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

Late October, Beijing.

The northwest wind was like a knife, swirling withered yellow sycamore leaves in the alley and making the power lines whisper.

The temperature has dropped sharply.

Not long ago, the good news from the southwestern border was ringing on the radio every day, and everyone felt proud walking down the street. But in the last couple of days, the wind has shifted.

In the evening, an international news report suddenly came over the loudspeaker at the entrance of the alley.

The announcer spoke extremely fast, with a stern and high-pitched tone, as if announcing a death.

The content is about Cuba, a Caribbean island nation across the ocean. The US and Russia are in a standoff there, missiles are on the horizon, and the shadow of nuclear war looms over the entire world.

Ordinary people don't really know anything about the Caribbean Sea, but everyone understands the words "nuclear weapons" and "missiles"—those are things that can wipe out a city.

Back then, the Japanese only ate two of them, and everyone knows how powerful they are.

The atmosphere in courtyard number 95 changed completely.

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It's time to leave work in the evening.

Xu Damao pushed his bicycle and crashed open the courtyard gate with a "bang". He was covered in sweat and his face was flushed. It was hard to tell whether he was in a hurry or tired from riding.

The handlebars and the back seat were all tied with bulging burlap sacks, which weighed down the bicycle tires and made the spokes creak.

"Something terrible has happened! Everyone come out right now!"

Xu Damao parked his bicycle next to the stone table in the middle courtyard and started howling in his hoarse voice.

That shout was like an explosion, attracting everyone who was cooking in each household to come out.

Yan Bugui was still holding half a clove of garlic in his hand, the garlic juice dripping down between his fingers. He quickly wiped it on his apron.

Liu Haizhong, wearing a cotton-padded coat and sporting a protruding belly, slowly walked out with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Madam Jia Zhang also lifted the curtain and poked her fat head out, muttering, "Is this some kind of funeral wailing?"

Xu Damao patted the sack on the back seat, looking mysterious.

"Da Mao, what are you carrying in this truck?" Liu Haizhong looked at the bulging sacks, patted them, and found them hard as rocks.

Xu Damao lowered his voice, his eyes darting around.

"The food! It's all cornmeal and dried sweet potatoes that I bought at a high price on the black market this afternoon!"

"I'm going to give you a heads-up, World War III is about to break out! And this time it's no joke, they're really going to drop mushroom bombs!"

These words immediately caused an uproar in the courtyard.

Yan Bugui's garlic fell to the ground, rolled twice, and became covered in dust. He didn't bother picking it up, and instead leaned forward to ask, "Da Mao, you can't just say things like that. Is what they said on the radio true?"

Xu Damao slapped his thigh, making a crisp "smack" sound.

"Uncle! You're usually so shrewd, what's gotten into you this time? Didn't you hear on the radio? The American warships have completely surrounded Cuba, and the Russians have nuclear missiles ready—if either of them accidentally fires, the whole world will be doomed!"

He got more and more excited as he spoke, spitting out saliva that flew far away.

"By then, forget about buying grain, you won't even be able to buy a single bite to eat, even if you have the money! I'm telling you, hurry up and stock up on some grain while the pigeon market isn't completely shut down yet! Otherwise, you won't even have tree bark to gnaw on!"

Madam Jia Zhang was so frightened that her face trembled. She turned around and shouted into the house, "Huai Ru! Qin Huai Ru, you jinx, stop chopping vegetables! Quickly bring out all the money in the house! Borrow some from Zhu Zi, or even better, go buy grain!"

Qin Huairu chased after them with a spatula in her hand, looking completely bewildered.

Sha Zhu walked over from the pool carrying an enamel basin with two salted fish soaking in it. He glared at Xu Damao with annoyance: "Xu Damao, you just want to stir up trouble, don't you? What does their war have to do with us? You're just spreading rumors."

Xu Damao retorted, "You idiot Zhu, what do you know! This is called being prepared! Are you going to use a kitchen knife to block the mushroom bombs that are falling?"

The two were exchanging words, and it looked like they were about to start fighting.

Just then—

A fragrant aroma of roast duck wafted out.

Zhang Dabiao strolled in from the front yard, carrying two roast ducks from Quanjude, the oil paper bags still steaming.

He was wearing that old military overcoat, the collar open, and he had an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Looking at the chaotic scene in the courthouse, he took out a lighter from his pocket, slowly lit it, took a deep breath, and exhaled a smoke ring.

"Oh, another meeting? What's the topic today? Da Mao, are you hosting?"

When Xu Damao saw Zhang Dabiao, he rushed over as if he had seen a savior.

"Da Biao, you're finally back! Aren't you usually pretty accurate at analyzing situations? Tell everyone, is World War III about to break out? I emptied my savings to buy this food—"

"You don't know, the price of grain in Pigeon City has doubled again! But even if it doubles, we still have to buy it!"

He pointed to the cart of corn noodles, his tone tinged with guilt.

Zhang Dabiao exhaled a puff of smoke, glanced at Xu Damao's bags of expensive cornmeal, and grinned.

"beat?"

"Screw you."

"Da Mao, you've really thrown this money down the drain."

Everyone was stunned.

Xu Damao grew anxious, his face turning even redder: "Da Biao, you're kidding me! The broadcast said the missiles are all set up!"

Zhang Dabiao walked to the stone table and placed the two roast ducks on it. He put his hands in his pockets, leaned back, and acted like a storyteller.

"The Americans and the Russian bear are like two tigers baring their teeth, just trying to scare each other. Who would actually bite? If they start fighting, it'll be mutual destruction—their politicians are shrewd, even more calculating than you, Xu Damao."

He paused, leaned forward, lowered his voice, and his eyes seemed to say, "I'll give you a heads-up."

"Let me tell you, many things require looking beyond the surface to see the essence. Nuclear weapons are for deterrence, not for eating. Whoever flips the table first becomes the enemy of the whole world. The US wouldn't dare, and the Soviet Union certainly wouldn't dare—that fat Khrushchev, he talked a big game, but he knew exactly what was going on."

"I'm telling you this: within a week, the Russian bear will definitely back down and withdraw the missiles, and the Americans will have to back down as well."

He straightened up, picked up the roast duck, and turned to walk towards the east courtyard.

"Let's call it a day. Eat and drink as you please, and don't listen to Xu Damao's nonsense."

After saying that, the figure disappeared behind the moon gate.

The people left in the courtyard looked at each other in bewilderment.

Liu Haizhong stroked his chin, pondering for a long time: "Da Biao is right... What they call that... strategic balance."

Yan Bugui nodded repeatedly, bent down to pick up the half-clove of garlic from the ground, and blew off the dust: "Yes, yes, Da Biao can even predict the battles in the southwest so accurately. You can't go wrong by listening to Da Biao."

Yi Zhonghai added, "If it really comes to war, we can't dodge missiles landing on our heads anyway; we can just close our eyes and it'll be over. Wouldn't all that food be wasted then?"

Sha Zhu nodded, then said to Xu Damao, "The three gentlemen are right. Just go do what you're supposed to do. Why are you worrying about this? Is this something you, Xu Damao, should be concerned with?"

Everyone immediately dispersed.

Cook when you need to cook, do laundry when you need to do laundry.

Inside the house, Jia Zhangshi stopped shouting about buying grain, muttered "That little brat has a sharp tongue," and shrank back onto the kang (heated brick bed).

Xu Damao was left standing alone, disheveled, in the wind.

Looking at the truckload of cornmeal he had bought at a high price, his expression was worse than if he had swallowed a fly.

"...Da Biao, you can't do this! This is real money—"

No one cares about him.

Xu Damao stubbornly shouted one last thing—

"If we really fight, don't come begging me for food!"

"I absolutely will not lend it to you, man!"

"No!"