Courtyard House: Ten-year-old Master Zhu reorganizes the entire courtyard

The smoke from the steel rolling mill's tall chimneys has been emanating intermittent smoke these past few days, like an old ox about to die. Inside the workshop, the smell of machine oil mixed with the stench of sweat, amplified by the cold wind, creates a strange, tooth-grinding odor.

He Yuzhu squatted in the coal shed at the entrance of the alley, holding half a piping hot roasted sweet potato. Squatting opposite him was an old man with a face covered in grease, surnamed Wu, a veteran in the factory's fitter workshop, whose prestige was half a head higher than Yi Zhonghai's. He was usually quiet, but this time he was really anxious.

"Zhu Zi, the meeting is set for three days from now," Master Wu said in a very low voice. "Everyone is really at their wits' end. If we don't make a scene soon, our wives and children will starve."

He Yuzhu broke off half of a sweet potato and handed it to him: "Uncle Wu, there's no turning back now. Have you thought it through?"

Master Wu took the sweet potato, but didn't eat it. He rubbed his calloused hands on the skin. "I've thought it through. I'm just worried about those bastards. If the police station really uses guns, we're unarmed, aren't we just throwing our lives away? You've got connections, find out what the rules are like at the station."

He paused, his face flushing slightly, "If this really drags on, we might not even be able to afford cornbread. Could you perhaps...?"

"Understood." He Yuzhu interrupted him. "I'll gather the information. I'll prepare food and medicine for you. You just need to keep the people together and prevent them from scattering."

Master Wu stared at the ten-year-old child without saying a word, then tucked the half-eaten sweet potato into his pocket; it was for his grandson.

……

That afternoon, at the bathhouse.

The heat made everyone dizzy. He Yuzhu was shirtless, with Young Master Sun lying next to him. This kid hadn't been having an easy time lately; his father's position as deputy director of the fake police station was in jeopardy, and he was scrambling to find ways to clean up his name.

"Has Commissioner Li been eyeing the factory lately?" He Yuzhu asked casually, holding a bath towel.

Young Master Sun grumbled, "That's right, that Li Dequan is a bloodsucker, hoping to fill his hole with the little bit of profit from the steel mill. I heard my old man on the phone last night that the riot squad in the bureau got new batons and is on standby. If there's any commotion in the factory area, they'll beat them to death."

"Beat him to death?" He Yuzhu paused, scrubbing his face with the towel.

"That's right, the higher-ups say this is called 'maintaining public order'." Young Master Sun turned over, looking distressed. "Master Zhu, how come the world is even more chaotic than it was during the Japanese era? My father has packed up all the valuables in the house these past two days, ready to run away at any time."

He Yuzhu didn't respond, but he knew what was going on.

After leaving the bathhouse, he went straight to Jisheng Clinic. Lin Wanqiu was organizing medicines behind the counter when she saw him come in, and their eyes met.

"Sulfonamides, bandages," He Yuzhu said, leaning over the counter in a very low voice, "a large quantity."

Lin Wanqiu paused, didn't ask why, and turned to go into the inner room. After a short while, she came out carrying a heavy cloth bag, covered with several old clothes.

"Be careful." That was all she said.

Back in the courtyard house, Chen Lanxiang was making pancakes, filling the room with their aroma. He Yuzhu closed the door tightly and went to the stove.

"Mom, make more. Chop the pickled vegetables finely too, so even if it's dry, it'll fill you up."

Chen Lanxiang wiped the sweat from her forehead, looked at her son's still-developing but fierce face, and sighed: "Is it about something outside again?"

"For our own sake," He Yuzhu added a handful of firewood to the stove. "If the fire outside goes out, we won't be able to keep out the chill in this yard."

……

The day before the strike.

The small conference room in the steel rolling mill was filled with smoke. The factory director's fat face was partially obscured by the smoke, with Section Chief Ma sitting beside him. Below them sat the factory's key technical personnel and team leaders. Yi Zhonghai huddled in a corner, wishing he were invisible.

"You're all veterans of the factory," the factory manager said, tapping his cigarette ash with a forced smile. "There are rumors circulating outside about a strike. Let me make this clear: anyone who dares to lead the charge is going against the Nationalist government! I've already spoken to the police station; don't blame me for being ruthless!"

Section Chief Ma added menacingly, "Commissioner Li said that extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. Arrest a few typical cases, and let's see who dares to cause trouble then."

The meeting room was deathly silent.

After the meeting, Yi Zhonghai's legs were cramping. He was stopped by Master Wu as soon as he stepped out of the factory gate.

"Old Yi." Master Wu handed him a cigarette.

Yi Zhonghai's hands trembled so much he couldn't light the lighter: "Old Wu, you... take my advice, let it go. You can't fight city hall, that Section Chief Ma is a ruthless man."

Master Wu helped him light the fire: "I'm not trying to persuade you to join. I'm just asking one question: tomorrow, which side are you on?"

Yi Zhonghai took a deep drag of his cigarette, coughing violently. He looked at Master Wu's dark, thin, and stern face, opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a word.

"I..." Yi Zhonghai threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out. "My old leg pain has flared up again, and it hurts terribly. I'll take the day off tomorrow to get some medicine."

Master Wu smiled and patted him on the shoulder: "Alright. Take care, Lao Yi."

As Yi Zhonghai watched Master Wu's departing figure, he felt like a deserter, but dared not turn back, for turning back meant facing a precipice.

Evening in Rongxian Hutong.

Xu Fugui rushed over, his hat askew.

"Zhu Zi! Something terrible has happened!" He gasped for breath. "That Section Chief Ma is treating everyone to dinner at Bianyifang tonight, and he invited the police chief. I overheard it, and tomorrow, if anyone dares to gather at the factory gate, they're arrested! The list is already drawn up, and that old man surnamed Wu is first on the list!"

He Yuzhu was wiping a boning knife when he stopped.

"First in line?" he sneered. "The nail that sticks out gets hammered down; this is a warning to others."

"What should we do then? Should we tell Lao Wu to run?"

"Run? With hundreds of workers watching, if he runs, his morale will collapse." He Yuzhu sheathed his knife. "They want to catch the ringleader, so we'll just pull a magic trick on him."

He stood up and pulled out a bag full of pancakes and medicine from under the bed.

"Uncle Xu, I'll have to trouble you again. This batch of goods must be delivered to the abandoned warehouse next to the factory tonight. There's a cellar there, only the old workers know about it."

Xu Fugui looked at the large bag and swallowed hard: "This...this could cost me my head."

"Two small yellow croakers."

"Deal!" Xu Fugui picked up the bag and left, faster than a rabbit.

He Yuzhu looked out at the pitch-black night. The wind picked up, making the paper windows rustle loudly.

Tomorrow, the city of Beiping will be bustling with activity.