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

Damn it, if word gets out that he's a troublemaker who specifically targets kids, how will Zhang Dabiao ever face anyone again?

"Aunt Wang, to be honest, I'm the kind of person who takes revenge face to face. I'd even tear their house down if I wanted to. But you know me, I wouldn't do something like that, like pulling strings behind the scenes."

"I really didn't hire anyone to beat up that little brat Banggeng. There was no need for that."

"Don't worry, I'm easygoing. These kids don't know any better, why would I bother arguing with them?" Zhang Dabiao quickly explained.

Bang Geng gets picked on and beaten up every three to five days, and he just watches it all with amusement, without having to lift a finger himself. He's very happy about it.

I really didn't contact anyone. Besides, you can suspect Xu Damao if you want, but it's a bit much to suspect me.

Director Wang nodded. "As long as it's not Zhang Dabiao, that's fine." She took a couple of bites of her apple and stood up.

"Okay, as long as you understand. This mutual aid association is doing a good job, keep it up. I still need to go to the Intermediate People's Court to talk to Yi Zhonghai about some things."

After seeing Director Wang off, Zhang Dabiao lay back down in the rocking chair.

Life was a little easier, but one problem after another was brewing. He needed to tighten the fence around the east courtyard even more.

We still have to wait and see—when will we be able to do some business openly and honestly?

At the end of June, Qin Jingru graduated from junior high school, but she was a good student and got into high school.

Zhang Dabiao originally intended to directly approach Li Huaide to resolve the issues of his workstation and housing, but after thinking about it, he asked Qin Jingru, who wanted to continue her studies for a few more years to obtain a high school diploma.

So they did it again—they continued to study at the local high school.

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

August arrived in the blink of an eye.

With international tensions rising, an order from above triggered a surge in the construction of air-raid shelters in major and medium-sized cities across the country.

Every street and factory in Beijing came to life.

Not far from the outside of No. 95 Courtyard, there is an open space that has been designated by the street office as a construction site for an air-raid shelter.

It is only a hundred meters away from the No. 95 courtyard and the No. 97 tenement.

This made Yi Zhonghai extremely happy. He had been worried about not having a place to show himself and rebuild the prestige of the old man.

Early in the morning, Yi Zhonghai stood in the courtyard wearing his worn-out work clothes and holding a shovel.

"Listen up, everyone! This is a national task. Our institute must take the lead! All you young and strong folks, come out and dig!" Yi Zhonghai shouted, spittle flying everywhere.

Sha Zhu rubbed his eyes and came out of the house, yawning.

"Grandpa, what are you digging a hole for in this sweltering heat? Is there going to be a war?"

Yi Zhonghai put on a stern face.

"Zhu Zi, wake up! You need to be prepared to prove yourself! Just dig when I tell you to, stop with all the nonsense."

Liu Haizhong also came out to join in the fun.

"Old Yi is right! As the second eldest uncle, I'll lead the way! Guangtian, Guangfu, get the shovels out!"

With his pregnant belly sticking out, Liu Haizhong symbolically shoveled a couple of times into the soil before starting to direct others from the side.

The young people in the compound were all mobilized. Liu Guangqi and Yan Jiecheng also came out to help at the call of the mutual aid association.

But no one was sure. Was this whole digging of an air-raid shelter a prelude to dropping a mushroom bomb?

Neighbor Liu Gen went to the front yard and saw Zhang Dabiao pushing his bicycle, about to go out to buy something.

"Da Biao! Da Biao, wait a minute!" Liu Gen ran over and grabbed the handlebars.

Several neighbors also gathered around.

"Da Biao, you read the newspapers a lot and know about international affairs. Tell us the truth, if they dug this air-raid shelter, does that mean they're really going to fight? Are they going to drop bombs again?" The third aunt looked terrified.

Yan Jiecheng also ran over and asked, "Da Biao, didn't you say you couldn't afford to fight last time, in Cuba?"

"So, this time, should we dig air-raid shelters?"

"Will a fight really break out?"

As soon as he said that, everyone gathered around.

Because Zhang Dabiao's prediction came true last time, Xu Damao still hasn't finished eating the grain he stockpiled at a high price, which made everyone laugh for a while.

Looking at the tense faces, Zhang Dabiao sighed inwardly.

These people really treat him like a fortune teller. His casual remarks about India and Cuba came true, and now they come to him for everything.

He wouldn't dare to talk about this so carelessly.

If he says that a war won't break out, given the tone set above, that's considered spreading reactionary rhetoric and contradicting the established narrative.

Zhang Dabiao propped up his bicycle and cleared his throat.

"Fellow neighbors, how would I know if a fight will break out? I'm not a god."

"Last time I was just making a wild guess, and it just happened to be right. You can't expect me to guess every day."

Everyone looked disappointed, clearly not believing this explanation.

Zhang Dabiao changed the subject.

"But think about it, even if there's no war, digging an underground air-raid shelter won't do any harm, right?"

"How can there be no downsides? It's exhausting!" Sha Zhu interjected from the back of the crowd.

Zhang Dabiao glared at him.

"It's warm in winter and cool in summer down here. In the sweltering summer, this cave is so refreshing. You can store cabbages and potatoes in it, and they won't spoil easily. Just think of it as the government letting us build a big cellar. It's a good deal, isn't it? We're definitely not losing money."

Everyone listened and thought about it carefully.

"Hey? Da Biao's right!" Yan Bugui slapped his thigh. "This is like getting a huge cellar for free. The excavated soil can even be used to fill in the low-lying areas in the yard."

Zhang Dabiao turned around and went back into the house, then came out with a shovel.

"Alright, enough chit-chat. I'll dig a couple of shovelfuls too, just to get some exercise."

When everyone saw that even Zhang Dabiao, this "half-fortune teller," was taking the lead in working, their initial panic instantly vanished. Whatever Dabiao did, they would do—it couldn't be wrong.

Suddenly, enthusiastic shouts rang out from the open space outside.

Digging a large cellar to serve as a shared cooling-off spot for several nearby courtyards would be a worthwhile investment.

Summers have been getting hotter and hotter these past few years, and not everyone can afford an electric fan, so having a place like this is quite nice.

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

The project had only been underway for a few days when, in mid-August, a massive rainstorm swept through the Haihe River basin.

The floodwaters were devastating, inundating hundreds of villages and causing extremely heavy losses.

The radio broadcasts disaster reports every day, creating a somber atmosphere that it's hard to breathe.

Subdistrict offices and universities organized donations of money and supplies.

Zhang Dabiao sat in the room, listening to the radio broadcast, his brows furrowed.

He was a time traveler, but also a flesh-and-blood Chinese man. He currently had over 100,000 yuan in savings (he had recently saved up, as his previous million yuan had been used to clear out his inventory and buy antiques). Faced with such a natural disaster, he felt he had to do something.

He pulled a deposit slip from a hidden compartment under the bed. One hundred thousand yuan.

Zhang Dabiao, carrying the deposit slip, rode his bicycle directly to the neighborhood office.

Director Wang was frantically tallying the donations from various hospitals in his office. The money—one cent, two cents, five dollars—was all painstakingly scraped together by ordinary people.

"Director Wang." Zhang Dabiao pushed open the door and entered.

"Da Biao, what's up?" Director Wang asked without looking up.

Zhang Dabiao walked over and slammed the deposit slip on the desk.

"When the country is in trouble, every citizen has a responsibility. This is my small token of support for the disaster area."

Director Wang picked up the deposit slip, glanced at it, and his hand suddenly trembled.

Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands!

Director Wang jumped up, knocking over his chair.

"One hundred thousand?!" Director Wang's voice cracked, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Are you out of your mind, Zhang Dabiao?!