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

Everyone took their seats, and Sha Zhu served the last soup, shouting, "Everything's ready! Let's dig in!"

For a moment, the courtyard was filled with the sound of chopsticks clinking against bowls.

Yan Bugui sat at the head of the table, surrounded by several old men including Yi Zhonghai and Liu Haizhong. He held chopsticks in his hand, but his eyes, like radar, scanned the plates on the table.

Liu Haizhong picked up a large piece of braised pork, stuffed it into his mouth, and mumbled, "Old Yan, this meat is authentic! Fatty and flavorful!"

Yan Bugui's Adam's apple bobbed. His mind raced: This piece of meat costs about three cents. Liu Haizhong's bite cost me three cents.

He glanced at another table, where Yan Jiecheng and Yu Li were engrossed in their meal. Yu Li was clearly starving, eating fish and chicken with gusto, her mouth glistening with oil. They were the stars of the day, so naturally they were served.

Yan Bugui was furious. The child wasn't even born yet, and he was already this promiscuous? What would happen after the baby was born?

He glanced at Yi Zhonghai and noticed that Yi Zhonghai was slowly sipping his soup, but his eyes kept glancing at him, as if he was watching to see if Yi Zhonghai was secretly reducing the amount of food.

Yan Bugui has figured it out.

The money's been spent, the food's been served, and face's been given. If I didn't eat it, I'd really be missing out!

He grabbed his chopsticks and started eating the braised chicken.

Yan Bugui, inhaling rapidly, gluttonous mode activated!

"Old Yi, Old Liu, everyone, stop talking and eat! I specifically told Zhu Zi to make this properly." Yan Bugui said, while swiftly stuffing two of the largest pieces of chicken into his bowl.

Yes, that's all talk, but I'll eat the best meat first!

Over the next half hour, Yan Bugui displayed astonishing fighting prowess.

He stopped calculating the price of each bite of food and instead channeled all his resentment and heartache into his appetite.

Braised pork belly? I'll take it!

Braised chicken in soy sauce? I'll have some!

Even with that plate of cold peanut salad, he would scoop out half of it with a spoon.

Yang Ruihua tugged at his sleeve and whispered, "Old man, slow down, don't choke. Leave some for the neighbors."

Yan Bugui didn't even look up, his mouth stuffed full, his eyes bloodshot: "Why should I save any? This is our family's money! If I don't eat it, are these hungry wolves going to benefit from it all?"

Absolutely! The young people at Zhang Dabiao's table ate even more voraciously!

That's the kind of attitude where they don't leave themselves even a tiny bit of leftover food!

They have absolutely no manners!

During the meal, Xu Damao deliberately raised his wine glass and leaned close to Yan Bugui: "Teacher Yan, let me toast you. Your demeanor and the style of this meal are absolutely unmatched in our institute!" He gave a thumbs up.

He came here specifically to provoke Yan Bugui.

But Yan Bugui was helpless.

He swallowed the meat in his mouth, picked up his wine glass and drank it all in one gulp, a very complicated smile on his face: "Da Mao, this is a happy occasion, as long as everyone is happy. As an elder, it's nothing for me to bleed a little."

When he said this, he was thinking: If you, Xu Damao, dare not vote for me during the election, I will tear your roof off!

(Xu Damao – Election? What election? I have no idea!)

As night deepened, the two tables were swept clean.

The neighbors, one by one, burped and praised the Yan family's generosity before gradually dispersing.

Yan Bugui stood beside the empty table, looking at the bones scattered on the floor. There was no leftover food, not even any soup. Suddenly, he felt a bit full in his stomach, but a sense of emptiness in his heart.

He touched the few coins he had left in his pocket, then looked at his daughter-in-law Yu Li, who was pregnant and beaming with happiness, and sighed deeply.

"After scheming my whole life, I still fell into my son's trap in the end." He muttered to himself, bent down, and began to silently clear the dishes.

But the moment he bent over, the contents of Yan Bugui's stomach suddenly churned and rose up to his throat.

He was about to vomit when he wasn't paying attention, but Yan Bugui suddenly became fierce and covered his mouth with his hand, then chewed and chewed...

Swallowed it?!

Then he straightened up and smiled smugly—"We almost wasted it..."

"This bite costs at least five cents!"

Yang Ruihua watched as Yan Bugui swallowed the vomit that had just reached his mouth, his neck snapping back down, a wave of acid rising in his stomach. She covered her mouth and nose in disgust, taking three steps back. "Old Yan, aren't you disgusting?! You're about to throw up, and you're still swallowing!"

Yan Bugui gripped the edge of the table tightly with both hands, sweat pouring down his forehead, but his lips remained surprisingly hard: "What do you know! This is top-quality braised pork, five cents a bite! Spitting it out would be a terrible waste! I paid real money for this meat, and I paid Sha Zhu to make the mat, why should I spit it out?"

The words had barely left his mouth when another violent churning sensation gripped his stomach. He was bloated. So bloated he couldn't even straighten his back. His entire belly was taut and round, the old leather belt digging tightly into his flesh. He struggled to unbuckle the belt and let out a long, stale breath. He had been too aggressive at the banquet, shoveling down everything—meat, vegetables, hot and cold, along with two large cups of loose sorghum liquor. Now, this mess was boiling over in his stomach, all sorts of flavors rushing down his esophagus and straight to his head.

"Hurry up and clear the table, stop dawdling," Yan Bugui ordered his wife to do the work, but he himself couldn't move an inch.

I'd barely taken half a step when my calves started to ache. My intestines felt like they were in a knot, twisting and turning in waves of pain, like someone was scraping my stomach with a rusty, dull knife.

"No, I need to go back inside and lie down for a while." Yan Bugui ignored the leftover food scattered all over the yard, and with his hands supporting the mottled wall, he limped step by step towards the inner room along the eaves.

He had barely entered the room when he collapsed onto the bed, too weak to even take off his shoes. He curled up like a boiled shrimp, pressing his hands desperately against his stomach. It hurt. It really hurt. Cold sweat streamed down his face, soaking the tattered pillowcase in no time.

My throat felt sore, and waves of nausea kept rising up.

He clenched his teeth, his lips turning white from biting them. He couldn't spit it out! He absolutely couldn't! If he spat it out, twelve yuan and sixty-four cents would be wasted! Only what he ate was truly valuable; it was the profit earned through bloodshed. Yan Bugui's mind raced, calculating: he'd eaten half a plate of meat, a chicken leg, and six steamed buns that evening—that should net him at least a yuan. If he could just swallow it, that yuan would be pure profit.

For this one dollar, we have to endure it no matter what.

It was two in the morning. The courtyard was completely silent.

Suppressed groans could be heard from the main house of the Yan family in the front yard from time to time.

"Ouch...this is going to kill me..."

Yang Ruihua rolled over, initially not taking it seriously, assuming the old man was just having a fit of hysteria after eating and drinking his fill. But the commotion grew louder and louder, eventually turning into a series of gasps and wails.

"Help! Help!"

"I'm going to die!"