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

Liu Guangqi was carrying a washbasin out when he heard this and rolled his eyes.

"Dad, please say less."

"Zhang Dabiao is now a section chief and has earned the country hundreds of thousands of dollars in foreign exchange."

"He has millions in the bank, what's wrong with wearing glasses?"

Liu Haizhong glared defiantly.

"But we can't be so detached from the masses!"

Liu Guangqi slammed the basin down on the shelf, splashing water all over the floor.

"Let me tell you something, our factory manager specifically mentioned it in a meeting a couple of days ago."

"Our factory's annual profit is less than a fraction of Da Biao's savings over the past two years."

"The entire factory is now counting on Da Biao to come up with more inventions and creations, because they rely on him to make a living."

Liu Guangqi lowered his voice and leaned close to Liu Haizhong's ear.

"The factory manager's exact words were: 'Anyone who dares to touch Zhang Dabiao, all the workers in the factory will kill them!'"

"So don't go out and spout nonsense. If you anger everyone and things get out of hand, you can forget about being the team leader."

Liu Haizhong gasped instantly, his chubby cheeks twitching twice.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

He could only slink back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

The beasts in the yard, witnessing this scene, dared not even utter a loud murmur of jealous gossip.

------------

Zhang Dabiao took the three girls to school separately.

He also parked his motorcycle at the entrance of the Arts and Crafts School.

The first class of the second year was not a professional course, but a large political study session.

Zhang Dabiao was originally going to ask for leave today because a typhoon had made landfall in Hong Kong, and he needed to go there to help watch over the village houses and shops. But he couldn't skip the first day of school, so he had to come over first.

Everything has been arranged in Hong Kong, so there shouldn't be any problems.

The classroom in the auditorium was packed with people, and the atmosphere was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

The department head stood on the podium, holding a thick document in his hand.

He pushed up his reading glasses, his tone more serious than ever before.

It conveys the latest spirit and instructions regarding the "*th* Central Committee*".

The core message consists of only one sentence that is repeatedly emphasized.

"Arcade fighting games need to be talked about every year, every month, every day!"

Most of the students in the classroom were drowsy and thought it was just old news.

But Zhang Dabiao, who was sitting in the back row, immediately became extremely alert.

His mind raced, and he keenly sensed the dangerous atmosphere in the air.

This is absolutely not just a slogan shouted casually, but the clearest signal before the storm.

The overall economic environment is tightening.

Zhang Dabiao leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table.

He secretly considered that he needed to adjust the direction of his future comic book creations and music compositions.

We can no longer simply pursue artistry and mythological elements, or the kind of music that is comfortable and enjoyable to sing.

For example, if you were to draw a comic strip, you would have to subtly incorporate metaphors of "resisting oppression" and "serving the people" into the storyboards and narration.

In the afternoon, Zhang Dabiao asked Teacher Zhou for leave. He had already completed two masterpiece comic books, so the school gave him the green light to ask for leave. Zhang Dabiao sneaked back to the courtyard house ahead of time.

Just as I reached the entrance of the alley, I heard a series of extremely pitiful cries coming from the neighboring No. 97 courtyard.

Zhang Dabiao stopped and looked in the direction of the sound.

Several dilapidated tricycles were parked in front of No. 97 courtyard.

Two uniformed street office officials were directing several militiamen to throw bedding rolls onto the vehicle.

This demonstrates that the policy of streamlining urban employees and delegating them to lower levels has been implemented at the grassroots level.

This year, the country will continue to send several million urban residents back to their hometowns to support agricultural development.

Grandpa Wang from courtyard number 97 was hugging the leg of the cadre, crying his eyes out.

"Boss, my nephew is a worker! He's a worker!"

"Why send him back to the countryside? Deporting him at this critical juncture is tantamount to killing him!"

The officer, with a stern face, forcefully pulled his leg out.

"Old Wang, this is national policy, and no one can be an exception."

"There's not enough food in the city. If we don't go back to farming, are we all going to starve to death in the city?"

"Your nephew was a new worker who came from the countryside during the Great Leap Forward in 58. According to the documents, this batch had no choice but to return to the countryside. Uncle Wang, please don't make things difficult for me."

"Besides, it's not just him. There are more than 100 people in this group in our Nanluoguxiang hutong alone."

Several young people were forcibly pushed onto a tricycle, their cries deafening.

This was not about sending educated youth to the countryside, but rather about streamlining the urban population. The core standard was to mobilize as many people as possible to return to their hometowns if they could avoid staying in the city and not using up state-owned grain rations.

Zhang Dabiao stood not far away, watching coldly, showing no intention of joining in the fun.

A speck of dust in the era can feel like a mountain on the head of an ordinary person.

This storm has only just begun.

Before the tricycle convoy had gone far, Wang Dazhuang, the nephew of Grandpa Wang, suddenly jumped off the vehicle.

He rushed into the gate of courtyard house number 95 like a madman.

"Uncle Yi! Uncle Liu! Help!"

Wang Dazhuang knelt down on the open ground of the central courtyard with a thud, his head hitting the ground repeatedly.

Yi Zhonghai came out of the house carrying a teacup, his brows furrowed in a deep frown.

Wang Dazhuang scrambled over to her.

"Uncle Yi, you're a senior technician, could you please talk to the factory and arrange a temporary job as a latrine cleaner for me?"

"As long as I have a job, I can stay in the city!"

"500! I'll put up 500! I'll go shovel manure!"

"600-800 is fine too!"

Yi Zhonghai quickly took two steps back and waved his hands repeatedly.

"Dazhuang, it's not that I don't want to help you."

"The factory is in such a bind right now, they're laying off even the permanent staff, where are we going to find temporary workers?"

"How could I possibly squeeze that in for you?"

Wang Dazhuang turned his head in despair and stared at Liu Haizhong, who had just returned from get off work.

Liu Haizhong trembled with fright and immediately shrank behind a pillar.

"Don't look at me! I'm just a team leader, I don't even have the authority to fart!"

Wang Dazhuang's gaze swept around the courtyard and finally landed on Zhang Dabiao, who was leaning against the door frame.

He knew that Zhang Dabiao was very capable and could even talk to high-ranking officials.

Wang Dazhuang used his knees as feet and moved to Zhang Dabiao's side.

"Brother Biao! Please, have mercy on me! Say a word for me!"

Zhang Dabiao spat out the sunflower seed shells from his mouth, his face calm and expressionless.

"Dazhuang, you've got the wrong person."

"I'm just a student, I don't have that much ability."

"Besides, the policy is set by the higher-ups; even a god would have to follow the rules."

After Zhang Dabiao finished speaking, he turned around and went back to the east courtyard, closing the door behind him.

He's not a saint; getting involved with anyone at a time like this just invites trouble.

If he saves Wang Dazhuang at this point, what if the others come begging for help? Should he save them or not? Could he even save them?

His two older cousins ​​are still in the countryside.

It wasn't about money; it was that even if you had the money, you couldn't buy a workstation. In 61-62, it wasn't one person per space, but five or six people crammed into one space.

Even the food processing service center in the neighborhood, where Yu Li and Lou Xiao'e work, is full, and you have to have an urban household registration to get a job at such a neighborhood service center.

Several militiamen rushed in, grabbed Wang Dazhuang, and dragged him out.

Wang Dazhuang's desperate wails echoed through the alley for a long time.

Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, Xu Damao, and others stood in the courtyard, silently watching the tricycle convoy disappear around the street corner.

The beasts who usually fought like roosters felt a chill run down their spines.

The saying goes, "If the lips are gone, the teeth will be cold," meaning that no one knows if these tricycles will stop in front of their house again.