Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

Grandpa and Dad stood side by side, hands behind their backs, silently listening to the villagers' complaints. Their expressions gradually shifted from calm to troubled, their brows furrowing slightly, their eyes filled with unconcealed reluctance and helplessness. They had lived in the village their entire lives and knew that life on the mountain was far more difficult than down below. The land was barren, the soil so thin you could see the pebbles beneath, and there was no convenient water source for irrigation. Even if the villagers worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk, their annual harvest was far less than half of what they could get in the fields down below. In times of drought or torrential rain, there was no harvest at all. Driven to desperation, the villagers had no choice but to mine coal in the small mines in the mountains for a living. But these days, mine accidents were frequent, and collapses often resulted in death. Many families in the village lost their main breadwinners because of coal mining, making their lives increasingly difficult. But they were truly powerless to help with the school. When their eldest brother started the school, he had limited energy and could only enroll a small number of students. Moreover, their eldest brother had already decided to go to Shuangfeng Academy next spring. Once he left, there would be no one to teach, and the school would naturally have to close down. Even though they sympathized with the villagers, they simply couldn't fulfill their demands. But the villagers in the mountains were very determined. Their eyes were earnest, and their hands, gripping the hem of their clothes, showed their urgency. They insisted on sending a few people to help at the breeding base, even if it was just to do odd jobs like carrying water and weeding. No matter how patiently Grandpa and Dad explained the difficulties, they refused to give up easily. They stood stubbornly in place, determined to wait for a clear answer before turning away.

Grandpa, Dad, and several neighbors who had rushed over after hearing the news gathered around them, discussing the matter repeatedly. In truth, everyone harbored resentment. When the breeding base was first established, conditions were harsh and the future uncertain, yet not a single one of them had come down the mountain to help. Now, with only a few successes, they were eager to cram people in; no one would willingly accept that. The villagers on the mountain knew they were in the wrong and dared not argue, only pleading and explaining their predicaments. At this point, Old Wang, who had also arrived, mediated, proposing to follow the rules established when the breeding base was founded: originally, only children just over six years old were accepted, but considering their lives on the mountain and the safety of children too young to come down, an exception could be made, adding a year to the age limit, accepting seven-year-olds. However, the villagers were worried about their children coming down the mountain alone and insisted that older children accompany them. After much persuasion and back and forth, they finally reached an agreement: They agreed to allocate two slots to each of the four hilltops. These children would participate in the work and receive the harvest according to the standards for six-year-olds, and would come down the mountain after the New Year to help at the breeding base. As for the cooperative rice planting, Grandpa honestly explained the difficulties: the breeding base was still small, with limited manpower and resources, and they could only take care of the existing experimental fields for now. He assured them that once the scale expanded and conditions were ripe, they would not forget the villagers from the mountains. Hearing this, the crowd gradually calmed down, stopped arguing, and showed a hint of relief on their faces.

As they were leaving, Dad looked at their tired and distressed appearance, their faces weathered and their clothes patched in many places. He couldn't bear it and said, "Fellow villagers, there are still many cabbages planted this year at the breeding base, as well as cabbage hearts to be harvested later. If you need them, we can sell them to you cheaply. If you really don't have the money, you can pay on credit, but you'll need a guarantor. We're all from the same village, and we can't let anyone go hungry." These villagers had long coveted the plump and tender cabbages piled against the wall of the shop. Hearing this, they were very grateful and thanked Dad repeatedly. Those who didn't have any money borrowed some from familiar villagers. Each of them picked out the biggest and freshest cabbage, carefully holding it in their arms, afraid of damaging it.

After all that work, it was already late at night. Luckily, the villagers had brought torches, their flickering light illuminating the path; and since it was the seventeenth of the month, the moon was large and round, its clear light shining brightly on the rugged mountain road, so they weren't worried about the dangers of traveling at night. Watching their figures disappear into the darkness, Grandpa and Dad exchanged a glance and sighed softly, their eyes filled with hope. They only hoped that next year's rice cultivation would be successful, allowing the villagers to harvest more grain and live a more comfortable and stable life.

The next day, the small classes that had been suspended for a few days resumed. However, before class started, Xingbao's family was sitting around the table eating breakfast when a series of chaotic footsteps came from the courtyard gate. Soon after, four adults, along with eight teenagers and four seven-year-old children, arrived in a large group at the entrance of the shop, completely blocking the small entrance.

Looking at the group of people in front of him, Dad put down his chopsticks and bowl, a hint of doubt on his face. He asked, "Didn't we agree to come in the spring? Why are you here today? Are you afraid we'll go back on our word?" His tone was teasing, but also contained a trace of confusion. After all, the rules had only been finalized yesterday, and it was rather abrupt for them to come today.

"Not at all, Dawei, you're being too polite!" The one leading the group was Uncle Lü from Lüjialing. His face flushed red from his father's question, and he quickly waved his hand, his tone somewhat hesitant, his hands unsure of what to do. "Your word, Song Dawei, is as good as nails in the village, everyone knows that, but, but..." He stammered for a long time, his face turning bright red, but in the end, he was too embarrassed to say it, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead from his anxiety.

At this moment, Uncle Yang Jiachong, who was standing to the side, quickly stepped forward to defuse the situation. With a gentle smile on his face, he said sincerely, "Dawei, don't take it to heart. Here's what happened. After we went back, we inquired and learned that working at your breeding base involves recording crop growth and counting the harvest. But look at these children we brought; they can't read a single character, let alone write or keep accounts. So we discussed having them come early while there's no work in the fields yet, and since it's cold and they can't stay idle, to learn to recognize and write simple characters from Yanbang. When spring comes and they officially start working, they can help out and won't be a burden to you because they don't know anything."

Xingbao recognized this uncle from Yangjiachong; he was his master's nephew, within five degrees of kinship. Xingbao often saw him when he went to the mountains to learn medicine from his master or to deliver things, so they were somewhat related.