Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

The visit of Director Wang from the neighborhood committee was like a boulder thrown into the already turbulent stagnant pool of the Yi family, stirring up an unquenchable whirlpool. Her suggestion to adopt orphans was less a solution and more a sharp key that brutally pierced the thin, barely maintained veil between Yi Zhonghai and the old woman, revealing the festering wounds that had been building up for years.

After Director Wang left, the air in the Yi family's once tidy but always chilly room seemed to freeze. An elderly woman silently tidied up the teacup Director Wang had used, her movements slow and deliberate. Her back to Yi Zhonghai, her shoulders trembled slightly, and silent tears dripped onto the enamel mug, splashing up tiny droplets. She thought of the past ten years, how, because of the stigma of being "infertile," she had been unable to hold her head high in the courtyard, unable to stand upright in front of Yi Zhonghai, forced to drink countless bitter folk remedies, and endured the cold stares of her deceased mother-in-law and the pitying or mocking glances of her neighbors. And what was the result? The problem wasn't with her at all! It was with Yi Zhonghai! This man she had served for most of her life, the man she once thought she could rely on for life, had made her bear the burden of this blame for over a decade because of his infertility! How could she not hate him? How could she not resent him?

Yi Zhonghai, his face ashen, sat at the head of the table, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the surface, producing a dull "tap-tap" sound. Director Wang's words still echoed in his ears: "Old Yi, I know what's bothering you. But things are what they are, you have to look forward. The neighborhood orphanage has a group of children now, all from poor backgrounds, very sensible. You and your wife aren't that old, adopt one, raise one from a young age, it's no different from having your own child, and they'll have someone to rely on in the future, won't it?"

Rely on him? Yi Zhonghai sneered inwardly. He, Yi Zhonghai, shrewd and calculating his entire life, had ultimately fallen victim to the most traditional and naive idea of ​​"raising a son to provide for old age." Why had he chosen Jia Dongxu in the first place? Wasn't it because the boy seemed honest and easy to control, and had a powerful mother (Jia Zhangshi) who could manipulate Qin Huairu to serve him? And what was the result? Jia Dongxu became disabled and crippled, the Jia family turned against him, leeching off him, and ultimately ruining his reputation! Was this the result of "raising" a son?

Adoption? Easier said than done! It's not like raising a kitten or puppy by simply feeding it. This is a person! A person with their own thoughts, capable of growing up, and knowing who their biological parents are! What if, after all the hard work of raising them, their biological parents find out, or the child discovers their true parentage, will they truly care for you in your old age? Yi Zhonghai simply doesn't believe it! He's seen too many examples. How many adopted children are truly sincere? Most are after the house and the meager pension! Is he, Yi Zhonghai, going to let some ungrateful, clueless wretch benefit from his life's work?

What's more... Adopting a child would be tantamount to announcing to the entire courtyard and even the whole neighborhood: Yi Zhonghai, the eighth-grade fitter, is childless! A useless person who can't have children! Where would he put his old face then? The prestige he had painstakingly built up over many years in the courtyard and the steel mill (though it had been swept away, its residual influence remained) would become a complete laughingstock! He couldn't bear those pitying, condescending, or even mocking looks!

"I disagree!" Yi Zhonghai slammed his fist on the table, his hoarse voice breaking the suffocating silence. "Adopt? Adopt what? Adopt an outsider to divide the inheritance? To drive me crazy in the future? Don't even think about it!"

The middle-aged woman suddenly turned around, her eyes brimming with tears. The pent-up grievances, anger, and despair of the past decade exploded at that moment: "Yi Zhonghai! What more do you want?! Huh? Is it because I can't have children? Huh? It's you! It's because you're incapable! You've made me carry this burden for over a decade! I've drunk so much bitter medicine, ruining my health! Now the street has pointed out a clear path, and you still won't take it? Do you want me to die before you're satisfied? Are you just waiting for me to die so you can trick some unknown old lady into taking care of you and seeing you off in your final days?!"

"What nonsense are you spouting!" Yi Zhonghai jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his face flushed red. "I, Yi Zhonghai, have done nothing wrong! Not having children is fate! Adoption? That's destroying the purity of socialist families! That's..."

"Bullshit!" The middle-aged woman trembled with rage, her words dripping with rage. "Yi Zhonghai! Let me tell you! You have to take this child, whether you like it or not! Director Wang said he'll come again tomorrow! If you dare say 'no' again, we'll...we'll get a divorce! I've had enough! I'll adopt a child myself! I refuse to believe I can't live without you, Yi Zhonghai!"

The word "divorce" struck Yi Zhonghai like a thunderbolt! In this era, especially at their age, "divorce" was considered incredibly shameful and disgraceful! Yi Zhonghai could hardly believe his ears! This usually docile, even somewhat timid woman dared to mention divorce?!

He pointed at the older woman, his finger trembling, and after a long pause, he couldn't utter a single coherent sentence. Looking at his wife's face, contorted with emotion and tears, her once gentle eyes now filled with resolute determination, a chill ran through him. He knew the older woman was serious this time. She had truly been driven to the brink. If he persisted, this family would truly fall apart. Although he had long since lost much affection for the older woman, decades of ingrained habits and the facade of a "complete family"—the last vestige of respectability—were something he couldn't bear to completely shatter for the time being.

Yi Zhonghai slumped into a chair like a deflated balloon, covering his face with his hands. Only the suppressed, intermittent sobs of an older woman remained in the room. A chilling despair, like the night outside the window, slowly devoured this once seemingly stable but already riddled with holes home.