Courtyard House: A Prosperous and Joyful Life

Wang Jun worked until after 11 p.m., assembling 30 radios and using up all the spare casings in his inventory before stopping.

Before going to bed, he remembered he had another free fishing opportunity, so he used it and got a secret barbecue seasoning – perfect for grilling meat and fish.

The next morning, Wang Jun took a basin and went out to wash up. There was only one living area and a small kitchen in the house, and no dedicated washing area, so the first thing he did after getting up was to go out to take care of his bodily needs and wash up.

When I returned from washing up, there were already more than a dozen people gathered at the door, each holding a radio casing; the scene was quite spectacular.

"Jun, come quickly and collect the outer shells!"

"I renovated 7 today, hurry up and buy them!"

"Take mine first, I refurbished them all, they're all gorgeous, like new!"

"All the brands I refurbish are Red Star brand; the quality is top-notch!"

Everyone gathered around the doorway, chattering amongst themselves, creating a chaotic scene.

Wang Jun had no choice but to raise his voice: "Don't rush, as long as the outer shell is up to standard, I want them all. Everyone line up, one at a time."

The crowd immediately lined up obediently. Wang Jun checked each person's card, and those who passed were paid on the spot. Looking at the stack of banknotes in their hands, everyone was thrilled—these days, ordinary people have no way to earn money, and those without jobs can only stay home doing laundry, cooking, and taking care of children. Wang Jun had given them a way to earn money right at their doorstep; how could they not be happy?

"Aunt Zhou, these are for you! Ten shells have been refurbished, six pieces in total. Here you go!"

"Okay!"

"Aunt Luo, you've renovated 5, which is 3 pieces in total. Count them!"

"Good, good! Jun, you've made something of yourself, it's time to settle down and start a family. I'll introduce you to a distant relative's daughter in a couple of days!"

The women who received the money were in high spirits, and several of them immediately offered to introduce young women to them, emphasizing that the women should be fertile and healthy.

The views on marriage and love in this era are very pragmatic—a good girl is one who is tall and strong, capable of doing farm work and housework, and able to bear children; whether she is pretty or has a good figure is not important.

Wang Jun did want to find a partner, but the tall, strong type simply didn't fit his aesthetic. Hearing the enthusiastic introductions from the older women, he quickly declared, "Aunties and ladies, I like prettier girls. Please introduce me to this type!"

Everyone laughed upon hearing this. An older woman said, "Jun, being pretty is useless; being good at managing a household is what really matters! Movie stars may look beautiful, but they're actually no help at all. You should find someone healthy, capable, and practical!"

Another older woman added, "Don't judge a wife by her looks. Pretty girls use face cream, clam oil, and face powder every day—how much money do they spend? Average-looking girls don't need these things, saving you money."

Another woman, Aunt Li, said enthusiastically, "My cousin is 1.6 meters tall, weighs 130 pounds, and can carry a 200-pound pig on her back! I'm thinking of introducing her to you, what do you think?"

Hold the grass!

Wang Jun was immediately overwhelmed – he weighed less than 140 pounds, and the thought of finding a 140-pound wife to take home was too much to bear.

He quickly refused, "Aunt Li, no need, really no need!"

Everyone was chatting and laughing, and the courtyard was as lively as a bustling market, so lively it could lift the roof off.

The three older women leaned against their doorways, glancing at the long queue outside Wang Jun's house, and clicked their tongues, saying, "Wang Jun, that kid, why is he so popular?"

Yan Bugui squinted his small eyes, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth: "Of course! He makes money with the women in the courtyard, how could he not be popular?"

A few years ago, the slogan "The poorer you are, the more glorious you are" was widely circulated, and people felt that being poor was no big deal. But after the opening up in 84, the importance of money pierced people's hearts like a needle—everyone wanted to make money, but no one knew how. Wang Jun, on the other hand, not only made money for himself, but also helped everyone else. Wasn't it only natural that he was popular?

Speaking of making money, Yan Bugui subconsciously touched his pocket, his eyes flashing with excitement—**he worked all night to sell 26 radios, making 10 yuan per radio, netting him 260 yuan! That's more money than he earned in half a year as a teacher! Now he looks at Wang Jun more favorably than his own son. If Jie Di hadn't gotten married yet, he would have definitely given his daughter to Wang Jun.

On the other side, Yi Zhonghai stared at Wang Jun's back, his face so gloomy it could drip water.

In the courtyard, he was always the most respected person; who wouldn't give him face? But as soon as Wang Jun got his hands on the radio, he immediately became the "top influencer in the courtyard"—the older women, the young wives, all loved to chat with him, completely overshadowing him.

His heart felt heavy, like it was stuffed with damp cotton, but he was helpless: it was 1984, and the whole country was focused on making money. Report it? Useless! Everyone was doing business; what was the point of reporting it? Even more useless! Who in the 1980s would fall for that kind of nonsense?

Yi Zhonghai tossed and turned, unable to sleep, and even his food tasted bland—how could he not be frustrated watching Wang Jun push his "authority" into a corner?

Wang Jun was collecting the shells when he saw Huaihua carrying five refurbished shells over. He took them, examined them, and handed over the money directly: "Five shells, three yuan."

Huaihua clutched the money, her palms sweating—she was a grown woman, but unemployed and confined to her home. Banggeng spent his own money, while Shazhu's was managed by Qin Huairu. Qin Huairu and Xiaodang occasionally gave her a few cents, barely enough for a new dress, let alone cosmetics. In the dead of winter, her skin was so dry it flaked; she had her eye on "Night-Blooming Jasmine Snow Cream" for a while, but couldn't bring herself to buy it.

"Great, thank you, Brother Jun!" Huaihua smiled, her eyes crinkling into crescents. The money was just enough to buy that box of face cream.

Huaihua walked home with the money in her pocket. Banggeng was about to go to work when he saw her beaming. He frowned and asked, "Did you find some candy? Why are you smiling like that?"

Huaihua didn't hide anything, waving the money in her hand: "I sold the refurbished shell to Wang Jun and made 3 yuan!"

Upon hearing the name "Wang Jun," Bang Geng's face darkened instantly, and his voice rose: "Huaihua, I told you long ago not to work for Wang Jun!"

Huaihua stuffed the fifty cents she had just earned into her pocket, her knuckles clenched so tightly they turned white: "What's wrong with working for Wang Jun? All the aunties and grandmas in the yard peel radio casings for him, why can't I?"

Banggeng was buttoning his new shirt in front of the mirror—this "Dacron" shirt was bought last week with half a month's salary, so he could "show off" in the yard. Hearing this, he frowned: "I won't allow it! That poor bastard Wang Jun, no parents, no job, it's shameful to be associated with him!"

What he didn't say was: the last time he bumped into Wang Jun, the other was wearing patched pants, so he deliberately tucked the hem of his new shirt into his waistband, afraid of being outshone. Embarrassment? No, it was fear of being labeled "poor" on his own door.

"Embarrassing?" Huaihua slapped her pockets loudly. "You earn forty-something yuan a month, can't you give me a dollar? I can't even afford an ice pop, I'm afraid people will see my empty pockets when I go out!"

Banggeng's face flushed red. He'd just lost his wallet last month; the eighty yuan he'd saved up for three months—his "savings" for treating his colleagues to a meal at a restaurant. He was so heartbroken he tossed and turned all night, almost kicking his bed frame through. Give the money to his sister? No way! He'd rather spend it himself!

"You shut up when it comes to money?" Huaihua sneered. "If you're not going to pay, then leave me alone! My affairs are none of your business!"

"You've gone too far!" Banggeng rolled up his sleeves, ready to fight, but the work bell rang—being late would cost him 50 cents, enough to buy three breakfasts. "Fine! I won't let you work for Wang Jun!" He slammed the door and left, leaving Huaihua pouting at the empty room.

In Huaihua's room, a wooden table served as a dressing table, upon which sat a half-empty bottle of face cream (used up by Qin Huairu, the bottom of which was crusted over) and a nearly empty lipstick (the tube was worn crooked). She applied lipstick in front of the mirror, a crack in the mirror reflecting her shining eyes: "When I make money, I'll buy a whole set! Friendship brand powder, Peony brand rouge, I'll wear as much as I want!"

She touched the fifty cents in her pocket, her fingertips burning—this was the money she earned peeling twenty radio casings for Wang Jun. Wang Jun praised her for being "skilled" and even gave her an extra five cents. Earning money was great; she could buy what she liked without having to depend on anyone.

In the courtyard, Yan Bugui (the third uncle) was squatting by the kitchen sink, stuffing grass carp into a nylon net bag.

The fish's tail slapped against the net with a "slap, slap" sound. The grass carp, weighing seven or eight pounds, was the result of his fishing in Houhai for half the night.

"What are you doing with that dried fish?" The third auntie, wearing an apron with flour crumbs on it, came over.

Yan Bugui's small eyes gleamed with a shrewd light, like a mouse that had stolen oil: "Send it to Wang Jun! We need to get on his good side!"

He'd made several hundred yuan these past few days reselling radios—equivalent to a year's salary as an electrician! He knew perfectly well that if it weren't for Wang Jun's method of "refurbishing the casings," he wouldn't have been able to make his fortune through this "reselling." "That old bastard Yi Zhonghai offended Wang Jun and got nothing out of it now. We can't follow his example!"

The three women slapped their thighs: "That's right! Wang Jun is capable; we rely on him to make money!" She leaned over and touched the fish's gills. "This fish is fresh; Wang Jun will definitely like it!"

Yan Bugui smugly snorted, tucked the fish under his arm, and said, "Let's go! Deliver it! If Wang Jun has any good fortune in the future, he'd better think of us!"

In Wang Jun's small hut, radio casings were piled up like a small mountain. He counted them; there were 126 in total—he had collected all the "stock" from the nearby scrap yard. After refurbishing these casings, each radio could be sold for three yuan and fifty cents, netting him two yuan after deducting costs. "Not bad," he said, wiping away sweat, his fingertips still rusty.

Just as he was pondering "what business to start next," Yan Bugui's voice rang out from the courtyard: "Wang Jun! Your third uncle has brought you some fish!"

Wang Jun peeked out and saw Yan Bugui carrying a large grass carp under his arm, with three aunties following behind, smiling like blooming chrysanthemums. Well, another "opportunist."

Yan Bugui held the gills of the large grass carp and strolled slowly, its tail sweeping across the ground and leaving a wet trail.

Yu Li leaned against the doorframe, watching him walk away with the fish, her heart feeling like it was stuffed with damp cotton—a heavy, suffocating feeling. Yesterday, when her father-in-law brought home this large grass carp weighing seven or eight pounds, she was planning to make a pot of milky-white fish soup for Bang Geng that evening, and also serve a bowl to Jia Zhangshi, to show her her virtuousness. Who would have thought that her father-in-law would turn around and give this "meat that was already in his mouth" to Wang Jun!

She dared not utter a sound. The fish were caught by Yan Bugui; in this courtyard, the fish caught and the coal scraps collected were always "whoever catches them keeps them," and it was none of her, the daughter-in-law,'s place to interfere. Yu Li could only glare fiercely at Yan Bugui's retreating back, cursing Wang Jun a hundred times over in her heart—this widow's kept man, what right does he have to eat my fish!

Yan Bugui, oblivious to his daughter-in-law's resentment, strolled confidently to Wang Jun's door, fish in hand, cleared his throat, and called out, "Jun, open the door! Your third uncle has brought you some fish!"

The door creaked open, and Wang Jun peeked out and was stunned—the large grass carp in Yan Bugui's hand had scales that shimmered with a bluish-gray light in the morning sun. It weighed at least seven or eight pounds, and its gills were still throbbing, so fresh it looked like it could jump out of the water.

"Uncle, what's this...?" Wang Jun blinked. This Uncle was a notorious miser in the courtyard, who would stretch a penny to eight pieces. He even charged Yu Li five cents for shining a flashlight. Now he was bringing a big live fish to her door? Had the sun risen in the west?

"Hey, I caught a big one while fishing yesterday," Yan Bugui said, rubbing his hands together and grinning so hard his face was full of wrinkles. "I heard you love fish, so I brought it over for you!"

Wang Jun's heart skipped a beat—was he trying to curry favor with me? He instantly realized: this fish wasn't a freebie; it was probably for those radios.

He immediately put on a warm smile and took the fish: "Oh, Uncle, you're too kind! I really love fish, I'll make grilled fish tonight so you can try it too!"

When Yan Bugui saw that Wang Jun had accepted the fish, he finally felt relieved—with the fish in hand, the business was secure! Wang Jun would have to continue selling radios to him so that his "middleman" business could continue to make money.

"By the way, Uncle San," Wang Jun asked casually, "how did the radios sell last night?"

"Sold out! Completely sold out!" Yan Bugui immediately straightened his back, his face beaming, and patted his chest. "I took the radio to the pigeon market last night, and wow! In less than an hour, all 26 units were snapped up! People were like madmen, saying the sound quality of these radios is even better than the ones in the department store!"

Wang Jun chuckled inwardly—26 radios, costing only a few hundred yuan to produce, could be resold to Yan Bugui for a net profit of over a thousand. This Yan Bugui was truly a "money tree." Remembering he'd stayed up all night assembling another 30, he simply pushed them all onto Yan Bugui: "Uncle, I assembled another 30 last night, do you want them?"

"Yes! Absolutely!" Yan Bugui's eyes lit up, and his voice rose eight octaves. "Jun, you wait here, I'm going home to get the money!"

A moment later, Yan Bugui came running back, panting, clutching a wad of "big unity" bills. He counted out 1500 yuan and stuffed it into Wang Jun's hand: "Jun, count it, 30 units, 50 yuan each, right?"

Wang Jun weighed the money in his hand, his mouth practically agape – earning 1500 so early in the morning, this is life!

Yan Bugui's stack of "big unity" bills hadn't even warmed up before Wang Jun stuffed them into his pocket. This whole scene was witnessed by the neighbors who were up early to empty the chamber pots and sweep the yard.

"Did you see that? Uncle San gave Wang Jun a wad of cash!"

"How many are there? They look so thick and bulky, at least 1,500!"

"I'm forty-seven this year, and I've worked in the factory for thirty years. I still don't have this much savings!"

"That kid Wang Jun has made a fortune in just a few days! Uncle San is getting lucky too, and he's become a 'ten-thousand-yuan household prospective'!"

At the base of the wall, several old women huddled together, spitting as they talked:

"Doing business is still the best! These days, isn't it often said that 'out of a billion people, nine hundred million are merchants, and the remaining one hundred million are about to open for business'? That's absolutely true!"

"That's for sure! My niece sells roasted melon seeds on the street and earns dozens of yuan a day. My sister is so scared that she kneels down to offer incense to her every day, afraid that the business administration department will investigate her!"

"Making a few dozen yuan a day is nothing!" Xu Damao suddenly appeared out of nowhere and interjected sarcastically, "Wang Jun's is called 'making a fortune with a small investment'! You just wait and see, in less than three months, he'll be the first person in our compound to earn ten thousand yuan!"

At the window of the Jia family's house, Jia Zhangshi poked half her head out and sneered, "What's so great about that? All you do is tinker with some broken radios. If you're so capable, then don't eat our food!" Banggeng, munching on a cornbread, mumbled, "When I grow up, I'll sell radios too, and buy lots and lots of meat!"

Qin Huairu glared at her mother-in-law and didn't dare to reply. She knew better than anyone that Wang Jun's money was ill-gotten, but so what?

In this compound, money talks!