Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

The massive ocean liner "Liberty" sounded its horn and slowly sailed away from the port of San Francisco. Wang Huanbo stood on the deck, facing the slightly salty sea breeze, watching the receding coastline and the figures of his family seeing him off, his heart filled with mixed emotions. The modern cityscape of towering skyscrapers was gradually replaced by the azure sea, signifying his departure from this wealthy and developed country where he had lived for eighteen years, embarking on a journey home filled with unknowns.

The cabin was first class, comfortable and with attentive service. But Wang Huanbo had no time to enjoy it. He spent most of his time in his room, reviewing the mechanical engineering documents he had brought, or gazing at the unchanging sea through the porthole, contemplating his future plans. The system's mission was clear: join the steel rolling mill and move into the courtyard house. The steel rolling mill was easy enough; with his father's old friendship with Lou Zhenhua and his own education, it wouldn't be a problem. But the courtyard house… Based on his memories of watching dramas in his previous life and his scattered understanding in this life, that No. 95 courtyard was now a den of iniquity, a "breeding ground for beasts." Granny Sun (the current deaf old woman) was still there, but most of the property in the courtyard seemed to have been disposed of by her or the neighborhood committee, and many steel rolling mill employees had moved in. His west wing had probably already been coveted by someone.

"We'll deal with whatever comes our way," Wang Huanbo muttered to himself. "At least we're taking back our family's ancestral property, and it's all rightfully ours."

The voyage was long and tedious. Occasionally, fellow overseas Chinese would come over to chat, and upon learning that Wang Huanbo was returning to his motherland to participate in its construction, they would all show expressions of surprise or admiration. In those days, students returning to China from the United States were extremely rare, especially someone like him with the halo of a PhD from MIT.

More than a month later, the passenger ship finally arrived at the port of Marseille, France. Wang Huanbo did not linger; he immediately transferred to a train and began his journey across Europe. Post-war Europe was devastated, and although it was being rebuilt, the wounds of war were still palpable. The train passed through Germany and Poland, entering the vast territory of the Soviet Union. The desolation and grandeur of Siberia shocked even Wang Huanbo, who was accustomed to the urban landscapes of America.

The long train journey was a great test of patience. The hard sleeper carriage was poorly furnished, and most of his fellow passengers were Soviet soldiers, workers, and their families. They couldn't communicate because of the language barrier, but Wang Huanbo managed to get along well with them thanks to his gentle smile and the occasional sharing of food. As he watched the birch forests and frozen wastelands rushing past the window, his longing for his homeland grew stronger.

Finally, the train arrived in Manzhouli, a small town on the Sino-Soviet border. When Wang Huanbo saw the five-starred red flag fluttering on the platform and the station sign written in Chinese, his heart pounded, and an indescribable surge of excitement and warmth welled up inside him. He was back! Finally back!

The immigration process went more smoothly than expected; Mr. Situ Meitang had clearly made arrangements with the authorities back home. In Manzhouli, they transferred to a domestic train, where conditions were even more difficult: a green-skinned train, crowded people, and a mixture of smells. But Wang Huanbo didn't care. His gaze greedily took in everything outside the window: the vast black soil of Northeast China, the impoverished yet vibrant villages, and the compatriots with simple smiles and hopeful eyes. All of this was completely different from America, yet it felt incredibly real and reassuring to him.

The train rattled along southward. When the announcement came over the loudspeaker, "Next stop: Beijing, the capital," Wang Huanbo took a deep breath, straightened his suit jacket, which was slightly wrinkled from the long journey, and picked up his briefcase. Inside were his most important documents: his degree certificate, technical data, and a check for fifty million US dollars.

The train slowly pulled into the Beijing Railway Station platform. Wang Huanbo disembarked with the flow of people, his feet finally touching the soil of his hometown. The air was filled with a familiar smell, a mixture of coal smoke, dust, and the aroma of everyday life—the scent of old Beijing deep in his memory.

His gaze swept across the slightly worn platform, quickly locking onto a few people. The leader, a young man in a well-fitting Zhongshan suit, with a sharp, capable look, was constantly scanning the disembarking passengers. When he saw him, his eyes lit up, and he strode forward. Behind him followed a woman in her forties with short, neat hair, and a middle-aged man in a respectable wool Zhongshan suit, his face filled with excitement and anticipation.

"Excuse me, are you Comrade Wang Huanbo?" The young man strode forward, extending his hand warmly and firmly. "Welcome, welcome! You must be tired from your journey! I'm Xiao Liu, Mr. Zou sent me to pick you up!"

"Secretary Liu, hello, thank you for waiting." Wang Huanbo smiled and shook hands firmly, his attitude neither humble nor arrogant.

"Comrade Wang, I am Wang Hongmei, the director of the Nanluoguxiang Subdistrict Office! Welcome home!" The woman stepped forward to shake hands, her smile sincere.

"Huanbo! It really is you! Good boy! I'm your Uncle Lou! Lou Zhenhua!" The middle-aged man in the woolen Zhongshan suit was the most emotional, grabbing Wang Huanbo's hand, his eyes reddening. "So alike! Just like your father when he was young! Time flies, you've grown so much, and become a PhD! Your father... how is he?"

Looking at the old friend his father often mentioned, Wang Huanbo's hazy memory gradually cleared, and a warmth welled up in his heart: "Secretary Liu, Director Wang, you're too kind. It's what I should do. Uncle Lou, my father is in good health and often talks about you. This time when he came back, he specifically asked me to give you my regards."

After exchanging pleasantries, Wang Huanbo didn't stand on ceremony. He knew what the country needed most right now. He took out the prepared envelope from his inner pocket and solemnly handed it to Secretary Liu: "Secretary Liu, this is a small token of my appreciation to support national development. Please be sure to pass it on to Mr. Zou and the country."

Secretary Liu took the envelope, his fingers trembling slightly with excitement. Although he already knew about the donation, seeing the long string of dizzying "0"s and "$"s on the check still made his heart race and his blood rush. Fifty million US dollars! For the newly established China, which had just emerged from war, was in dire need of reconstruction, and was facing a severe shortage of foreign exchange, it was like a godsend! He gripped Wang Huanbo's hand tightly, his voice choked with emotion: "Comrade Wang! I... I represent the country, I represent the people, thank you! This is so... so timely! You've provided a lifeline in our time of need!"

Although Wang Hongmei and Lou Zhenhua didn't know the exact amount, seeing Secretary Liu's outburst, they understood that this "gift" was definitely astronomical. Their admiration and goodwill towards Wang Huanbo reached its peak. They had met patriotic overseas Chinese before, but one so young, so talented, and so generous was truly rare!

Wang Huanbo smiled modestly: "It's just a small contribution, nothing to brag about. Secretary Liu, Director Wang, Uncle Lou, I have two main wishes for returning this time."

"Comrade Wang, please speak! The organization will do its best to meet your needs!" Secretary Liu immediately stated.

"First, I hope to use what I've learned to contribute to the country's industrial development. I hope to work at Uncle Lou's steel rolling mill."

"No problem! Absolutely no problem!" Lou Zhenhua answered eagerly, his face flushed with excitement. "Huanbo, it's a tremendous honor for our factory that you're here! Forget about getting a job, you could be the head of the technical department—no, the deputy factory director! Our factory's technology depends on you!" His words were half polite, half sincere. The Wang family had been shareholders in the steel rolling mill, and Wang Huanbo was a PhD from a world-renowned university. His arrival could bring a leap forward in technological advancement.

Wang Huanbo smiled and nodded: "Uncle Lou, you flatter me too much. I'll start from the basics. Secondly, I'd like a quiet place to live so I can do some research and data organization in my spare time. I heard that our Wang family's ancestral home, No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, is now managed by the local street committee?"

Wang Hongmei immediately took over, her tone certain: "Comrade Wang, we understand your situation! The situation at No. 95 is rather special. Back then, Aunt Sun—oh, the one everyone in the courtyard now calls the Deaf Old Lady, Granny Sun—kept guarding the courtyard after you left. Later, both of her sons sacrificed their lives on the battlefield against the Japanese, making her a martyr's family member. Later still, she felt the courtyard was just sitting empty, and with the country facing difficulties and staff housing shortages, she voluntarily handed over most of the houses to the street committee, keeping only the one she lived in. The street committee then arranged for her to receive 'Five Guarantees' benefits. The west wing of the courtyard was severely damaged by Japanese bombs years ago and has been vacant ever since. The street committee recently allocated funds for repairs and was considering a relocation plan. Now that you're back, and a highly skilled individual, you need a quiet environment. From both a moral and practical standpoint, the west wing is the most suitable for you! I'll personally handle the property deed paperwork; it will be in your name!"

Wang Hongmei's words cleared up some of Wang Huanbo's doubts. Granny Sun, now a deaf old woman, a martyr's family member, and a recipient of the "Five Guarantees" (a government-provided social welfare program for the elderly and disabled), had handed over her courtyard to the state. This saved him a lot of trouble by directly demanding his ancestral property. The allocation by the street administration was perfectly legitimate.

"Thank you so much, Director Wang," Wang Huanbo said sincerely.

"Of course!" Wang Hongmei said with a smile. "However, Comrade Wang, there's something I have to say upfront." She lowered her voice a little, "There are about ten families living in courtyard number 95 now, mostly employees and their families from the steel rolling mill. With so many people, things get complicated. Especially this west wing, quite a few families have been keeping an eye on it, like the Jia family, the Yan family, and the Liu family in the courtyard. If you suddenly move in, they might have some... thoughts. You need to be mentally prepared."

Upon hearing this, Wang Huanbo's lips curled into a barely perceptible smile. Thoughts? Of course he knew what they were thinking. Yi Zhonghai's scheming, Jia Zhangshi's shrewishness, Yan Bugui's stinginess, Liu Haizhong's ambition for officialdom… he was "very familiar" with them.

"Thank you for the reminder, Director Wang. I understand. Harmony is the most important thing between neighbors, and I will handle it well," Wang Huanbo replied calmly.

Secretary Liu was satisfied with Wang Hongmei's statement and then asked Wang Huanbo if he needed to rest after his journey. Wang Huanbo said he would just go to the courtyard to take a look.

So, the group exited the train station. A military green jeep was already waiting there. In those days, cars were extremely rare, attracting the attention of passersby. Wang Huanbo, Secretary Liu, Director Wang, and Director Lou got into the car, and the driver started the engine, heading towards Nanluoguxiang.

Outside the train window, the scene was that of Beijing in 1954: gray city walls, quaint hutongs, pedestrians dressed in blue, gray, or black Lenin suits or cotton-padded coats, citizens riding bicycles, and large slogans painted on the walls—everything was imbued with a strong sense of the era. This appearance, so different from the modern American metropolis, made Wang Huanbo feel both unfamiliar and familiar.

The jeep finally stopped at the entrance of Nanluoguxiang, but the alley was too narrow for the car to drive in. The group got out and walked. When they reached the familiar, brightly lit gate with the number "95" on it, Wang Huanbo stopped and looked up at the weathered gatehouse, his heart filled with emotion.

Eighteen years have passed, and I'm back. This time, I will write the story.

Wang Hongmei stepped forward and entered the courtyard first. Wang Huanbo took a deep breath, straightened his collar, and regained his calm and composed smile before stepping across the threshold.

The noise in the courtyard quieted down considerably with their arrival. Many eyes, filled with curiosity, inquiry, and even a hint of wariness, were cast upon this group of uninvited guests, especially Wang Huanbo, who possessed an outstanding demeanor and was impeccably dressed.

The courtyard was filled with birds, and I, Wang Huanbo, had joined the fray.