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

A few days later.

By the end of October.

Sure enough, new information came over the radio.

Khrushchev of Russia agreed to dismantle the missiles in Cuba, and the United States lifted the blockade.

This crisis that shocked the world ended so dramatically.

Zhang Dabiao shook his head at the matter, saying that the whole world was a makeshift operation and that they should go ahead and fight if they dared.

None of them are anything good.

In courtyard number 95.

Liu Guangqi stood by the sink brushing his teeth, his mouth full of foam. Watching Xu Damao push his empty cart out the door, he couldn't help but tease, "Damao, have you finished your overpriced cornmeal yet? Maybe I can buy it back at full price—oh no, half price?"

Sha Zhu burst out laughing, almost spitting out his pickled vegetables: "Liu Guangqi, aren't you rubbing salt into Da Mao's wound? He's eating cornmeal porridge every day now, and his face is turning green."

Xu Damao was so angry that he trembled all over. He kicked the bicycle pedal hard, and the chain rattled.

"You guys don't know anything! I'm just being prepared!"

He pushed the cart and slunk away.

Even from behind, his figure exuded a sense of melancholy.

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

In the east courtyard.

Zhang Dabiao leaned back in his recliner, legs crossed, holding an enamel mug filled with savory broth.

Qin Jingru was peeling scallions nearby, He Yushui was squatting in the vegetable garden weeding, Mu Wanqing also came to the courtyard and was helping with the laundry, while Zhang Dabiao was just sitting there like a lord, having nothing to do and enjoying his leisure.

This kind of life is too unambitious. However, Zhang Dabiao also understands that he should avoid causing trouble if possible. Being too powerful is not a good thing. Having one or two amulets is enough. Collecting dozens or hundreds of them is too much.

He could hear everything that was going on in the courtyard; it was just Guang Qi teasing Xu Damao.

Then he rolled his eyes.

"Idiot."

He took a sip of tea and squinted his eyes.

The sunset on the horizon was burning bright red.

He suddenly remembered—what's going on next year?

He's long forgotten his history; oh well, he'll deal with it when he remembers.

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

Mid-November.

The city of Beijing is still streamlining its workforce and reducing its urban population. This work, which began in 61, aims to reduce the urban population by more than 2000 million within three years.

By the end of 62, the work was almost finished, but it became increasingly difficult towards the end.

Anyway, there have been far fewer street thugs on the streets lately.

The heavens sent down a heavy snowfall, covering the gray bricks and tiles of the courtyard house with a thin blanket of snow.

Sunday afternoon.

The sun came out, its warmth making my skin feel cozy. Snowmelt dripped down the tiles, drip-drip-drip, like a faucet that wasn't turned off properly.

Zhang Dabiao moved a deck chair to the veranda of the east courtyard to bask in the sun. A cup of hot tea sat on a small tea table beside him, steam rising from its rim. At his feet lay a half-grown black dog—a wolfhound Zhang Dabiao had recently acquired and named Erhei.

Erhei was eating well, its fur was shiny and smooth, and it was snoring comfortably, occasionally kicking its legs, probably chasing something in its dog dream.

Zhang Dabiao held a sketchbook in his hand, sketching lines randomly with a pencil. He drew mechanical structures from later generations—gears, connecting rods, bearings, folding umbrellas, push-button ballpoint pens, two-color to six-color ballpoint pens, water-based pens… a jumble of things, just to pass the time.

I just draw whatever comes to mind and write it down, as a way to organize a local knowledge base on paper, which might come in handy later.

Today, Qin Jingru, Mu Wanqing, and He Yushui went out to Wangfujing together. Zhang Dabiao was too lazy to go out, so he just stayed in the courtyard and did some writing and drawing.

Just then, a clear bicycle bell rang out from outside.

Then came the crisp "crunch" of little leather shoes on the snow.

Zhang Dabiao didn't look up.

Erhei pricked up its ears, then lay down again.

That's Yu Haitang. Today she came to No. 95 Courtyard to see her sister Yu Li again. After exchanging pleasantries, she came to the Central Courtyard.

She was wearing a bright red wool coat and a white wool scarf around her neck. She walked in the snow in a very flamboyant way, even more so than Mu Wanqing—anyone who didn't know her would think she was a movie star visiting the countryside.

Despite her exquisite attire, Yu Haitang has been having a tough time lately.

After graduating from high school, she couldn't find a job and stayed at home for a year and a half. The neighborhood committee arranged for her to paste matchboxes, but she thought it was shameful; she went to work as a sales clerk at the neighborhood food processing plant where Yu Li and Lou Xiao'e worked, but she thought it was too tiring.

She desperately wanted to work as a broadcaster in a big factory or as a clerk in a newspaper. But where were there so many good positions waiting for her?

The city is already busy reducing its population, and there are practically five holes for every radish. What right does she, a girl who only graduated from high school, have?

I came to see Yu Li today to vent my frustrations and see if I could ask my brother-in-law to pull some strings—Yan Jiecheng works at the Hongxing Daily Necessities Factory, even if he's just an assembler, but what if we could get in touch?

Not to mention that Liu Guangqi, the factory's leader, also lived in this courtyard, as did Zhang Dabiao, the factory's core leader and chief designer, who lived in the east wing.

As soon as I entered the front yard, I heard the third auntie chatting with someone. The third auntie had a loud voice, and she kept saying things like, "Zhang Dabiao from our yard is a big celebrity now," and "Even a big reporter from the People's Daily came to interview him."

Yu Haitang's heart stirred.

She'd heard Zhang Dabiao's name so many times lately she was sick of it. Not only was he famous for his comic strips, but he was also a talented songwriter, and she'd heard he'd earned the country hundreds of thousands of US dollars in foreign exchange. He was rich, powerful, and knew high-ranking officials in the ministry.

Yu Haitang straightened her hair in front of the window, retied her scarf into a nice pattern, and patted off non-existent dust from her coat.

He thought to himself, "With my qualifications, if I could get in touch with Zhang Dabiao and ask him to help me get a good job, wouldn't that be a piece of cake?"

She swayed her hips as she walked over.

The gate to the east courtyard wasn't closed properly, but everyone in the courtyard knew that they had to ask and greet Zhang Dabiao before entering. But Yu Haitang didn't care about any of that.

Yu Haitang pushed open the door and peeked in, just in time to see Zhang Dabiao leaning back in a recliner drawing. Erhei heard the noise, looked up, bared his teeth at her, and let out a low growl.

"Erhei".

Zhang Dabiao patted Erhei's head, and the dog reluctantly put its chin back on its front paws, but its eyes were still fixed on Yu Haitang, and its ears were perked up.

Yu Haitang spoke in a high-pitched voice, so sweet it was almost cloying.

"Zhang Dabiao, are you home? Didn't you go out to play?"

She walked over with a cat-like gait and stood next to Zhang Dabiao without any hesitation.

Zhang Dabiao glanced at her.

He certainly knew this well-known supporting character in the Siheyuan universe. She was neither good nor bad—although she hadn't started her "performance" yet in this time and space, Zhang Dabiao knew exactly who she was.

To put it simply, this girl has very progressive ideas, is quite impulsive, and emotionally—well, she's much more straightforward than most women of this era, but—

If it's not your cup of tea, you can't urinate in the same toilet.

"What's wrong, Yu Haitang? Is there something you need?"