiao then pulled out a cloth bag from the side pocket of his schoolbag, untied it—six steamed buns! Fluffy and fluffy, each one huge!

"What are you standing there for?" Zhang Dabiao looked up at them. "Put your lunchboxes away and eat together."

Han Xiaomeng snapped out of her daze and waved her hands repeatedly, "No, no, no, Comrade Zhang, this is too much trouble! We can't possibly accept your food—"

"That's right, that's right," Tang Min also declined, "How could we accept that you two brought them—"

"Alright, alright," Zhang Dabiao interrupted them. "We're a team, why differentiate between 'you' and 'us'? There are still three days left in the competition. We're working on the piece together every day. If we don't eat a proper lunch, how will we have the energy to work in the afternoon?"

Han Xiaomeng wanted to decline, but Mu Wanqing had already stood up, taken the lunchbox from her hand, and put it aside.

"Senior Han, don't be so polite," Mu Wanqing said with a smile. "Since Da Biao brought it, it's for everyone. It would be a waste if you didn't eat it."

Mu Wanqing was already used to such extravagantly ordinary meals, and there was no way to persuade her otherwise.

Han Xiaomeng glanced at Mu Wanqing, then at Zhang Dabiao, and then at the glistening meat and vegetables on the table. Her throat tightened.

Her family wasn't well-off; they considered it a holiday if they could eat meat once a month. The meat on the table in front of her was more than her entire family's total monthly meat consumption.

Tang Min was the same. Although both parents worked, what year was this? 1961! At school, he usually ate cornbread and pickled vegetables. Occasionally, he would get a dish of cabbage and tofu, which was considered a treat. He wouldn't even dare to dream of eating braised pork, cured fish, or sausages.

"Then...then we won't stand on ceremony," Han Xiaomeng said softly, her face flushed.

"Don't mention it!" Zhang Dabiao waved his hand. "Where's the coal stove? Bring it over, let's heat it up!"

Tang Min quickly brought over the coal stove—it was just a small tin stove that burned honeycomb briquettes. October wasn't particularly cold, and this was specially prepared by the school for the closed-door creative work.

Zhang Dabiao stacked several meat-filled lunchboxes next to the stove, letting the fire slowly roast them. Soon, the aroma of meat wafted up, even stronger than before, seeping out through the cracks in the window.

"Oh no, oh no!" Han Xiaomeng suddenly exclaimed, "If this smell gets out, it'll attract attention soon!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than the door creaked open.

A head popped in; it was a student from the next studio. His eyes swept across the table and widened in surprise.

"Holy crap! What are you guys eating? It smells amazing!"

Zhang Dabiao didn't even raise his head, ignoring him completely. What I eat has nothing to do with you.

"The smell of meat?" The man sniffed, his eyes fixed on the lunchboxes by the stove. "You guys... and it's not even a holiday..."

Mu Wanqing chuckled, picked up a tea egg, and tapped it on the table. "Want one?"

The person swallowed hard, hesitated for three seconds, and finally shook their head: "No, no, I've already gotten my food." After saying that, they quickly closed the door and ran away.

Han Xiaomeng suppressed a laugh: "He can't stand the smell, he's afraid he'll cry from craving it."

Tang Min laughed, "Anyone would be tempted. This taste, wow!"

The lunchboxes were hot enough, and Zhang Dabiao invited everyone to sit down.

The four of them squeezed around a desk—Zhang Dabiao and Mu Wanqing sat on one side, and Han Xiaomeng and Tang Min sat on the other. They decided to eat first.

"Come on, let's eat!" Zhang Dabiao picked up his chopsticks, first placing a piece of braised pork on Mu Wanqing's plate, then one on each of Han Xiaomeng and Tang Min's plates. "Don't be shy, there's plenty!"

Han Xiaomeng took a bite of the meat and almost burst into tears.

The fatty meat melts in your mouth, the lean meat is tender and flavorful, and the sauce coats the rice. One bite and you feel warm all over.

She hasn't eaten such delicious meat since last winter.

Tang Min had already finished half a steamed bun, and while chewing, she mumbled, "Comrade Zhang, your family's food is just too good!"

"Do you eat like this every day?"

Tang Min regretted asking the question as soon as she did.

He was Zhang, a philanthropist who earned hundreds of thousands of foreign exchange and donated 100,000 overseas remittance certificates.

What's wrong with eating more?

Is it illegal?