Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

In 1958, autumn was deepening.

In the eastern suburbs of Beijing, the brand-new, towering "Red Star Workers' Residential Area" has become the most talked-about place in the entire capital. Twenty eighteen-story buildings, like twenty giants clad in beige armor, stand silently and proudly in the gradually bleak autumn wind. Every evening, as the afterglow of the setting sun gilds the buildings with a warm golden edge, soft lights gradually illuminate the windows of each apartment. From afar, it resembles a castle built of starlight, suspended on the horizon, creating an almost magical contrast with the surrounding low, gray alley houses and old tenement buildings. For most Beijing residents, this represents a distant, almost unreal, modern lifestyle—elevators, private kitchens and bathrooms, balconies with panoramic views, and spacious three-bedroom apartments.

What truly brought this "unreality" into reality and stirred up a huge wave was another key held in the hands of a lucky few, along with the key to the new house—the key to a Red Star brand car.

The policy of "internal preferential purchase of usage rights" was like pouring a ladle of cold water into an already boiling oil pan, causing a buzz throughout the Hongxing factory and even half of Beijing. Being allocated a new house meant "settling down"; getting the car keys meant "convenience" and, more importantly, "face"! When the first batch of eligible model workers, senior technicians, and engineers, under the baptism of countless envious and jealous gazes, somewhat awkwardly but proudly drove their brand-new Hongxing brand cars, with paint so smooth they reflected their images, carefully into the new family area and parked them in the clearly marked above-ground parking spaces or the more "mysterious" underground parking lot, an unprecedented emotion, a mixture of pride, superiority, and boundless anticipation for the future, spread like wildfire in the hearts of nearly 60,000 employees and their families at the Hongxing factory.

As evening falls and people leave work, the residential area becomes a bustling "car show." The flow of bicycles remains dominant, their bells ringing incessantly. But increasingly, the crisp, yet gentle beeping of car horns joins this symphony of returning home. A line of sturdy, charming cars, with sleek lines and colors ranging from military green to sky blue to bright red, line up and drive into the community gate. After their identification is checked by the security guards at the entrance (the community houses so many technical professionals and engineers that the security department has specially arranged for over thirty armed guards to patrol and protect them), the drivers may still have traces of engine oil on their hands, or they may not have had time to change out of their work clothes, but the radiant expressions on their faces and the satisfied smiles of their families behind the car windows all proclaim the arrival of a new lifestyle.

"Look! That's Master Liu from Workshop Three! A level eight forging worker! He got the apartment on the third floor, east side, this time, and his machine has been approved too!"

"Wow, Engineer Zhang from the research institute drives a car too! He's a college graduate and an engineer, it's not surprising he has one!"

"Hey, see that? That guy in the blue car is Old Zhao from the boiler room! A model worker! I heard he didn't sleep for three days and three nights straight to repair the pipeline! He deserves a new house and a new car!"

The envious gazes were almost enough to burn through the shells of those cars. Especially the apprentices and junior technicians who had only recently joined the factory, seeing the experienced workers and skilled technicians who used to toil away nearby now not only living in their dream apartments with elevators but also driving cars, ignited a burning desire and motivation within them. A simple yet powerful belief took root in the hearts of the young workers: at Hongxing Factory, having skills, being willing to work hard, and making contributions truly meant a bright future and a good life!

The factory's bulletin boards and broadcasting station keenly grasped this trend. Slogans and special reports such as "Learn from model workers! Emulate technical experts!" and "Master technology, achieve success in your position, and a peaceful and prosperous life is not a dream!" appeared one after another. Young workers who used to think about where to go or find some entertainment after work now spent their dinners studying technical manuals or pestering the experienced workers in the workshop with questions. The number of people signing up for technical learning groups and skills competitions was unprecedented. A wave of "learning technology, practicing skills, and striving for excellence" swept through the entire factory, and production efficiency and the number of technical innovation proposals increased visibly.

In this torrent of climbing to the peak of technology, there is one person who has once again become the object of admiration and emulation for many young workers, especially fitter apprentices—Yi Zhonghai.

This former level-eight fitter, an "old man" in a traditional courtyard house, experienced the most thorough and painful "social death" and rebirth of his life in the past year. The fake drug scandal and the exposure of the truth about his azoospermia were like a devastating storm, tearing apart his carefully maintained image as a good person, his moral authority, and even his hidden dignity as a man. He became the biggest joke and topic of conversation in the entire Nanluoguxiang neighborhood and even the Hongxing Factory area. The sympathetic, contemptuous, and gloating gazes were like invisible whips lashing at him. He took a long leave of absence, locking himself in a dimly lit room, as if to isolate himself from the entire world.

The aftershocks of the storm were far from over. The deeply ingrained prejudice that "it's a woman's fault if she can't have children" was shattered by Yi Zhonghai's "revealing mirror." On the streets and in the factory areas, many women who had been childless for years, enduring the stigma and pressure of being "barren hens," stood up for the first time and dragged their husbands to the hospital. The test results were varied; some had problems with the women, but in a significant number, the problem lay with the men. Suddenly, some were overjoyed, others were heartbroken. Some couples actively sought medical help; some decided to adopt children and start a new chapter in their lives; others, however, saw husbands feeling utterly humiliated, becoming enraged and arguing with their wives, ultimately leading to disputes with the neighborhood committee and the women's federation, ending in divorce. Yi Zhonghai himself probably never imagined that his personal tragedy would unexpectedly spark a small "revolution" in fertility attitudes, allowing many women who had endured years of hardship to see the light of day again.

Yi Zhonghai's turning point stemmed from a near-desperate act of redemption. His long-lost younger brother and his wife had both perished; one had died on the Korean battlefield, and the other, who worked at a hospital, had contracted a deadly disease and died there, leaving behind two young children, a nine-year-old sister and a five-year-old brother, orphaned and destitute in an orphanage. By chance, Yi Zhonghai adopted them, and something suddenly touched his lifeless heart. He and the elderly woman lying in bed, still weak but with a glimmer of life returning to her eyes, gazed at each other for a long time, seeing the same thing in each other's eyes—a shared sorrow and a desperate yearning to grasp at a lifeline in dire straits.

They took the two children back. The girl was named Yi Aijia, and the boy was named Yi Aiguo. The children's arrival was like two rays of sunshine breaking into a gloomy house. They timidly called out "Uncle" and "Auntie," ate cautiously, and helped with housework. The old woman, who had been ill for a long time, gradually smiled and began to struggle out of bed to mend clothes for the children and prepare simple meals. Yi Zhonghai watched all this in silence, and the ice in his heart slowly melted in the children's innocent eyes and his wife's renewed vitality.

He realized that technology was his only means of livelihood and the only foundation he could possibly provide for his new family's future. He couldn't afford to sink any further. He had to work, earn money, raise his two children, and ensure they lived with dignity.

When he returned to the fitter's workshop at the Red Star Factory, he was greeted with complex looks. But he kept his head lowered, silently walked to his workstation, and picked up his familiar tools. He worked even harder and more focused, as if pouring all his misplaced energy, regret, and hope into the parts in his hands. The parts he made were more precise and of better quality. He no longer bothered with the gossip in the factory or lectured like an "old man." He simply worked, silently and desperately.

Then, he did something that surprised everyone. He proactively approached the workshop director and even Yang Weimin, the factory manager in charge of production, and solemnly proposed: "I want to take on more apprentices. I want to teach them everything I know. I don't want any subsidies, just so... we don't let our skills die out."

The factory was short of senior technicians, especially level eight workers who were genuinely willing to mentor apprentices. Yi Zhonghai's request was quickly approved. And not just one or two, he took on eight apprentices at once! From reading blueprints and cutting materials to filing and scraping, from drilling, reaming, and tapping to precision assembly, Yi Zhonghai seemed like a completely different person. He no longer held back, no longer practiced the "teach your apprentice, starve your master" mentality. He taught them step by step, explaining twice if they didn't understand the first time, and three times if they didn't understand the second time. He shared his decades of accumulated experience, tips, tricks, and even lessons learned from failures without reservation. He became strict, but also incredibly patient. In the workshop, you could often see him leading a group of young people, squatting in front of their workstations for half a day, explaining and demonstrating, sweating profusely.

Gradually, people's gaze towards him changed. From initial disdain and curiosity, it turned to doubt, and then to respect. Especially when his apprentices made rapid progress in their skills, began to stand on their own in the workshop, and even won awards in small competitions, the title "Master Yi" was called out again, carrying more and more sincerity. With his own hands and unreserved dedication, he painstakingly pieced back together his shattered dignity and reputation. Although he still didn't talk much, his posture gradually straightened out a little more.

While the Hongxing Factory workers' living quarters became the focus of the city's attention, No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, this ancient courtyard house, was also undergoing a quiet but far-reaching transformation.

Several families in the courtyard meet the housing allocation criteria and are about to move into the enviable high-rise apartment building with elevators. Among them, the east courtyard has become a "feng shui treasure land" that everyone is paying attention to.

Cui Dake was the quickest and most assertive person in the compound. As Li Huaide's favorite and a powerful figure in the logistics department, he not only received the keys to his new house early on but was also among the first to receive the permit to purchase a car. 500 yuan was nothing to him. On moving day, he drove a brand-new, bright red Red Star brand car, stopping conspicuously at the compound gate! With his slightly protruding belly, he directed several hastily hired helpers to load his already packed belongings—a brand-new sewing machine, a gleaming radio, and clothes and bedding carefully packed by Ding Qiunan—into the car. Ding Qiunan, already showing, wore loose clothes, her face glowing with the rosy hue of pampered life and the tranquility of impending motherhood. She carefully protected her belly as she sat in the passenger seat. Cui Dake took one last look at the east wing of the compound where he had started his fortune, a hint of lingering nostalgia in his eyes, but more so, a longing for a wider world. He casually opened the car door, started the engine, and sped away with a roar that, while not loud, was enough to attract the attention of the entire courtyard. Behind the faint cloud of dust kicked up by the car were the complex, unspoken gazes of the neighbors—envy, jealousy,感慨, disappointment… a mixture of emotions.

"Look at Cui Dake, that's what life is all about!"

"Ding Qiunan is finally enjoying a good life. Back then..."

"Sigh, you have to follow the right people and walk the right path."

Nan Yi also got a house. Although he wasn't as flamboyant as Cui Dake, his joy was genuine. He took half a day off, using a flatbed cart to pull his belongings—mainly his beloved kitchen utensils and a small jar of his privately stored fine rice wine—while Liang Ladi, with their four children and bedding and pots and pans, happily headed to their new home. Before leaving, Nan Yi made a point of saying goodbye to Wang Huanbo, thanking him for his care over the years. Wang Huanbo smiled and wished him a prosperous new home. Watching Nan Yi and Liang Ladi's family leave in a lively and cheerful manner, Wang Huanbo felt quite comforted. Nan Yi had finally emerged from Ding Qiunan's shadow and found a partner to settle down with; Liang Ladi, this hard-working yet resilient woman, had finally found her own safe haven. Their relationship, nurtured by their shared dreams of a new life, had naturally blossomed, needing only a thin veil to become official.

Several other eligible families in the courtyard also moved out one after another. The once crowded, noisy, and bustling courtyard, full of life and gossip, suddenly became much emptier and even looked somewhat desolate. The remaining residents had mixed feelings. Especially those who met the requirements but didn't get a house (such as having a house size that met the standard but not enough people), or those who didn't meet the requirements but desperately wanted one, watched their former neighbors happily move into a new world of "upstairs and downstairs, electricity and telephones," and felt like cat claws were scratching at their hearts.

He Yuzhu (Silly Zhu) was the most resentful one. It wasn't that he didn't have a place to live; the He family's house was quite spacious. He was upset about two things: first, he wasn't included in the housing allocation this time (his circumstances weren't difficult enough), and seeing everyone else get new houses made him furious; second, the car!

Because of work requirements, the factory provided the film projection team with a Red Star brand three-wheeled motorcycle with a sidecar. This made Xu Damao extremely proud. Every time he returned from showing a movie in the countryside, he would ride his gleaming motorcycle to the central courtyard, revving the engine deafeningly, then glance sideways at Sha Zhu, his meaning crystal clear: "See that? This is a government-issued 'oil donkey'! You, a lousy cook, can just ride your beat-up bicycle!" What's even more infuriating is that a few days ago, Xu Damao somehow got lucky and actually started dating Qin Jingru, the cousin of Qin Huairu from Qin Family Village, who was said to be quite pretty. Xu Damao specially went to the canteen and, in front of Sha Zhu and a group of apprentices, announced his marriage, his tail practically wagging in the air.

Sha Zhu was so angry he almost ground his teeth to powder. Did Sha Zhu lack money? Not at all! Chief Engineer Wang gave him a generous monthly allowance for food and groceries, and his own salary was high. Later, Yi Zhonghai had a change of heart and returned all the money and letters He Daqing had sent him over the years—it was a considerable sum of money. What he lacked was face! That kind of face that could suppress Xu Damao's arrogance!

So when the factory's "car usage rights" policy was announced, Sha Zhu was the first person in the compound, besides the cadres, to have his eye on it and the first to take action. He was a sixth-level cook, with a high salary, and was also a "model worker" and the head of the main factory canteen. Although he didn't have housing problems, he barely qualified for the "outstanding contribution" category. He went to Li Huaide, said a lot of nice things, and patted his chest to guarantee that he would definitely put in his best effort for the future banquets. Li Huaide recognized Sha Zhu's cooking skills and was happy to do him a favor, so he approved the policy for him.

When Sha Zhu slowly drove his grass-green Red Star car into the courtyard gate, the whole courtyard fell silent. The third aunt, who was washing vegetables by the sink, dropped her basin with a clatter; Yan Bugui, who repaired benches at the doorway, saw his glasses slip down to the tip of his nose; even the usually composed Wang Huanbo, hearing the commotion, came out from the west wing and couldn't help but laugh when he saw Sha Zhu climb out of the car with that smug "I've finally met my match" look on his face.

Sha Zhu deliberately parked the car right under Xu Damao's nose, then slammed the door shut—the sound was particularly jarring to Xu Damao. Xu Damao rushed out of the yard, saw the brand-new car, and his face turned green. "Sha Zhu! You…where did you get this car?"

"Bought it! Factory policy, internal usage rights, five hundred yuan!" Sha Zhu pulled out a bunch of keys, dangling them on his fingers, making Xu Damao dizzy. "How about it, Projectionist Xu? Take a look? Better than your beat-up old car that sputters and spews black smoke, isn't it?"

Xu Damao was speechless, his face turning a deep purplish-red. His motorcycle belonged to the government, and although Sha Zhu only had the "right to use" it, what difference was there between it and his own? It even provided shelter from the wind and rain! He had lost face big time!

For the next few days, Xu Damao was restless and unable to eat or sleep. Could he, Xu Damao, be inferior to Sha Zhu? Absolutely not! He immediately began to make his own moves. As a projectionist, he frequently went to the countryside and sometimes transported equipment—a perfectly valid reason. Not long after, a sky-blue Red Star sedan also pulled up in front of courtyard number 95. Although the color wasn't as eye-catching as Sha Zhu's, it was still a four-wheeled vehicle. The two had regained some ground, but their overt and covert competition had escalated from two wheels to four, becoming even more "spectacular."

Soon after, Yi Zhonghai also bought a car. His reason was practical: his home was a bit far from Hongxing Elementary School, and it was inconvenient for his two children to go to and from school in wind and rain. He was now a key technical worker in the factory and a meritorious mentor, so his application was quickly approved. He chose a very ordinary gray car, understated and unassuming. When he drove it, taking his two children to and from school every day, the remaining old residents in the courtyard felt more than simple envy; they were numb, even bewildered. This world changes so fast! Even Yi Zhonghai, the old widower who almost lost his reputation a couple of years ago, now drives a car?

The most aggrieved was Liu Haizhong. This power-hungry, level-seven blacksmith, the "second-in-command" of the compound, watched as his "lifelong enemy," Yi Zhonghai, actually "surpassed" him, not only restoring his reputation but also adopting his niece and nephew and now driving a car! Meanwhile, Liu Haizhong was still going to work by foot. How could he swallow this insult? He considered himself a leader (albeit a team leader), and his salary wasn't low; why shouldn't he be treated the same?

Liu Haizhong wrote an application overnight, explaining that as a veteran worker and key employee, he frequently needed to attend meetings at the main factory (though he only went twice a year in reality) and required transportation. He approached the workshop director and then Li Huaide (knowing that Deputy Factory Director Li was in charge of this matter), pleading and even hinting that he could "show his appreciation," but Li Huaide politely declined. Finally, perhaps considering his long service and status as a level seven worker, the factory reluctantly approved his application. Liu Haizhong finally got his own black Hongxing brand car. On the day he picked it up, he deliberately circled the factory compound twice, making sure no one saw him.

And so, a bizarre sight appeared: the once ordinary, even somewhat dilapidated, courtyard house at No. 95 Nanluoguxiang was now frequently occupied by five cars parked in front of the door and at the entrance of the alley! Sha Zhu's grass green, Xu Damao's sky blue, Yi Zhonghai's gray, Liu Haizhong's black, and Wang Huanbo's factory-issued black Hongqi Xingyao S600L Guard bulletproof sedan. Five colors, five license plates (although four were Hongxing and one was Hongqi), starkly outrageous against the backdrop of the gray walls and gray tiles of the alley.

Now, No. 95 Courtyard is truly famous. Not only in Nanluoguxiang, but half of Dongcheng District knows about this "tycoon's courtyard," where the owner seems to own a mine (or factory), with cars piled up everywhere. Every day during rush hour, people gather at the entrance of the alley to "watch," pointing and marveling. Some are envious: "Look at that courtyard, such a feng shui treasure!" Others are sour: "So what if he drives a car? What's he showing off for!" Still others inquire: "Excuse me, does anyone rent out rooms in this courtyard?"

This unprecedented phenomenon of "car ownership" not only made No. 95 Courtyard famous, but also, like a boulder thrown into calm water, stirred up ripples. Envy and competition fermented on a larger scale. More and more employees of the Hongxing Factory listed "buying a car" as their next goal. The factory's labor union and logistics department received a mountain of inquiries and applications regarding "car usage rights." Li Huaide seized the opportunity and proposed at the factory's Party Committee meeting that the scope of "usage rights" could be appropriately expanded, considering including "three consecutive years of advanced production workers" and "key contributors to major technological innovations" as eligibility criteria, further stimulating the enthusiasm of all factory employees to learn from and surpass each other. This proposal was approved.

The wheels rolled on, carrying people's aspirations for a better life and the subtle shifts in societal values, traversing the increasingly wide streets of Beijing in the late 1950s. The residential area of ​​the Red Star Factory, like a giant model, showcased to the world the possible lifestyle brought about by industrialization and modernization. The five differently colored cars parked in front of No. 95 Nanluoguxiang became a striking, yet somewhat dramatic, footnote to this turbulent era. Glory and trouble, opportunity and challenge, like the dust kicked up by the passing cars, swirled in the setting sun, never set. Wang Huanbo stood at the entrance of the west courtyard, looking at those eye-catching cars at the alley entrance, but his thoughts went far beyond that. He saw the budding of consumption, the potential of domestic demand, and also the many problems that might arise requiring foresight. But regardless, to him, the sound of those rolling wheels was ultimately the firm and hopeful strides this ancient nation was taking towards a more prosperous and confident future. But who knows which eyes lurking in the shadows these steps will awaken, or what unknown crossroads they will lead to? Deep in the alley, smoke still rises from chimneys, but some things are already different.