Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

The courtyard house at night is usually filled with the aroma of food, the cries of children, and the hustle and bustle of each household. But in the slightly cramped east wing of the Jia family's house, a kerosene lamp often burns late into the night. Under the lamp, Jia Dongxu, his back hunched and brows furrowed, is meticulously calculating with his hands, facing an open book and draft paper.

His desk was piled with old books—junior high school algebra and geometry, senior high school physics, and even two beginner Russian and English readers with curled corners and yellowed pages. These books were hard-won; some were salvaged from a scrap yard, some were borrowed from the factory's night school, and two others were lent to him by Wang Huanbo when he mustered the courage to knock on the door of the west courtyard to ask him for help. Wang Huanbo "happened" to have extras.

The dim glow of the kerosene lamp enveloped his thin, focused profile. Fine beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, still struggling with a trigonometric function problem or a Russian verb conjugation. His left hand was still not very nimble; an old injury from an accident would throb on rainy days or when he was tired, and his fingers would tremble uncontrollably after holding a pen for a while. But he gripped his left wrist firmly with his right hand, forcing it to steady, and continued writing.

Qin Huairu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), mending clothes by the dim light of the same lamp, her stitches fine and dense. She would occasionally glance up at her husband, her eyes filled with complex emotions: heartache, confusion, and a barely perceptible expectation. The old work clothes, patched upon patched, turned in her hands, the soft sound of the threads snapping being the only accompaniment in the quiet night.

From the inner room came Jia Zhangshi's thunderous snoring, occasionally interspersed with a few indistinct murmurs in her sleep. The snoring was like an invisible background pressure, constantly reminding Jia Dongxu of the heavy burden and cramped living conditions of his family.

"Dongxu, take a break, your eyes are going to be ruined," Qin Huairu said softly, handing over half a bowl of cooled boiled water.

Jia Dongxu looked up from the draft paper, rubbed his tired eyes, took the bowl and drank it all in one gulp. "It's okay, I'll look at it a little longer. This problem... seems to be getting somewhere." His voice was a little hoarse, but it revealed a stubborn spirit.

Why learn all this? Jia Dongxu sometimes asked himself. Was it for the increasingly meager life under the half of his work injury compensation? Was it for Huaihua and Xiaodang, who were crying for milk in his arms, and for his wife's increasingly haggard face? Or was it for his mother in the inner room, who only knew how to ask for money and complain endlessly, yet held tightly to the compensation money he had earned with his life, claiming it was "saving for retirement"?

Perhaps they are all of them, or perhaps neither.

The deeper reason, even he himself might not be able to fully explain. It was a mixture of resentment, fear, and a faint hope. He was unwilling to spend his entire life as a level-two fitter, especially one with a disability in his hand and a bleak future. He feared the future, feared what would happen to his family if he really collapsed. Banggeng was still young, Huaihua and Xiaodang were even more immature; could Huairu shoulder the burden? His mother… he'd be grateful if she didn't become a burden. And hope… that hope was so faint, like the flickering light under the dim candlelight, seemingly coming from Engineer Wang in the west wing who occasionally offered him guidance, from the increasingly clear numbers and symbols in the books, from the still-burning flame deep within his heart—perhaps, knowledge really could change fate? Perhaps, Jia Dongxu, there was another way to live?

He recalled the gossip he had overheard during the day in the courtyard as he did some light chores with his disabled left hand.

"See that? Jia Dongxu is still reading a book! With his hands like that, how can he possibly learn anything?"

"A toad trying to eat swan meat! A cripple, thinking he can become an engineer?"

"We're so poor we can't even afford to eat; we'd be better off making a few more matchboxes with that kind of effort!"

Those words pierced him like needles. But he gritted his teeth and devoted more time to these "useless" books. Couldn't understand? Read them a few more times. Couldn't remember? Write them a few more times. Ask someone? The only people he could ask were the substitute teacher at night school, who also only had a vague understanding, and… Engineer Wang.

Thinking of Wang Huanbo, Jia Dongxu felt a complex mix of emotions: awe, gratitude, and a touch of self-consciousness. How could such a seemingly divine figure be willing to bother with a disabled level-two worker like himself? Yet, every time he mustered the courage to ask Wang Huanbo for help with problems he couldn't quite grasp, Wang, though not a man of many words, would always enlighten him with a few simple remarks. Sometimes, he would even casually draw a diagram on paper, instantly making everything clear to him. Wang never asked, "What's the use of learning this?" nor did he show the slightest pity or contempt. That equal and pragmatic attitude made Jia Dongxu cherish it even more.

Unbeknownst to him, his ever-burning lamp in the dead of night, and his clumsy yet persistent pursuit of knowledge, had already caught the attention of certain individuals.

West courtyard, study.

Wang Huanbo put down the foreign journal in his hand and rubbed his temples. Pangu's monitoring interface was quietly projected onto his retina, one small screen showing the dim yellow light shining from the Jia family's window late into the night. Combining this with the daily sound wave collection and analysis, he could roughly reconstruct Jia Dongxu's study habits.

"Self-taught in junior and senior high school math, physics, and chemistry, with some basic Russian and English training..." Wang Huanbo tapped his fingertips lightly on the table. "His progress is exceeding expectations. His comprehension is good, especially his logical thinking and spatial imagination. He has the makings of a tech person. What a pity..."

He recalled that in the original plot, Jia Dongxu's early death seemed to be a major turning point in the chaos within the courtyard. Jia Zhangshi, without checks and balances, became even more ruthless; Qin Huairu embarked on a path of exploitation; Sha Zhu was bound to her as a lifelong "blood bag"; and Yi Zhonghai's retirement plans fell through, exacerbating his paranoia... One thing led to another, ultimately turning the courtyard into a chaotic mess.

"Ever since Jia Dongxu died, this courtyard has been in chaos..." Wang Huanbo muttered to himself, a slightly amused smile playing on his lips. What a brilliant summary. So, what if Jia Dongxu hadn't died? Or even, what if he had gone further and achieved greater success?

Once this idea takes hold, it's hard to suppress. Changing the fate of a key figure and observing its impact on the entire ecosystem is itself an interesting social experiment. Besides, Jia Dongxu's potential and character warrant help. This isn't about being a saint; it's more like an intervention based on rational calculation and a touch of curiosity. Creating a relatively quiet living environment with less melodrama for oneself is also quite good.

The following evening, Wang Huanbo asked Pangu to create a comprehensive test paper covering mathematics, physics, and basic Russian, based on the current requirements for vocational school admission and Jia Dongxu's possible learning progress. The difficulty level was controlled to be "within reach of the required level through diligent self-study."

"Pangu, when Jia Dongxu comes to ask questions later, just casually hand him this test paper and say it's 'practice questions' that I found. Let's see how far he's come," Wang Huanbo instructed.

"Instructions confirmed. Simulate the texture and old-fashioned font of mimeographed exam papers, adding reasonable signs of use. Distribution process is under planning," Pangu calmly responded.

That evening, Jia Dongxu, as expected, nervously knocked on the door of the west wing of the physics building, carrying a densely marked "High School Physics (Volume 1)" and several sheets of scratch paper filled with calculations. The questions were mainly focused on the mechanics section, and several force analysis diagrams left him dizzy.

After patiently explaining, Wang Huanbo casually pulled out a "test paper" from a stack of old books: "Oh, right, here's a set of practice questions I collected before. The scope is quite broad. Take it home and try it out. Do as many as you can, no rush. Bring it back to me when you're done, and I'll know which areas you need to improve."

Jia Dongxu took the stack of papers, which smelled faintly of ink. They were slightly heavy in his hand, and the questions were densely packed. He quickly glanced at them, and his heart jumped – he hadn't seen many of the question types before! But Engineer Wang had said they were "practice questions"... He clutched the test paper tightly, as if grasping a lifeline, feeling both nervous and excited. He quickly bowed, "Thank you, Engineer Wang! I will definitely do my best!"

Back under the kerosene lamp, Jia Dongxu began an unprecedented tackling of problems. The questions were like small mountains waiting to be climbed. Trigonometric function application problems required several detours, comprehensive physics problems intertwined motion, force, and energy, and Russian reading passages were filled with unfamiliar vocabulary and complex grammar… He stayed up for three nights straight, his eyes red from the kerosene lamp, his left hand aching from gripping the pen for so long. For problems he didn't understand, he consulted books and repeatedly worked through them; for those he still couldn't grasp, he wrote them down, intending to ask questions about them later.

Qin Huairu silently supported him, leaving a lamp on for him every night and boiling a kettle of water. At first, Jia Zhangshi grumbled, "Burning oil for lamps is a waste of money," and "Can reading those lousy books put food on the table?" But Jia Dongxu unusually retorted, "These are questions given by Engineer Wang!" Only then did she purse her lips and stop talking, but her eyes were full of disdain.

When Jia Dongxu, with dark circles under his eyes, handed Wang Huanbo his neatly written test paper, which was even slightly messy in some places due to repeated revisions, his palms were sweaty.

Wang Huanbo took the paper and quickly skimmed through it. The handwriting was neat, and the derivation steps were clear. Especially for the questions that required the comprehensive application of knowledge, Jia Dongxu's problem-solving approach, though slightly clumsy, was logically sound, and he even tried different methods. The final score… the result surprised even Wang Huanbo. Out of 100 points, Jia Dongxu scored 92. His math and physics sections were almost perfect. His Russian was slightly weaker, but his grasp of basic grammar and vocabulary was quite solid.

"What a talent! He's truly been overlooked," Wang Huanbo thought to himself. The difficulty of this exam paper was approaching the level of a regular vocational school entrance exam. The fact that Jia Dongxu could reach this level through self-study, without systematic guidance, while juggling family responsibilities and working despite his injuries, speaks volumes about his perseverance, comprehension, and desire to change his destiny.

"Not bad." Wang Huanbo put down the test paper, looked at Jia Dongxu whose fingers were nervously twisting together, and said in a calm but affirmative tone, "Your foundation is very solid, especially in math and physics, and your logical thinking ability is strong. Some of your problem-solving methods are a bit roundabout, but the direction is correct. You need to work harder on your Russian and improve your vocabulary."

Upon hearing this, Jia Dongxu felt a rush of heat to his head, and his eyes instantly welled up with tears. He blinked hard, trying to hold back his tears, his voice choked with emotion: "Really...really? Engineer Wang...I, I..."

"Really." Wang Huanbo nodded. "With your current level, you have a very good chance of getting into a regular industrial vocational school."

A vocational school specializing in industrial skills! Passing the exam means cadre status! Guaranteed job placement after graduation, a position in a technical department, sitting in an office, wearing four-pocket clothing! The salary, benefits, and social status are worlds apart from those of factory workers! Jia Dongxu's mind was buzzing, overwhelmed by immense joy and disbelief. He, Jia Dongxu, a disabled level-two fitter, actually had the opportunity to take the vocational school entrance exam? And he could even pass?

"However," Wang Huanbo changed the subject, "hope alone is not enough. You need systematic learning and exam preparation guidance. More importantly, you need an opportunity—an opportunity to escape your current environment and study without distractions."

Jia Dongxu's excited heart instantly sank. Opportunity? Money? Time? Home…mother, wife, three children…aren't all of them heavy burdens? The light in his eyes dimmed, and he lowered his head bitterly: "Engineer Wang, my…my family's situation…I'm afraid…"

"I can help you seize the opportunity," Wang Huanbo interrupted him, his voice soft yet carrying a reassuring strength. "But you have to walk your own path. Only if you can endure hardship, withstand loneliness, and bear the pressure will you have a chance to grasp it. Do you want to give it a try?"

Jia Dongxu abruptly raised his head, looking into Wang Huanbo's calm yet profound eyes. There was no pity, no charity in them, only an equal inquiry and…expectation? He seemed to see again the difficult formulas under the kerosene lamp, the silhouette of his wife sewing late into the night, hear his mother's snoring and his children's murmurs in the inner room, and also hear the sarcastic remarks from the factory…

An unprecedented surge of courage and determination welled up within him. He straightened his back, which was somewhat hunched from years of hard work and injuries, and spoke with unwavering resolve, his voice trembling slightly with excitement:

"I want to! Engineer Wang! I want to give it a try! No matter how hard or difficult it is, I'll accept it!"