The Fitter Master in the Courtyard: Surrounded by Dead Men

"I've already drafted the names, take a look."

If you don't think it's suitable, we'll adjust it again.

He didn't take it upon himself to hand it to Yang Ping first.

Yang Ping took the paper and glanced at it.

The twelve names were followed by their ages and job grades. They were all level five or six fitters, experienced workers in their thirties or forties, with not a single young person among them.

He spotted two familiar names among them.

One is Lin Dahai, Level 6.

His own skills as a fitter were initially learned from him.

The other one is named Zhao Qiancheng, level five.

He wasn't familiar with this person; they didn't usually have any contact.

"Let's choose them."

Yang Ping nodded and handed the list back.

Lü Shuitian left in a hurry.

Xie Quancai couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"Those guys who are at level five or six all have to call me Grandmaster."

Yang Ping shook his head helplessly. It turned out that this person was happy that he had been promoted to a higher generation.

He didn't say much and turned back to his work.

Xie Quancai chuckled to himself for a while, then returned to his machine tool, intending to finish this batch of level 6 parts so he could help Yang Ping process the more precise level 7 parts.

Now that his skills have improved, it's perfect for him to lend a hand to his apprentice.

On the other side, Lü Shuitian asked each of the twelve people for their opinions.

Upon hearing that Xie Quancai had been promoted seven levels and that he could learn from Yang Ping, everyone nodded in agreement.

Even if one cannot make an immediate breakthrough in skill, it would be good to get closer to Yang Ping.

Having received confirmation, Lü Shuitian began adjusting the workstations, assigning the twelve people to machine tools near Yang Ping for easier guidance.

This was just a routine relocation in the workshop. With thousands of people, personnel movement is common, and no one paid any special attention.

Everyone was engrossed in their work, and the workshop was filled with the rhythmic hum of machines.

Before long, Lü Shuitian returned with his men.

"Yang Ping, the people have all been transferred over."

"Master Yang!"

Lin Dahai and the others greeted him in unison.

Yang Ping is now a level seven fitter, and according to the rules of this trade, he is addressed as "Master Yang".

That is certainly the case.

He glanced at the faces in the workshop, nodded slightly, and spoke in a calm voice:

"Everyone, please focus on your work first. I'll check on your operations later, and we'll adjust or modify as needed, one step at a time."

Everyone responded in unison, then dispersed back to their machines, their movements swift and efficient, without uttering a single extra word.

Watching from the side, Lü Shuitian's eyes revealed a hint of approval, and he also changed his words:

"Master Yang, thank you for your trouble today."

"Of course."

Yang Ping gave a brief answer and turned to go to her workstation.

The morning was full of ups and downs, but fortunately I kept my mind focused and didn't neglect my work.

The sun quickly moved to noon, and the entrance to the cafeteria gradually became noisy.

Yang Ping and Xie Quancai walked out side by side, with Lin Dahai and about ten other people following behind at a distance—they were all familiar coworkers of similar rank, chatting as they walked, and they didn't seem out of place in the throng of people heading to the canteen.

While queuing, the dozen or so people remained behind him, forming their own small queue.

Yang Ping smiled helplessly and waved his hand to tell them to be at ease and stop following him around.

Everyone verbally agreed, saying "Okay, okay."

But his feet didn't move.

He shook his head and simply let them go.

The person serving food at the window was still a member of the MCA.

When it was Yang Ping's turn, the iron ladle rose and fell, filling the bowl with a generous amount of vegetables, with two plump white steamed buns placed beside it.

Just then, a figure quickly approached from the side—it was Jia Dongxu.

He glanced at the full bowl in Yang Ping's hand, a hint of undisguised envy flashing in his eyes, but he immediately straightened his back and raised his voice:

"Yang Ping, I've already passed the CET-4 exam."

"I'm not far from level six. Just you wait and see, next time during the assessment... I'll make sure the whole factory remembers my name."

His words revealed an irrepressible sense of pride, like a taut string.

Congratulations rang out, and Yang Ping merely nodded slightly, but continued walking straight towards Gao Yue.

With a broad smile on his face, Jia Dongxu returned to Yi Zhonghai's side in high spirits.

"Master, just you wait and see."

His voice was loud and clear: "I'll work harder from now on, and I'll be a level six fitter sooner or later, definitely outshining Yang Ping!"

Yi Zhonghai simply sighed softly.

He had just received the news—Yang Ping had helped his master Xie Quan break through to level seven, and the factory had also asked Lü Shuitian to lead a technical improvement team, specifically requesting Yang Ping to lead it.

This clearly shows that Yang Ping's skills have reached the threshold of level seven.

His disciple wants to catch up with him? He'll probably have to wait until the next life.

As for that promotion team, Yi Zhonghai was not optimistic about it.

Xie Quan's promotion was likely the culmination of years of hard work, and he wanted to train a large number of people. Yang Ping didn't have that ability.

In the workshop, Yang Ping went to work as usual.

After finishing the seventh-level parts he received that day, he took a break to give Lin Dahai and a few others pointers.

The first thing to do was to correct their bad habits—incorrect gestures and awkward exertion. Once these habits were corrected, their efficiency improved noticeably.

The twelve people were initially just testing the waters, but now their eyes were wide open, and their expressions when they looked at Yang Ping were completely different.

Once you get rid of bad habits, your hands feel lighter, and your mind becomes more active as well.

The hope of a promotion quietly began to sprout.

The sun was setting in the west when I finished work.

Yang Ping got on his bicycle and headed towards Qianmen Street.

He doesn't plan to go back to the compound today; he wants to go to Lou Xiao'e's place to keep her company.

As I passed the bus stop, I caught a glimpse of Xu Fugui and his wife carrying bulging bags, looking flustered as they squeezed onto the bus. As soon as the doors closed, the bus hurriedly drove away.

Yang Ping gripped the handlebars firmly, his brows furrowing slightly.

Where are these two people rushing off to?

...Could something have happened to Xu Damao?

Yang Ping pondered for a while, but couldn't figure it out, so he simply put the idea aside.

I'll find out eventually when I get back to the courtyard; there's no point in thinking about it now.

I missed the lively scene in the courtyard today because I was looking for Lou Xiao'e, which is a bit of a pity.

He thought that he might be able to get some compensation when he saw her later, and he pedaled his bicycle faster and faster until he arrived at the gate of Lou Xiao'e's courtyard.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door knocker.

"Here I am!"

Light footsteps could be heard coming from inside.

As soon as the door opened, Lou Xiao'e's eyes crinkled when she saw him, but her lips curled slightly.

"Why are you so late?"

There was a hint of reproach in his tone.

"There's a lot going on at the factory. I was just promoted to team leader and have to train more than a dozen apprentices in fitter skills. I really can't spare the time."

Yang Ping explained with a smile, casually picking up the oil paper package hanging on the handlebars and waving it in front of her, "Guess what I brought you?"

Lou Xiao'e leaned closer to take a look, her smile deepening: "Candied fruit! I was just thinking about it the other day... Thank you for remembering."

Seeing her like this, Yang Ping's heart stirred.

This girl is usually straightforward, but when she occasionally reveals this girlish side, it's quite endearing.

He pushed the cart into the yard and casually asked, "Has Uncle Yao delivered the food yet?"

"It was delivered a while ago and is still sitting in the house. We haven't touched it yet—perfect, let's eat together."

"become."

Yang locked the door and then went inside.

Three dishes and a soup were laid out on the table, all of which were Fengzeyuan's signature dishes, their aroma filling the steam.

He thought to himself that Uncle Yao was very thoughtful, so he didn't stand on ceremony, pulled out a chair, sat down, and picked up his rice bowl.

Lou Xiao'e did not sit down; instead, she turned and walked towards the phonograph, gently placing the needle down.

The melody of the Fifth Symphony then flowed into the room.

"You like this piece too?"

Yang Ping revealed a perfectly timed hint of surprise.

He was certainly aware of it.

It was because he knew that Lou Xiao'e preferred this song that he specially sought out this record.

"yes,"

Lou Xiao'e nodded slightly, her eyes shining. "Whenever this music plays, I feel a surge of energy."

"This symphony was born during the darkest period of the composer's life."

Yang Ping's voice lowered, taking on the tone of recounting the past, "The ear disease is hopeless to cure, and the successive blows almost broke me down."

However, hidden within it is also an unfulfilled affection…

He recounted the details slowly, those were details he had prepared in advance.

Lou Xiao'e listened intently, as if she had been transported to another time and space.

"The meaning behind the music has some similarities to palmistry and fortune telling."

Yang Feng turned around naturally and extended his hand, "Why don't you let me see the lines on your palm and see if they match the ups and downs of this melody?"

His fingertips touched Lou Xiao'e's hand, gently lifting it up with a solemn expression, as if he were truly examining some mysterious pattern.

What he said was a mixture of truth and falsehood.

Lou Xiao'e did not pull her hand away, but let him hold it, completely unaware that this behavior had exceeded the bounds of propriety.

"Your destiny is good, you are blessed with good fortune, and you are destined for greatness."

Yang Ping's gaze swept over the fine lines crisscrossing on her palm, and she analyzed with an air of seriousness, "It's just that the journey is bound to be a bit bumpy and bumpy."

As he spoke, his fingertips unconsciously caressed her soft palm, then he gathered her fingers into his own, gently squeezed them, and silently compared them in his heart.

These hands were indeed soft and gentle, the kind of delicate hands a woman in her early twenties, pampered and privileged, quite different from the slightly calloused hands of Gao Yue, whom he was familiar with.

"Yang Ping... what are you doing?"

Lou Xiao'e finally sensed something was wrong, and her cheeks began to feel slightly hot.

She had never been so physically intimate with a man before.

"Oh, look at the palm lines, look at the palm lines."

As if snapping out of his daze, Yang Ping immediately released his hand and refocused his attention on her palm, as if the touch had been unintentional.

Lou Xiao'e stood by the door, watching Yang Ping's departing figure, but ultimately did not say anything to stop him.

She leaned quietly against the door frame until the figure disappeared around the corner of the alley, then gently closed the wooden door.

The room fell silent instantly, with only the phonograph record still turning slowly, the scratching sound of the needle gliding across the vinyl filling the empty room.

She walked over, her fingertips tracing the gleaming peach wood body of the machine; at least she had this old object for company.

When Yang Ping pushed his bicycle back to the courtyard house, dusk had already fallen.

Under the old locust tree in the front yard, Yan Fugui was standing with his hands behind his back, bending over to examine two potted plants on the windowsill. He only straightened up and turned his head when he heard the sound of wheels.

"Third Uncle,"

Yang Ping stopped the car with one foot on the ground. "Has the Xu family made any moves today?"

Yan Fugui's eyes lit up, and he immediately took two steps closer: "The Xu family? I haven't heard of them—what happened?"

He rubbed his hands together, his face full of curiosity, and even the reading glasses on his nose slipped down halfway.

Yang Ping couldn't help but laugh when he saw this.

Judging from this reaction, it's clear that no one in the courtyard knows about what happened at the Xu family's place.

His gaze swept over Yan Fugui's shoulder and landed on the two pots of lush daffodils on the windowsill: "These daffodils are thriving."

Yan Fugui practically jumped around, spreading his arms to block the flowerpots: "You, you can't do anything to them! I've been tending to them for half a year, hoping they'd bloom for the New Year—I'll definitely invite you to come and admire them then!"

He gripped the hem of his clothes tightly with his fingers as he spoke, as if afraid that Yang Ping would really reach out.

Yang Ping merely raised the corners of her mouth slightly, said nothing more, and pushed the cart towards the backyard.

As the sound of wheels rolling over the blue bricks faded into the distance, Yan Fugui suddenly slapped his thigh: "Hey! Yang Ping! What were you saying about the Xu family—"

But the figure had already passed through the moon gate and disappeared.

He scratched his thinning hair and muttered to himself that he had to ask the neighbors for details tomorrow.

Several faded clothes were hanging out to dry in the backyard courtyard, swaying gently in the evening breeze.

Just as Yang Ping finished setting up his bicycle, the curtain in the west wing rustled open.

With a thud, Xu Yueling hopped out like a little sparrow, her braid bouncing on her shoulder.

"Brother Yang Ping!"