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

Envy, jealousy, and hatred—that was the first reaction of most people in the courtyard, and the second reaction was to lift their legs and take a look.

Zhang Dabiao owns land and money, yet he only lives in a small wooden house. However, he bought his fiancée a two-courtyard house and even wanted to renovate it.

You can't spend your money like this. Don't you know how to buy or build a house for yourself?

What makes Mu Wanqing so special?

She looks like a vixen, her social class is questionable, and her adoptive mother used to be the top courtesan in the Eight Great Hutongs. How could she possibly be so powerful?

Of course, the one who felt the most bitter and regretful was actually Qin Huairu, who was Zhang Banxian'er's child bride to Zhang Dabiao back then.

She married Jia Dongxu in pursuit of "love and freedom," and now things are looking up.

Even today, many people still bring this up, first saying that Qin Huairu was blind, and then saying that Zhang Dabiao was also blind to fall for Mu Wanqing.

Mu Wanqing and Aunt Mu were simply lucky.

The construction team from the neighborhood committee entered Sesame Alley in the morning, and the leader was still Master Lei, an old acquaintance.

Zhang Dabiao's requirement was that it didn't need to use any gold bricks or golden nanmu wood; he just wanted it to be solid and have an antique finish. He said that if the renovation was too good now, it might not be able to withstand a strong wind.

As long as the building is solid, once the year the earth's energy has dissipated, we can redecorate it in a modern style.

Nowadays, simple packaging is the main option.

Master Lei walked around the house, from the front yard to the back yard, tapping on each corner of the west wall with his fingers, squatting down to measure the foundation, looking up at the main beam, and talking as he went. His young apprentice took notes in a notebook.

"The main structure is fine. Replace all the doors and windows, repave the ground, repair the top of the south wall, and clean the drainage ditch. That should be enough."

"The construction period will be at most one month. I guarantee I'll make sure this place is spotless and beautiful. You can move in before the end of December!"

Zhang Dabiao nodded and offered some suggestions, such as the sturdiness of the courtyard gate, the need to build kang (heated brick beds) in all the houses, the orientation of the kitchen chimney, and the fact that this place is very close to the street, so drainage could be installed, a separate bathroom should be built, and there should be a dry and wet separation to prevent dampness, etc.

In addition, Zhang Dabiao mentioned everything he could think of, including the clothes rack in the yard, the flower bed for growing vegetables, the lighting in the rooms, and the curtains.

Master Lei's eyes lit up, and he gave a thumbs up—"Da Biao, you're an expert!"

"Don't worry about me doing the work!"

Several workers carried in the planks, then dispersed, placed their materials in the front yard, and went about their own work.

The news spread the afternoon before, and soon after, almost everyone from the tenement and No. 95 courtyard arrived.

It's not uncommon to see people buy abandoned courtyards to build houses, but this time it's different—it was bought by Zhang Dabiao, and the registered owner is Mu Wanqing.

Yang Ruihua, the former Third Aunt, leaned against the old door frame at the entrance of the courtyard and looked around the two courtyards twice, muttering to herself.

"Three rooms in the front yard, four rooms in the back yard, and a side room. This layout used to be where wealthy families lived..."

The older woman next to me asked, "Who was listed as the homeowner again?"

"Mu Wanqing is Da Biao's fiancée."

Yang Ruihua gripped the door frame tightly with both hands and stood there without moving.

[The wedding hasn't even taken place yet, and the house is already registered in someone else's name? What's this called? Handing over the family home prematurely?]

Or perhaps Da Biao never even considered that possibility, and it was just something he did on a whim?

These thoughts went around in circles without reaching a conclusion. Finally, she sighed and uttered a weak sentence.

"Da Biao, that kid, is really willing to give up so much."

Yan Bugui stood to her left, his lips moving slightly, his fingers fidgeting with his sleeve, his eyes fixed on the two courtyards. This was his signature accounting expression, one that Yang Ruihua had observed for over twenty years.

She kicked him.

Yan Bugui snapped out of his daze, lowered his voice, and leaned closer to speak.

"Hey, do you even know how much it will cost to renovate and repair this land?"

Yang Ruihua shook his head.

Yan Bugui held up two fingers.

"Two hundred? No way, that's so cheap?"

"Of course not." He said with a bitter face, "Two hundred for two abandoned courtyards? Two thousand is the minimum, plus the land price, repairs, materials, labor, all added up..."

He stopped, leaned closer, and stated a total.

Yang Ruihua's hand, which was holding onto the door frame, slowly slid down. She stood there for nearly ten seconds before regaining her balance.

"How old is Da Biao this year...?"

"Eighteen, not even nineteen." Yan Bugui withdrew his hand and sighed. "There's still 40 yuan lying in the bank, and hundreds of thousands of US dollars owed to him. He even bought a house and registered it in his wife's name. This business is quite large..."

"They really aren't short of money. This yard, I reckon, only costs them two months' interest..."

"He has so much money, and it's all legal and legitimate, so the ministry has to accommodate him..."

"I've been using an abacus for thirty years, but I don't know which square I went astray on. I really can't figure it out anymore."

This sigh was genuine; it wasn't entirely envy or admiration, but rather a sense of bewilderment, like someone who has spent ages counting on their fingers only to find they don't even amount to a fraction of what others have achieved.

Yang Ruihua stood there for a while, but didn't say anything.

Several neighbors were whispering nearby, and their comments boiled down to two things: Da Biao is going to be something special in the future; Mu Wanqing is a really lucky girl.

Xu Damao strolled in from outside the crowd. He ran over to take a look, put his hands in his pockets, glanced around the yard, and curled his lips.

"Tsk, this yard is nice. What good luck Da Biao has, always picking up bargains."

Before he could finish speaking, Lou Xiao'e stepped forward and slapped him on the back of the head. It wasn't hard, but it was very accurate.

"Watch your words." Lou Xiao'e, or rather the Lou family, was still wary of Zhang Dabiao. She was afraid that Xu Damao's careless remarks would offend Zhang Dabiao.

"I was just saying that casually, Da Biao and I are really good friends..."

"Even casual remarks are not allowed."

Xu Damao shrank his neck, shut his mouth, glanced into the yard again, and then looked away.

He knew in his heart that talking about luck was just talk. Egg beaters, mixers, folding carts, and casters—none of them fell from the sky.

But when asked to say "others are better than me" aloud, he just couldn't, he simply couldn't, and he didn't know why.

But as I was leaving, I still sincerely praised him – "My brother Da Biao, you're awesome!"

Lou Xiao'e glanced at him, quickly pulled him away, and didn't say anything more.

The Lou family has plenty of courtyards, but they dare not say it out loud, nor dare they live in them openly, and they can't get rid of them because no one is willing to take them over.

Those people there, like Zhang Dabiao, all earned their income legitimately and in a way that benefited the country.

Sometimes Lou Xiao'e was very envious of Zhang Dabiao. "You're just a kid, how come you live more comfortably than us capitalists by creating and inventing things?"

The commotion had mostly subsided, and people gradually started heading back.

Sha Zhu walked behind, remaining silent the entire way.

After entering courtyard number 95, he didn't go back to his house. Instead, he sat down on the steps on his side, put his hands on his knees, lowered his head, and just stayed there.

There weren't many people in the courtyard at this time. The wind blew in from the main hall, and there were occasional footsteps in the corridor, but they were far away.

The sound of spatulas coming from the small courtyard came first; Zhang Dabiao was cooking dinner, occasionally letting out a few low hums, the tune incoherent.

Sha Zhu stared at the ground, not moving.

There are many things he can't understand.