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

January 1, 1962.

The sky over Beijing was washed clear by the winter sun, and there wasn't a breath of wind. Only the bone-chilling cold reminded people that it was still the coldest time of winter.

In the east courtyard, Zhang Dabiao was holding a tree branch, gesturing across the frozen, hard vegetable patches. This land would be replanned after spring. He already had a blueprint in mind for which plot to plant cucumbers, which to grow green beans, and which to cultivate several rows of lush green vegetables.

"Brother Biao, what are you drawing? It looks like scribbles." Qin Jingru was carrying a basin of warm water from rinsing rice, about to pour it into a corner. These days, even rice water shouldn't be wasted. She saw the marks on the ground and couldn't help but tease her.

"What do you know? This is called strategizing within the command tent and winning battles a thousand miles away." Zhang Dabiao didn't even look up, humming an off-key tune, completely without any rhyme or reason, yet exuding a sense of ease.

He Yushui sat on a small stool in the stable, reviewing a book, but her ears were constantly listening to the sounds coming from the other side. A smile played on her lips, the sunlight warming her. This peaceful and stable life was something she had never dared to dream of before. Occasionally, she would look up at Zhang Dabiao's back—tall, steady, like a wall that could block out all wind and snow.

The air here is warm, filled with the warmth of daily life and the anticipation of the future.

The only downside is that Da Biao is Mu Wanqing's fiancé, and they're already engaged.

Mu Wanqing is at school today. Yesterday was a selection competition, and today is the New Year's Eve party. It wouldn't be appropriate for Zhang Dabiao to help out again, since he's not a college student. However, with Han Xiaomeng and Tang Min helping out, Mu Wanqing's performance will be fine. In fact, having an extra accompaniment will make the performance even better.

Zhang Dabiao can pick her up at the school gate a little later.

However, the courtyard next door, separated by just a wall, presents a completely different scene.

The courtyard was eerily quiet, and a layer of frost-like mist had formed on the window of the Jia family's house.

Inside the room, Qin Huairu sat on a stool, a bowl of thin, watery cornmeal porridge in front of her. She mechanically stirred it with a spoon, the spoon hitting the bottom of the bowl with a soft "click, click" sound.

Madam Jia lay on the bed, her head covered by the blanket, repeatedly muttering the same few lines as if watching a movie: "Heartless ingrates... they all deserve to die a horrible death... why is God so blind..."

Her curses weren't loud, but they buzzed around the room like flies, reaching Qin Huairu's ears and making her feel uneasy. She was starving, but she couldn't swallow a single bite of this porridge.

Sha Zhu hasn't brought any lunchboxes here for three days.

Three days.

Ever since that day when Jia Zhangshi made a scene at the courtyard gate, Sha Zhu had truly turned to stone—no, harder than stone. He shut his door tightly, completely blocking the road leading to the Jia family's house.

Banggeng sat at the other end of the table, engrossed in his homework, but his pen remained motionless for a long time. His ears were perked up, like those of a wary rabbit.

Suddenly, a rich aroma of meat, mixed with the unique smell of scallions popping in hot oil, forcefully squeezed through the cracks in the doors and windows and barged into the cold, impersonal room.

It's Sha Zhu's family.

He's spreading poison again!

Banggeng sniffed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He could clearly distinguish that it smelled like pork stew with vermicelli, with cabbage added as well.

His stomach growled at an inopportune moment, its sound particularly loud in the quiet room.

Madam Jia's cursing stopped. She poked her head out from under the covers, her sallow face full of resentment: "Eat! Let him stuff himself to death! That gluttonous good-for-nothing will choke to death at the dinner table sooner or later!"

Qin Huairu finally couldn't hold back her tears, which fell drop by drop into the cornmeal mush in front of her, creating small ripples. She knew that everything was over. The man who had once given her whatever she wanted, who valued her and her child more than his own life, had been pushed away by their own hands, pushed to a place from which there was no return.

She didn't hate Sha Zhu. She hated Jia Zhangshi's greed and stupidity, and even more so, she hated her own weakness and incompetence.

Jia Zhangshi repeatedly urged Qin Huairu to go to Sha Zhu's place to ask for food, but she just wouldn't go.

Everyone knows about their family's financial situation now. It's not that they're starving, but there's also what happened before, the dowry that Jia Zhangshi demanded, the help of Sha Zhu, and Sha Zhu's house...

Qin Huairu was truly too ashamed to beg for food anymore.

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Sha Zhu's family.

A steaming plate of pork and cabbage stew with glass noodles, a plate of peanuts, and a bottle of Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor). Sha Zhu sat alone at the table, pouring himself a drink.

He ate slowly, chewing each bite carefully. The wine was strong, the food fragrant, and the room warm. But inside, he felt empty. For so many years, he had grown accustomed to bringing delicious food to the Jia family, accustomed to seeing Qin Huairu and the children enjoying their meals. That feeling of being needed had once been the entire meaning of his life.

Now, that meaning has been removed.

He felt somewhat lost, but more than anything, he felt a sense of relief. He no longer had to worry about how to spend the few cents in his pocket, no longer had to worry about what kind of trouble Jia Zhangshi would cause, and no longer had to look at Qin Huairu's hesitant face and try to guess what she was thinking.

"Knock, knock, knock." There was a knock on the door.

Sha Zhu was taken aback, thinking it was Qin Huairu. His heart inexplicably tightened.

Who is it?

"I am Xu Damao."

Sha Zhu frowned, walked over, and opened the door. Xu Damao, carrying a half-empty bottle of wine, peeked inside: "Hey, Sha Zhu, drinking all by yourself? How nice of you, not even calling me when you have good food."

Sha Zhu grumbled as he let him in: "Are you a dog? You came right after smelling the scent."

"Hey, it's New Year's Day, my wife went to her parents' house, and I'm all alone, it's kind of lonely. Shall we have a drink?" Xu Damao sat down familiarly and poured himself a glass of wine.

The two of them drank, one cup after another. Neither mentioned the Jia family, nor did they bring up those sordid past events. Outside the window, the sky gradually darkened, and the dim yellow lamp in the central courtyard appeared even more desolate.

Banggeng stood behind his own window, staring intently through the gaps in the frost at the window of Shazhu's house, which shone with warm light. His eyes, which should have been clear, were now filled with a sinister and resentful look that was beyond his years.

In his view, every whiff of meat aroma in Shazhu's house was stolen from his rice bowl.

This New Year's Day, the courtyard house was divided into two worlds by an invisible wall. In one world, there was a vibrant life and hopes for the future; in the other world, there was cold cornmeal porridge and hatred growing in the darkness.

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The following day, after the New Year's Eve party, the "thief" who stole the harmonica was found out.

It was someone Mu Wanqing had never expected—Zhang Mingyuan, the class's sports and arts committee member.

Moreover, the punishment was quite severe.