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

It's rumored that this has some connection to Zhang Dabiao's foreign exchange dealings over the years and his acquisition of cultural relics worth 100 million yuan. Of course, this was only revealed to him by three assistants, and whether it's true or not is still uncertain.

However, Zhang Dabiao's earning of foreign exchange from patents and his bulk purchase of ordinary cultural relics on behalf of Hong Kong businessmen were decisions made by the bureau's upper management in a meeting. There were official documents, and the process was done through formal official channels. Therefore, no trouble has been caused to Zhang Dabiao for the time being.

After all, Zhang Dabiao had genuinely earned millions of dollars in foreign exchange for the country, as evidenced by interviews, awards, and official recognition.

But as for Director Zhao... it might be a matter of choosing sides.

When Xiao 4 Qing was upgraded to Da 4 Qing, they started investigating him.

The entire foreign trade department was in a state of panic.

Zhang Dabiao secretly rejoiced.

Thankfully, I was careful back then and refused to officially join the company. Instead, I went to the publishing house and only had a part-time job in the foreign trade department.

Otherwise, with Director Zhao in trouble this time, he, as Director Zhao's favorite, would definitely have been caught in the crossfire—because it involves choosing sides.

These days, people don't seek merit, they just seek to avoid mistakes.

Survival is the best policy.

As for helping Director Zhao?

Zhang Dabiao doesn't have that ability.

Moreover, Zhang Dabiao had never moved into the cadre housing in the foreign trade department after it was renovated. Now he had transferred the property registration to the publishing house, but since the surrounding area was full of cadres from the foreign trade department, Zhang Dabiao always felt that he didn't belong there and that he was more comfortable living in the courtyard house.

We'll clean and check it once a month, and then we'll talk about it again when the housing prices rise after 00.

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

At the end of December, one evening, people from the Lou family came to visit.

Lou Bancheng took Lou Xiao'e to the Xu family to see his grandson Xu Xiaojun, and then went to the east courtyard to find Zhang Dabiao.

"Da Biao, I've brought you the interest."

Zhang Dabiao threw the broom in the corner and led the person inside.

"Uncle Lou, come inside and let's talk."

After sitting down, Lou Bancheng handed his briefcase to Zhang Dabiao.

"Da Biao, this is this year's interest."

"As we agreed before, the profits from Yufan Plastics Factory were converted into US dollars and transferred to the designated account of the Ministry of Foreign Trade. They will then convert them into RMB and deposit them into your account."

"Then the annual interest, totaling 100,000 yuan, I've brought the cash over to you."

"Please click."

Zhang Dabiao opened his briefcase and glanced at it. It was full of 10-yuan notes, a stack of 100 notes equals 1000 yuan. He estimated there were about 100 stacks here.

100,000 RMB.

In an era when a worker's monthly salary was only thirty-odd yuan, this was a huge sum of money, enough to buy half an alley.

Lou Bancheng looked at the suitcase full of money, his heart bleeding.

Lou Yufan greedily misappropriated Zhang Dabiao's patent fees back then, and now he's returning the principal and interest. No matter how rich the Lou family is, 100,000 a year is not a small amount.

The good thing is that in another two years, Lou Yufan will be able to pay off the US dollars he owes. And you know what? Ever since Zhang Yaoyang invested in Yufan Plastics Factory, business has been booming.

Lou Bancheng didn't know whether he had made a profit or a loss.

Moreover, he dared not utter the slightest complaint.

Zhang Dabiao's influence in Beijing isn't huge, but it's enough to sabotage Lou Bancheng's plans. Meanwhile, his twin "brother" Zhang Yaoyang is thriving in Hong Kong, and even though the Lou family has moved to Hong Kong, they still have to deal with Zhang Yaoyang.

Offending Zhang Dabiao would truly mean the Lou family's utter ruin.

Zhang Dabiao packed up his suitcase, poured a cup of hot tea, and handed it to Lou Bancheng.

"Uncle Lou, thank you for making this trip."

"Actually, there's no rush, just take your time."

Lou Bancheng took the teacup with both hands and shook his head repeatedly.

"Paying back debts is a matter of course."

"It's almost the end of the year, and settling the accounts will put everyone at ease."

By the time Lou Bancheng left, it was already dark.

On the evening of December 31st.

Zhang Dabiao closed the door, drew the curtains, and sat down at his desk to do his year-end review.

He took out a notebook and used a pen to list his current assets one by one.

RMB deposits: 75, including 20 that has not yet been transferred from the Ministry of Foreign Trade;

Hong Kong dollar cash deposits (personal portion, excluding company accounts and production reserves): HKD 80;

US dollar deposits: $5.

Physical gold: 60 jin (approximately 30 catties).

Hong Kong company assets: Yao Yang Investment Company holds 95% of the shares, with a current net value of HK$2 million.

Mixue Ice Cream has four branches, Mixue Ice Cream Catering Supplies Co., Ltd., a 25% stake in Yufan Plastics Factory, and two publishing houses.

In addition, there are real estate in Beijing, countless antiques and paintings, remittance certificates, and industrial certificates.

After Zhang Dabiao finished calculating the last account, he put down his pen and took a deep breath.

In this era of scarcity and rationing.

He was already an absolute tycoon.

If this wealth were exposed, it would be enough to kill him a hundred times over.

Money is worthless; once it's spent, you can earn it back.

I'll get up early tomorrow morning and still have to do what I need to do.

Even if you have millions in savings, you still have to earn that few dozen dollars a month.

Zhang Dabiao looked at the calendar on the wall and tore off the last page for 1964.

I arrived in 1965!

The chicken-stealing game is about to begin, isn't it?

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

On January 1, 1965, the wind in Beijing felt like knives scraping your face, but inside No. 95 courtyard, a bustling scene unfolded.

Liu Guangqi stood under the big locust tree in the central courtyard, holding a small notebook in his hand, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Zhang Dabiao, Sha Zhu, Xu Damao, Yan Jiecheng, everyone from the mutual aid society, come out and collect your benefits!"

This is the year-end bonus from the Youth Mutual Aid Association.

Each person receives 5 jin of rice, 5 jin of wheat flour, 5 jin of salted fish, plus 5 jin of fatty pork belly.

In those days when you needed ration coupons to buy anything and people were always short of oil and fat, this was a huge sum of money.

Zhang Dabiao strolled out of the east courtyard, carrying a net bag in his hand.

He chuckled as he accepted his share, then turned and handed it to Qin Jingru, who was following behind.

Qin Jingru was overjoyed and ran into the house with the pork belly in her arms.

"Brother Da Biao, I'll make you braised pork tonight!"

Sha Zhu, carrying his things, happily headed towards his room, but just as he was about to take some to the Jia family, He Yushui took them away—"Brother, this is perfect for returning to me!"

Sha Zhu was completely bewildered. Only then did he realize that he had borrowed quite a bit from Yu Shui and Da Biao this year to improve the Jia family's meals. Today was the perfect opportunity to pay off the debt, and it wasn't even enough.

With her hands empty, Qin Huairu glanced at him and then turned back.

It was awkward, but he had to pay off his debts at the end of the year, so he couldn't say anything.

Xu Damao was even more smug, holding the salted fish high in the air, as if afraid that others wouldn't see it.

Yan Jiecheng carefully held the white flour in his arms, muttering that he would ask Yu Li to make dumplings when he got back.

The other residents in the courtyard who hadn't joined the mutual aid association watched with envy.

Inside the Jia family's house, the atmosphere was so oppressive it felt like you could wring water out of it.

Their house—had nothing.