The Fitter Master in the Courtyard: Surrounded by Dead Men

The two quickly came forward, took the documents, and thanked Yang Ping repeatedly.

"Thank you very much, Director Yang!"

"Don't mention it."

Yang Ping waved casually and turned to leave.

Upon entering the workshop, Lü Shuitian immediately stood up from his workstation and walked towards us with a smile on his face.

"Director Yang, congratulations!"

At this point, he was completely convinced of Yang Ping's abilities.

He had only been transferred to the R&D department for a short time, yet he had already caused such a stir, not only adding two new workshops to the factory, but also surprisingly putting Yang Ping in charge of both workshops at the same time.

This ability far surpasses the realm that ordinary praise can describe.

"Director Lü is joking; we were just lucky."

Yang Ping waved his hand, his tone humble.

"Director Yang is always modest. This is clearly real skill, not just luck."

Lu Shuitian shook his head and smiled.

He was filled with emotion. Yang Ping was indeed an extraordinary person—his fitter skills were superb, he was also good at training apprentices, and now even his research and development capabilities were remarkable. He could be called a true all-rounder.

Even compared to those historical figures who excelled in both literature and martial arts, he is probably no less remarkable.

Yang Ping simply smiled faintly.

He chatted for a few words on the spot, then walked towards the machine tools.

As expected, everyone gathered around to congratulate him on receiving the award and being appointed as the director of the two new workshops.

After getting off work, Director Yang took Gao Yue home before heading back to the courtyard house in the twilight.

When he passed by the supply and marketing cooperative, he bought some vegetables and tofu, intending to have a simple dinner.

As soon as I stepped into the courtyard, I saw Yan Fugui standing there.

The old man seemed to have been waiting for him, and as soon as he saw him, he greeted him with a smile, his voice three times warmer than usual: "Director Yang, you're back?"

Yang Ping, carrying groceries, paused for a moment.

He looked up and sized up Yan Fugui—the overly solicitous look on the other's face, coupled with that abrupt "Director Yang."

It is unusual in every way.

"Third Uncle,"

Yang Ping asked calmly, "What's going on today?"

"Director Yang, there's something I'd like to ask you for a favor."

Yan Fugui had a smile on his face.

Yang Ping glanced at him and saw that the old man's hands were empty, and he didn't look like he was asking for a favor at all, so he understood.

He waved his hand and said decisively, "Third Uncle, it's not that I'm heartless, it's just that I'm not capable enough to handle the task you've entrusted to me."

Trying to get something for nothing? Not so easy.

"No, no, Director Yang, I've prepared a gift. Please wait a moment, I'll go get it right away—"

Yan Fugui quickly replied.

"No need."

Yang Ping didn't give him a chance to continue, pushing his bicycle towards the Intermediate People's Court without stopping.

"Director Yang! Director Yang!"

Yan Fugui called out several times from behind, but seeing that the person was getting further and further away and he couldn't catch up, he could only sigh and turn back into the house.

Upon entering the courtyard, Yang Ping saw Jia Dongxu sitting on the threshold, teasing his son Banggeng.

Although Jia Dongxu had a smile on his face, his eyes revealed an indescribable sarcasm.

"Director Yang is here."

The other people in the courtyard greeted them.

"Everyone is doing well."

Yang Ping nodded to the crowd in a clear and resonant voice.

Jia Dongxu's face darkened, and he grabbed his son and pulled him into the house without uttering a word.

Seeing this from inside the room, Jia Zhangshi yelled, "Look at that attitude! He thinks he's so great just because he's a director? My son will be one someday, and he might even be better than him!"

"Mom, please say less."

Jia Dongxu interrupted in a low voice, "If this gets back to him, and he starts causing trouble for me at the factory, won't your son still have his job?"

He certainly looked down on Yang Ping, but now that Yang Ping was a proper director with real power, if he really started to argue with him, his future days at the factory would probably be difficult.

Madam Jia immediately fell silent, her face turning pale and then flushed, as she forcefully suppressed her anger.

"This is so boring!"

Seeing Jia Dongxu retreat back into the house, Yang Ping let out a low snort.

He had deliberately raised his voice in response, intending to provoke the kid, but the other party didn't take the bait at all, making him look foolish.

His gaze shifted to Yi Zhonghai's window. The old man, who had been sitting inside, got up and shrank back into the inner room as soon as he met his gaze, not daring to show his face.

As for Silly Zhu, the door was tightly closed, probably because he had gone out to help in the kitchen again. Ever since MCA took over the kitchen and even took over the banquet arrangements, and with Lee Cheng-te backing him up, Silly Zhu had no choice but to take on odd jobs to bring home some leftovers.

Yang Ping had heard Ma Hua mention this before.

Seeing that there was no one else in the courtyard to tease, Yang Ping turned around and walked towards the backyard.

As soon as I stepped through the moon gate, Ma Xiaoling greeted me with a smile.

"Congratulations, Yang Ping! I heard you've become the new workshop director, managing two workshops all by yourself. You're really capable!"

She said "two workshop foremen"

At that moment, there was an inexplicable awkwardness in her tone—perhaps it was because they had watched a movie together that time, and Zhou Xiaobai had jokingly said, "I'm also a sister-in-law."

The shadow that falls at that moment.

"Thank you, Sister Xiaoling."

Yang Ping smiled, his gaze sweeping over the closed door behind her.

It's obvious that Xu Damao, that coward, is using this news as a shield to avoid Ma Xiaoling's beating.

Can you hide from today, or from every day? You're bound to get a beating sooner or later.

"Xiaoling, I'm going back to my room to cook."

"Okay, you're busy then, I won't bother you anymore."

Yang Ping nodded. When he passed by Liu Haizhong's house, he saw that the doors and windows were tightly closed and there was no sound inside.

He secretly guessed: Old Liu is probably sulking in his room again.

Yang Ping knew exactly what was going on.

Back then, those two lads, Liu Guangtian and Liu Guangfu, used to follow me around bowing and scraping all day long, but now they've both made a name for themselves.

He didn't show it on his face, but the displeasure in his heart was like smoldering embers in a stove, occasionally flaring up.

I didn't even have time to savor my meal. I finished it in a few bites and just wanted to get back to my room for some peace and quiet.

The spatula had barely stopped cooking when there was a commotion outside the door.

Looking up, I saw Yan Fugui from the front yard, carrying something in his hand, with his eldest son Yan Jiecheng following behind him.

The two entered the house one after the other, politely addressing him as "Director Yang".

.

"Uncle, your nose is really sharp."

Yang Ping wiped his hands and said half-jokingly, "I only cooked one serving of rice here, so I'm afraid there aren't any extra bowls and chopsticks to serve you two."

He put it bluntly.

It wasn't that he was stingy, it's just that he hadn't prepared in advance, and he didn't have the mind to arrange a meal for guests on the spot.

Yan Fugui remained calm and found a stool to sit down. He then gently placed the things he had brought—a bottle of Xifeng liquor and a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes—on the corner of the table.

Yan Jiecheng also sat down, remaining silent.

Yang Ping glanced at the cigarettes and alcohol and immediately understood what was going on.

This is someone "knocking on the door".

of.

The product isn't bad, but to think you can accomplish anything with just that is to be incredibly disrespectful.

He pretended not to see it and ate the rest of the food cleanly, leaving not even a drop of soup.

Only the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks remained in the room.

The father and son sat there silently, the aroma of the food wafting over, and the occasional suppressed swallowing sounds could be heard, but neither of them urged the other to hurry.

After Yang Ping neatly finished clearing away the dishes and wiping the table, he turned around and, as if he had just noticed the cigarettes and alcohol, asked, "Third Uncle, what brings you here? And why did you bring these things?"

Yan Fugui leaned forward, a smile plastered on his face: "Director Yang, to be honest, it's about Jie Cheng's job."

I heard you were promoted and are now in charge of the new workshop. Could you perhaps... arrange a suitable position for him?

Yan Fugui finally revealed his purpose.

He gently pushed five neatly folded ten-yuan bills in front of Yang Ping, and the slightly worn wooden table seemed to quiet down for a moment because of this action.

"Yang Ping, this is just a small token of my appreciation, please don't refuse."

He didn't call him "Director Yang".

They only called him by his name, and their words were full of the warmth and human touch of living together in the courtyard day and night.

"Brother Yang, please help me with this."

Yan Jiecheng followed up with a low plea, his voice filled with long-suppressed anticipation.

Yang Ping's gaze fell on the stack of money, and his eyebrows lifted slightly.

This old man Yan, who usually hesitates for ages over a single copper coin, is actually quite generous this time.

His rigid, businesslike demeanor was slightly breached by this straightforward sincerity.

"That's enough."

He leaned back, his tone softening, "Come with me to the factory first thing tomorrow morning."

I'll go and say hello to Director Yang.

However, let me be clear from the start: the new workshop won't be finished for at least a few months, so starting work won't be that quick; we'll have to wait.

"Wait! We can wait!"

Yan Fugui quickly chimed in, his wrinkles smoothing out, "Jie Cheng's been idle anyway, and we've waited all this time, so a few more months won't make a difference."

Yang Ping, I will remember this kindness.

"Thank you, Brother Yang!"

Yan Jiecheng felt a lump in his throat.

Life after graduation felt like walking on cotton, aimless and uncertain. The prospect of this formal job finally gave him something tangible to hold onto.

Yang Ping simply waved his hand casually and said nothing more.

Yan Fugui tactfully stood up. "Then we won't bother you any longer. My son and I will head back first."

Yang Ping watched them leave before turning his gaze away.

Outside, the night breeze was cool. As soon as Yan Fugui stepped out the door, he lowered his voice and said to his son:

"Jiecheng, we've already agreed on the money beforehand."

This fifty yuan is what your dad paid for you. From now on, every month when you get your wages, remember to give five yuan home and then pay back the other five yuan debt until it's all paid off.

Did you hear me?

"Okay, Dad."

Yan Jiecheng's voice sounded somewhat tired in the darkness, "How many times have you said this?"

Upon hearing this, Yang Ping smiled silently, already understanding in his heart that this benefit would ultimately come from him.

Yan Fugui had already planned everything out clearly, no wonder he was so generous yesterday.

However, he was too lazy to delve into the intricacies of the matter.

He collected all the money, wine, and cigarettes he had acquired into that strange space that only he could perceive, and then turned around to wash up.

At the same time, the atmosphere in the Liu family was completely different.

Aunt Er hurried back into the house, where she saw Liu Haizhong sitting there with a sullen face, clearly holding back his anger.

She hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward and whispered, "Honey, I heard that Yang Ping has become the director of the new workshop."

"How about... you take some things and go beg him? Maybe he can at least get Guangqi some work?"

Having said all that, she had finally let go of any lingering resentment she might have held towards Yang Ping in the past.

Having a decent job for her eldest son is more important than anything else; she just hopes her husband can swallow his pride.

"Hmph! He's just a workshop foreman, where does he get so much power?"

Liu Haizhong stiffened his neck and said in a sharp tone, "Assigning jobs is the responsibility of the neighborhood committee! With Guangqi's high school diploma, getting into that new workshop is a sure thing, isn't it? Why would we need to beg him?"

Face is ultimately more important than anything else.

Even though he knew in his heart that asking Yang Ping to smooth things over would greatly increase his son's chances of getting a job at the factory, Liu Haizhong would never bow down and submit to a junior.

"Why don't we give it a try..."

Auntie Er was still not giving up, muttering under her breath.

"Alright! What do women know!"

Liu Haizhong waved his hand impatiently and snapped, "Get the floor mopped up right now!"

The second aunt was choked and fell silent, so she could only turn around silently and pick up a rag and a bucket.

Seeing this, Liu Guangtian and Liu Guangfu, who were hiding nearby, quickly retreated back into their own house, fearing that if they made too much noise, they would get burned and be beaten up for no reason.

Liu Guangqi, who was at the center of the discussion, just sat listlessly in the corner, looking away, as if none of this concerned him.

The next morning.

Yan Jiecheng rode a brand-new bicycle with Yang Ping on the back, and the two headed towards the Hongxing Steel Rolling Mill.