Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

Grandpa gently stroked Xingbao and Guixiang's heads, the warmth of his palm radiating from them. He slowly said, "I know about this. Chief Wang had no choice. He was delayed by several funerals a few days ago, and the township will be sending people down to investigate in two days. Right now, everyone is busy calculating taxes, and it's really hard to find a professional accountant. It's good to let Yanbang and Yanguo get some experience, but it's a bit much to drag my two little grandsons into this." He paused, looking at everyone's tired expressions, and added, "You're all exhausted too, get some rest. Your grandmother is waiting at home, so we'll head back now. We can talk about everything tomorrow."

Xingbao and Guixiang leaned against their grandfather, their earlier energy for settling accounts long gone, their eyelids heavy. Dad nodded quickly, reminding them to drive slowly on the road. After watching their grandfather's family leave, the rest of the family didn't say anything more. They washed up and hurried back to their rooms to rest. The room quickly fell silent, save for the moonlight streaming gently through the window, lulling everyone into a deep sleep.

Xingbao woke up a little later the next day. When he rubbed his sleepy eyes and stepped out of his room, the house was already bustling with activity—his father was drying the dried fruit he had collected the day before in the yard, his two older brothers were helping to tidy up the tables and chairs in the front room, and the air was filled with the faint aroma of mixed grain porridge. He didn't bother to inquire about the aftermath of the loan he had borrowed the night before. He knew perfectly well that prices would definitely rise again next year, and no matter how the village elders tried to compromise, the family that had lent the money would ultimately suffer a loss. This debt was a mess that was impossible to untangle, and he really didn't know how the village elders had managed to persuade both sides based on their personal connections or their authority. However, when he returned home last night, he vaguely heard his father and grandfather chatting about how Uncle Cai and the other wealthy families had all lent out some silver dollars to barely cover most of the tax shortfall. Those families who couldn't raise the full amount had no choice but to sell their remaining grain to pay this year's taxes.

After breakfast, Xingbao and Guixiang, as usual, followed their older brother to class in the backyard. The commotion coming from the main room—the rustling of grain being poured into sacks, the greetings of villagers handing over their grain, and the dull thud of sacks being stacked—made it clear that their father was leading people in collecting, weighing, and registering the grain. Fortunately, everyone's enthusiasm for the lesson was exceptionally high today. Perhaps yesterday's tax turmoil had made the children understand the importance of reading and writing even more. They sat upright, their eyes fixed on the blackboard, completely undisturbed by the noise from the main room. Even the children who were usually most prone to daydreaming were listening with unusual attentiveness.

The grain collection didn't take long, only two days of intense activity before it was finished. The final tally showed that the collected grain exceeded the planned amount for the year, and Dad's face showed a slight relief. That evening, as darkness fell on the treetops at the village entrance, Dad, along with Xingbao, Guixiang, and his two older brothers, carrying prepared gifts, visited each household that had agreed to reserve grain. Although Chief Wang had given prior notice that he would inform everyone about the grain collection, rural people value etiquette above all else, and the proper courtesy and sentiments couldn't be lacking. The group carried homemade pickled vegetables and dried peanuts and melon seeds. Upon entering, they exchanged pleasantries, thanking the families for their willingness to reserve grain, and reiterated their promise to collect their share before the New Year, ensuring they wouldn't miss out on preparing for the New Year or entertaining relatives.

As soon as the group returned home, Guixiang eagerly grabbed Xingbao's wrist and pulled him towards the door, her little face beaming with excitement, her heart set on finding Xiaohua. These past few days, the family had been busy harvesting grain and settling accounts, leaving them no free time. She had finally managed to get some rare treats from Xingbao, and she wanted to share them with her best friend immediately, but she hadn't been able to find the time for several days. Now that she finally had some free time, she wasn't going to delay any longer. Xingbao couldn't resist her, so he had no choice but to follow her lead.

The two walked briskly through the village lanes and soon arrived at Xiaohua's house. As soon as they called Xiaohua's name, she happily ran out of the yard, clutching a half-finished straw ring in her hand. The three of them hurried side by side towards Grandma's house—Grandma's house cooked pig feed over a fire every night, and this time of year was perfect for roasting small snacks, both warming them and keeping them entertained for conversation. As soon as they stepped into Grandma's yard, a faint aroma of pig feed wafted towards them. Brother Dashan was squatting by the kitchen door, slowly stirring the pig feed in the pot with a long, flat wooden stick, occasionally adding a piece of dry firewood to the stove. The flames crackled against the stove walls, and warmth drifted in on the breeze.

The three of them quickly stepped forward and greeted their maternal grandparents, uncle, and aunt in turn, their voices clear and bright, showing no lack of courtesy. The maternal grandfather sat in the yard smoking a pipe, smiling and waving them off to play; the aunt was picking vegetables at the doorway, also smiling and reminding them, "Don't get too close to the stove, be careful not to burn yourself."

After exchanging greetings, Gui Xiang pulled Xing Bao and Xiao Hua to Da Shan's side, shaking his arm and pleading softly, "Da Shan, Da Shan, could you help us dig a small pit in the stove? We want to roast something to eat." Seeing her soft and cuddly appearance, Da Shan immediately smiled and agreed, "Sure, you wait here, I'll get it for you right away." Saying that, he put down the wooden stick he was holding, picked up the fire poker, and carefully dug a small pit on the side of the stove. There were already several sweet potatoes roasting in the stove! Da Shan even made sure to move the open flames to the side, leaving only warm ashes to retain the residual heat, afraid that the little ones would get burned.

Taking advantage of everyone's inattention, Xingbao secretly used his mind to select a few of the smallest and most ordinary-looking potatoes from his spatial storage. He quickly took them out of his cloth bag, pretending that he had prepared them beforehand, and gently tossed them one by one into the pit. His movements were so natural that there was no flaw in his actions. Brother Dashan smiled and picked up some dry wood ash from the side, carefully burying the potatoes tightly. He even patted the surface of the ash and instructed, "They'll be cooked in half an hour like this. I guarantee they'll be crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, and very fragrant." The four of them sat down by the stove, enjoying the warmth from the firewood. They chatted, their conversation shifting from newly learned words at school to the lively scenes of harvesting grain. Their clear laughter drifted out through the crack in the kitchen door, mingling with the crackling of the firewood, creating a particularly warm and lively atmosphere.

Xingbao actually wanted to roast sweet potatoes too. Roasted sweet potatoes are sweet, soft, and glutinous, much more appealing to children than potatoes. But he simply couldn't—the sweet potatoes in his space, even those unwatered by the spiritual spring water, were all plump and large, several times bigger than ordinary sweet potatoes. Throwing such large sweet potatoes into the stove, he wondered how long they would take to cook through. He secretly planned to go back later and take some ordinary sweet potatoes he had bought from the villagers to put in his space, so he could roast them later. Even though the taste wouldn't be as good, he couldn't possibly cultivate another batch of small sweet potatoes just to satisfy his craving!