Courtyard House: A Prosperous and Joyful Life

Guo Hongbing, Li Xiangdong, and Luo Xuenong, clutching their newly earned wages, left full of energy and high spirits. Wang Jun saw them to the door, but before he could even turn around, he was surrounded by a group of elderly women—what secrets could there be in a courtyard house? Every visitor was subjected to relentless questioning.

"Soldier, what are these three young men doing here?"

"Is there something you need?"

Wang Jun had no choice but to explain, "They are my junior high school classmates. I hired them to help me buy and refurbish radio casings."

"Buying refurbished shells?" The old lady's eyes lit up instantly. "How much will you pay?"

"Yeah, Jun, how much do you get for one outer shell?"

Wang Jun didn't hide anything: "I get 6 cents for each one I renovate. The more I do, the more I earn."

"My God!" The women exclaimed in disbelief. "6 cents each? Renovating ten would cost 6 yuan?"

"Jun, you're not wrong, are you? This is much better than going to work!"

Wang Jun nodded: "They just delivered 12 shells, and I gave them 7.2 yuan, that's right."

These words were like a bombshell, and the old ladies were all excited—6 cents each, refurbishing ten a day would be 6 yuan, and 180 yuan a month! This income was several times higher than working a regular job, who could resist?

"Jun, I want to help you too!"

"Auntie, I stay home with the kids all day, I have plenty of time, can you let me give it a makeover?"

"My skills are top-notch! The renovations will look brand new, I guarantee you'll be satisfied!"

A group of unemployed housewives gathered around, all wanting to take on the job—they were bored out of their minds in the winter, and this was a good opportunity to earn some extra money.

Wang Jun thought for a moment and said, "Okay, I'll give you 6 cents for each one you complete. But you have to be careful; I won't accept the careless ones."

"Don't worry! I'm a great cook!"

"Your satisfaction is guaranteed!"

The women dispersed happily. Wang Jun went back inside and began assembling the radios—the casings had already been refurbished. He soldered the wires and assembled the parts with lightning speed. More than three hours later, all 12 radios were assembled. A quick test with them showed they all worked perfectly, though the casings were a little rough, but that didn't affect their use.

Wang Jun, carrying a bag, went straight to Yan Bugui's house: "Uncle San, I've assembled 12 radios, do you want them?"

Upon hearing this, Yan Bugui jumped up and exclaimed, "I want it! I want it all!"—This was a chance to make a fortune, and he couldn't miss it.

Upon entering Wang Jun's house, Yan Bugui's eyes widened at the sight of 12 radios neatly stacked up. Touching the casings, his heart raced: "That's all money!"

Wang Jun plugged in a radio and turned it on; a clear sound came from it. He turned it off: "Everything works fine. It'll be 600 yuan. Pay up."

Six hundred yuan was a huge sum for Yan Bugui, but in order to make money, he gritted his teeth and paid. Wang Jun took the money and said with a smile, "Shall I help you carry it over?"

Yan Bugui nodded hurriedly—these 12 radios were the "golden nuggets" in his eyes!

Radios were carried out one by one, moving along the path in the courtyard towards Yan Bugui's house. This commotion attracted all the women and children in the courtyard, who gathered around to watch.

Radios are a rare commodity these days. It's quite a show for an ordinary family to have one. Now, a dozen or so have suddenly appeared. How can this not be surprising?

"Wow, so many radios!"

"My God, did Wang Jun assemble all of this?"

"Yes, it's him!"

Huaihua squeezed to the front of the crowd, staring at the rows of radios, and was immediately stunned. In her memory, Wang Jun had never shown off, but suddenly, his image in her mind became much taller.

Originally, Huaihua admired Banggeng and Shazhu the most: Banggeng drove for important people, looking very powerful; Shazhu was the head chef at the steel mill and knew many influential people. But now she felt that Wang Jun was even more impressive than them—he could even assemble a radio himself, which showed that he was cultured and knowledgeable. These days, cultured and knowledgeable people are the ones who get ahead and have a lot of influence.

Wang Jun helped move all twelve radios into Yan Bugui's house, piling them up to the brim. Aunt San stood at the door, her heart already pounding with fear—she worried that if they couldn't be sold, she'd lose her life savings. She leaned closer to Yan Bugui and asked in a low voice, "What if we can't sell all these radios?"

Yan Bugui, however, was much calmer: "Don't worry, twelve radios will sell out in half a day. There's no need to fret." These days, there are plenty of people who want to buy radios, and his goods don't require coupons, so why should he worry about not having customers?

Wang Jun walked out of the house and bumped into Yu Li. Yu Li was in her thirties, but she was still fair-skinned, pretty, and her figure was still in good shape.

When Yu Li saw him, her eyes lit up: "Jun, when did you learn to assemble radios? That's amazing! You'll definitely make a lot of money in the future!"

Wang Jun replied with a smile, "Hello, Sister Yu Li. Actually, I don't earn much; it's just hard-earned money."

"I don't believe it." Yu Li was very shrewd. She quickly figured it out: a radio could earn at least a few yuan, and sometimes more than ten yuan. Twelve radios would earn more than a hundred yuan. If she assembled radios like this every day, she could earn three or four thousand yuan a month—a number that was absolutely staggering at the time.

But Wang Jun refused to admit it, only saying, "I really didn't make much. If you don't believe me, fine." Then he turned and left.

As Yu Li watched his retreating figure, a thought suddenly popped into her head. Lately, she'd seen other people's restaurants thriving and wanted to open one herself. But opening a restaurant required capital, and she was short on cash. She'd asked all her relatives and friends, but these days nobody had any spare money, and she couldn't scrape together enough. Just when she was worrying about money, Wang Jun suddenly showed such ability; if he were willing to lend her some, it would solve her immediate problem.

She silently decided in her heart: she had to find an opportunity to ask Wang Jun for money.

Wang Jun lay on the wooden bed, listening to the cicadas chirping outside the window, tossing and turning—there was no cell phone, no television, not even a decent magazine; time seemed to be glued on, moving so slowly it was unsettling.

He suddenly sat up, slapped his forehead, and exclaimed, "Oh right, we have another fishing opportunity today!"

"System, I want to go fishing!"

"Ding! Fishing completed, you have obtained ten catties of rice."

Wang Jun squeezed the grain coupons in his hand (the "invisible grain coupons" awarded by the system, which could be exchanged for rice) and smiled—ten kilograms of rice, enough for him to eat for half a month, a free lunch, the best.

But after lying down for a while, boredom returned. He glanced at the blank manuscript paper in the drawer (which he had taken from his workplace to write self-criticism reports) and the Hero fountain pen (the cap of which was worn shiny; it was a keepsake from his father), and suddenly an idea popped into his head: write a book!

The book is titled "How to Assemble a Radio".

He recalled that writing books in the 80s was a "highly profitable business": 3-10 yuan per thousand words, and the more you sold, the more you earned. One writer even earned enough from a single book to buy a courtyard house. Assembling radios could earn quick money (a few hundred yuan a day), but the scrap metal shells would eventually run out, while writing books was the "long-term meal ticket."

He spread out the manuscript paper, and the nib of his pen swished across the lines. He started by writing the "Foreword": "The radio is the 'ears' of us ordinary people, but a new radio costs hundreds of yuan, so we working class have to make our own..." Then he drew the circuit diagram, retracing it with a pencil, and even when ink got on his index finger, he didn't care.

On the other side, Yan Bugui was pedaling his bicycle, sweating profusely. A cloth bag was hanging on the handlebars, containing three Red Lantern brand radios (assembled by Wang Jun, with refurbished outer shells and a glossy wooden finish).

"Old Li! Is Old Li home?" He knocked on the door of room 302. "I have a radio here, everything's working perfectly, 60 yuan, no receipt needed!"

Old Li (a middle school teacher) peeked out from under the door, his glasses dusty with chalk: "60 yuan? No receipt? Really?"

"Of course it's true!" Yan Bugui placed the radio on the table, turned it on, and said, "Listen—China National Radio, news and newspaper summaries!"

After a crackling sound from the static, the familiar news broadcast came on. Old Li's eyes lit up: "I want it! I was just worried about not being able to buy a radio to listen to the news!"

In two or three hours, Yan Bugui visited seven or eight stores and sold all twelve radios. Clutching a wad of 120 yuan, his legs trembled, and he nearly knocked over the threshold when he pushed open a door: "Auntie! Come and see! We're rich!"

Aunt San (Yan Bugui's wife) was sewing shoe soles when her eyes lit up at the sight of money. She even pricked her finger with the needle: "How much? How much?"

"120! 10 yuan profit per unit, 120 yuan profit for 12 units!" Yan Bugui spread the money on the table and counted it one bill at a time. "120 yuan a day, 3600 yuan a month! That Wang Jun is a real money-maker!"

In a traditional courtyard house, there are never any walls that are completely airtight.

The news that Yan Bugui had made a fortune reselling radios spread throughout the courtyard overnight, becoming the hottest topic of conversation among everyone.

"Tsk tsk, Uncle San has a good eye! He bought twelve radios from Wang Jun and made a fortune in the process." Mrs. Li, the deputy factory director's wife, shook her head, her tone full of pride and envy.

"It's not just making a killing, it's practically turning lead into gold!" another neighbor chimed in. "Do you know how much he made per unit? He bought them for fifty dollars and sold them for sixty, making a net profit of ten dollars per unit! Twelve units, that's one hundred and twenty!"

Amidst the envious murmurs, some shrewd individuals began to scheme. They looked at Yan Bugui with envy and secretly plotted to quickly find Wang Jun and snatch that "source of goods" away.

The front yard, Yu Li's house.

After hearing these discussions, Yu Li's mind immediately stirred. She nudged her husband, Yan Jiecheng, who was sighing beside her, and said, "Dad made over a hundred yuan today with just this one transaction. I think we can do this buying and selling business too."

Upon hearing this, Yan Jiecheng immediately shrank his neck into his collar and said irritably, "I wouldn't dare! That's my own father. If I steal his business, wouldn't he break my legs?"

"What's there to be afraid of? At worst, I'll get a scolding." Yu Li said dismissively.

"That won't do either, I don't have the guts." Yan Jiecheng's very bones exuded cowardice.

Yu Li was furious. This man was utterly hopeless, completely lacking in courage! Before, without comparison, she had thought him honest and reliable, but now, with Wang Jun as a point of reference, she saw her husband's incompetence clearly. Compared to Wang Jun, he was like heaven and earth!

The backyard, Xu Damao's house.

Unlike Yu Li's family's scheming, Xu Damao's life in the backyard has been nothing short of agonizing these past few days. Qin Jingru's infertility has made him ashamed of the gossip from the neighbors; at work, he has been reduced from a glamorous projectionist to a ticket seller who has to be subservient to everyone, and his income has plummeted.

The house is like a powder keg; it could explode at the slightest touch.

As soon as Xu Damao got home from get off work, he was greeted by Qin Jingru's tirade: "Xu Damao, we're practically starving! We haven't had any meat in three days, can't you even go and get some? You're making me eat vegetables and tofu every day, what are you up to?"

"No money!" Xu Damao retorted irritably.

"Not only do you have no money, you're also useless!" Qin Jingru's voice rose eight octaves.

These words pierced Xu Damao's heart like needles, and he instantly became enraged, raising his hand to strike.

Qin Jingru, hands on her hips, looked completely unfazed: "What, did I say something wrong? You've lived to be thirty or forty years old, and your skills haven't improved; in fact, your life has gotten worse! Look at Wang Jun, he can earn over a hundred a day! That's real skill!"

Upon hearing this, Xu Damao felt as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over him, his heart filled with envy and resentment. The difference was like heaven and earth! He himself worked like a ticket seller, toiling away for only fifty or sixty yuan a month, with barely any extra income. Wang Jun earned in a single day what he would earn in two months!

Wang Jun is still writing his book. He wrote "Chapter 3: Assembly Steps - First connect the antenna, then solder the resistor, and finally adjust the frequency." The pen nib paused on the word "resistor," and he smiled as he recalled how Guo Hongbing and the other two had been rummaging through the scrap yard yesterday: This book has to be well-written so that more people can make a living with their skills.