Sha Zhu's Rebirth in the Courtyard: Starting with Hitting Someone in the Head

Chapter 55 The Cicada Awaits

He Yuzhu climbed over the main gate of the courtyard and landed silently. He hugged the wall and circled around to the shadows at the corner of the alley, his spatial awareness fully activated.

Yi Zhonghai pressed himself against the wall outside the toilet door, holding a wooden stick in his hand, waiting for Jia Dongxu to come out.

Jia Dongxu shuffled out of the toilet in his slippers when Yi Zhonghai swung his wooden stick and slammed it down on the back of his head with a thud. Jia Dongxu fell to the ground with a thud, a sight that made He Yuzhu wince in pain.

Yi Zhonghai squatted down, pulled Jia Dongxu's right hand out, pressed it against a brick, turned the wooden stick upside down, aimed the tip at the index finger, and smashed it down like pounding garlic. Once, twice, three times.

Jia Dongxu struggled to wake up, but Yi Zhonghai struck him on the head with a stick again.

Jia Dongxu tilted his head and fainted again.

Yi Zhonghai stood up, panting heavily, his face contorted in a more ferocious grimace, the words squeezed out from his throat. "You ungrateful wretch! How dare you disown me as your master! Your Jia family still wants to eat my bloodline? I'll show you! I'll show you!" He continued cursing, still not satisfied, and struck Jia Dongxu's back again with a wooden stick.

He Yuzhu produced a wooden stick. This was from an old actor who had been with him for several years and had used it to hit Yi Zhonghai, Liu Guangqi, and Yan Jiecheng. The stick was covered with bloodstains.

He waited for Yi Zhonghai to walk back, just as Yi Zhonghai's head emerged. The stick whistled through the air and slammed down, hitting Yi Zhonghai on the head.

Yi Zhonghai's body stiffened, and he collapsed to the ground, still clutching the wooden stick in his hand.

He Yuzhu sensed that Juehu's hands were stained with blood, his trouser legs were splattered with blood, and bits of flesh were still stuck to the end of his wooden stick. Jia Dongxu lay not far away, his right index finger a mangled mess of flesh, bone fragments protruding from the skin, stark white.

He didn't take any further action, instead searching his memory for relevant laws and regulations.

In July of this year, a nationwide campaign to eliminate counter-revolutionaries was launched.

Yi Zhonghai had a criminal record, having already served a year of reformatory labor for falsely accusing him of colluding with enemy agents. This latest offense, with the added factors of serious injury, repeated offenses, and being during a period of severe crackdown, carries a minimum sentence of ten years.

Once this child is imprisoned, he will definitely try his best to get a reduced sentence so he can get out as soon as possible.

Ten years later is 1965. If I need to flee between 1965 and 1966, and this childless man is still in jail, then I won't be able to take his life with my own hands.

He Yuzhu put the stick away. He couldn't break the child's hands and feet. He wanted to let him reform himself in the Northwest and suffer more hardships.

He picked up a wooden stick and started hitting the child, carefully holding back so as not to kill the childless one. "You got off easy," he said. After that, he checked the scene to make sure he hadn't left any trace of himself.

He took a deep breath, pinched his throat, and shouted, "Help! Murder! Help! Murder!" After shouting, he turned and ran, jumped over the outer wall of the courtyard, and landed silently.

He went inside, closed the door—his old tricks again—put on his old cotton-padded coat, picked up a flashlight, and went out through the main gate of the courtyard.

People were already coming out of the alley with lanterns, their glows flickering in the darkness. People from several nearby courtyards had also arrived, their lanterns, kerosene lamps, and flashlights creating a shimmering spectacle in the alley.

He Yuzhu, wearing a cotton-padded coat and slippers, squeezed into the crowd, holding a flashlight in his hand. His hair was messy, and his face was full of sleepiness. "Who's shouting 'murder' in the middle of the night? Can't people get any sleep?"

"Over there! There's someone lying on the ground!"

"Let's all go and take a look. There's nothing to fear with a large group."

Several lanterns gathered around, casting a halo of light on the ground. Yi Zhonghai's crooked face emerged from the darkness, his nose tilted to the right, his chin to the left, and a hint of excited ferocity lingering at the corner of his mouth.

The crowd started talking.

"Isn't that Yi Zhonghai?"

"Why was this childless man beaten up again?"

"His chest is still moving; he's not dead."

He Yuzhu shone his flashlight beam on Yi Zhonghai's hand. "Something's not right. He's holding a wooden stick, and there's blood on the stick and on his hand. Did he hit someone? Look ahead again, is there anyone else?"

He shone his flashlight toward the public restroom and spotted another person.

Jia Dongxu lay on the ground, his right index finger a mangled mess.

Someone in the crowd gasped. "It's Jia Dongxu!"

"Yi Zhonghai beat his apprentice and even broke one of his fingers!"

"Who knocked Yi Zhonghai unconscious?"

"It must have been a good person who saw it, and after beating the person, they told us to call the police station."

He Yuzhu almost burst out laughing as he listened to the group's earnest reasoning. He quickly lowered his head, rubbed his eyes, and pretended to yawn.

Street activists stepped forward to maintain order. "Don't move anything! Who's going to the police station to report this?"

He Yuzhu took two steps back, put the flashlight in his pocket, and turned to go home. He leaned against the gate as it closed, chuckling to himself.

Five days later, early in the morning, people from the local police station and the neighborhood committee arrived.

The people in the courtyard were called to the front yard. Jia Dongxu's right hand was wrapped in thick gauze, his index finger had been amputated, and his face was full of sorrow.

Standing next to him, Jia Zhangshi stared intently at the documents in the hands of the police officer from the police station, her triangular eyes filled with resentment.

Qin Huairu stood behind, holding Banggeng's hand. Banggeng looked around curiously.

Police officers from the local police station read out the verdict.

Yi Zhonghai intentionally caused serious injury, using cruel methods, repeatedly defying legal warnings, and committing crimes during a crackdown period. He was sentenced to eleven years in prison and ordered to pay Jia Dongxu a total of 330 yuan in medical expenses and lost wages.

The east wing room where Yi Zhonghai lived has been sealed off. Cash and bankbooks totaling more than 480 yuan were found in the room. After deducting the compensation, the remaining amount was confiscated.

One of the east wing rooms was taken over by the subdistrict office and will be returned to Yi Zhonghai after he is released from prison.

Effective from the date this notice is posted.

After hearing the verdict, Jia Zhangshi's resentment lessened somewhat. She had the 330 yuan. "Yi Zhonghai's room has been sealed off; can I rent it now?"

She patted Jia Dongxu's uninjured hand. "Dongxu, be more careful in the future. Don't be too honest with anyone."

Jia Dongxu lowered his head, looking at his mutilated right hand, where faint bloodstains still seeped through the gauze, without saying a word.

The old deaf man in the backyard leaned against the hallway door, listening intently from beginning to end. Yi Zhonghai had been sentenced to eleven years; he was in jail, and his money had been confiscated. What was she going to do?

The old deaf man, leaning on his cane, slowly turned around and moved step by step toward the backyard. The cane struck the blue brick ground, feeling heavier than usual. The tinplate covering the end of the jujube wood cane tapped against the brick ground, the thud gradually fading into the distance.

He Yuzhu stood there, watching the old deaf man's figure disappear, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. Yi Zhonghai, this tree, has fallen, but the old deaf man's roots remain in the soil, still connected to Deputy District Chief Zhou and Gai Ziwang.

You'd better not mess with me, or no matter what kind of damn deputy district head you are, you'll still die.

Police officers from the local police station posted the notice at the entrance of the courtyard, and the crowd dispersed.

As Jia Zhangshi helped Jia Dongxu walk towards the central courtyard, she began to mutter about what to eat that night to nourish her body.

He Yuzhu turned and walked towards the side courtyard, pushed open the moon gate, went inside, and bolted the door. The pomegranate tree was laden with green pomegranates, swaying gently in the morning light.