Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

"Xingbao, you haven't even written the title on this booklet yet," the second brother said casually as he came over and noticed.

Xingbao, holding the pen, looked up, a smirk playing on his lips, and winked mysteriously. "Second Brother, I've been saving this title for myself. It'll be more interesting if someone talented comes up with it."

The older brother, listening nearby, couldn't help but roll his eyes at him, his face clearly saying, "This little brat is just making a fuss." Meanwhile, Gui Xiang, seeing her brother start tidying up her medical books, immediately came over, snatched the poetry book from Xing Bao's hands, and ran off to the kitchen to read poems to her mother. This was something Xing Bao had casually mentioned a few days ago while copying books—that babies who hear beautiful poems from the womb grow up to be smarter than others—and the little girl had remembered it perfectly. She'd even pestered her mother to ask if she'd heard poems while pregnant with her. Her mother said there weren't any poetry books at home then, and the little girl's eyes welled up with tears; she almost cried. Luckily, her mother comforted her, saying that listening to poems also made one smarter, and she stopped. She immediately volunteered to read poems to her mother's unborn brother every day.

On December 13th, just as dawn was breaking, the wind was even more biting than usual. In the shadowy corner of the backyard, remnants of snow still clung, gleaming with a cold, white light. Xingbao had risen early, not going to the kitchen to warm himself as usual, but standing alone in the open space of the backyard, facing east, his expression solemn, head slightly bowed, hands clasped quietly at his sides, silently mourning for a while. Although he had long since come to terms with it, on this day that the nation would forever remember, memories of his past life still gently surged within him. Those pains weighed heavily on his heart. After his moment of silence, he took a deep breath of the cold air, quietly suppressing the turmoil in his heart, composed himself, and turned to walk towards the small classroom his elder brother had set up—today he would be learning to read and write with his brother.

Speaking of the small classroom, after learning about the new curriculum and finishing teaching the *Three Character Classic*, the eldest brother took out the new textbooks given to him by his friend Qianjin, intending to teach everyone something new. However, apart from some simple arithmetic and common sense, which were relatively easy to teach, the older brother himself was a beginner in Chinese literature and had absolutely no teaching experience. When he talked about the articles, he had neither the allusions to explain nor could he make them easy to understand. The children quickly lost interest, far less lively than when he taught the *Three Character Classic*, *Three Character Classic*, and *Family Instructions*. The older brother had already memorized the allusions in those primers and could tell them vividly, which the students listened to with great interest and remembered. So, after a short time, the Chinese literature class stopped, and the older brother switched back to primers like the *Three Character Classic*, *Standards for Being a Good Student and Child*, and *Zhu Xi's Family Instructions*, leading everyone in recitation and explanation little by little. The small classroom returned to its former liveliness.

But upon entering the classroom today, Xingbao sensed something was different. His older brother hadn't brought out his usual primers; instead, he held his newly bound poetry book, walked to the center of the classroom, cleared his throat, and looked unusually solemn. After all the children were seated upright, his brother opened the book, pointed to a page, and began to recite it slowly, his voice strong and resonant, filled with an unprecedented passion: "My hair bristles with anger, leaning against the railing, the rain has just stopped..." Xingbao was instantly stunned—it was Yue Fei's "Man Jiang Hong"! He stared at his brother, a wave of emotion washing over him, secretly wondering: Did my brother specially bring out my poetry book today to teach us this stirring poem so that we would remember the great principles of family and country, and serve our country in the future? The second brother and the other children were also infected by the eldest brother's impassioned recitation. They sat up straighter and their eyes were full of seriousness. The classroom was no longer filled with the usual playfulness. Only the eldest brother's resounding recitation echoed gently in the cold wind.

The legendary deeds of Yue Fei, like brilliant stars in the night sky, illuminate the historical river of every village on this land. Everyone, young and old, knows his story intimately. During festivals and leisure time, villages invite opera troupes to perform, and among them, the most captivating is the classic play – "Yue Fei's Mother Tattoos His Back." When the kind yet resolute mother on stage, holding a silver needle, resolutely tattoos the four characters "Serve the Country with Utmost Loyalty" deep into Yue Fei's broad, sturdy back, the audience is deeply moved. Thunderous applause resounds throughout the hall, and tears flow like a burst dam.

Moreover, the elderly, weathered by time, often gather in small groups on sunny winter afternoons, bringing out their little stools. They sit in a circle, surrounded by innocent children, and begin to tell the story they never tire of: how Yue Fei bravely fought against the Jin army, how he selflessly defended the country and its people… They repeat this story over and over, seemingly never growing weary. Because in the hearts of the Chinese people, Yue Fei is not merely a symbol of loyalty and justice, but a peerless hero who defended his homeland and protected his country! His image stands as majestic as a mountain, unshakeable. Even the young, innocent children have long since memorized Yue Fei's glorious deeds, filled with reverence for this great national hero.

As soon as the eldest brother announced the end of get out of class, the small classroom erupted in chaos, its previous solemnity completely gone. The children jumped to their feet, their faces beaming with excitement, reciting lines from "Man Jiang Hong." They imitated Yue Fei from the opera stage, unbuttoning their thick coats and draping them over their shoulders like capes, the hems fluttering in the wind. They chased each other, running around the yard, shouting, "I want to be Yue Fei!" and "I want to serve my country with utmost loyalty!" Their clear cries rose and fell, creating a lively atmosphere that dispelled the winter chill.

Not to be outdone, Guixiang's eyes sparkled as she watched her friends running around in the yard. She immediately turned and ran home, rummaging through drawers and cupboards until she found a piece of gray cloth used for packing. Clutching the cloth, she ran to her mother in the kitchen, tugging at her clothes and pleading, "Mother, Mother, please help me tie this cloth around my neck! They all want to be Yue Fei, I want to be a female Yue Fei too, and I want to serve my country with utmost loyalty!" Her mother, seeing her eager and earnest expression, couldn't help but smile. She quickly put down her work, took the cloth, and carefully tied it around her neck. The cloth draped over her shoulders, giving it a rather cloak-like appearance. Guixiang was overjoyed. She skipped and hopped out of the kitchen, joining her friends. Wearing the gray cloth cloak, she imitated Yue Fei, head held high, shouting as she ran, her eyes full of stubbornness and cuteness, becoming the most eye-catching little figure in the yard.