Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

Section 1: A Gift from Across the Ocean

On the morning of November 15, 1958, the sea breeze carrying the salty smell of fish swept across Tianjin Port. Lin Zhan, Wang Huanbo's bodyguard, stood on the dock, watching the cargo ship flying the Stars and Stripes slowly approach the shore. The four gilded characters "Wang's Ocean Shipping" on the hull gleamed in the morning sun.

"Engineer Wang, the things your father sent have arrived." Lin Zhan reported into the walkie-talkie, his eyes fixed on the containers the workers were carrying out of the ship's hold. The moment the customs officers opened the sealed container doors, a cloud of cold white mist billowed out—it was a refrigerated compartment specially built for preservation, inside which were neatly stacked cardboard boxes labeled in English.

"Twenty boxes of American Angus beef!" the porter read from the list, his voice trembling with shock. "Ten New Zealand lambs! And these..." His finger traced the boxes labeled "Johnson & Johnson," which contained neatly stacked diapers and baby formula.

Standing to the side, Sha Zhu's eyes widened, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the cleaver in the chef's uniform pocket. He had never seen so many high-end ingredients in his life—the marbling on the beef was like works of art, the butter was wrapped tightly in tin foil, and the cheese exuded a rich, milky aroma.

"Engineer Wang said all of this is for the full moon celebration." Lin Zhan patted Sha Zhu on the shoulder. "Master He, you'd better bring out your best skills today."

Sha Zhu swallowed hard, then suddenly turned and ran back: "I have to call my dad! This is perfect material for making the Tan family's 'Dragon and Phoenix Auspiciousness' dish!"

Section Two: The Fierce Battle in the Kitchen

At 10 a.m., smoke was already rising from the makeshift stove in the courtyard of No. 95. He Daqing, wearing a brand-new white apron, was processing a beef rib that weighed at least 20 kilograms. His injured back had made his right arm somewhat clumsy, but his left hand, holding the knife, remained as steady as a mountain.

"Dad, look at the heat..." Sha Zhu came over, holding a freshly prepared sauce in his hand.

"What's the rush!" He Daqing said without looking up, the tip of his knife gliding across the grain of the beef. "Tan family cuisine emphasizes 'three simmerings and nine turns,' this is only the first step." He suddenly lowered his voice, "Zhu Zi, Chief Wang has treated us well. Today's banquet must be something that all the chefs in Beijing can only dream of!"

The sound of a baby crying came from the west courtyard. Lou Xiao'e stood under the eaves, holding the swaddled Yan Yan, with Aunt Zhang, the childcare worker in a white coat, beside her. This childcare worker, specially assigned by higher authorities, was in her early forties, with neatly combed short hair, and was skillfully checking the formula ratio.

"Madam, it's time to change the baby's diaper." Aunt Zhang magically produced a pair of imported American diapers from her suitcase. "These are more convenient than cloth diapers; the baby can sleep through the night."

A commotion suddenly erupted from the front yard. Jia Dongxu walked in; his right arm had recovered fairly well, but he couldn't use any strength in it. In his left hand, he carried a bamboo basket filled with homemade pickled cabbage and cured meat.

"Engineer Wang!" Jia Dongxu's eyes instantly reddened when he saw Wang Huanbo. He awkwardly tried to salute, but Wang Huanbo stopped him.

"Dongxu, it's good to see you back." Wang Huanbo took the bamboo basket, smelling the familiar aroma of cooking. "I heard you got first place in your class at the vocational school in Northeast China?"

Jia Dongxu's Adam's apple bobbed a few times, but he ultimately just nodded heavily. The bloody afternoon three years ago flashed before his eyes—the moment the machine tool shredded his right arm, it was Wang Huanbo who risked being caught in it to quickly dismantle the transmission mechanism. And now, he was no longer disabled; he was a technician about to receive his vocational school diploma.

Section 3: The Undercurrents of Security

Police Chief Zhou Jianguo, dressed in plainclothes, squatted in front of a shoe repair stall opposite courtyard number 95. He pretended to be selecting shoe polish, but his eyes never left the courtyard gate. Plainclothes police officers, disguised as candied hawthorn vendors and bicycle repairmen, surrounded the entire courtyard.

"Attention all units, the armed forces patrol vehicles will make a round every five minutes," Zhou Jianguo said into a microphone hidden in his collar. "Keep a close watch on the outer wall of the west wing; that's where the enemy agents breached the defenses last time."

Inside the courtyard, Lin Zhan was leading his guards to inspect every corner. The study windows had been replaced with bulletproof glass, and a state-of-the-art vibration sensor was buried under the pomegranate tree in the corner of the courtyard. Even Yan Yan's cradle had been specially treated—its bottom was fitted with a steel plate capable of withstanding grenade fragments.

"Mr. Wang, the background check on the childcare worker is complete." Lin Zhan handed over a file. "Zhang Cuilan, 38 years old, retired from the Third Division of the Central Security Bureau, skilled in close combat and toxicology detection."

Wang Huanbo nodded slightly. He knew why the higher-ups were so tense—a coded telegram deciphered by the Security Department three days ago revealed that the enemy intelligence organization "Ghost" was planning a new operation, targeting his research materials and... his infant daughter.

"Have Sha Zhu take some hot food to the comrades outside," Wang Huanbo said, glancing at Sha Zhu who was chopping vegetables. "It's cold, don't let the brothers get cold."

Section Four: A Glimpse into the Lives of People at the Full Moon Banquet

At noon, thirty square tables were lined up in the central courtyard. The "Tan Family Eight Delicacies," personally prepared by He Daqing, were placed on the main table in the center—braised beef tendon made with American beef, "clear soup bird's nest" stewed with New Zealand lamb, and "gold and silver rolls," a royal pastry baked with butter.

"Let's begin!" With Sha Zhu's shout, everyone in the courtyard, young and old, took their seats. Jia Zhangshi, with Bang Geng and Xiao Dang Qin Huairu holding Xiao Huaihua, squeezed into the front row, their eyes fixed on the pot of glistening braised pork; Xu Damao, dressed in a suit and tie, sat in the corner, occasionally stealing glances at Sha Zhu's newly built two-story house; the deaf old lady was helped to the main table, and tremblingly took out a red cloth bag.

"This is for Xiao Yan Yan." The old lady opened the cloth bag, inside which was an exquisitely crafted gold lock, with "Long Live to a Hundred Years" engraved on the front and the four seal characters "Wang Family Heritage" on the back. She had made it with the reward money she received when she served the old lady of the Wang family.

Lou Xiao'e was about to decline, but Wang Huanbo solemnly accepted it: "Thank you, Granny Sun." This was his old name for the old lady—back in the Wang family mansion, it was this deaf old lady who carried him to escape the warlord's search.

A sudden loud bang silenced the entire room. The plainclothes policeman's hand was already on his holster when he realized that it was Jia's eldest grandson, Banggeng, who had knocked over the soy sauce bottle.

"It's alright, it's alright!" Sha Zhu said, holding up a soup ladle to smooth things over. "Come and try my dad's specialty, 'Nine-Turned Intestines'!" The rich aroma quickly dispelled the tense atmosphere.

Section 5: The Night Guardian

As night fell, the full moon banquet drew to a close. Every household received an enamel basin filled with meat and vegetables, and the children's pockets were stuffed with fruit candies. In the study in the west courtyard, Wang Huanbo was reviewing the latest coded telegram.

"Confirmed that three members of the 'Ghost' team have infiltrated Beijing," Lin Zhan reported in a low voice. "Their characteristics match those of the wedding banquet attackers, and they are highly likely to be mixed in with the congratulatory crowd."

Outside the window, caregiver Aunt Zhang strolled around the yard, holding Yan Yan in her arms. Her fingers, humming a lullaby, remained pressed against her waist—where a specially made palm-sized pistol was concealed. The seemingly leisurely walk was actually meticulously planned, each step ensuring a swift retreat to cover in case of an emergency.

"Mr. Wang, the photos are developed." Driver Xiao Zhao brought over the freshly printed photos. The first one was a family portrait: Wang Huanbo was wearing a Zhongshan suit, Lou Xiao'e was holding Yan Yan, and the background was a pomegranate tree covered with colorful ribbons. In the second close-up, Yan Yan was wearing a gold lock and her little hand was holding her father's finger.

Wang Huanbo took out the prepared envelope, inside which was a note: "Father, granddaughter Wang Chunyan sends her regards to grandfather." He knew that these photos would first be checked through special channels and would take two months to reach New York after crossing the ocean. By then, he might have already faced off against the lurking enemy agents.

Section Six: Full Moon and Family Reunion

At 11 p.m., the last batch of guards completed the handover. Zhou Jianguo took off his camouflage hat and finally went into the courtyard to eat a hot meal. He Daqing had specially saved a bowl of mutton stew noodles, topped with bright red chili oil.

"Thank you for your hard work, comrades." Wang Huanbo personally handed cigarettes to the officers on duty. "Please thank the brothers from the Armed Forces Department for me."

A baby's cries drifted from the east wing, quickly turning into contented gurgling—it was Yan Yan drinking the formula the caregiver had prepared. Lou Xiao'e leaned on her husband's shoulder, gazing at the full moon outside the window: "If only Dad could see Yan Yan with his own eyes..."

"That day will come." Wang Huanbo gently stroked his wife's thin cheeks. The bruises left by the enemy's attack and kidnapping a month ago had just faded, and tonight she finally showed a long-lost smile.

Suddenly, the sound of pots and pans clattering came from the backyard. There stood Sha Zhu and Xu Damao, drunk and arm in arm, having a contest to see who could pick up peanuts with chopsticks—these two rivals had become sworn brothers after drinking. Jia Dongxu sat in the corner, painstakingly but diligently taking notes with his right hand on the cooking secrets He Daqing had mentioned, his notebook beside him filled with mechanical drawings.

Moonlight spilled onto the blue brick floor, casting long shadows on everyone. Wang Huanbo recalled the handwritten letter his father had found when he opened the shipping container that morning: "My son, these supplies are small, but they express my deep longing. On the day the country is unified, I will surely hold my granddaughter in my arms."

He gently grasped the photograph in his breast pocket. At that moment, on the other side of the Pacific Ocean, it must have been the early morning with the sun just rising.